A sort of interlude chapter thing.
FUN FACTS
Ch. 25: The numbers 373 are a reference to something. Hehe.
Ch. 25: I can say this one, though. The number 59 is a reference to Gokudera Hayato from KHR.
Ch. 25: Kougi = Corgi.
Ch. 25: Zhuyi means "pay attention" in Chinese.
DISCLAIMER: Magical Banana, Bananas are awesome, ehhhh shogunnn?! Nooo it belongs to Sorachi!
Eyes of Wolves
- 26 -
.: MAY, TWO WEEKS AGO :.
Tsukuyo stared skeptically at the produce stands.
"I didn't know we had these," she remarked, scanning the Amanto supermarket district in half awe and half bewilderment. "Are these pop'lar?"
"Very," Zenshi assured her, motioning to all the humans that frequented the market. "Space cuisine has grown into a successful Earth industry."
"I see." She no longer turned sharply when he touched her elbow lightly, but was still surprised when the soft press of his fingers on her forearm guided her forward. Understanding that he was a man of little unnecessary contact — the friendly and familiar kind — she often appreciated the fact that he was comfortable enough to approach her.
After passing several stalls full of strangely shaped cabbages and melons, Tsukuyo ventured to ask about the convenience stores.
"Do they sell Earth food in other places?"
"Of course. Out there, Earth food is space merchandise like all the rest."
"Is there an equiv'lent to, say, red bean pancakes?" Tsukuyo bent curiously over a bizarre fruit colored green and purple in geometric, crystal shapes.
"Those are good for smoothies," Zenshi commented, before answering her question. "And I'd say yes, there are, but many pancakes are salty rather than sweet."
Tsukuyo waved him over, as if to say she wanted to try the fruit. They bought a few.
Though put off by the fact that she was digressing from her Hyakka duties, Tsukuyo discovered a sort of content bliss in simply walking above ground, through the subtle clamors of the shopping centers in Edo. When the sun grew fervent at noon, she tentatively edged beneath the shade of Zenshi's umbrella, all the while clicking almost flippantly with her heeled boots and smoking her pipe with focused nonchalance.
"Yer quite knowledgeable about food," she noted flatly.
"I was acquainted with big eaters," he told her. Tsukuyo split into a sudden but brief smile, an image of Kagura flashing to mind.
"Ya don't seem to fit the mold, then." She glanced up; he was rolling the umbrella handle in his fingers whilst keeping it hoisted on his shoulder lightly.
"I'm not always hungry," he offered. Tsukuyo was tempted to smile again because it appeared he couldn't summon a witty response to the food joke.
"It's a wonder yer so tall. Is it genes, or did ya drink a ton of milk?"
"I," Zenshi began, moving towards a small Amanto grocery store, "just ate a lot of space-jellyfish tongue."
She shot him an incredulous look, sparing nothing for his seamless transition.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," he offered with a wry chuckle. His laugh was low and cool, almost throaty, and it pleasantly surprised her. "I'm serious, Tsukuyo."
She had to focus on the space-jellyfish with considerable effort, because otherwise she would become wrapped in the fact that it was one of the few times he'd ever said her name. She could never discern when or why he would choose to do so, and it often frustrated her that he never replied much. Their docile freeloader was hardly a freeloader, but a builder and a laundryman and a mystery to all. But Tsukuyo was a patient woman, and instead of becoming focused on her irritation, tried to solve the puzzle instead. But still, there was a quirk to everything, to everyone.
"I'll take yer word for it."
"No, you'll believe me." The almost mischievous twinkle in his eyes told Tsukuyo that they would be having space-jellyfish's tongue for dinner that night.
.: THREE YEARS AGO :.
"Lieutenant Zenshi to the bridge, Lieutenant Zenshi to the—"
The announcement breaks off mid-sentence and Tabs nearly chokes on his own tongue when Zenshi claps a hard hand on his fellow crewman's shoulder.
"You won't be Tabs anymore if you don't keep track of our dear Lieutenant," Mei rolls off her tongue sarcastically. She turns to Abuto, who hums an old tune to himself, and asks brazenly, "So, Uncle! What's the deal-io?"
"I'm not your uncle, sweetheart," sighs the vice-captain. "And the deal-io's with the meal-io, so pay up."
"I got a granola bar."
"Not what I meant." Abuto waves her off, half a snicker on his face. "Anyway, we are meeting up with some business corporations, and you know the drill with these bums. Always looking for the shady way out."
"Who are we dealing with today, Cap'n?" Mei slips into a swivel chair next to Kamui, who is poking at a computer. He puts a finger to his lips because he's actually just playing Tetris.
"A few companies and their representatives…and their lawyers." Abuto shrugs. "Lawyers," he repeats, to make a point, somewhat grimacing. "Bud, it's up to you now."
Almost dramatically, Abuto and Mei simultaneously nod in grave fashion. Kamui sniggers, and the current announcement — "Maintenance to the galleys, maintenance to the galleys…" — breaks in the middle with half a giggle.
"We've got a few Yato lawyers," Kamui notes. He breaks into a wide grin, his rather effusive cheer infecting the entire room. "Have fun."
Zenshi offers a disparaging glare.
.: JUNE, PRESENT :.
Mei, he knew, signed her name with one character. She wrote in neat, blockish letters, always tidy despite her outward demeanor. Her script is, interestingly, at odds with her very being.
.: THREE YEARS AGO :.
Their ship docks in a little harbor on a little planet where many corporations find clandestine operations the easiest to conduct. The company bosses are often vain little men who request to speak to higher-ups, even when they already are.
"We're here to speak to your head of negotiations, the lieutenant," a dour but drab little red Amanto man says.
"He's coming," Mei tells him docilely, quelling her usual snarky remarks.
About ten company executives, plus a few aides and a few lawyers, file inside a grand meeting room within the city of surreptitious deals.
One corporation, a big brand name that distributes communications technology to just about everybody, has a nasally, horned Amanto man with an ivory pig's snout and a Yato for a lawyer (and bodyguard). As soon as he walks in, he is greeted with overenthusiastic decorum and officious ingratiation from the other managers. A suave, well-dressed Yato slips in behind him, his head of dark brown hair swept back stylishly. His facial expression is derisive, disingenuous; his gaze sharp.
His eyes alight upon Mei, who is supervising the room, and his cool façade falters as he recovers deftly from a startled splutter. Mei's eyes go wide, but she has been in control of her mouth for the past ten minutes, and is on her way to making a new record.
"We are here to see the lieutenant," says the brunet Yato with unease.
"He's on his way."
A few Harusame crewmen line the room and the doors, though a majority are just studying the room and chatting amongst themselves.
When Zenshi walks in, all snap to attention and issue curt salutes.
"At ease," Zenshi says, waving them off. In diplomatic situations, the crewmen assume utmost formality — and Zenshi, in all honesty, cannot say it doesn't give him an aura of importance.
"Lieutenant," calls Tabs, poking his head into the room.
"I never authorized you to leave the ship," Zenshi replies briefly. "What is it?"
"The last conference participant has notified us of a delay. He will be here shortly."
Zenshi nods, making a noise of approval, before sweeping around the table to situate himself at the head. When he sees that Tabs is still standing there, he waves.
"Dismissed, Tabs."
"Yessirofcourse," mumbles Tabs, ducking away. He has seen Mei's incredulous expression, which she was trying to redirect. Unbeknownst to most of them, her struggle to dissolve the several jests that play on her lips. Zenshi motions to her, and she slides next to him wordlessly.
"If you have something to say, spit it out," he orders. His gaze is far from amused, and he explicitly implies for her to actually speak her thoughts.
"Oh, what a night," she sings lightly, laughing. Backing away, she waits for him to respond, and the incongruous mash of half a smile and a glare is priceless.
"All right," he calls, almost imperiously. "I don't do introductions for these things, because I find them unnecessary. If you have a question, feel free to ask. This is, after all, for your sake and not ours."
"I'm sorry, but are all of you so brazenly discourteous to your guests?" snaps the Yato, very quickly before one of the other managers can raise his hand. "We are in attendance solely for the purpose of establishing proper links, and as one of the biggest corporations in the galaxies, you may want to consider that this is for your sake and not ours."
"On second thought, why don't we do an introduction?" Zenshi suggests, eyes glinting dangerously. "We are the 7th Division of the Harusame Space Pirates, the greatest coalition of privateers and unlikely businessmen in the universe. As the 7th Division consists solely of Yato tribe members, we are also the Harusame's most potent force."
Zenshi discreetly motions for Mei to come forth behind his back.
"And, as obviously stated, the most fearsome pirate syndicate in the galaxy. If you'd like a demonstration of our prowess, I'm sure Petty Officer Mei will be glad to show you." He beckons her to the table.
Mei breaks into an unruly grin, hops recklessly onto the table and slams her parasol down so hard in front of the Yato lawyer that the table cracks.
"Ocentisa, Ocentisa, for my honor and my faith," she sings brazenly, her voice lightly riding the notes of their old school anthem.
"Brutes!" cries the little horned pig-man, tugging on his lawyer's sleeve. The Yato, however, doesn't budge, despite his client's urgency.
"To spread my wisdom from star to shining star…"
"Brutes? We obviously have an Omega Centauri Intergalactic Space Academy alumni right here." Zenshi casts a derisive smirk.
Mei has reached the last stanza. "Ocentisa, Ocentisa, blazing future in the suns! From desert to sea, from skies to earths, raise your white and black, your gold and blue!" She leans down, crouching on the table now. "I pledge my academic years and wholehearted devotion to the Omega Centauri Intergalactic Space Academy, and the union for which it stands." A pause.
The Yato stands then, straightening his shoulders.
" Ut omnibus iniquitatibus, to do away all inequity." He narrows his eyes as he finishes her pledge. "How ironic."
"Wh-what are you doing?" demands pig-man. He's nervous, the other company bosses are nervous, and here are two Yato facing off in the midst of a supposedly formal business meeting.
"Oh, what a night," repeats Mei.
"Late December, back in dorm fifty-three," finishes Zenshi, coming up behind the Yato and seizing his umbrella with precise grace.
"I—"
"Welcome to the Harusame," chirps Mei. "Hope you enjoy your stay—
—Rokudo."
.: ELEVEN YEARS AGO :.
He awakens to the murderous intent beside him, intricately complex and enraged. Zenshi bolts to his feet, clasping his umbrella in hand and swinging it as hard as he can. It collides with another parasol, a gray one with an embellished handle, somewhat like his own.
"Oh, what a night," hisses Rokudo. "To die, that is."
"Kill one man," replies Zenshi, "and you are a murderer."
"Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror." Rokudo pulls back and strikes with a closed fist.
"Kill them all…" Zenshi ducks away, parrying a few more before sweeping around with a kick in an attempt to knock Rokudo off his feet. He is relatively successful.
"And you are a god," finishes Rokudo, his expression a mosaic of ten different emotions, ten different places.
He must be crazy, he must.
"Jean Rostand, Earthling," whispers the brown-haired Yato, crawling to his feet and presenting the angles of his severe face in a delusional grin.
Zenshi glances across the room, where his two roommates — one Yato and one leopard Amanto — have curled up in shock. Even the one of his own race fails to aid Zenshi, as his fear for Rokudo's instability outweighs any other comprehensive capabilities.
Because Zenshi has dithered too long, Rokudo grabs him by the collar of his sleep shirt and throws him cruelly against the door. It swings open, and Zenshi falls back.
He must be crazy, he must.
His muscles leap on their own; they react to a manifestation of primal instinct, the survival mode when under duress. The response to assault is pernicious to his sense of restraint — he leaps at Rokudo with unbridled vigor.
When he looks up, he realizes he's staring at his dorm room number, a lonesome five and its spouse, the three, doused in the slick crimson of someone's blood.
Beginning with a ZenTsu moment, ending with a see you AGAIN DESU! Rokudo moment.
Uh.
Maybe one more...