This one is potentially VERY confusing, so if you have trouble, do ask!
It's meant to be a bit all over the place, purposefully baffling because I am a baffling writer, haha.
BUT SERIOUSLY.
DO ASK.
Disclaimer: quotes belong to Sorachiiii!
Eyes of Wolves
- 28 -
.: THREE YEARS AGO :.
Mei claps her hands.
"Questions?" she clips, skipping gaily back to Zenshi's side. "I think we're done here."
After the little commotion with Rokudo, the lawyer had simply quieted down with a scathing glare, which the reticent lieutenant and his strident aide simply ignored. The little pig-fellow who was Rokudo's client is an easily pleased man, and so the rest of the negotiations go relatively smoothly, save the late arrival of a harried businessman and his Yato bodyguard (who, interestingly, is acquainted with Tabs).
"I hate these things," Mei says for what may be the fortieth time after the meeting's end. They're on the ship again now, after leaving their business associates behind.
"You are a pleasant person," Zenshi entreats insipidly. He casts a cursory glance outside.
"I hate these things," Mei sings now, with resplendent cheer. "How's that?"
Zenshi turns to the window, however, and jabs his finger at a few planets. There, at the tip of his forefinger, are two planets, relatively small and far away. Mei follows his gaze, guessing the little red blub to be Mars, and the much bigger one, farther out, to be Jupiter.
"What?"
He points more insistently. She goes red in the face, quickly.
"If you say asteroid belt, I will—"
"Asteroid belt," he beams, the happy little sparkle in his eye more than any smile he could have offered.
"I am going to kill you," Mei shrieks.
And then they are sixteen and fifteen again, doing the stupidest things in school, without a care of the world. She is the classmate who doesn't care if he's the quiet one, the secluded one. He is that kid who will smile if you know how to make him smile.
Yato left and right flatten themselves against the wall, because as the their esteemed lieutenant sprints past them, they know full well that there is a demon on his heels.
After all, who says only Kamui has fun as a pirate?
.: End of JUNE, PRESENT :.
He should have left a note. He knew, by the fourteenth day of waiting for Umibouzu, that he should have left a note.
But he hadn't known.
And he won't know.
So he waited, every day in terminal, his blood boiling when the disguised Harusame swept past him in hoards of smuggling rings.
"Sir, can I help you?" asked a flight attendant, off duty and meandering the premises. "Do you need directions?"
"No, just waiting for someone, thank you."
He should have left a note. It nagged him now, increasingly so. Never once had he returned to Yoshiwara after burning his mail. He hadn't intended to stay out so long, but the eerie sensation of being watched kept him out of Yoshiwara.
Take a short leave, Mei said.
That leave had begun without him ever realizing it.
.: THREE YEARS AGO :.
"Would you like another knife through the hand?" asks Rokudo.
"I see your nose never really set correctly," Zenshi utters without a hint of hesitation. They stare off until Mei cuts in, and they finish the meeting the almost audible thunder of hostility between the two.
.: End of JUNE, PRESENT :.
We call him Bald Bloody Santa around here.
He disguised his lack of hair with his cape and cloak and hat. He did, in fact, have a pack slung across his shoulder, splattered with dried blood. He was almost decorative in the noble way he strode across the terminal.
Acute in his every deliberate action, Umibouzu caught Zenshi's gaze without ever breaking stride or turning his head.
Zenshi slipped to his feet and followed.
.: MAY, FOUR WEEKS AGO :.
"An umbrella is a handy thing," she noted, taking it from his hand and studying it almost meticulously. "Especially when it has a gun on the end."
She hoisted it up until it was parallel to the ground, as if to shoot.
"It has a light recoil," he mentioned, before holding out his hand. "I also need it to not die."
"Yer fine," Tsukuyo snorted, poising the parasol open over her own head. "Ya lasted a good five or so minutes."
"In excruciating pain," he drawled.
She rolled her eyes.
"I'm sure."
.: End of JUNE, PRESENT :.
"Why did you—"
"No, boy. I talk first." Umibouzu took him by the arm, complaining under his breath about customs. "There is more than one King of the Night lurking about. You and I need to stay away from Yoshiwara for the time being."
Zenshi staggered in his step, purposefully slowing down the older Yato.
"You need to let them handle it. We'll be back."
Kagura's father offered nothing more. Zenshi had no choice but to trail after him, in silent confusion.
.: Last day of JUNE, PRESENT :.
I devoted myself to my webbed prey the way a servant devotes himself to his master. And then I feast when my prey has become beautiful and succulent.
.: MAY, FOUR WEEKS AGO :.
"Question seventeen: Where did ya get yer umbrella?" She had noticed the gold embedded in the bottom when she plucked it from his hands.
"My father. It was his." He let Tsukuyo study it, turning the handle in her fingers. They were perched upon that high, darkened rooftop again, overlooking the fiery red-light district. Yoshiwara seemed to be eternally in flames — the kind that inevitably light the human spirit.
And, occasionally, that of a cold, foreign soul.
"Question seventeen," Zenshi reciprocated. "Where did you get your scars?"
"I feel like I've answered this b'fore," she murmured hesitantly.
"We've mentioned it, but never asked." He paused. "If you don't answer, this'll make the eleventh out of seventeen that you've refused."
She grimaced.
"Fine." A stream of smoke left her lips, illuminated a dull orange by the city's lights. "I once made a vow. To my teacher. And this is what's left."
"What's left?" he echoed, almost surprised. "You mean to say there was more?"
"No," she replied, a tired smile pulling the corner of her mouth. "I like to think there's more now."
.: First day of JULY, PRESENT :.
"You know the Yorozuya man, yes?" Umibouzu stared at Zenshi so hard that the unflinching demeanor of the latter came with a price.
"Yes, sir."
"Do you trust him?"
Zenshi bit his own tongue, completely thrown off by the question.
"I suppose. I've only met him twice or so."
"Trust him," ordered the older Yato.
"I would ask you why, but I'm inclined to think I shouldn't."
"That's very perceptive of you." Umibouzu had been leading him from embassy to embassy, exchanging letters for more and more documents. "But you should. Trust him, that is."
Umibouzu whipped around on him sharply.
"Or there will be nothing left of Yoshiwara, if you don't."
Zenshi suddenly gripped Umibouzu by the collar, completely disregarding the fact that he was attempting to threaten the strongest man in the universe.
"Explain."
Umibouzu evaluated the boy. Fearless, determined, strong. He smiled, slowly.
"I will. But first, you come with me."
.: TWENTY-TWO YEARS AGO :.
"The weak will never thrive," Hosen whispers in his ear. "When you shoulder useless burdens, do you become strong or weak?"
"Weak," the little boy manages in a small voice.
"Are you sure?"
No.
.: JULY, PRESENT :.
They dove behind an old, decrepit building, letting the bullets of a sniper embed into the brick walls. Zenshi was lost, completely lost, but he followed Umibouzu like the lighthouse in the distance.
But he was running again, his inner clock counting down.
In a moment of quiet, he reached for the Sciuttlan letter, but remembered he'd read and burned it weeks ago.
As soon as he looked up, Umibouzu hollered.
"Get down!"
A Shinra warrior, pointed ears and sword in hand, swung down.
.: THREE YEARS AGO :.
"Incoming transitional signal from the 4th Division," one of the techs announces, just as the fanciful ship of Peacock Princess Kada sails into view.
"We should say hello," Kamui laughs, waving nonchalantly out the window.
"No, we shouldn't," Abuto repudiates, sighing. "You know that Kada, she'll bite off your head if you get the chance. You know, Danchou, I heard she has a bounty on your father's head."
"Oh no, she won't be able to get him." Kamui smiles knowingly.
"I heard the bounty's in the billions," Abuto continues.
"Like that'll help us," snorts Kamui, folding his arms. "Right, guys?"
No one says anything.
.: JULY, PRESENT :.
"This has nothing to do with you," Umibouzu said tersely, when the Shinra was incapacitated. "I am following a specific request, and the fact that there is a bounty on my head is simply a tagalong effect."
"What is our real purpose? Why am I here?"
Deeming the dank, abandoned alley relatively safe, Umibouzu motioned for him to come closer and listen.
"It goes somewhat like this."
A higher-up, whose name will remain anonymous, has issued specific orders in multiple areas of the universe in a plan that will counteract the Harusame's terrorist activities in Sciuttla. The basis for Sciuttla's rebel activities lies within the production of the Paradise drug, which is made from a rare, Sciuttlan weed. The Harusame, in order to continue successful trade, was ordered by the planet's higher ups to crush rebellion through destructive total warfare. The aforementioned higher-up, with extensive connections throughout the galaxies, has both personal and professional purposes. One, his sister-in-law was killed by the hand of Harusame pirates when she attempted to help an injured traitor, in the process impeding the transaction of large illegal sales, both related and unrelated to the Sciuttlan crisis. In the diplomatic realm, several alliance negotiations are in peril, and if the Sciuttlan military dictatorship continues, then several planets will declare war and galactic destruction will likely ensue.
Zenshi rocked back on his heels.
"Is that too much at once?" Umibouzu said, voice suddenly softening. He was, in that light, a father through and through. He set a hand on Zenshi's shoulder. "There are more people than you can even imagine, all involved in this. This war will mean destruction that—"
"I know," Zenshi replied, finding his voice. He knew which planets were going to find themselves inevitably drawn into the war zone. He knew the consequences.
"I am trying to help, but Kada is out for my head," muttered Umibouzu.
"What about Yoshiwara?" demanded Zenshi. "You never explained that."
"That, son," replied the universe's strongest, "is a different story entirely. I suggest you leave the Earthlings to their own."
.: -YOSHIWARA- JULY, PRESENT :.
Yoshiwara was always in flames, both the spiritual and literal kind.
If we are doomed to experience the suffering from a loss, then why shoulder the burden to begin with?
The moon cradled them in its ephemeral, soft light, soaking up the bloodshed and the tears, the regrets and the fears, the apologies and the acceptances.
They stood and watched, masks of silence descending.
The final wire rained to the ground, cut from its skyline to skyline length. Tsukuyo, feeling the sensation of leaden limbs fading, slowly made her way to the balcony, admiring the moonlight.
If the master's duty is to shoulder the student along with their pain, then what is the student's duty?
Are useless burdens the ones that make you strong?
She smiled at the twinkling night sky.
To grow strong enough to shoulder the master.
I'm sorryyy I lapsed into Emeralds style and went all confusing on youuu!
IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE VAGUE, MY APOLOGIESSS.
The thing is, with Umibouzu, they're actually just running from embassy to embassy collecting certain materials (all sent by the "higher-up") but Kujaku Hime Kada wants Umibouzu dead, so they face an almost war-zone (lol).
why the lol
idon'tknow
and
Let's play a game!
called: WHICH ARC DID I JUST COVER?!