TWENTIETH CHAPTER! *cheers!*
Please do tell me what you guys think! I've been writing more from Mei's point of view, so I want to know how that's going.
Also, there HAVE been time skips.
And they're purposefully distracting.
Anyway, what do you think of developments so far?
fun facts!
Ch. 19: When Tsukki says "it's not an it, it's a him," it's sort of a reference to that new TV series where some guy is connected to the technological mainframe or whatever. I forgot the name, but sounds pretty cool, and just by commercial I ship the guy and the gal who guards him. Just sayin'. lol.
Yorozuya yo Eien Nare: In Be Forever Yorozuya, the second movie, when Tsukki cuts her hair, Zen has allowed it to grow out.
Random: The most I know about ships is either from NCIS, several cruises, or the internet. Also, the hierarchy of officers is probably totes off, but who really cares?
DISCLAIMER: the creator, the gorilla, the ultimate man - Sorachi Hideaki.
on a different note, he once participated in a draw SNK characters meme, and the moment I looked at the one who drew Jean, I internally shouted
GORILLA!
Eyes of Wolves
- 20 -
.: MAY, PRESENT :.
Kamui's laughter rang hauntingly through the halls, accompanied by the heavy footsteps of her personal failure.
You've been had.
.: ONE YEAR AGO :.
"Lieutenant. Lieutenant? Are you even listening?"
Evidently, he is not, because his head is down and he is asleep at the table.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
"Can ya go mail this fer me?"
It seemed as if his only job nowadays was to mail things.
.: ONE YEAR AGO :.
She puts down the stack of papers and sits down. Curled up at the head of the meeting table, in the vacant room, it is so quiet she can hear him breathe.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
Tsukuyo never really said anything, but he knew without asking. After the scuffle with the Yato, she had grown apprehensive.
She never explained the reasons for pursuing the terrorist.
But nevertheless, she continued.
.: ONE YEAR AGO :.
She considers for a moment — the thought flashes briefly, like a lightning bolt — going to brew a cup of peach tea. She knows he likes it, and she would add a leaf of mint, too. Then again, she prefers hot chocolate over anything bland like tea.
But she just sits in tranquil silence, letting the tired lieutenant sleep a few minutes longer.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
The man that bumped into his shoulder stumbled, tripping flat onto his face. Zenshi offered a hand, apologetically grimacing.
"Ahaha, it's all good, pal!" exclaimed the man, pushing his round sunglasses up his nose. "I think I'm forgetting something, though."
He whipped an envelope from his pocket.
"I forgot the mail this!"
.: ONE YEAR AGO :.
Her eyes flutters open, and she finds that someone has draped a cloak over her shoulders. Instead of waiting for the lieutenant to wake up, she herself had fallen asleep.
In front of her — a steaming cup of hot chocolate, marshmallows and all.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
Zenshi wondered how someone who set off to mail something could so easily forget where he was going and what he was doing. Even so, he followed the man to the post office, entering the line behind him.
"So, are ya sending a love letter or something?" asked the man boisterously.
"No," replied Zenshi, lacking all intention to engage in conversation. The man, however, caught everything except Zenshi's cues. He glanced down at the envelope in Zenshi's hands.
"Hey, fancy that!" he exclaimed, beaming. "Bring up your letter, I can't really read upside down. But I think…"
Zenshi, though rather bothered by the fact that he had no personal space around his stranger, complied. The man, in all his brown-haired, curly glory, laughed so loudly that it grated on the Yato's sensitive ears.
"Would you look at that!" A finger is jabbed on the mailing address. "That's me!"
Zenshi's eyes shot down to the paper, which he had not bothered to read. He did, after all, respect others' privacy.
Written in Tsukuyo's slanted, sharp scrawl was the name of a merchant company he'd met in a different place and a different time:
The Kaientai.
.: ONE YEAR AGO :.
His shoulders are stiff and the crick in his neck turns his movements almost robotic, but he lurches to a conscious state with considerable effort. The last he remembers, he was reading something about the new and improved technology of space-fishing? Briefly, Zenshi recalls wondering about whether or not the galleys would have space-jelly that night, but immediately discards the thought.
Instead, his attention diverts itself to the snoozing aide at his left, cheek pressed to her arms, which cushion her head. She's drooling out of the corner of her lip, and snores lightly, but the fact that she's there — albeit with a daunting stack of documents to come — is endearing.
Zenshi pulls his cloak from his shoulders and gently lays it on hers.
If the galley doesn't have space-jelly for dinner, he decides, he'll settle for hot chocolate.
Though, to be honest, he isn't much of a sweets person.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
"No mailing fees necessary!" laughed Sakamoto Tatsuma, accepting the letter once Zenshi realized who he was talking to. The chances that such a coincidental meeting would occur were beyond him; Zenshi was more appalled by the fact that he had not remembered the general manager of such an important merchant business.
Then again, he supposed, the former pirate Mutsu had been the real executive at the time.
"Kintoki had told me earlier that I was to expect mail," Sakamoto continued, whether or not Zenshi was listening. "Something about helping out a gal. Of course I'd say yes."
Zenshi stared, uncomprehending. More accurately, the sun was screaming the start of summer, and despite the light, borrowed yukata he wore, he was practically boiling. He huddled miserably under his umbrella, feeling sweat bead along his neck.
"I should call Mutsu. Where is she, anyway?"
Zenshi, looking dark and discontent, simply shook his head.
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
There is, in fact, year cake being delivered. Though, unsurprisingly, there is suddenly a long, long line from deck five down to the galleys.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
He didn't like to touch people uselessly, but he was very tempted to grab Sakamoto by the throat just to shut him up. Tsukuyo, obviously, had been rubbing off on him; Zenshi found that his temper had shortened quite a bit.
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
The squeaky announcer boy is incessant — and right in front of them.
"Do you think we'll be back home in time for the celebration? This sure is early for year cake, isn't it?" he beams, swiveling around to talk to the two. The poor kid is affectionately called "Tabs," because despite his loquacious, overly sociable (and somewhat nervous) nature, he manages to keep tabs on almost everything he's assigned. He has been called both an idiot and a super-genius, the former for being such a klutz, and the latter for his remarkable multitasking skills.
Tabs is, in fact, around Mei's age, in his early twenties. He was not a student at the intergalactic school, but he had attended a well-to-do Yato academy — more like a dojo, but nonetheless a temple school — and is well-versed in the ways of the universe. Or so he claims. He's talkative, and usually that immediately deters Zenshi from any interaction, but it's usually the sweet type of conversation.
Today, Zenshi doesn't mind Tabs and his excited entreaties to year cake. He finds that after his ordeal with the fumes, he is oddly sedated. The boy speaks in an animated fashion, but he's never disrespectful. He tags his "Lieutenants" and "sirs" on as suitable, and never drops his standard dialect. He would, otherwise, probably burst into a heavily Yato accented blur that only Mei might understand.
"Lieutenant," he inquires, with his ridiculously wide grin that stretches across his face — he's a thin fellow, with a ski-jump nose and a couple of freckles — "Do you know what our course is going to be?"
"We should arrive at the Harusame space station in thirty or so hours," Zenshi answers. "If negotiations do not take a long time, we should be able to take a detour home in time for New Year's."
"That's great news!" exclaims the boy, nudging Mei's shoulder.
"Yeah, but when has the space station ever processed us on time?" she snorts, rolling her eyes.
"True," agrees Tabs, nodding. He has an unruly flop of brown hair that his commanding officer — that is, Ensign Delong — has tried to shear off multiple times. The boy is so endearing and pathetically puppy-like that the superior officer relented at some point or another.
"Hey Tabs," says Mei, out of the blue, "who takes care of announcements when you're not up in the bridge?"
"Oh, Shaojun, the tech," he answers. "Whenever you hear the really muffled announcements, that's him."
"Oh, so you're the best announcer, aren't you?" sneers Mei, teasingly. Tabs simply throws her a haughty grin, wiggling his eyebrows. Even Zenshi offers the boy a small smile.
"Remind me to hire you if I ever need an announcer," Zenshi says amiably.
"Will do, Lieutenant!"
.: End of MAY, ONE WEEK AGO :.
"You want to go where?"
"This planet." She shoved the papers his way, onto the desk where his feet were propped up lazily. "Yer familiar with a merchant, right?"
"Merchant? Who told you that?"
"Kagura."
Gin stared at the blonde courtesan with his particularly dead dead-fish eyes.
"All right, I do know a guy. Sakamoto Tatsuma, an old Joui patriot with an empty head and a full-blown merchant company out in space."
"Give me his contacts."
Gintoki eyed her, not without concern, and rummaged in his desk. He handed over the business card that once came from Mutsu's hand.
Shorter one for ya after all those long ones.
Also: WHAT HAPPENED TO MEI AGHHH?!
WHERE IS THIS FREAKING PLOT GOING AADSHGLAHGHHH?!
WHY AM I NOT DOING HOMEWORK AHHHH?!
Thanks for sticking with me to twenty! Long fics aren't often popular, so I hope you're enjoying!