"Ryuko?"
Ryuko's daydream broken she remembered they left a cab and were on foot.
"Sorry," she said. "It's not much further now."
"Woah. Look at that!" Son gasped.
He pointed to what she already didn't care for. Its highest structure could easily pierce the morning cloud cover. Where they stood bordered slums, rundown and wreaking of refuse, but the sea water next to them helped. Ryuko slipped hands into her letterman's pockets, indifferent. It was her choice to spot the change in atmosphere and the aesthetic the further up she gazed.
"So. There it is," she mumbled.
Son's expression changed her mood. She tapped knuckles against his shoulder.
"You impressed?" she said.
"I don't know. Think they'll let me fly us to school everyday?" he asked.
"Nice as that sounds we should keep a low profile," she shrugged.
A packed trolley took its time rolling by but a squeal rang from its side.
"AIIIEEEEEEE!"
"Son!" Ryuko knew to say.
"I got her!" Son said on the spring.
Hopping the cable car he dropped before a bike missing its front tire and the noisy girl riding it. He forgot to reach as she hit the sidewalk edge thrown from its seat into his catch. His back met the pavement as she clung on like her life was forfeit, kicking and screaming.
"I'M DEAD! I BROKE MY ANKLE! MY SPLEEN IS PUNCTURED!"
Ryuko stopped her jog just beside it. Tears streaming from the girl's doey eyes strands of her bowl haircut tossed back and forth. Son spoke into her soft chest as she refused to let him push himself free.
"You're alive. No broken ankles. No punctured spleens," Ryuko smirked, nonchalant. "Wanna get off of my friend now?"
Any amusement left her. The Honnoji Academy patch was clear as day; under the girl's neckerchief read No Star. She all but snapped to her feet. Her mood switch was more unsettling than her crowding Ryuko's space.
"You're that transfer student," she chimed in her higher pitch, wide eyed. "It's all anyone's been talking about!"
She shot her attention to Son's finally standing. Brushing bike bits from his pants he coughed lint. Already in his face she placed a finger between his brow.
"Weird spiky hair. Looks confused most of the time. Blue undershirt and wrist bands." She pinched his cheeks and pulled. "It is you two!"
"You two?" he managed. "Who are you?"
"Mako. Mako Mankanshoku!" she said.
Her smile from ear to ear it may have been the small stature, the easygoing, but as he didn't mind, he took the hand she held out.
"I'm Son Goku!" he said as cheerfully. "This is Ryuko Matoi. We grew up together."
"Son!" Ryuko kept her voice down.
"Oh. Right," he remembered. "She seems really nice though."
The one he spoke of took off after the bustle.
"See you guys tomorrow! Sorry to jet! If I'm late again I'll be expelled! HEY! WAIT FOR ME!"
"Wow...she's pretty fast," Son muttered.
Ryuko stayed at a loss. They watched for Mako's chasing the trolley, swinging her backpack around the arm a good samaritan tried to lend her. Passersby focused on the commotion. Noticing that they were noticed Ryuko quickly took Son by the hand.
"C'mon," she said evenly.
Son scooped his sack as to not leave it, sliding it over his shoulder and followed her want to hurry.
x.x.x
Three-inch heels clacked across always polished marble. Trip beams sprung from two walls in all directions for exactly three seconds. She moved without a lull not fully setting off that hallway's traps. The only doors slid up as Student Council President was her designation. In pristine order he sat among bubbling vats and computational posts. Satsuki carried her sheathed Bakuzan with her ivory uniform. Its ribbed seams and gold trim were as unique as the hair clips above her ears. The hard at work looked from data feeds to bask in it.
"Lady Satsuki. My analysis is nearly complete," he said in his weaselly way.
It was befitting of his slim build. The transparent mask coating his nose and mouth altered pitch as unease piqued under a lab coat one size too big for him.
"They will be composed of fifty percent Life Fiber. Much more powerful...but at a cost," he added.
"I only need them to work, Iori. Do they?" Satsuki said.
She eyed a wall long projection at her leisure. Computer generated lines ran up and down to paint the picture of a long-sleeved garment. Surrounding them, as blinding, mock-ups, prototypes and interfaced designs offered faint beeps to prove they worked.
"They will," Iori remarked confidently. "You seem certain that he will see things your way."
"Better to make an honest enemy than a false friend," Satsuki paused. "You would do well to remember that."
Iori's beady eyes narrowed behind his ovalish lenses.
"... Have I not proven my loyalty?" he asked.
"You are still president of the Sewing Club, aren't you? Relax," Satsuki turned as if there was no reason not to. "Begin testing on the first subjects. Keep me posted."
Her legion of soldiers, drab no matter how numerous, moved to allow her perfect gait. The sheen on their grayed helmets and gankuran were a bland trade off. They pumped fists to the single, four-pointed stars on their chests. It was easy to forget to breathe normally in her presence. Iori and the lot wouldn't think of it until she left that floor entirely.
x.x.x
Their shack wasn't furnished. It was one bed and a couch on the mend. Paint on the walls a chipped beige Ryuko wondered of the plaster. It granted its visitors a space to cook, clean, sleep, or think. Outdoors the harbor kept a swarm of seagulls content with bread crumbs. One window by the front door she could look to them and the water. Any pressing need to continue was trumped by simply standing still.
{Does something trouble you?}
Ryuko swore every time Senketsu spoke the pattern under her collar was his one good eye raising to see her react.
"I'll tell you later," she whispered holding a dirty curtain open.
Her attention met how browned the dock's boards were. The floor under the carpet she stood on was old and proved as much when it creaked. It was Son's walk to her, his stretching his arms and yawning. Oblivious, the mattress was stiff against his back hitting it.
"This is more like it," he smiled kicking one boot up on the other. "The bathroom's not so bad. Could use a new toilet seat."
"Put it on the to-do list," Ryuko leaned against a desk.
She could spot him lifting his hand to ball it. He squeezed his fingers, curious of how hard he could punch.
"Gotta find new ways to push myself. Now that the mansion's gone," he said. "Your dad sure picked a strange place to lay low."
"It's as far from the academy as we can be," Ryuko replied glancing for the wall across from her. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
"Yeah," Son nodded.
His head turned to see her on her knees unzipping a duffel bag. She unpacked, he watched, so much so that she caught him jerk his glance. She mastered playing off their back and forth. She welcomed it.
"You gonna help me unpack or what?" she said.
Son hopped to his feet rubbing a hand over the base of his head. He plopped onto the carpet and crossed his legs. Ryuko was sly to scrutinize his arms, the top of his chest peeking from his undershirt, any definition his body didn't have when they were children. She cursed herself for looking at all folding a pair of jeans when she pulled them out.
"We're here for answers, Son," she said as a reminder. "I know it's easy to get distracted."
Son glanced from busy work to catch her staring.
"Don't worry. I haven't forgotten," he said. "There're gonna be some tough guys at school. I can't wait to see what they can do!"
"And they say I'm the juvenile delinquent," she smirked. "Do me a favor. Never change."
She stood, stripping free of her jacket to toss it without a care. Rolling her neck she did the same of her shoulders.
"I could use a shower," she sighed.
"You might need these then," he said lifting what she didn't expect.
Green-striped panties matched a bra, but it was his grinning that triggered her.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?!" she griped, snatching them quickly, her face reddening.
"It must've slipped my mind," he said in a way she despised. "By the way. That's your favorite pair. Does that mean you don't have any on now?"
Ryuko loomed over him ready to smack him sillier if it was possible.
"WHY WOULDN'T I HAVE UNDERWEAR ON, SON?!" she hollered. "How the hell do you know that these are my favorite pair?!"
"Because you said they were," he said.
She stormed off slamming the bathroom door so hard rust shook from its knob.
"... Sheesh. She sure is touchy today," he shrugged.
x.x.x
Hot and wet splashed her bruising. Ryuko palmed the wall to lower her head letting it hit the back of her neck. Minutes of forgetting herself gone she traded one cramped space for another, albeit darker, wringing trimmed locks with a towel. Sprawled out on a pasty sheet and a blanket her roommate said nothing. Plastic bowls by his pallet on the floor noodle pieces slipped down the sides for the broth. She glanced to the pot on their stove nearly spewing enough of it to feed a family of five.
"We'll call that progress," she quietly said thankful he didn't burn their shack down.
She borrowed one of his shirts slipping it on and letting it fall just shy of her knees. The thermostat didn't work. Passing trolleys outside weren't louder than the cat cries. She moved in no rush between her sheets dropping her head into a pillow she forgot to fluff. Above her the shack's one fan was on but its one bulb wasn't.
{You needn't worry about him, Ryuko. I was designed to protect you both.}
She rose without sitting all the way up. Her uniform, on a hanger by the bathroom door, could wait with a patience she considered eerie. She envied it.
"Did my father really expect me to keep the secret forever?" she asked pestered by the thought. "The moment's gotta be right but when it is...I'm telling him the truth. He deserves to know."
{Ryuko ...}
"You can't talk me out of it. Goodnight."
She laid on her side to close her eyes. Son's snoring didn't keep her awake yet it was every reason to rest. He was safe and sound.
x.x.x
"Everyone. This is Ryuko Matoi and Son Goku. They transferred into Second Year Class K today," their teacher said dully.
Back bent, walk unsteady, his unkempt hair had the marks of dealing with stress all day, every day. Son wondered why he wore sunglasses inside of a classroom. Ryuko stared like she trusted none of the faces she set eyes on. She recognized one.
"Ryuko! Son! Two seats are open beside me! Over here! Over here!"
"Hey Mako! Can we sit next to her Mr. Mikisugi?" Son asked holding most of the classroom's attention.
"I guess so. You two know Mako?" Mr. Mikisugi said.
He had a mind to ask of the case Ryuko lugged around.
"You could say that," Ryuko said, bored.
"Well, take your seats. Now were we? Ah. The German occupation of Rhineland," he etched on a messy chalkboard.
Hands buried in her jacket Ryuko led Son to their desks choosing the one to Mako's left. She set her case on its top to focus on a conversation.
"Ohhhhh. You're not brother and sister," Mako said looking to her first. "Son said you live near the rest of us."
"The rest of us?" Ryuko's brow furrowed.
"You know. No Stars. We aren't worthy enough to wear Goku Uniforms. So, that's what they call us," Mako said blankly first, then chirped. "We're practically neighbors now! I can come visit everyday!"
"She even knows how to cook something called croquettes. Said she learned it from her mom. Isn't that cool, Ryuko?!" Son said too excitedly.
He leaned forward to look across Mako's separating them. Ryuko couldn't ask. She also couldn't reply as Mako fell asleep. At a bell's ringing she woke in a tizzy snatching Son to his feet and dragging him with the other students.
"Hey! Wait for me!" Ryuko called out hurrying to catch up.
As Mr. Mikisugi found a moment to, he sighed.
"Heh," his raspy tone changed with his standing upright.
He pulled his shades from the thin bridge of his nose.
"This school year should be interesting," he said for the thought.
x.x.x
The grounds were akin to a war zone's aftermath. Far from a schoolyard. Any students running with groups appeared seedy, relishing that they were. More numbers meant survival. It fell to Ryuko's taking it all in. She could see what the pair with her refused to.
"No Stars!" came a gravely voice at their backs.
Son, Mako and Ryuko turned to see a pack draped in gray-padded fencing gear and each were one-star emblazoned to match their leader's two. His mask and sabre gleamed from the reddish lining to stand out.
"Losers sure do stick together, huh boys? It's just as well," he turned his crooked nose up.
"Says the guy dressed in a borderline leotard," Ryuko snickered. "Bet your face could stop traffic too. I'm guessing that's why you hide it."
"... No Star skank. You dare insult Hiryu Sukamoda?! Leader of the Fencing Club!" he fumed.
Ryuko flipped her hair so he could see the sneer.
"Whaddya gonna do about it?" she leaned in to mock.
She reached for her case, unlatching it. Flinging it high her weapon slipped from its place of rest falling into the hand she caught it with. She held its end toward her target and glanced to Son. He jumped to catch its sheath before it rained against Mako's scalp, laying it flat when he could.
"Kill her pet, boys! I'll take the skank!" Hiryu barked as he also took a stance. "First position!"
He and his ilk kept both feet together at the heel, with a right angle formed. Ryuko followed his dominant hand pointed downwards and away. Club members kicked up dust in the dash for Son and Mako. The latter jumped onto his back half past hysterical.
"Hold on!" Son shouted leaning from ripostes and mindful of her position.
He managed to disarm one swinging one of their swords to swipe off whoever tried.
"Attaboy Son!" Mako yelled no worse for the wear.
As he spun, she spun, twisting with him over the crowd. They stabbed up at his defying rules they were bound to. His toe tip touching down, he shot forward.
"Hoiyaaa!" he cried, his weapon thrusting ahead of him.
Dust thrown, sod cracked, it was the sudden force of his stop. Five of the bunch blew from his sword barreling through their peers at a pace they lost control of.
"Nice one!" Mako gushed.
"You okay?" he calmed down to ask.
"Of course!" she assured him. "Now let's get 'em!"
His sabre's end pressed the body points he could reach. He only hoped the one he carried could stomach how swiftly. Gathering four up with his foot he turned rapid thrusts to kick their chests in. Careening for the grounds wall left them embedded more than an inch into stone. No longer needed, he tossed what he used aside and left them stuck to think about it. There were more left to humble.
x.x.x
"One-hundred Thousand Stab Royale!" Hiryu raised his voice.
He moved his hand so fast it appeared an illusion jabbing his sabre into Ryuko's scissor.
"What's the matter?! Thought your sword getting bigger wasn't just you overcompensating!" she ran off at the mouth.
Bits of dust swirled around steel against steel dispersing with a final stop.
"Kick it up a notch fencing club leader! You're putting me to sleep!" she smiled wryly.
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Hiryu snapped hopping back and lunging with another.
His stabs conjured fire, unlike his peers. Ryuko's shoe against his mask she pushed from it, upturning back, her grip on something hooking her gauntlet until she pulled it free. The needles poking her skin she was used to. Pain egged her on. A fiery gust shooting from her heels kept her afloat it joined dazzling flashes as her armor took shape. It blew her hair to its redder highlights, snapped over her chest and wrapped her body, holding on as tight as it could. The resulting steam huffed from under her new skirt and breastplate.
"Let's go, Senketsu," she said, gravity pulling her down. "Decapitation Mode!"
At her behest her blade's length doubled unfolding until she had no choice but to grip it with two hands. Hiryu quivered, trying his damndest to not shed a tear. She drew her blade back ready to crash it into his mask with all of her ire. It sliced a line straight through it, slamming the dirt. Where they stood ripped open to gush it, the gap widening the further it zigzagged.
"RAHHNHNHNHHN!" Hiryu screamed hurled in another direction.
Underneath his bravado was what she expected; a bald, scrawny teenager with no respect for anyone. His uniform tore from his skin leaving him more than cold.
"Sen-i-Soshitsu!" Ryuko said out loud.
Though she didn't care to look a wayward fiber drew into her gear, granting it vigor. Senketsu wiggled against her.
{That was overkill.}
"You know a better way to gauge your strength?" she said.
{Our strength. You have forgotten Son.}
"No I haven't," she sucked her teeth.
She stole a moment to look.
"Ryuko!" Mako called.
In her turn the spectacle was Son's sitting on a pile of the unconscious, Mako's sitting on his shoulders not perturbed by it. She couldn't help her quiet chuckle.
"... Impressive."
The judgement was of another. Hers was one of authority from high up. Ryuko tilted her head to a shine that couldn't have been the sun's. Four silhouettes boxed it in. Others put boots to the ground from thin air. On his return she pressed her back to Son's as they were quickly surrounded.
"I've got you covered," he promised.
"Me too," Mako cosigned with her dukes up as if to contribute.
Ryuko looked again to the sky and it was then she received a visual; taller, hands over the pommel of her sword to prop her and it up, the mysterious speaker looked down as her longer hair waved after the wind.
"Your Kamui is everything I'd hoped it would be," she said, not one to lose the lax in her speaking voice.
"Who the hell are you?" Ryuko spat.
"... Satsuki Kiryuin," Satsuki said carefully. "One of a few that know the ramifications of Isshin Matoi's death."
"What?" Ryuko replied, dropping her guard.
"I also know what you really are...Son Goku," Satsuki claimed. "Wielder of the Kamehameha. The Bane of Life Fiber. Do you even know of your reputation?"
"Something's different about her," Son told Ryuko.
"Tsk. You always talk down to people from your pedestal?!" Ryuko said impatiently. "Why don't you and I chop it up about Son and my father. I'm just aching to hear more."
She aimed her scissor to try the air.
"Son. You aren't meant for a life of triviality. Unlike Matoi...I won't fabricate the truth," Satsuki ignored her.
Her comment was more uncomfortable than the strain on Ryuko's body. She was hoping the subject would go unvoiced a little longer.
"What does that mean?" Son asked, also losing his patience.
He got no answer as Satsuki took her assured grin with her being a beacon elsewhere. The four with her followed closely. Her soldiers, the most loyal of her students, filed from their presence like statues given animation. Ryuko exhaled. She was grateful, and, a bit peeved, as she wasn't ready to tell him.
"Snobby bitch," she said not dropping her gaze.
{Your blood is hot, Ryuko.}
"Where does she come off talking to us like that?!" she said anyway.
Senketsu's tough faded back to cloth like it was taken by the chill, a chill Ryuko could then feel as her jacket was with her case. She loosened the grip on her scissor letting it fall. She heard a stomach's growl louder than her short breaths. Two stomachs. Behind her Mako and Son rubbed their bellies.
"I'm so hungry!" they complained in unison.
She was more put off by the mound of bodies some yards back, each one twitching and sore. Grabbing her case and coat she let it be.
"... Let's go," she eventually said.
x.x.x
"Delicious!" he squealed in a hurry.
Son shoved more of a fried, bread-crumbed recipe into his mouth, snatching what he could from a wooden platter on their floor.
"You guys must be freaks of nature! I've never seen that kind of strength from someone without a Goku Uniform. No wonder Lady Satsuki's got it in for you!" Mako wondered aloud.
She joined Son in gulping down what she had a hand in cooking.
"If Senketsu's not one of them, what is he?" she asked.
"I couldn't tell you if I knew," Ryuko said.
Dusk wasn't then yet she thought it felt later. She blamed annoying thoughts. A want for the day to be over. The shack rattled. An outdoor gale wouldn't give yet she ignored its seeping through the foundation's cracks.
"Satsuki Kiryuin huh," she focused on nothing. "Thought it'd take weeks to learn any shred of the truth. Looks like I'll have to beat it out of her."
Mako tried eye contact. She saw strands of Ryuko's hair nearly hiding her pupils, some minor apprehension.
"Senketsu. Son. They've been with you through thick and thin!" she said.
Ryuko parted her mouth at how off-putting it was.
"Don't worry so much!" Mako finished.
Her smile carved the dimples she always had into her cheeks.
"... Right," Ryuko grinned with her. "Thanks for making these."
Mako stood to swipe the wrinkles from her skirt. She straightened, pointing her fist at the front door, her other hand on her hip.
"Anytime! We're besties now! Besties look out for one another!" she said.
Her looking like a prim and proper schoolgirl was appropriate, and would be, if her behavior wasn't contrary.
"I'll be back in a sec," Ryuko excused herself.
She shuffled for the bathroom stopping to see Mako back in a seated position matching Son's pace. She closed the door gently behind her walk in. The floor needed to be waxed. The walls needed repainting. The bathtub was chipped and it had no shower curtain to speak of. Nevertheless where she stood played second fiddle.
{You don't plan to tell Son?}
"Jeez you're relentless," she complained at her lapel.
As a sailor uniform Senketsu clung to her figure but not so tight it got on her nerves. The note she pulled from her skirt brought her intrigue.
"We have to see what this guy wants," she said, unraveling it:
We'll meet near the docks after class.
It's imperative we speak.
Mr. Mikisugi
She squeezed it in her palm, crossing her arms. Her back against the door she searched the ceiling. It wasn't anxiety. It was anticipation. The sound of laughter took her mind from anything else. When ready, she joined those that gave her a break from it.