MORE FUN FACTS!
Ch. 12: The tech, named Shaojun, is based off my mom's nickname. (wow, lol)
Random: Zenshi folds clothes at lightning speed. Yes. Laundry time.
Random: His favorite fruit is a peach.
Random: Zenshi is six foot two. Wow. Tall guy.
DISCLAIMER: Gintamaaaaa and Gintamannnnnn are not mine. :D
Eyes of Wolves
- 13 -
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"Can't sleep?"
He shook his head.
"Can't stop thinking," he corrected.
.: Friday, THREE WEEKS AGO :.
It was cold and lonely, the breeze a despondent echo of what he had done. He had just abandoned his ship, his lifetime devotion, his people.
He had also, however, abandoned his sin.
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"Thinkin' about what?"
"People. Places." A deliberate pause. "Pasts."
.: Saturday, THREE WEEKS AGO :.
He glided to shore at the stroke of midnight, dawning a new day. He quietly navigated around the smaller docked ships, tethering the teeny canoe beneath a low-set series of makeshift boards to an old, weathered boat. He hoped it would remain discreetly for an extended time, seeing as this dock was out of the way and unnoticed by most.
Setting foot onto Earth and into Edo, he walked.
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"Mm. How about we play a game. I'll ask ya twenty questions, and you'll do the same."
"And the point is?"
"To listen."
.: Sunday, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
Peace was disconcerting. The moments where silence permeated the air so thickly he couldn't breathe, Zenshi prompted himself to movement. He wandered in large arcs, always keeping Edo's huge space terminal in sight. Something was bound to happen. Something was supposed to happen.
Yet he dreaded it.
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"To listen?"
"Yes. Is that so wrong?"
"No, there is nothing wrong with listening."
.: Monday, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
When Mei said out of time, she really meant it. Either that, or the Harusame's most brutal squad was doubling as the pirate organization's sharpest, finest trackers.
Or, Zenshi thought miserably to himself, he was just a massive idiot.
After all, only Yato carry their umbrellas everywhere they go. Had it been a sunny day, Zenshi's umbrella would be a dead giveaway. He had hoped that the rain would give him a normal appearance.
He hoped wrong.
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"Ladies first."
"All right." She came and sat down next to him, their backs to the wall, the half-ajar window above their heads. "Tell me somethin' about yer mother."
"That's not a question."
"Don't be nitpicky. What's yer mother like?"
"Kind. Gentle. She has brown hair and brown eyes, and looks like the lady that runs the bakery Hinowa likes." He ran a hand through his hair. "Hinowa reminds me of her."
.: Monday, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
The rain could not decide its allegiance. All at once, the pouring storm drenched him, yet it allowed him precious moments to duck into the alleys. The shots that resounded down the street startled him into a faster run, feet seeking dry land.
But each step sank into puddles and potholes, and he stumbled his way into darkness.
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"How do you know the Yorozuya?"
"The Yorozuya? Well," she said, a wry chuckle on her lips, "they saved Yoshiwara, after all."
"And the samurai?"
"Gintoki?" Tsukuyo turned to study his face. "That's two questions, Zenshi."
.: Monday, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
He defended skillfully, and seeing as only one man caught up to him — grabbing his umbrella hastily and tearing it with his bare hands — Zenshi was faring decently. The Yato who apprehended him was similar to Ungyou, one of Abuto's men: he had a burly, muscular build and was terrifyingly aggressive. He fired a few rounds, and Zenshi dodged most. His umbrella deflected a few, but when the brawny soldier grabbed the tool and shred it brutally, Zenshi ducked back. He couldn't remember which umbrella it was — the spare? The one his father entrusted to him, with the golden insignia melded into the handle? He could not remember.
He whirled around and ran.
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"What're ya runnin' from?"
"Pirates."
"That's too vague," she insisted.
"The Harusame."
"Still too vague."
"The Yato division. I'm sure you'd remember them."
And she did.
.: End of MARCH, ONE MONTH AGO :.
"What does," Abuto says, kneeling, "this look like to you?"
He holds up a torn bit of fabric between his thumb and forefinger. It's a part of Zenshi's dark cloak that had been caught in his haste.
"Evidence," Zenshi replies.
"What evidence?" Abuto stares very purposefully at the piece of fabric. "I don't see any evidence."
"Nonexistent evidence?" Zenshi corrects.
"No," Abuto denies, still. "I see proof."
"Proof?"
"Proof of existence." He taps his head, and then points to Zenshi. "Proof that you are real."
"So it's evidence," concludes Zenshi, a bit tiredly.
"You're still not gettin' it, bud," laughs Abuto, getting to his feet. When he straightens, he groans. "I'm becoming old, aren't I? Bummer."
He taps his head again.
"Think about it."
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"What is your relation to Gin?"
"That is a nosy question."
"Twenty questions."
"Nineteen, actually," she snorted, drawing her pipe from her belt. In the dark, he couldn't see the slight flush on her features.
"Your answer?"
"I have none."
.: End of MARCH, ONE MONTH AGO :.
"So I retrieved these." Abuto hands over Zenshi's belongings, all recovered from the warehouse where he'd stowed them. Zenshi nods, thanking the man silently. "Bud, don't leave the clothes I give you lying around, 'kay?"
There is a teasing grin hanging on Abuto's face, threatening to spill into laughter. Zenshi good-naturedly raises a brow at the older man, earning him a hearty clap on the shoulder.
"I swear, Zenshi." Abuto shakes his head. "If I didn't really know you, I'd think you were either some pompous bastard up in the ranks or some druggie rebel in the streets. Which are ya?"
"Neither," replies Zenshi, tilting his head and smirking. "I'm a pirate with great fashion sense."
Abuto bursts into laughter.
"Borrowed fashion sense, mind you," he tips, before turning around and whistling as he saunters down the hall.
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"That was hardly an answer."
"How arrogant of you to say," she scoffed.
.: SEVEN YEARS AGO :.
"Now," Abuto begins to explain, with mock seriousness. "If the gravity core is turned off, you're aware that we'll start floating about like lost rabbits, right?"
"Lost rabbits float?" Kamui stifles a laugh. Abuto rescinds his nearly spoken outburst, and continues on his way.
"Danchou, I know you're in charge and all, but you're underestimated by most of the crew," he sighs. "It would be good for you to know your own ship before the crew thinks you're a kid and bullies you into outer space."
"We are in outer space."
"Danchou, please." Abuto throws Zenshi an exasperated glance. "I know this kid's a handful, but seriously?"
"Seriously," Zenshi parrots, cynically.
"I'm not sure I like you two," concludes Abuto, eyes flickering from the eleven-year-old boy to the tall, stoic man patiently posted beside them. "But who cares what I think. Follow me."
.: APRIL, PRESENT :.
"Question three: why are ya runnin'?"
"You haven't answered mine."
"I did."
Zenshi's silence was compelling.
"Okay, I didn't. But I've decided — this is one-sided twenty questions."
"Did I agree to this?"
"You didn't disagree."
When he turned his head, he failed to convey his exasperation. A cloud of stinging smoke warded him away, and he simply resigned himself to answering the question.
"I'm a treasonous pirate," he offered simply. "And they don't like treasonous pirates in their crew."
"One man mutiny."
"That sums it up quite nicely."
.: Monday, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
He kept time with each ragged breath, each carefully placed step. The seconds ticked off in his head, dipping into negatives because he knew he was out of time. They were coming closer, and closer, and closer…
I like doing those little tie-around things, like this one - how it came back to the first line of ch. 2, yes? Those are interesting and fun.
Don't overuse them, though! D:
Lots of little short segments for you.
I NEED TO DO HOMEWORK.
INSTEAD I PUT UP THREE CHAPTERS
whYHHWYYYY
I need a Mutsu in my life to keep me in line. I love Mutsu.