AUTHOR NOTES: Hello, hello! To the one guest that always sees my deviantART and leaves exciting reviews - thank you a ton! It really makes my day that you like all this, haha! and yes fem!Zenshi is hot hot hot. ALSO: I do plan to draw out more scenes! PLEASE LEAVE SUGGESTIONS!
Other things: ZenTsu is hard to write. Oh pickles.
Disclaimer: Jugem-Jugem Poop Throwing Machine Shin-chan's Day Before Yesterday Underwear Shinpachi's Life Balmunk Fezarion Isaac Schneider One Thirds Pure Feeling Two Thirds Worried-Over-A-Hangnail Feeling Though Betrayal Knows My Name Or Does It ?I Know The Unknown The Cuttlefish Tastes Kind Of Different Than It Did Last Time Because It Was Caught Near The Pond And Served With Oil From A Hoofed Mammal, Pepepepepepepepepepepe Take Care From Here On In Please And Finally The End Bichigu Somaru
belongs to Hideaki Sorachi.
(I've done that one before, but I thought it was time to bring Jugem Jugem back hehehe)
Eyes of Wolves
- 55 -
.: APRIL, FIVE MONTHS AGO :.
"The Yato Tribe."
Seita, who had sought an answer to his natural inquisitiveness, was slightly taken aback, but it was a reaction that Zenshi anticipated.
"Yato...the real Yato...?" Seita began cautiously.
"Seita, hush," reprimanded Hinowa, decisively ending the conversation. "That's enough."
It was there, in their eyes, and he knew they struggled. This family of humans strove desperately not to judge him, not to view him with slighted eyes. But it was there nonetheless – fear.
.: -Kaientai Command Center- SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
"Hey now," Abuto said, hands up. "Don't go showing yourself off, now."
Tabs had one hand on his parasol and one hand on the ship's intercom switch. He exchanged glances with the older man; Abuto never gave anything away. The other Yato simply rubbed his stubbly chin and stared. He was the greatest actor of them all.
"Move, and I shoot."
"You're surrounded, Tabs," sighed Abuto, leaning on his own umbrella. The crewmen at his flanks, loyal to Kamui and the Harusame, bristled with anticipation of his command. Abuto lamented the fact that he led a pack of hyenas, a group that paled in comparison to the stealthy, lupine shadows that their former lieutenant had taken charge of. But it would have to do.
"It's useless," Tabs said.
Quit filling the air with your talk, we hear you enough all the time, Abuto snarled inwardly. The boy was acting, sure, but it was useless acting.
"Oh quit it, Tabs," hollered one of the crewmen behind the vice-captain. "Just put your hands up."
"You guys should watch your backs." Anxiety permeated Tabs's voice, and his fellow Yato devoured it with predatory hunger.
"Tabs," Abuto sighed. "Hands up." Slightly exasperated now, Abuto's mind reeled through his options. Play it out? Turn on his men? No, too obvious. Kill Tabs? Probably not a great idea, but a plausible one. No one on the Harusame side would miss a traitor; everyone on the so-called "traitor" side would be after Abuto's head. Both choices would have his blood spilled, so he decided that the severe repercussions were reason enough to drop the ideas. So, now what? "You're done, Tabs. Hands. Up. Don't make me repeat myself. I'm not your mum."
"I said," Tabs insisted, forcefully, "Watch your backs."
"Gentlemen, I would take his advice if I were you."
One shot took down a man, diminishing Abuto's four-man backup squad to three. It didn't necessarily kill the Yato, but it certainly decommissioned him. Immediately, the Harusame men instinctively split into two groups – one trained his parasol on Tabs, and the remaining two aimed their weapons at their newest threat.
Almost immediately, they faltered.
"You'd be wise to drop your weapons."
"One step closer, and I shoot," one of the officers warned.
"And threaten the political balance of this side of the universe? I think not. Lower your weapons."
One of the men slightly renounced his stance; the other held firm.
"Vice-captain," growled the one that retained his aim. "Your orders?"
"Shoot," Abuto said without hesitation.
But Abuto knew that, the moment he let the word slip from his mouth, that the father of their former lieutenant did not just have power in his name.
He was, after all, a Yato as well.
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
"Sometimes I really wonder what that dumb admiral of ours is doing," Mei muses aloud. "He's pretty dumb."
"You said that twice," Tabs notes.
"He's pretty dumb," Mei repeats, just to humor her friend. "Hey, Zen, what do you think?"
Silence.
"I don't think he answers to that," Tabs whispers. He leans across the conference table, peering at what seems to be diplomatic immunity arrangements. "Hey, Lieutenant, what do you think?"
"He's pretty dumb," Zenshi echoes, never once stopping the quick script of his pen.
"You're pretty dumb," spits Mei, exasperated. "No, stuck-up. That's a better way to say it."
But Zenshi has fallen back to silence, quickly scanning papers for fine print and hidden agreements. He has a knack for spotting loopholes, and it often sentences him to a day of paperwork.
"Don't bother him, Mei," murmurs Tabs. But he himself continues to converse with the girl in hushed tones, convinced that his obnoxiously loud whisper iss reserved enough to carry on a chat.
"Tabs." Zenshi, still never glancing up from his work, taps his pen against the conference table.
"Sir?"
"Out."
Mei sniggers, grabbing other man by the arm and leading him out of the room.
"Well then, have fun with those papers," she sings. "Mr. Politician."
The door slides closed behind them, allowing Zenshi to cap his momentary irritation at the comment. The ship glides away from the Harusame, away from their puppet of an admiral, away from a man capable of manipulating the entire syndicate through intimidation alone – away from his father.
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
Tsukuyo's vision whirled. A sharp pain grazed her left ear as she staggered backwards. In a split second, a familiar face appeared at her side and a large, calloused hand took hold of her arms.
"Ya almost shot me," she hissed, fists bundled into sleeves as she steadied herself.
"You weren't supposed to come."
"Ya never told me I couldn't. And was I supposed t'let Mr. Kaientai just up and away to nowhere in partic'lar?" She pushed away from him, but his grip on her forearms was iron. "And are ya just gonna let us get shot at again?"
Zenshi wasn't at all worried. Mei and Mutsu were relentlessly shooting and reloading, allowing the Yato man to pull Tsukuyo aside. And only MADAO knows what in the world Sakamoto was pulling.
"What is she doing here? Why'd you bring a human?!" demanded Mei, popping up to fire a few shots before ducking back beside Mutsu. Kamui was a one-man army: he threw shards of metal, shrapnel, anything, and only intermittently used his umbrella pistol. He had set the far side of the room on fire, and was currently enjoying the fact that he could shoot the other end of the room and erect another wall of flames.
Zenshi, for the moment, focused only on Tsukuyo.
"Did you come alone?"
"Yes."
She was lying; he felt it in her tone.
"Who else came with you?"
"No one. Just Sakamoto."
The ship's floor rumbled, as if an earthquake within the vessel itself had rippled from the bridge down. Other than Tabs and the Harusame, there weren't any other likely candidates up in the command center. As the floor rumbled again and a trio of Yato men on Kamui's side came loping down the hall, Zenshi froze.
"I would worry about your friends here before anyone else," Kamui said, eyes glinting dangerously. And he had Mei by the throat, Mutsu thrown aside, and Sakamoto nowhere to be seen.
.: NINE YEARS AGO :.
If there's anything he's glad to see on this sour, unpleasant day, it's the fact that Mei has no qualms about looking the way she does. She doesn't leave her hair down for graduation, but instead ties it up and lets Kougi tie a silver ribbon in the back. She is her own person – still tired of being mistaken for her sister, still apprehensive of the star that everyone looks up to, but galaxies away from the person people expect her to be. And Zenshi is proud of her for that. He himself will have a ways to go before he is anywhere as free as she is.
"Smile, just for today," Mei requests. "We're graduating, can't you be a little more positive? We're finally leaving this piss-hole."
"Language," admonishes Kougi gently. "Watch your language."
"I don't care anymore," sings Mei. "I don't care at all!"
"The Disciplinary Committee will have your head. And then you won't graduate."
"This guy can pull some strings for me." Mei jerks a thumb in Zenshi's direction. "Won't you?"
"What strings?" he deadpans, straightening the cuffs of his sleeves.
Mei rolls her eyes.
"Let's go."
.: -Kaientai Command Center- SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
The bullet barely left the weapon when Linter seized the man by the throat and placed a handgun to his head.
"Kami-sama himself is here, isn't he?" drawled Abuto sardonically. "Who do I pray to now?"
"You pray to me," Linter told him, "and you ask for forgiveness."
.: SEPTEMBER, ONE YEAR AGO :.
Abuto flipped the envelope open, in the discreet privacy of his quarters. The wax seal that he carefully pulled off – boldly imprinted with a familiar insignia – would have struck fear in the hearts of men across the universe.
Abuto never believed the Harusame to be an omnipotent force.
There were, after all, people who could overrule orders.
Like kami-sama himself.
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
"Run," Mei croaked hoarsely, fingers scrabbling at Kamui's fists, which were wrapped tightly around her throat. "Go. There's—"
Mutsu didn't stir on the ground, but Zenshi saw her shoulders shuddered as she struggled to regain the wind knocked out of her chest. The pistol, emptied, trembled in her fingers. Mei continued to wriggle in Kamui's grip.
And then Kamui's crewmen appeared from the hall, clamoring and wielding Yato umbrellas like swords. All of which were fixed on Zenshi and Tsukuyo.
Kamui held out his arm; his figurative blade at Mei's heart.
Zenshi, who still had Tsukuyo beside him, was torn. If he took out the crewmen first, Kamui would kill Mei. If he went for Mei, there was a possibly that Kamui would be too fast for him, and that he would leave Tsukuyo at the mercy of several Yato pirates.
Not a single muscle would move. He could not even inch towards Mei if he tried. His hands, still clasped around Tsukuyo's forearms, stiffened with an emotion he could not place.
He asked himself who he was protecting.
.: ELEVEN YEARS AGO :.
"If I broke my leg, would you bring me food?"
Zenshi, in the hospital bed, smiles.
"Why wouldn't I?" he answers, fondly.
.: TEN YEARS AGO :.
"I have never seen anyone so excited over politics," she snorts.
He glances up at her dubiously.
"I haven't either."
.: NINE YEARS AGO :.
"Hey, I don't know when I'll see you again, but when I do, don't just stand there, okay?"
She has this forlorn expression on her face, so unbearably uncharacteristic of her.
.: EIGHT YEARS AGO :.
He has never liked the confines of his desk.
He wonders where she would be.
But she is off somewhere, shearing off her hair and her sister's face and becoming herself, so much more than he ever has.
.: SEVEN YEARS AGO :.
She tells him he has nice hair several times before she gives up and bursts into laughter upon seeing him.
.: SIX YEARS AGO :.
There is an odd but amusing disconnect between her calling him lieutenant and the awkward salute she issues.
But it's fine with him.
.: FIVE YEARS AGO :.
Asteroid belts are her favorite thing. She never tells them, though.
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
He wants for her to shut up, but never has the heart to tell her.
But it's fine with him.
Because then he doesn't have to think about all the things that float without direction outside this horrid ship.
.: THREE YEARS AGO :.
He'll never tell her she snores.
But she's sprawled across his desk, fast asleep, and neither he nor Tabs has the heart to wake her.
.: TWO YEARS AGO :.
Sometimes, she mocks him.
But he mocks her, too.
.: ONE YEAR AGO :.
"That stupid Danchou of ours is running off again, isn't he?"
It's been five, six, seven years, and she still won't call him "sir" because it turns everything sour.
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
A whisper in his ear once told him that he could protect more than one person at once. The voice beside him was strong enough to be heard over the others.
So he chose the one that was choked and crippled and faltering.
He let go of Tsukuyo.
He ran for Mei.
#1 Reason why ZenTsu is hard to write: MEI.
Oh Mei.
Mei you will break my heart.
Mei, Mei, Mei.
It doesn't help that in the manga "Gangsta" by Kohske, there's a guy named Marco who looks like Zenshi, and he's romantically involved with this girl named Constance and she looks just like Mei. OTL