FUN FACTS:
Ch. 23: Rokudo's name was very randomly inspired by Rokudo Mukuro from Katekyo Hitman Reborn. But this Rokudo is a douche. Mukuro from KHR is the epitome of awesome.
Ch. 23: Ocentisa was literally made up on the spot. I seriously just looked up cool galaxies (Omega Centauri is debated topic, regarding its status as galaxy or dwarf galaxy or something like that...yay space XD). And came up with a name. BUT HEY. OCENTISA actually sounds like a good abbreviation, no?
Random: I'm actually staring at an SAT vocab packet, deciding which words may be useful.
Ch. 23: The Shinra are the race of Kujaku Hime Kada, remember? And the Gorilla, at Ocentisa, literally have a class called "the Uho of Uho".
ANYWAY
Disclaimer: mr. raindrop, falling away from me naooooo
that belongs to amplified
Gintama is Sorachi's. Uho.
Eyes of Wolves
- 24 -
.: MAY, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
"Question eleven," he reciprocated. A pause. "Who taught you to be a kunoichi?"
She threw him a critical glare.
"That's a long story."
"Let's hear it."
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
With night came the blissful cool of darkness, and the welcomed blanket of twinkling stars cued the arrival of Yoshiwara's liveliness. Zenshi, as usual, remained in the guest residence of Hinowa's spacious residence, peering out the window that overlooked the streets running parallel to the city elevators.
Absently, Zenshi pulled out the envelope from Mutsu. He'd been pushing aside her almost mysterious words: from the embassy.
There was no return address, but he peeled the letter open and acutely acknowledged the Tendoshuu seal. It wasn't exactly from the puppet masters, but it was, in fact, a letter sent through one of the man Amanto embassies. Upon closer inspection, he found that it was not actually a Tendoshuu seal, but a Yato one. Pressed upon the dried wax was a rabbit poised mid-leap over a crescent moon. The paper itself smelled of many hands and many places; it had traveled a long way.
To his surprise, Zenshi discovered more than one letter inside the manila envelope. One with the Yato's home planet seal, and the other with the stamp of Earth's postal system. A foreigner and an earthling, perhaps.
He chanced the Yato one first.
It was from his mother.
.: MAY, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
So she told him, but her story came with more than an ounce of effort and a somewhat blurred line between willingness to share and a loss for words. He accepted her less than complete explanation without hesitation. He was never one to make people uncomfortable unless he fully intended to.
"Question twelve," she continued efficiently, fingering the scars along her face. Zenshi stood, then, from where he'd been seated behind her. "Who?"
"I had one friend of many years, and a new one or two. The first is a horribly sour person, I'm sure you'd find." He smiled deprecatingly to no one. "You would be constantly at odds with her." You already are at odds with her.
"And the others?"
"Just a kid with a knack for talking, and a man who is probably everyone's tired uncle."
"Sounds like a family to me," she said softly.
"Possibly," he agreed.
He looked forlorn then, and did not stir when she touched his arm gently.
"I think," she decided on her own, "it's your turn to tell a long story."
The faint glow at the end of her kiseru faded, and only when a thin stream of tobacco smoke quivered past his face did he offer an obdurate shake of his head.
"Then," she prompted, "at least tell me about them. Just a little."
So he did.
.: ELEVEN YEARS AGO :.
He feels the pain before the sound of the shot registers in his ears. Whipping around, Zenshi discovers that a large number of the other Yato — there are a few older than him, two his age, and a younger set of twins — have raised their umbrellas. He cannot remember there being so many Yato; perhaps he had miscounted before.
The one who shot him looks horrified, but the parasol does not lower. Zenshi briefly regards his left shoulder, now soaked in blood, and then lunges for the shooter. The girl is tall and muscular, a fine counterpart to her idol Rokudo, but time away from home has softened her instincts, and Zenshi snags the umbrella from her hands.
She's on the verge of a scream, but he stops midstride and says,
"Weapons should be treated with care, young miss."
His voice is so oddly charismatic and his tone so obliquely concerned that she is momentarily stunned. Behind Zenshi, Rokudo wrenches himself to his feet and grabs his foe by the collar.
"Gentleman!" exclaims the instructor, who has been jostled between excited students, the injured homeroom teacher, and the quarreling Yato. Rokudo pays no heed to the man and slams his umbrella into Zenshi's injured shoulder, sending the other boy flying across the amphitheatre. To Rokudo's dismay, the dark-haired student simply picks himself up and saunters casually back to the group.
Zenshi strides up to Rokudo and stares him in the face.
"Do you want to get beaten up again?" seethes the fierce ringleader of the clique, whose close-cropped hair makes his defined features severe and menacing.
"I don't recall a first time," Zenshi deadpans presumptuously. Rokudo strikes like lightning, but Zenshi has already intercepted the blow, his own hand pulling Rokudo past him. Zenshi drives the elbow of his free arm down into the boy's forearm, unflinchingly going for the hard crack of bone. The other Yato screeches in pain, rage contorting his face into something terrifying.
"You—" Rokudo cannot manage another word, but his good hand goes for Zenshi's throat. By now, several teachers and guards have entered the scene and are trying to separate the boys, but Rokudo's grip on the impassive Zenshi's neck is powerful.
Without ever once panicking, despite the sweat beading down his face as the inability to breathe, Zenshi unhooks his umbrella from his belt and presses the firearm tip to his assailant's chest.
Weapons, he mouths, forcing out a nearly inaudible whisper, should be treated with care.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
My dearest son,
I have heard of many things, and the most recent is of your presence on Earth. To be honest, I had begun to worry, but a sudden influx of updates to our lonely household has become the center of my life. Our little shop doesn't get many customers, but we fare well, and your aunt is the town's finest medic. I wait constantly for updates about you. Some come from the Harusame — and you fellows have the most menacing postcards, I must say — and some come from your father. He is actually very adamant that he knows your state of being. The last I heard, Hosen had passed and that was it.
The Harusame passed nearby recently, but the rumor is that you're no longer on their ship. I cannot guess why — well, as your mother, I probably could — but I wish you well. If anything, cease my worries and just visit already.
Your aging mother would like to see her son before all of her hair turns gray.
With love,
Ma.
.: ELEVEN YEARS AGO :.
When the two are hauled apart, Zenshi sputters a few times, rubbing his neck deliberately for show. A team of three teachers restrains a ferocious Rokudo, whose boiling blood sends shivers through the Yato company.
"Holy crap," whispers Mei, when the attending instructors deem Zenshi a victim rather than an instigator — thanks, in part, to Mei's acting and Zenshi's aptitude for smooth negotiations. "You just broke his arm in one strike. One."
"It is a relief to see my fellow Yato aren't blind," he murmurs back with exemplary sarcasm.
"I will hit you."
He responds with the most exasperated expression one can make without actually moving a single muscle, and she grimaces.
"I don't know if I like you."
Almost inexplicably, he turns and tells her, "Good."
A booming voice broadcasts from the center of the grand city hall, and they look up to see their superintendent adjusting an odd purple microphone, his face blown up to ridiculous proportions on the magnificent screens.
"Welcome," he announces with great warmth and intensity, "to the 24th annual all school assembly!"
As he rattles on in his resounding voice about the academy, and a majority of the students find themselves staring into space, empty of thought. When the school anthem begins to play, half the auditorium is giggling because the Inuisei are simply howling the chorus, the Gorilla race students don't say anything except "Uho!", and the Yato have commenced their typical staring contest with the Shinra students.
"Today, we commemorate the…"
"I will hit him," declares Mei under her breath. She has such long, tangerine orange hair that is falls past her hips and is all over the place; currently, she is braiding it into an elaborate design, half its length draped over Zenshi's left leg.
"I'm sure that'd turn out well."
She snarls at the head in front of her and elbows him with her right arm. When he doesn't react, she bumps shoulders. Zenshi grimaces, and she realizes that she now has blood on her sleeve.
"Wait, are you serious?" she suddenly exclaims. "They didn't notice—"
"Quiet," snaps one of the supervisors.
Zenshi places a finger to his lips.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
To whom it may concern:
I have reason to believe that a friend of mine is in danger. There is a specific person I wish to seek, and I am aware that he currently resides on Earth. I would prefer if he keeps quiet and simply meets me at a rendezvous point in Edo. The process will most likely take a few months, seeing as my own situation is one of urgency and incognito travel.
Soldier three seven three, do not forget this:
I have known people with clouded eyes and people with clear eyes. There are certain people in this world that you learn to trust, by their eyes. You will also learn how to find them. You'll be able to see everything you knew, and everything you didn't. I'm sure you've heard these words more than once before.
But are you really soldier three seven three?
Or are you the boy who played kick the can with my son until the child grew up into the admiral of the largest space crime syndicate in the galaxy?
Or, do tell, are you the man with trustworthy eyes that I have sought for some time now?
Your presence is requested.
Signed:
Umibouzu.
WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ONE OADGKHASLDKFJ PLOT TWIST?!
not really
more like
WHAT THE HEKC SI GOING ONALSDHGLKASDJFLKj