Has anyone read the Gintama 479 spoilers?!
OIAHSGLKasjdflkahglkasjdf OMGGGGG I CANNOTTTTT
Disclaimer: I don't own Gintama but - - ar ddding m eeEEEE - MUTSU IS A...?!
Sorachi, you amazing troll.
Eyes of Wolves
- 22 -
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
He didn't need words to argue. Almost adamant that she drop the subject, Zenshi glared until the pressure forced Tsukuyo to grimace his way.
"Give me a good reason I shouldn't go," she growled, folding her arms and clenching her teeth down on her pipe.
"Sciuttla is politically unstable. They're in the midst of a civil war. There are very few safe areas."
"And?" Tsukuyo scowled.
"No one will be willing to take you."
"They are." Tsukuyo jerked a chin at the Kaientai's captain and vice-captain, who watched the conversation with discomfited awkwardness.
By his taciturn nature, Zenshi wanted the conversation to end. Tsukuyo, however, had an arcane stubbornness that shattered all hopes of ensuing silence. Circumstances were unfavorable; Zenshi gave her a sour glance and retreated upstairs, leaving Tsukuyo to barter her ridiculous proposals in the parlor.
He set his umbrella down, meandering to the hallway bathroom and splashing his face with water. June had hit with staggering heat, and he was far from comfortable in his old Yato clothing, but preferred them over standard Japanese apparel.
Continuing to think, Zenshi debated the validity of his prior statement. In truth, Sciuttla had long since overcome its civil war, but it was far from stable. The propagation of the new military coup's influence had resulted in several mysterious disappearances, finding trouble within rancorous riots and quixotic martyrs. Even if the government had somewhat reached a standstill, the people were far from quiet.
A knock at the door interrupted his astute review of foreign affairs. Seita appeared, his head of messy brown peeking around the door.
"Tsukuyo-nee is going to outer space?" he asked, plainly.
Zenshi simply sighed, standing.
"She has that intention," Zenshi told the boy, standing and wiping his face off. Though he'd been sitting in front of a meager electric fan for some time, the heat was stifling even indoors. Nonetheless, he followed the boy down the parlor to see where the deal with the Kaientai had progressed within the twenty quick minutes of his introspection.
Seated at the table, Sakamoto, Mutsu, and Tsukuyo were heatedly discussing the implications of travel.
"I must warn you, as I have done many times now, that travelling that far is dangerous. More than dangerous." Mutsu sipped her tea. The conversation seemed to have circled back to the basics.
"I told ya," Tsukuyo protested, "we can hold our own."
"Yes, but our ship has schedules to follow. We don't make our rounds to that area until around autumn in Earth time," Mutsu replied evenly. "If you'll wait until then, then fine."
"I'll—"
"Kindly decline your offer," Zenshi cut in.
"I told ya," Tsukuyo muttered beneath her breath scathingly, "to stay out of this."
"Maybe he's concerned for ya," butted in Sakamoto in his blunt effrontery.
"He doesn't want political trouble," replied Tsukuyo. "Typical."
Zenshi was at once thankful and reproachful of his own effusive demeanor. He never gushed emotion through facial expression, but instead it came in silence and condescension. Evidently, what Tsukuyo looked for was not to be looked down on; and Zenshi, quite literally scowling down his nose at her, only provoked her temper.
She read him with empirical ease, experience gained with a skillful few months of observation and practicality.
"Come with me fer a sec. We need t'talk." She gestured to him, and they stepped briefly outside Hinowa's shop parlor.
Despite her words, she fumed for a good two minutes before she actually said a thing.
"Why." She pulled her kiseru from her clenched teeth and tucked it into the one sleeve of her dark yukata. Her lavender eyes were hard, resembling unyielding amethyst.
"Because it puts your well-being in an endangering situation." Because I care. Because I owe you my life. Because if I cannot pay you back with money or with labor, I will pay it back by protecting whatever it is I deem important.
"Yer a real smooth talker, aren't ya." Her gaze was accusing. She let the comment sit for another sweltering moment in the sun before continuing. "Nothin' you say fools me. I don't care what ya think about protecting us because we helped ya. I don't care what distorted visions you have for paying us back. I certainly don't care if ya just up and leave, like ya tried before."
Zenshi remained silent, guardedly resenting her dour domineering.
"What?" she demanded. "Can't prove I'm wrong? Tired of freeloadin'? I said you were free to stay. But just one thing: Don't. Get. In. My. Way."
Zenshi was naturally taciturn character, quiet but intellectual. Even so, had he looked pathetically like a lethargic dog, ears drooped and tongue lolling out with each pant. He feigned lack of concern, but Tsukuyo was purposefully unrelenting. As he grew more and more irritated by the sun — his poor, blue umbrella was lying closed in the guest room, sitting beside an electric fan he'd left on — she, for some reason, became more and more upset.
Her mercurial temperament was bizarre, but then again, even the rather sun-resistant Zenshi was feeling the adverse affects of the heavy rays on his skin.
"Uncomfortable yet?" she spat.
"Not at all," he replied through gritted teeth. He realized that he probably should've just begged for mercy, because her glare fixated him to the spot. The sun prickled his skin; though it didn't burn him or cause him much pain on the surface, the heavy heat and the permeating rays were veering on the edge of nausea. He could, like Kagura, stand a degree of sunlight, but he was nowhere near as accustomed to this planet's light intensity as she was.
He shrank somewhat into himself, shoulders slightly hunched. His mother, he thought with an inward smirk, would have slapped him straight.
"Ya sure yer all right?" she taunted. A ghost of a smile played her lips now, and Zenshi knew he was being teased.
Beads of sweat rolled down his face, and the amused glint in Tsukuyo's eyes increased. Almost insouciantly, the blonde courtesan began humming to herself, watching Zenshi's hands itch for a nonexistent umbrella.
"It sure is nice weather," she drawled, letting the words roll indulgently off her tongue.
"Superb," he forced out with mock conviviality. Inwardly, he was coiled to keep himself from unraveling. In this heat, it was easy for any Yato to uncurl and just lie flat on the ground, melting. But that would be his loss, and he refused to lose to Tsukuyo.
Only when he was visibly drenched in sweat, hands fisted tightly and shoulder's stiffened to cramps, did Tsukuyo let out a short bark of a laugh and tell him to come inside. They both sat down at the table, one satisfied straw-haired kunoichi beside a lugubrious Yato.
"It sure is hot," Mutsu said flatly.
Zenshi studied the table's wooden textures, flashing his kindred spirit an apathetic glance.
"Where were we?" Sakamoto laughed, graciously accepting a cinnamon roll that Seita pulled from seemingly nowhere. He offered food to their other guest, who politely declined.
"September," Tsukuyo said. "We were in September."
.: MAY, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
"He's like a big puppy, yes? Like Sadaharu, yes?" Kagura excitedly clamored when Zenshi followed Tsukuyo into Edo. Though a silent tagalong, he wasn't too on board with being called a dog.
"More like a stray," Tsukuyo corrected. "Why, again, are ya followin' me?"
Zenshi held up a stack of envelopes that she'd told him to mail.
"Right."
He tucked them into his pocket and continued until they reached the post office, where, almost deliberately, Tsukuyo lingered at the entrance.
Setting up the ZenTsu?!
b-b-b-b-but MUTSU!
MUTSUUU ISS AAAAa?!
Also known as
YATO FOR GINTOKI
YATO FOR TAKASUGI
YATO FOR SAKAMOTO
duck-thing for zura.