Uhooo a little surprise for you.
Fun facts!
Ch. 42: Ryoko literally means travel/trip in Japanese lolololol.
Disclaimer: Sorachiiii.
Author's note: I ship, like, everything. I ship Sakamutsu, KatsuIku, Okikagu, Kontae, Kyutae, HijiMitsu, Takamui, TakaMata, Bantaka, BanMata... I ship GinTsu, GinHiji, TsuSaru (is that even what it's called?!) ... I ship aHHHHHH.
But this is a ZenTsu fic.
And ZenTsu you will get.
OHOHOOHO.
Eyes of Wolves
- 43 -
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
There are smiles hidden behind hands when Tabs embraces his little sister, who is so relieved that she bursts into tears and the two don't stop crying for a good five minutes.
.: AUGUST, PRESENT :.
The whole ordeal took them to the end the month, and when they all grew tired of the police constantly knocking at their doors and chirping away at odd hours of the knife, they left it up to the blazing sun to keep them listlessly doing nothing at home.
"It's the last day of August," Seita announced, mumbling through a glass of lemonade. "Let's do something."
For the boy, his summer break, which began sometime in July, was coming to an end. With the first trimester over, September dawned with the listless anxiety of another school term until late December, threatening Seita's recent lethargic way of life.
Interestingly enough, the boy chose one of the last days of his vacation to actually get to his feet and do something other than witness the near-destruction of Yoshiwara and the courtesan incident that shook the nation's core.
"Let's go the pool," he said at breakfast, despite the fact that no one was listening. Zenshi, who wore a dark uniform, must've been suffering in the blistering heat; it was good reason for his miserly attitude with words. He hardly even spoke to Seita, having shed his Yato-style uniform and exchanged it for a simple gray T-shirt and tan slacks that Hinowa had very kindly purchased for him.
"I would take you if I could, honey," Hinowa slurred mildly, the heat taking its toll on the beautiful former courtesan.
"Tsukuyo-nee," pleaded the boy, "can we go to the pool? Like we did last time?"
"I ain't the one to decide," replied the blonde. "You should consider Zenshi, who got shot in the shoulder not too long ago."
"He's a Yato."
"Seita," reprimanded Hinowa, "that's not a fair reason. A mature adult is the judge of his or her own wellness."
"Well, you weren't well and yet you stayed up—"
"Let's head up, then." Zenshi gently pulled the boy by the arm out of his seat before he could offend his mother any further. "You need a walk."
"I need a walk? I think you all need a walk. I'm not the unreasonable one. You guys are."
"Don't forget yer umbrella," Tsukuyo hastily reminded, scooping up the dark blue parasol and handing it to Zenshi. He passed her a curious glance, as if to ask if she was coming or not. "There was some, uh, work to be finished over here. The Hyakka were askin' 'bout a drug deal uptown."
He nodded, and Seita huffily stomped out of the parlor, with Zenshi trailing close behind. Tsukuyo, lingering in by the table, let out a shuddering exhale.
"Do ya think he'll be angry?" she asked quietly, once the two males were out of earshot. Hinowa smiled briefly, wrapping her fingers around her cold beverage glass.
"He'd be more patient than last time," she conceded, nodding and watching her clear cup frost over with the chill of the drink. "He cares about you, so it's only natural he'd be upset."
Tsukuyo's ears slightly reddened, but she didn't address that aspect any further.
"Sarutobi said that our bomber is the same one the Harusame used ta take out that Yato buildin'. A hired hit."
"I looked at the envelope," confirmed Hinowa, nodding. "Do you know who hired the hit on us, though?"
"I'm guessin' Harusame. But the evidence is slim."
"Those bank account issues were completely unconnected, weren't they?" Hinowa took a sip of her lemonade, frowning. "So what's the motive?"
"That's what I need to know. That why we're followin' the bastard inta space."
"Stay safe, Tsukuyo." The older woman placed a firm hand on the blonde's, somber.
"Always, Hinowa." The moon reflected a piece of the sun's reassuring light, making sure to always remember that there was a dark side, forever unveiled to the eye of the beholder. It was, to a fault, Tsukuyo's way of protecting people.
She just never told.
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
The Harusame receives a letter labeling severe misconduct, but Kamui throws it out. In fact, he believes that they have just made a venture of greater economic and political benefit than loss. In this scenario, Abuto is a decrepit, tightfisted old stinger whose venom has lost its zing. The vice-captain reluctantly agrees to the relinquishing of the weaker, younger half of recruits, and authorizes the deal with an international amnesty and business organization that swoops by and picks up the children and zooms them off to, most likely, a school or local galactic association for youths.
"What would you have done if your own sister had enlisted, Danchou?" Abuto asks, the question slung easily along the line of conversation as if he'd simply hooked up another shirt to the clothesline to dry.
Kamui shakes his head; Abuto knows the answer, and it's not the one the redhead gives.
"The more the merrier."
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
"Yer not gonna say anythin'?"
He shook his head.
"So suddenly, yer on board with my plan? Ready to accept this? Not goin' to claim that I'm crazy for wanting to chase a hunch into space?" Tsukuyo, unnerved by Zenshi's pithy agreement, exhaled slowly. "Let me guess. You want to come with?"
"I do, Ms. Tsukuyo, happen to have two suitcases full of money that I've supposedly been ordered to utilize in Sciuttla."
"Don't talk to me with that tone," Tsukuyo suddenly snapped. She couldn't help herself — his tone was eloquent yet patronizing on such an understated level that it prickled her skin.
Culled from further conversation, he shrank back into his predilection for favoring silence over speech. They sat in the guest room, which was probably "his" room now that he'd boarded there for a good time. He loathed the concept of a freeloader, so day in and day out he was either trailing after Tsukuyo by Hinowa's request or performing even the most menial tasks for the little family the best he could. He proved to be an efficient assistant in household chores, helping where Hinowa could not, restricted to her rolling chair as she was. The Yato was also preferable over local carpenters — his ability to very deftly install a new refrigerated turned out to be a wonderful thing.
Tsukuyo was kneeling at the other end of his cot. They often found themselves in such silence, pondering nothing and everything all at once. She was mystifyingly comfortable sitting across from him, and he discovered that a tired but relaxed Tsukuyo reclining casually on his pillow was an occurrence he grew fond of. The second day of the month, after Seita had set off with a few schoolmates in the direction of the department stores in search of new school supplies, Tsukuyo had made herself a comfortable presence in his room. It had been a nice twenty minutes, spent in the quiet hum of the house, both of them drawing pictures on the ceiling with their imaginations.
"Ya never told me wha—" Tsukuyo faltered. "W-what are ya doin'?"
Zenshi didn't answer. Arbitrarily overcome with the desire to let down her hair, he'd reached over and plucked the ribbon of her updo swiftly from her head. The little ornaments that fell from her soft tresses trickled into his palms and he closed his hands around them, setting them aside.
"What are you doin'?" she repeated, despite allowing him to bring his hand to her forehead and brush her bangs from her brow. He noticed the slight flush on her face when his hand lingered by her cheek.
"You looked tense," was all he offered, as if it was reason enough. The Yato followed her eyes, which flickered downwards as she thought of a reply, and then up again to meet his. She shied under the intensity of his answering gaze, but didn't move away.
Zenshi briefly noted the time, displayed on a lonely, owlish clock sitting across the room on a shelf. It was a few minutes past midnight, and Tsukuyo usually stayed until then, exchanging random bits of conversation from their day, what she'd done with the Hyakka, how the work had been. And he'd share the occasional comment or two about Edo that he'd discovered, and he went as far as to admit some of the odd things he noticed of Earthlings, which always made him smile. The night before, he'd shared that he found mayonnaise to be the oddest substance — he didn't see it at home, and it wasn't popular with the Yato — and she laughed aloud.
Today, however, Tsukuyo surprised him.
"Tell me about yerself again," she requested, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Her day had been long and she looked sleepy, but earnestly waited for his reply.
"You only have one question left," he informed her.
"I know. I'm just askin' for a review of all your others." A sly smile displayed itself flippantly on her lips. "Or give me an interestin' fact. And I'll give you one of mine."
He returned her smile through the softening of his expression. "Deal."
For a moment, he watched her finger the one sleeve of her decorated kimono, and realized she was cold. Without ever questioning her or allowing her to answer, he pulled out the blanket from atop the cot and let it fall gently around her shoulders. Neither of them really took notice of it, but the fact that the blanket was there, a sort of implicit barrier between them, allowed the two to sidle a bit closer together.
"Interesting fact," Zenshi mused aloud. "I've got one."
She nodded encouragingly.
"You know Mutsu," he began, only continuing when she nodded once more. "She's my cousin."
"Really?" Tsukuyo, drawing the coverlet closer to her, tipped her head to one side and considered this fact. "You seemed to know her well."
"Not quite," he replied. "Just on business occasions. And yourself?"
At this, Tsukuyo seemed reverted to her terse, closed self, almost mirroring his own unwillingness to speak. But his proximity and his frankness curtailed those thoughts, and she shared her own.
"Your question," she started, "about Gintoki. My master, well, he once expressed disappointment because I'd fallen for…"
She trailed off, but he didn't need a definitive finish.
But he thanked her, even if it was just briefly, for answering.
"Was that sarcasm?" She chanced a smirk.
"No," he whispered, scooping her hair ornaments into his hand and taking her by the wrist. He let her hand fit gently into his own, and closed her fist around the kunai-shaped adornment and the dull red ribbon. To his surprise, she didn't recoil, but only studied the cradle of her fingers in his palm.
"Don't be sarcastic," she replied, just as softly. "Yer reputation's on the line."
"My reputation?" There was a smile playing on his face, a lightness that he typically suppressed coming forth. They were close, very close now, and neither of them really realized until she leaned forward just a tad and their foreheads touched.
The courtesan and the Yato yawned away from one another hesitantly, Tsukuyo pulling her hand from his and ducking into the cape of his covers. Her face was stricken with indecisiveness, confusion, and a flush of pink.
"I should go," she announced hurriedly, pushing the blanket from her shoulders, but he swiftly caught her wrist in a gentle clasp. The blonde, a touch startled, made the diligent effort to compose her facial expressions. He was usually a passive character around her, careful not to provoke in the extreme, and never troubling her.
"Stay," he said, in a low voice. There was a soft yet compelling undertone to the way he said the word, and she couldn't bring herself to stand up.
So she stayed, relinquishing her quivering nerves to the lulled, swinging comfort beside him. Neither could be sure of their situation, for they dallied from confident exchanges to strung silences.
But whatever the last feeling, Zenshi saw sunrise with his head next to hers and her hand slipped easily into his.
*cries because they are so fun yet hard to write*
Tell me one thing though: is this going to fast? Is it okay?!
IS IT OKAY TO HOLD HANDS?!
HOW MANY EYE CONTACT UNTIL HOLDING HANDS?! WHAT IS THE EQUATION
aHHHHHHHH