*cries because hoW DO YOU ROMANCE*
Disclaimer: Gintama belongs to Sorachi, but Zenshi and co. are my brainchildren.
Also.
hOW DO YOU ROMANCE
Eyes of Wolves
- 44 -
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
Mei rubs her cheek, smoothing a hand along her jaw with an irate look devised on her sharp, angular features.
"You stepped on me hard," she complains. "The plan was for you to make me step down as an overly aggressive officer, not for you to literally step on me."
"All's well that ends well," Tabs interjects before Zenshi can answer.
"I don't care, my face hurts."
"You didn't care about me and my sister?" Tabs feigns hurt, though he knows Mei too well to actually take offense.
"Of course not. I cared that Lieutenant Cool Guy over here stepped on my face."
"He does it often enough," sighs Tabs.
"You should learn from Tabs, Mei," deadpans Zenshi, earning him a sour look from his right hand woman.
"Right. Let's all become Tabs. Tabs the Great, Tabs the Glorious!"
"Hey," Tabs mutters, glaring.
"Hey, hey, Tabatin, hey, hey," she mocks.
"Whatever," snorts Tabs, rocking back on his heels. "You're just mad that now the others think you're crazy."
"She is crazy," justifies Zenshi.
"Well now they'll stay off my case," replies Mei, confident.
"Yeah, 'stay away from Mei the cray-cray'," laughs Tabs, risking a light elbow jab to Mei's arm. She rolls her eyes as she saunters away from the two men, looking like she might throw one of them out the window — probably Tabs — but yet struck with a tinge of appreciative humor on her lips.
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
The exhilaration coursing through his veins differed greatly from the Yato blood that constituted his biological being. The essence, the dispersion of different ripples of emotion, they were all strange and foreign to him. He didn't dare move a single muscle; only their hands touched, and though the weight of another's fingers entangled with his own had become familiar, just the sight and the knowledge were peculiar. He studied her knuckles, her slender fingers, her nails.
Zenshi paused, sensing that she stirred. Rather deficient in experience within such a predicament, he simply redirected his focus, closing his eyes and appearing to feign sleep again. When Tsukuyo was aroused from her sleep, he felt her muscles tense and relax, tense and relax. His grasp was slackened, but she hadn't relinquished his hand.
She, too, pretended to be at rest, letting their hands linger.
But then:
"I know yer awake."
His eyes flickered open and he studied her expression, half hidden beneath a curtain of gold-spun hair. She focused briefly on their clasped hands. When she didn't withdraw, he did. Tsukuyo hid her mild disappointment almost completely, blinking rapidly for a few seconds before tucking neatly beneath her façade of cool nonchalance again.
"I'm meetin' with the merchants today," she announced, sitting up and raking her hand through her hair, combing it behind her ears. Zenshi was tempted to tell her that she had a pillow crease on her cheek, but the moment was gone and he couldn't form the words on his tongue. "We're leavin' in a week."
Zenshi sighed; he pushed to his feet and followed her to the door, where she straightened her ruffled kimono and continued patting down her hair.
"You really don't have anythin' to say? You really changed yer mind?"
"If it's what you want, I'll listen." Zenshi swiftly took her wrist, lifting her hand palm up so that he could tuck her hair ornaments into her hands, just as he did the night before. "Don't forget these."
"Oh, thanks." Tsukuyo was dubious of his relenting manner, but was averse to ruining the rather peaceful milieu. "We, um, I—"
"Tsukuyo-nee, Tsukuyo-nee!"
Seita bounded down the hall, moving with such reckless speed that he nearly bowled the woman over. Almost instantaneously, Zenshi dropped her hands and withdrew into a reserved, inscrutable expression. Tsukuyo's attention flew from Zenshi to Seita to Zenshi and finally settled on the little boy whose rapid flinging of words was incomprehensible.
"Seita, slow down. What are ya talkin' about?" Tsukuyo demanded, after first lambasting the boy for his overly garrulous excitement.
"It's amazing, Tsukuyo-nee! The Bakufu has opened relations to a new set of foreign governments!"
At this, the two adults looked skeptically at Seita's beaming face. But they waited, and the boy breathlessly went on.
"And Soyo-hime is doing a publicity tour, and she's coming here!"
His eyes gleamed and if he could grin wider, his lips would split his face from ear to ear. First, one would be expected to guffaw at the fact that the young princess was going to visit a red-light district. But second, one should note the fact that the undaunted admiration that twinkled in Seita's eyes was not to be mistaken with worshipful awe — instead, it was truly and fully what one would call… a crush.
.: -HARUSAME 7th DIVISION- End of AUGUST:.
"Explain to me again why we're traveling with these humans?" Mei scoffed disdainfully, looking like a cat with ears flattened and tail low. Anyone who displeased her was immediately hissed at; as such, Jinlin and her new squad member stayed relatively reserved throughout the entire meeting, chancing only tentative reminders to their brash lieutenant.
"Well we owe them," Abuto offered, "somewhat. And we've deemed it beneficial to add Earthling's to our web of 'allies', one might call them, because Earth's Bakufu is a rough bull to ride."
"They're terrorists," Mei stated.
"And that makes them powerful influences," Abuto justified. But actually, they all knew that he, too, was uneasy with the so-called joint commission. Kamui simply whistled about cheerfully, from time to time frequenting the Kiheitai ship with smiles and curious glances over shoulders. The humans that visited their main ship were tentative and suspicious. It didn't mean that Mei didn't like them as individuals. It just meant she didn't like that they'd met under these circumstances. In fact, she quite liked the spunky, snarky blonde from the Kiheitai's cabinet of top officers. Their aloof musician with the blaring music and stylish shades reminded her a bit of Zenshi in his deliberate distance from communications and the subtle evaluations of his surroundings at all times.
"It makes us pawns."
"They're the pawns," Abuto replied tiredly.
At the head of the table, Kamui had progressed from whistling to humming to peeling a few tangerines and popping them slice by slice into his mouth. He eventually grew impatient and took to devouring entire citrus fruits in one bite, tossing the tangy peel into a growing pile on the table.
"They're interesting," he said, once finished with his fifty-second tangerine. "I think they'll be useful. They'll lead us back to that silver samurai."
Again, Kamui's obsessions, which often dominated their course of action, had returned to the cabin. Now admiral of this "leaky boat crew," Kamui's word was law. Though Mei had triumphed in the fact that Kamui had taken out Gorou's 8th Division with flawless ease, she was wary of her commander's newfound power.
"And the former lieutenant?" prompted Mei. At this, Abuto flashed her the briefest of warning glances. Behind him, two of his aides twisted their silver rings, all on the left index fingers. She caught the hint but undauntedly refused to relinquish her frustration. "Are we to just leave him on Earth?"
"Oh he'll find himself owning up to his sins," Kamui lightly addressed. "After all, it's inevitable. Running into the samurai will only bring him closer to us."
There was a lack of maliciousness in Kamui's voice, as if the boy with hair like blood-orange garnet lacked the usual luster to his frothy Yato blood. Mei let it go.
"Where to, then?" she continued.
"Sciuttla." Kamui stood, motioning for Abuto to come with. "We've got some unfinished business."
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
Seita's apparent infatuation with the nation's princess was so blatantly displayed on his enamored expressions that Zenshi abstained from answering any questions. For one, the boy was awfully insistent, especially when he asked if Zenshi had a certain lady in his life.
"I think you would," said the boy. "You look like the cool type."
Hinowa smiled pleasantly, noting the tentative exchange of silence between the Yato and the leading lady of Yoshiwara.
"I'm sure," she prompted, almost mischievously, eyeing Tsukuyo's intensified glare and Zenshi subsequent retreat into wordless fermata. "Do tell."
At this, he inwardly grimaced because now he couldn't avoid the conversation.
"Perhaps," he supplied as neutrally as possible. His gaze strayed, but kept carefully from reaching Tsukuyo. She folded her hands primly on the table, and he couldn't help but study her slim fingers for a short moment.
"Who?"
Zenshi absolutely wished or his title of lieutenant once again, and on top of that he wished Seita was Mei, just so that he could tell her to shut up without feeling any sort of sheepishness.
"You might've seen her before." He'd been tempted to tell the boy to guess, but that had so many dangerous stretches of thin ice that he couldn't risk it. Instead, Zenshi broadened the topic just slightly, hoping that he could insinuate just about anyone. In fact, this route could even suggest Mei, whom Seita had a near-death experience with. Then again, Seita was apt to assume Tsukuyo, who was sitting right next to him, despite the fact that there was no concrete evidence of anything between the courtesan and the Yato.
Unless he counted last night.
Why had he reached for her? Was it simply an anomaly? He certainly wasn't delusional, and his system was rather clear and he was healthy. His adeptness in conversation was always articulate and astute. He'd grappled with dismay upon the dulling of his senses, but realized that he'd simply been thinking too hard. Everything came to him in crisp, clean lines — he sensed the environment with more acuity than ever before.
Yet he'd desired to just touch her hair, which shimmered before him like gold, even though his eyes saw only the pale, wheat-blonde strands he'd so gingerly let slip through his fingers. There was ardent warmth in his hands, imprinted with the elusive yet announced memory of her palm touching his.
"I have?" Seita, with his pancakes again, appeared dubious. "Are you gonna tell me?"
Zenshi shook his head ever so slightly. Tsukuyo, ever perceptive, watched her Yato companion carefully. They exchanged exactly one glance that entire morning, but no true consensus was reached. She could not tell if she was the subject of his vague, deterred response — only a dearth of feeling and a pressured gaze in her direction.
Seita, instead of becoming dejected, only beamed.
"Well, guess what? I know a pretty girl."
nO Seita, no.
aH.
HOW DOES ONE ROMANCE.
HOW DO YOU WRITE LOVe
HOW
okay guys, if you do review, can you tell me how I'm doin'?