On a roll, on a roll!
Fun facts:
Ch. 57: What do you mean I'm just throwing in galaxy names because it sounds all cool and official? ((you know you like it huehuehue))
Ch. 57: I included that congress passing legislation like light speed thing because in history we're going over WWII, and the U.S. Congress got together and almost unanimously declared war at a pace that was like light speed for Congress, hehehe.
Ch. 57: If you've forgotten Uhuru, shame on you (just kidding). But her name, Uhuru Ominira, literally means "freedom freedom". Uhuru is Swahili for freedom, and Ominira is Yoruba for freedom.
Ch. 57: Along those lines, the dictator Namawala Ezempi has a name that broadly translates to "impulsive military" or something like that in Zulu. (sorry, I'm just having fun with languages)
Disclaimer: Just as I would not have predicted Levi to be an Ackerman, I do not own Gintama.
(AHA! Spoilers! Sorry buds. Even I don't know the details yet...)
Eyes of Wolves
- 58 -
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
He was empty, so empty, so devoid of thought and feeling and awareness that when consciousness trickled into his mind, it was hot and cold and everything in between. His entire body was numb, save his left arm, which bore a peculiar weight.
A head of straw-gold hair leaning on him, tresses wispy and light and tied lopsidedly in the back. He relaxed his arm, choosing her presence over feeling.
.: MARCH, SEVEN MONTHS AGO :.
He places a hand on the glass pane – it vibrates with such fervent intensity that he's tempted to believe that the ship itself can sense the tension within the crew. Tabs has called him multiple times to the bridge today, and if the intercom chimes one more time, Zenshi is tempted to simply hide and ignore everyone rather than take his anger out on poor Tabs.
Incidentally, this is exactly one deck above the spot where he fell as Abuto turned off the gravity core.
But nobody else knows that.
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
It was the smell of sweet red bean pancakes that roused him from his sleep. Tsukuyo hadn't left her post long; the spot on the hotel mattress beside him was still warm. Zenshi hadn't a clue where he was or how he got there (but assumed it was the hotel they'd arrived at before, where the rebels were stationed) or what time it was.
Allowing his eyes to adjust to the light, the Yato shrewdly surveyed the room. Clean and immaculate, as hotel rooms were, but laced with the scent of someone who had occupied this room for a good amount of time. Clothes were folded and laid atop the dresser, his clothes, though poorly mended, bloody, and mostly torn. Additionally, he spotted Sciuttlan civilian attire, rather considerately set aside for him as well. Though the colors made him grimace, Zenshi pulled on the spring green sweater and champagne slacks. Whoever had set out this outfit was considerate enough not to giver him bright fuchsia pants.
He peered into the room's bathroom and noticed few belongings. Finding this strange, Zenshi quietly analyzed the room. The personal scent was familiar and the room itself was relatively cheery. A spare Yato umbrella hung in the corner, a dull gray one. Zenshi decided that this must've been Jenhao's room and not his father's or anyone else's. With this, the dark-haired Yato ducked out the door and down the hall.
The azuki pancakes led him straight to a staff kitchen via swinging door. Said door burst out in his direction, and it took all his effort not to get smacked in the face.
Tsukuyo staggered to a halt, plate of pancakes and glass of orange juice in either hand. The first thing that came to mind wasn't an apology, but a scolding.
"Ya shouldn't be up!" she snapped, frowning immediately. Zenshi, glancing from orange juice to pancakes to her face, didn't react. He had conveniently chosen to ignore the numerous bandages and patches that had been wrapped thickly around his midsection when he put on the sweater, and did not intend to recall them now.
The kitchen door was swinging freely back and forth, one of those loosely hinged things that never ceased flapping.
Intermittently, he caught glimpses of the people inside.
"Go back to bed," Tsukuyo ordered adamantly.
Zenshi, feeling characteristically tight-lipped, fondly touched Tsukuyo's cheek with the back of his hand, and then pushed past her. Taken aback, she spluttered a few times before following him back into the kitchen, where several Yato and Sciuttlan rebel leaders were congregated at a homely table.
"An attempt was made," Tsukuyo said wearily, allowing her troublesome Yato companion to join the others. She slid the meal in front of him. Zenshi thanked her with a brief no, fingers brushing lightly over hers as she passed the glass of juice.
Across from him, Linter, Jenhao, and Abuto. Kamui was nowhere to be seen, and Zenshi didn't ask. To his direct left, Tabs, and to Tsukuyo's right, Uhuru, the Sciuttlan rebel leader. It seemed as if an eon of time shuffled by before anyone uttered a word. Zenshi was uncomfortable, but that never crippled him, the silent creature he was.
"The military has resigned for the third night," Uhuru announced, "as they have not made any significant gains today. Though West Tomokaz has fallen into their hands, we have bright expectations for Des Koyasus."
"How long have I been out?" Zenshi whispered.
"A bit more than two days," Tsukuyo replied.
Zenshi rolled one stiff shoulder back, and then the other.
"They have a long way before they reach East Tomokaz," Linter added, "and the plan is to stop them in their tracks. Our numbers have grown great enough and our tender alliances will suffice. We have the North Star's financial backing, thanks to their eccentric but kind prince, and all the local planets except one has aligned with AC guidelines."
"I must say," Abuto interjected, "I'm rather impressed. Even the Harusame wasn't aware of such a large rebel force."
"But is it enough to stand against Namawala Ezempi?" Zenshi interrupted. "He may lack depth to his plans, but he has an extensive lateral network extending outside the Andromeda-Centaurus Allegiance. He's a brutal dictator."
"You seem to forget who your father is," Linter said, amused. "If he has an extensive network, then what do I have?"
Zenshi glowered, and his father wisely refrained from continuing.
"Nonetheless," continued the son, "are there enough forces here?"
"Probably," Tabs piped up, "because the Harusame is out of the picture."
"Are we?" Mei asked. "Are you?" she corrected, glancing at Abuto.
"Who discharged you, Lieutenant?" snorted Abuto. "Soon as this is over, it's back to the ship."
"I thought—"
"There is a certain hierarchy to things, as I'm sure you've learned," Abuto told her. "We've lost enough men. And where would you go?"
It was true. Mei had chosen the Harusame so that she wouldn't have to go home, and Tabs was working for his family. Both had found their own niche on the vast ship, finding solace in the thin, creaky mattresses and constant darkness.
"Well, we'd go wherever!" Tabs exclaimed adamantly. "Jenhao has—"
"Don't use me as an example," warned the older man. "I have no home, either. This is temporary because I'm helping the resistance. Uhuru has been far too kind and hospitable to me."
"A child of peace is welcome anytime," Uhuru murmured.
Mei and Tabs exchanged glances and went silent. Linter readdressed the issue of combat and forces, and it was decided that the stationary rebel troops in East Tomokaz would send out a battalion to aid the northern cities.
That is, they would have.
If the government didn't blast straight through the air traffic suspension and take East Tomokaz by storm.
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
The blood on his hands is intoxicating, and he wonders how the anything could ooze so slowly and lethargically through his fingers. He is careful when he picks up his umbrella, making sure nothing ever stains the golden end of the handle.
.: SEPTEMBER, PRESENT :.
People were flying. If Zenshi thought that Tabs was still the clumsy, lanky teenage boy he'd met seven years ago, then he was terribly wrong. In fact, Tabs, who was only a few inches shorter than his former lieutenant, looked strong and quick and agile. His fingers deftly entered a code into the nearest keypad, drawing security camera feeds up onto the large projector.
Uhuru had ushered refugees into safe houses, secured defense areas. Linter, Jenhao, and Abuto donned headpieces and began radioing in to multiple places. At some point, Zenshi picked up on Abuto calling for Kamui, but did not stop to listen in.
The cameras picked up military troops, dressed in staunch gray uniforms, trudging in. They front lines were clearly all Sciuttlan foot soldiers, their colored hair shaved to a close crop and their skin of various hues looking ashen and monotone. They wielded a variety of weapons, most of them armed to the teeth with machine guns. A few rows back, a line of recruits had high-power lasers strapped to their backs, disguised in designs discreetly similar to the regular firearms.
"They're moving fast," Mei noted.
"Just to be clear," Tsukuyo said, "are ya on our side in this one?"
The two women exchanged glances — the sharp Yato with her feline eyes, and the blonde courtesan with her quiet lavender ones.
"It appears that way." Mei took a moment to study the human woman, and then trotted over to Abuto when her name was called.
"Lieutenant, I need you to get your crew together."
"We're double-crossing them?"
"We were never really on their side," Abuto replied. "Get going, tweets. All right Tabs, I need you updating on the double."
"Yes, sir," chimed Tabs, reporting to both Abuto and Linter.
"Send the reconnaissance to the front lines," Linter instructed, hand on Jenhao's shoulder. The Yato complied, sending out orders with practiced efficiency.
"You know what would make this faster?" Tabs whispered to Mei.
"Sending our stupid Danchou out there?"
"Yep."
"Out of the question," Linter interjected between the two. "Your admiral is going nowhere as of yet."
"He's the admiral," Mei protested. "Where is he, anyway?"
But Linter had frozen in the middle of speech. First, they had had the pleasure of basking frantically in a surprise attack.
Now this.
"Oh," Mei whispered, withdrawing her next comment. "Found him."
Right up on the centermost camera, which projected a view of the largest street intersection in East Tomokaz, was Admiral Kamui himself.
.: FOUR YEARS AGO :.
He is staring at the egret on her auburn cheongsam because it's all he can focus on without his vision spinning, but when he hears it in her voice, he can't help but wrench his gaze to meet hers.
"Want something to eat? I can run down to the galley."
Why won't she step inside?
"No, I'd rather come with."
Maybe his gaze is intimidating. Maybe his tone is too harsh.
"All right."
Her movements are jerky; she steps aside for him to exit. She exudes fear from each stiff step, each curt reply. Zenshi is never one to blatantly point out the things he notices, obvious or not, but the fumes of the blood are still clogging his mind, and he can't help but blurt it out.
"You're afraid."
For a split second, Mei looks half hurt by this comment and half wary.
"I'm worried," she justifies. And when they lapse into an awkward silence, she tries to make a comment about food. But he can only sigh to himself because though there are some people he believes would be better off fearing him, there are some people he wants to keep.
Especially someone he's known for a long, long time.
See the flashback! Feel the flashback! TASTE THE FLASHBACK!
I will give you ZenMei until it hurts.
And that will make ZenTsu beautiful.
Though...Mei... /crai