Chapter 23: The Boys of Gokudō Part 2
Komichi, wearing his black suit Shinobi outfit, stopped by his room once arriving at Gokudō Academy HQ. "What a little brat. He was supposed to wait for me." Komichi sighed before sitting on a lower bunk of a bed, pulling out a suitcase. Flicking his black cape over his right shoulder, he pulled out a binder and began to go through several pictures, organizing them into bunches before paperclipping them to corresponding written documents, which he read out loud.
"Hmm… creatures encountered were various in shapes and sizes including odd jelly dogs, mutated plants, what can best be described as pixel bugs, and a possessed NEET with a bad case of obesity (and possibly a lack of hygiene). We wouldn't have believed it ourselves if we hadn't snapped the pictures. Even now I doubt what I am looking at in this photo, but I am very certain that this is what we fought." Komichi then nodded to himself, not wanting to waste too much time before moving to the next.
"The following are to be considered suspects for the time being as they seemingly possess knowledge of these other-worldly creatures. Subject 1: Tekken. possibly a shinobi. A martial artist with elemental powers… Subject 2: Puchiko. Potential alien with eye lasers. Perceived age around 5-8… Subject 3: Neptune. Seems airheaded at first but knows her way around a fight, full potential suspected of being hidden."
Komichi removed his sunglasses as he looked forward, putting Neptune's pictures away with the documents. His eyes peering at a set of iron claws, a fancy, Japanese pen, and a flowered hairpin, which hung in a walled display case. "Full potential."
Flashback
A younger Komichi sat back as he watched a young student grip the pair of claws, slicing up training dummies as she dashed across the field. Komichi applauded. "Very good, Homura. Now time to move to the Wolverine Style." Komichi watched the student gasp before laughing. "Just kidding. I wouldn't make you jump onto a form so impractical when even I couldn't bother to-..."
"But I wanna learn the Six-Clawed Form, sensei!" Komichi looked at her in surprise. "I don't care if only three shinobi in history have mastered it, I swear by Amaterasu that I will be the fourth!" Heh. She's got a lot of fire.
Komichi walked forward, smiling. "Then you best start practicing. Remember, just like life itself, change only occurs with consistency over time. Only then can one truly bloom." to which she smiled ecstatically.
It was later when Komichi returned to his secret ninja school that the noose began to tighten, meeting with his superiors in a small conference room. "It doesn't matter if they're good or evil. Renegade or independent. We need you to find out if they are indeed the family we've been looking for. And if they are… You know what must be done."
"But Homura's a good girl! Why should she be held responsible for the crimes of her clan?!" Komichi protested.
"A cub today will be a bear tomorrow. Don't want that to come back to bite us. Besides, for what they've done, their entire line must end." Komichi's superior spoke plainly.
"But she's just a kid! She's not even sure she wants to be a shinobi! I've talked with her!"
Komichi's superior looked him dead in the eyes. "She is just a means to an end. You must detach yourself, Komichi. Personal feelings have no place in shinobi life. Especially missions like these. Are we clear?" Komichi looked down, nodding in silence.
As time went on, Komichi tried to find evidence that his student wasn't from the clan they were looking for, ignoring counter-evidence otherwise and stalling for time as he unintentionally deepened his bond with her, unaware of the hole he was digging.
Upon hearing the words he dreaded from her, Komichi reluctantly reported it to his school, who told him to follow up immediately. "Detach your feelings… she's just a means to an end. Detach your feelings, she's just a means to an end." Komichi repeated to himself. The walk that day to the usual classroom felt extra heavy as though he was walking into a minefield he could not escape from.
After the initial incident, Komichi blacked out, waking up in a hospital bed to see his superiors in the visitor's chairs. After telling them what happened, the main boss leaned back in his seat. "Im impressed, Komichi. In all my years, I have never seen assassination executed so pathetically and sloppily."
Another superior held out a piece of paper with a fancy, traditional pen. "This here's an official document for your expulsion. Normally we'd take it before the council but since your credentials would cause issues, consider this a silent withdrawal."
Komichi squinted at the document. "Wh-what!? My sister too?!" Komichi's breath heightened as they told him they couldn't afford to take risks. "But… it's our home."
"Letting a student-teacher who gets beaten by a kid back in would tarnish our reputation. Or anyone associated with them for that matter. Surely you understand." The other superior replied.
"Sirs, please. At least let me see it one last time."
The main boss got up, closing in on Komichi's face. "Sure, go ahead. Go see the academy one last time. It's the last thing you will ever see again. How does that sound, Komichi?" Komichi looked away in silence, "that's what I thought."
As the superiors walked out, the one who gave him the document said, "Oh, and keep the pen. A little something to remember us bye, eh?"
Despite their best efforts, Komichi the Fool (or Baka Komichi for you weebs out there) became a running joke in the shinobi world. Years passed, Komichi and his sister, Tsumuji, barely got by in the slums. But while depression struck Komichi to let himself go in ragged clothes and untamed hair, Tsumuji grew more restless by the day.
"Damn that Homura! Bet she thinks she's hot stuff because of that incident! Witch charming my brother into letting his guard down was what happened!"
"Just… let it go, Tsumuji." Komichi turned, cooking lunch for the two of them on a worn-down stove.
"Excuse me!? You want me to let this go when they will not!? Now they're making shinobi sitcom plays about Komichi the Fool! I can't take it anymore!" Before Komichi could reply Tsumuji cut him off. "AND YOU! Why do you just sit here, wasting yourself away as the rest of the shinobi world makes a laughingstock of the guy who couldn't help it at the time!? It's not like failing a mission is unheard of in the shinobi world! We're going to kill that Homura and bring her head to the school and clear our family name!"
Komichi stopped in silence for a moment. "Tsumuji… I can't…"
"Ugh. Don't tell me you still have feelings for that bitch!"
"Feelings that will haunt me for eternity. She never deserved what happened."
"You're pathetic. I'm going to hunt her down and kill her! With or without you! I've been training for this day and now's the time to act. Last I heard, she attended an all-girls school called Hebijo." Tsumuji grabbed her bags.
"Tsumuji! Stop it! Homura did nothing wrong! Nothing good will come of this!" Komichi objected, but his sister stormed out.
"Talk to me again when you grow a pair and actually do something with your life, brother."
Nearly a year in passing and Komichi continued a life in the slums when a Hebijo grunt paid him a visit. Suspicious at first, Komichi asked what she wanted before two more grunts walked in, carrying a long figure wrapped in cloth. The shinobi handed him Tsumuji's flowered hairpin as Komichi walked up slowly, unveiling the face to see his sister. Komichi's face grew pale as he fell to his knees, squeezing the hairpin. Komichi weakly cried out her name, touching her cold hands, before screaming out loud into bawling tears. "TSUMUJIIII!"
Present
Komichi let out a yell, punching an indent into the wall. "Peepholes belong in doors, Komichi. Not the wall." Came the voice of Murasame. "I've always wondered, why do you keep that stuff when it only brings back painful memories? You know the boss's motto. Look ahead to the future, never look back."
Komichi leaned back into a green fold up chair. "Heh. Aren't you one to talk, Mr. Hien is my birthright-... Ah." Komichi stopped as Murasame held out the sword he had so long spoken of. "Is that…"
"Aye. Hien, after all this time. Although I'm… not really sure how to feel about it." Komichi continued to ask him about it, "After finally defeating my sister, I felt so alive but afterwards I… well, I don't know." Murasame unsheathed the sword, running his hand against it as he gave it a long glance. "But still, I finally triumphed. The Houou family heirloom is right where it belongs."
"I'm glad for you, Murasame." Komichi gave a short grin. "But what will you do now?"
"I'll go back! Prove to them how WRONG they were and then… then…" Murasame stopped as silence filled the room. His gaze returning back to the phoenix blade.
"You aren't planning on leaving Gokudō, are you?" Komichi asked.
"That's just it… my whole life I wanted to become a shinobi. For my family honor and for the glory. And yet… all I lead was an angry, unsatisfied life. Comfy, but unsatisfying. I wanted to prove myself so much to be a good shinobi. But I have grown more in these few years I've been here than I ever have in the hate-filled pit that was my life. I can't leave Gokudō. I don't want to."
"It wouldn't be the same without you, Same. Besides, who's gonna give Suraku his exercise by chasing him all over Kobe?" Komichi chuckled, Murasame doing the same.
"I just… have been so focused on becoming stronger and proving them all wrong that I'm… at a loss now." Sitting down in other fold-up chair in the room, Murasame held the sword close, a sense of empty uncertainty surrounding it as echoes of the old, unfulfilling life were the only thing that resonated.
"Then maybe it's time to let go. You're a great guy, Same. And you should let go now while you still have a chance." As Murasame asked what he meant, Komichi slowly walked towards the items in the display case. "To answer your question from earlier, I keep these things to remind myself of the fool I once was… and to drive myself to become a better man tomorrow. These claws, the pen, this lotus hairpin are all scars. And some scars never heal. I can't let go."
"That's bullshit." Murasame's response shocked Komichi, "Just look at all you've done for those around you. The community, Gokudō Academy, all of us. You don't let your past, no matter how fucked up, hold you back from the Gokudō way! Because regardless of your loss, your true family is here."
"As is yours, Murasame. I guess the question to ask yourself is what that sword does for you now that you have it?"
"I would ask the same of you. What are those old accessories accomplishing? And don't give me that 'helps drive me' bullshit either. As your roommate, I know you too well to say you have not come so far on a couple of old objects alone!" Murasame frowned, slightly irritated.
"Perhaps we've both got some thinking to do, then." Komichi's composed voice drew to silence as he got up from his chair, grabbing the suitcase with the reports in it and walking out, saying not a word, only running his hand against the display case that held the claws, the hairpin, and the pen.
The back alleys of Kobe's pleasure districts remained empty and quiet, only briefly shattered by the thundering footsteps of several suited thugs who ran down the alley, knocking over a trash can as they turned the corner into a dead end. "What!? Where'd that little shit go!?" One of the thugs exclaimed when suddenly two out of the four of them got doused with water, the third only partially splashed.
Hanging above the fire escape of a nearby building, a blue-haired youth held his stomach in laughter as he dropped a dripping metal bucket beside him. One thug swung his fist in the air. "You got a lot of nerve, little punk. I don't think you know who you're messing with!"
The boy stood up, leaning against the escape ladder, letting the thugs see his baggy jeans and the orange jacket around a black shirt that read 不慮. The sun gleamed off of the boy's goggles as he pulled his slick, spiky, sky blue hair back, showing off an armband on his jacket, which had a Koi fish and an Asian dragon forming the shape of a diamond. "Hey. That's my line, ya freeloading chumps."
"First they send us weak punks and now a kid after us? Gokudō's grown weak." One thug laughed.
"I'll make you regret that comment, you wannabes. For I am Suraku! One Gokudō Academy's elites!"
The thugs began laughing. "Please. The Suraku?!"
"Ya got a big mouth on ya for a little punk. Lemme tell ya something." He began to load a pistol, "in our world, confidence like that gets ya killed."
Suraku smirked, dashing down the side of the building and zipping past the thugs and performing a running wall-jump, activating his phone taser and forcing the thug to drop his gun. The other three thugs, their clothes still soaking, rushed at the boy. "Secret Ninja Art… Sonic Volt!" His little body pulsating with an electric current, Suraku dashed wildly in an unorthodox manner as though he were a ball in a pinball machine.
Their bodies flailed, the lightning cartoonishly revealing their skeletons before dropping to the floor, sparks flashing from them. The dry thug, seeing his comrades knocked out so fast, struggled to his knees, reaching for his gun but Suraku picked it up first, "I'll take that. A present for the boss."
"You little… so that water wasn't just a prank." The thug grunted.
"Ha. Shocking, that you actually figured it out. I've sprouted gray hairs waitin for ya." Suraku smirked, "We know you been extorting the Nishitaki Host Club. Well we got news for you punks. That's our client. Our turf. So consider this a warning. Cause next time I'll use my full strength."
"I hate your smug little prick face!"
"One more thing." Suraku walked forward, delivering a hook kick across the thug's face, "don't EVER call me a kid again!" Taking out a skateboard, Suraku rode out of the alley in style, skating down the streets before reaching Gokudō Academy and entering through the secret passage.
As he entered, Suraku was greeted by a couple of his friends. Most of whom were Gokudō grunts. "Job's done." He said, showing off his loot. Suraku was proud of his status as his friends gathered around him, nerding out over things like technology, weapons, and overall shit-talking.
But not all were impressed at Suraku's performance. One of the older shinobi scoffed, "Be nice if he'd have told somebody instead of showing off all the time."
"And here I thought you were trying to take your diet with less salt, Majimi. If I recall correctly you already had your chance and flew past it like a Chinese driver." Suraku folded his arms.
The higher shinobi sat up in his chair, "With such a loose cannon as a shinobi, I'm surprised, Suraku, that Oyabun Yamauchi hasn't asked for your tongue, let alone your pinky." A couple of his shinobi friends chuckled.
"And with your recent performances, I'm surprised Kenshi hasn't asked for your head, but I suppose it'd be rude to give the boss somethin' empty." Suraku smirked as the room erupted into 'oohs' and laughter, the few higher-class shinobi sending dirty glares Suraku's way.
"I don't know how a little brat like you climbed your way to the top, but mark my words, if you weren't above me I'd sure as hell love to…" the irritated shinobi began to choke on his words.
"Toooooooo?" Suraku continued smirking into the older classmate's eyes when a slightly tanned, red-haired youth came down the hall, the other shinobi giving him a slight bow.
"Welcome back, Suraku." Suzuki then sighed, "Are you already giving your fellow students a hard time?"
"Eh." Suraku shrugged. De-escalating the situation, Suzuki encouraged the other shinobi before walking back with Suraku.
"Jeez, bro. Why ya gotta go doin that? You don't wanna make enemies out of family members."
"Nah, it's funny! Besides, they're older, they SHOULD be better than me, but they aren't. So it's their fault." Suraku folded his arms.
"We all have different learning capabilities, Suraku. And we all had to start somewhere. Even you." Suzuki noticed a scowl forming from puffed cheeks as Suraku began tapping around on his phone. Walking into the locker room, Suzuki tried to change the subject, not wanting to push any wrong buttons. "Weren't you supposed to return with Komichi?"
"I can't help if the old man's too slow."
"Ouch." Suzuki sweatdropped, smiling awkwardly, "you're just the same as ever, Saruku."
"That's what they always said." Suraku's voice dropped a few tones as he sat down on one of the benches. "'why can't you be more like this sister or that brother?' or 'stop being such a hikkikomori' or 'you'll never change', 'get your head out of your phone'... Now look at me and TELL ME I'M THE SAME AGAIN, I DARE YA!"
"Whoa bro! I didn't mean it like that." Suzuki nearly took a step back, his eyes widening in surprise.
Suraku looked over at Suzuki, his eyes filling with embarrassment, "I'm sorry. I know you didn't." Suzuki sat beside his friend. "I just wish I had a sister like yours. Someone who loved you for you despite your flaws and who might still be waiting for you, ya know?"
Suzuki nodded, "And your family was much bigger than mine. You would think at least a few of them would be more sympathetic."
"Tch, not when you've all been serving this country since the Sengoku Era. Your entire family, all active shinobi. I had one chance to dig myself out of that stupid hole I was in… and the only sibling who even remotely cared took it from me!" Suraku's tone flared up.
"You're sounding a lot like Murasame." Suzuki sighed sympathetically.
"Yeah, but unlike him, a sword can be retrieved. What she took from me can never be recovered." Suraku then looked over at Suzuki directly. "Would my eyes… look good with Kagan? And don't say 'I think they look fine just the way they are'!"
"Aw, but it's true, bro." Suzuki grinned.
"Just answer the question and quit evading."
"Alright, buddy." Suzuki smiled with a sweatdrop, "My truthfully honest answer is that I really don't know. Because whether you have Kagan or not, it wouldn't change how we think about you. You'd still be our friend and brother."
"Aw please." Suraku smirked, "If I had Kagan, you'd all be bowing down to me as the new Oyabun of Gokudō. And I'd have Kenshi cough up the secret location of his chocolate-strawberry panda cookies."
"Iii guess you could say that would be pretty… SHOCKING!" Suzuki flicked his fingers off Suraku's shoulders, causing him to shriek.
"AGH! Why you!" Suraku punched Suzuki in the stomach to which the latter shoved back, the two boys roughhousing until Suzuki caught Suraku in a chokehold, giving him a noogie. "Okay, okay! You win, bro!"
Suzuki chuckled, pinching Suraku's irritated, puffed cheek. "Aw, you're a cute little brother."
"Am not…" Suraku mumbled through his cheeks till he could hold back no more, bursting into laughter with Suzuki sharing in the moment.
Kenshi Yamauchi paced back and forth in his office, holding a small, wooden picture frame of a muscular, dark-golden haired man with a slender, blue-haired woman. The two facing profile to one another with their arms around each other. Slowly, Kenshi's eyes drew to a picture around the wall, which showed him alongside the other four Gokudō elites, "Forgive me what I'm about to do."
A sudden crashing noise could be heard from the first floor when a couple of shinobi grunts rushed into his room. "S-sir! The Hanzo girls!... They're…"
"Attacking?... Yes, this was expected. So why then did you not intercept them until they were right in our domain!?" Kenshi glared at the shinobi grunts, a slight whimper escaping from them as they bowed.
"Forgive us, sir! We knew there would be four Hanzo girls coming but there were 5 of them!"
"WHAT!?" Kenshi turned suddenly.
"We didn't want a repeat of the civilian false target incident and our order for the office department wasn't here yet! Please forgive us, sir!" The grunts continued bowing.
"Get out there now and defend your home or the entire school is losing pinkies!" Kenshi growled, the grunts quickly dashing out. The moment they left, Kenshi looked down at the picture of the young couple once more, "Hinata… you will be avenged."