Doppo released his hand from Guts' chest, opening his palm and offering a less antagonistic gesture. Guts reached out accepted the handshake. He found his new, fully functional eyes wandering to the man's own, or rather, to the single eye that adorned his face, mirrored on the other side not with a second eye but with a patch where it should be. His expression softened slightly, admiring the scarred face of a warrior who had clearly seen many battles. Doppo introduced himself and his adopted son politely to their guest. The elder Orochi seemed very austere, if a little aggressive. His demeanour perfectly matched his bold outfit. He was suited up in a purple button up with a wild, spotty print on it, and a set of white dress jacket and pants. The flashy apparel worked quite well when resting on the Karateka's impressive bulk.
"Are you planning to leave that guy completely naked? He can talk so I'm guessing he's not another Pickle." Katsumi piped up from behind Doppo, speaking to Mitsunari who was still standing by the table. Guts' eyes now darted to the younger man behind the one whose hand he was shaking. He looked no older than 20 or so, with an aggressive looking, trimmed on the sides haircut that reminded him of Isidro when he had been around the same age. He had a sharp expression on his face that suited a young fighter in his prime, but his relaxed, almost tired demeanour and closed off posture betrayed a certain amount of wisdom, or more likely some great trauma, given his age. His eyes wandered down further to the boy's left arm...
"Ah yes of course that's my mistake." The Tokugawa brother piped up, capturing everyone's gaze. He gestured to some of the staff, eager to amend his guest's clothing situation.
"Here you are then, we tried to get you something you'd be used to." He presented his visitor with something that could only make him wince a little. Nonetheless he donned the clothing, examining the garments using that strange device that served as a mirror that Mitsunari had handed him. He had been gifted a doublet, black, thankfully, which was a rarity and a bit of a fashion faux-pas during his time, though he appreciated the effort to find something he'd recognize. At least the pants were simple and loose fitting, unlike the tights he'd once been forced to wear to a ball, which hugged his body in a way that made him swear he would never wear them again. He struggled to squeeze his massive frame into the tight cuffed sleeves of the outfit. He could've done with something a size larger, but at least he was decent finally. He would've preferred the slick looking clothing the two Orochis were dressed in, it seemed like a more modern style, even if the design and material were completely foreign to him.
"Oh, by the way, my name is Tokugawa Mitsunari, pleased to make your acquaintance." The older man who had awoken him in the first place stepped forward and bowed towards him.
'Last name first, and that formal style of speech... am I somewhere in the great continent?' Guts thought to himself. He released the hand of Doppo, turning to offer a clumsy bow of his own.
"How about us three get a drink and we can get to know our new friend here?" Katsumi walked forward, reaching up to clap his hand on the shoulder of Guts. He was much more relaxed than the older fighter. Whether this was due to youthful bluster or extreme confidence in his strength was unknown to the swordsman. He was certainly no weaker than his father, perhaps it had been unwise to let two powerful fighters surround him, but Guts had a hunch these two weren't big on sneak attacks. His eyes flickered once again to Doppo's eye-patch and the unusal arm Katsumi had wrapped aorund him...
Tokugawa was not having any of it, however. "Absolutely not, don't you remember what happened with Musashi?" The elder man immediately tensed up and walked forward to separate the three, but he was stopped by a response from their ancient visitor.
"No, it's fine. I think I'll take them up on that offer." Guts finally spoke up. Mitsunari could see the Black Swordsman's half lidded eyes, and slight smile, he was already making himself at home, for the time being, soon he'd start strolling around like he owned the place if no one got control of the situation. Mitsunari knew he needed to shut down this conversation quickly.
"It's not a matter of whether you want to, you're not used to Japan yet, I can't let you go without a proper introduction to the modern age." He attempted to remain the central authority figure of this matter, but his words fell on deaf ears.
"I'm going." Guts said, uninterested in any further conversation. He curtly moved towards the nearest doorway, not entirely sure on how to actually leave this strange room. Tokugawa found his hands tied. Perhaps with enough manpower he could restrain one of them, but Doppo and Katsumi were obviously very interested in this man. He didn't want to risk his staff a second time, most of whom were still plenty fed up from the Musashi incident, and the abilities of the Black Swordsman were still completely unknown to him. In the end there was no choice but to concede to their demands, but not without sending a security escort with them to ensure that they made it exactly to the bar, and then exactly to the Tokugawa residence, with no stops in between.
Guts found himself now sitting on a familiar object, a slightly uneven wooden stool, between his two new compatriots. They had been kindly, but hurriedly escorted to a bar and lounge in downtown Tokyo. He had been told not to look out the window too much on the trip there, with the windows so aggressively tinted it was difficult to even see through them. Though he had to admit there was nothing particularly shocking or insane about the design of the city. It was similar to Falconia, which made it certainly unsettling, but he had already seen a city with absurdly advanced technology and massive buildings that towered over the landscape. In comparison to the scenery, it was cars that had taken him the most aback. Strange metal objects powered by some internal, confusing mechanism he was incapable of making heads or tails of. They certainly would've made travelling with Casca easier, had they been an option for him, and Rickert probably would've loved to get his hands on one. He tried to stop his mind from wandering to the past too much. He was only in the future for a short visit, then he would insist on being sent back, to wherever it was he came from. Doppo had distracted himself with his phone for a brief moment while Katsumi busily ran through some questions about Guts' homeland, and some of his adventures back when he was still with the Hawks, as if trying to confirm his identity.
His new 'friends' had taken him to this country's idea of a pub. The Elder Orochi's eyes quickly darted to the clock, then back to his phone. Content with what he saw, he turned his attention to their guest.
"What happened to your arm?" Guts asked Katsumi. "It doesn't match your other." He had been curious since he laid eyes on the younger man. The musculature and even basic anatomy was simply wrong, it looked like it belonged to an entirely different person. A certain amount of empathy was natural from someone who had lived most his life without his left arm.
"Oh this? It's a gift, from an old friend, I suppose." Katsumi grasped the limb that had been grafted onto his body, a memento of Restu Kaioh, who had perished in his fight against Miyamoto Musashi. "I got in a fight I couldn't handle, so he gave me this as consolation. You better be careful, the guy that got me might come looking for you if he gets hungry enough." Katsumi chuckled, along with his adoptive father. Guts didn't particularly care about the obvious inside joke, he had a second question to ask.
"And your eye?"
"Oh, this was also a gift. A Memento to a fight with a man much stronger than me, similar story to my idiot son's. Though, calling him a normal man might be a poor description."
"He's a real monster that guy." Katsumi added.
"A monster?" Guts chuckled, slowly sipping the strong drink he had been offered out of a very ornate glass. It was far stronger than anything back from his time, it tasted almost like medicine with how potent it was. He let the drink clink back against the counter as he savoured the fiery taste.
"Well you must be used to those, right?" Katsumi finally decided to break the ice. He'd been admittedly curious, but had tried to hold off on such an unusual conversation so as not to look like some kind of fanboy. He had actually read a lot about the history of Midland when he was younger, far more eager to prod the so-called Black Swordsman than his father, who considered the stories rather childish and likely made up. He knew who Tokugawa was claiming he had resurrected, and he was interested. Guts paused before answering, thinking for a moment, of what to say, and what wasn't worth saying.
"Monsters. Well, the stories I'd tell back in my old age would always get a mixed reaction, doubt anyone these days would believe me. Let's just call the giants and the dragons and whatnot a metaphor or something and drop it." Doppo was content with that answer, his son was less so.
"It sounds like you're saying they were real." Katsumi kept prodding him.
"Most of the things I fought weren't really... like that." Guts stopped drinking for a moment. Katsumi and Doppo both turned to give him their full attention, even the elder Orochi could sense the bitterness in his tone.
"Well if they weren't humans or normal animals, they were monsters, yeah?" Katsumi said.
"I've fought plenty of big, scary creatures, sure. But they're just another part of the forest, or the ocean, or wherever you'd expect to find them. They do what's in their nature, just like we do. If you really wanted to go hunting for a monster, you'd have better luck in a regular old city like this one."
Doppo bit, eager for an answer of his own, "And how exactly would you locate an inhuman surrounded by humans, Black Swordsman?" The question hurt a little, more than Guts was willing to let on. Real denizens of the dark, lurking among regular people were something he'd become very familiar with.
Guts sighed out his best possible answer. "You'd want a man who abandoned his humanity and became something you can no longer call a person." He took a swig of the strong liquid he'd been gifted. Not many individuals even came to mind, given his description, perhaps the two wouldn't be satisfied with such a half-cocked answer.
"Okay, so, have you fought one of those?" Katsumi continued his line of questioning, eager for a more direct response than he had gotten so far. The eyes of the warrior darted towards him, though he did not turn his head to acknowledge the question. He didn't have to think long to decide on his final answer.
"I have fought exactly one monster."
Doppo felt a slight change in the air, stiffening up a little on the uncomfortable stool he was sitting on. He could tell Katsumi felt it as well. It would probably be best not to push the conversation further, if they wanted to keep him in the kind of mood where he might agree to a match. Sure they were fighters at heart, but this man was clearly very dejected, waking up under such unusual circumstances, and with an uncomfortable amount of emotional baggage to boot. It would be unbecoming of them to try and start a fight over nothing. Still, this was the most they had gotten him to talk so far, that was progress.
"So, aside from all this talk about your old fights, are you enjoying the modern day?" Doppo tried to lighten the conversation with their guest.
"I miss my wife." Oh boy, Doppo thought. This guy was a real bummer.
"Ah... yeah, I suppose you would." Katsumi, who was also desperately trying to save the conversation, said.
The Orochis knew they were hitting a dead end. Guts seemed content to quietly sip his drink with little to no speaking at all, and the two were clearly not capturing his attention. The Orochi father found his eyes darting to the clock, for a second time. The time was 9:02
'Any second now.' he thought.
The bell on the bar door rang quietly, and for the first time since meeting him, the two watched the expression on their new comrade's face change, the neutral expression washed over by obvious shock. Katsumi watched Guts' eyes dart towards the door, still refusing to turn his head. Meanwhile from where Doppo was sitting, he swore he saw Guts' fingers reach up away from his glass, curling slightly, before pausing for a second, lowering his hand, and slipping back around his drink, refusing to show any more concern for the visitor that had just marched through the door. He seemed to shake his head, dispelling some thought that had entered his mind for but a moment. Kastumi straightened up his posture just a little, a normal reaction for most people, but Doppo merely smiled, used to the feeling now engulfing the bar. That trademark shifting of the air, the loud footsteps, that sudden feeling of stimulation, of danger.
Yujiro Hanma had entered the building.
The lazily clad man sidled up behind Katsumi. "You're in my seat, kid." Katsumi spun around, coming face to face with the one man he had hoped to go a little longer without meeting again.
Dark eyes and a grim, ominous smile beamed down at him. He felt himself shrink in the stool as the Ogre himself towered over him. He paused for a moment, but eventually, with a sigh meant to indicate irritation, he politely offered his seat and took a spot by his father and master, who didn't seem nearly as worried. Did he... plan this? A hit on a guy who literally just arrived to the modern day? By the most powerful human on earth? His father chuckled quietly, as if anything he had planned was actually going to pan out the way he expected. Katsumi cursed his father's brain for not working properly. Sure, was Yujiro good at antagonizing people? Yes. But he was also good at many other things such as collateral damage and removing people's jaws from their heads. No plan involving a Hanma acting in a predictable way would actually work.
Yujiro hunkered down on the stool next to Guts, who was still locked onto his drink with a pensive, bothered look on his face. Finally seeing the two of them side by side, Katsumi thought to himself that their builds were actually very similar. Similar heights, similar musculature. Their hair and skin tones were the only real way to tell them apart. He found a certain irony in how the world's strongest and possibly most embattled man had just as few blemishes or scars on his skin as a man who was born only a few hours ago, but his thoughts could only entertain that kind of trivial subject for a few seconds before he realized the obvious. The air in the room had gotten a lot thicker, Katsumi and even Doppo couldn't help but feel a little out of breath, even though they knew nothing had really changed.
Yujiro mirrored Guts, seeming to completely gloss over his existence.
"Cognac, if you've got Remy XO give me that, otherwise I don't care." The bartender who had been silently observing until now quickly rushed to offer him the whole bottle. This bar, of course, was one Yujiro regularly frequented and the barman knew his tastes quite well. Yujiro's smile didn't fade from his face as he clasped the neck of the bottle between his thumb and forefinger. He twisted the bottle with his free hand, and the neck was sliced clean off. A mug was fetched, as Yujiro emptied the entire bottle into it. Guts continued to quietly sip his drink, but Doppo and Katsumi could see where his attention was directed. Still, the two seemed apt to ignore each other for the time being.
"Yo, Doppo." The Ogre peered straight past Guts. Doppo responded in kind as the two chatted for a brief moment, exchanging introductions, inevitably talking about Baki as the Ogre had become prone to doing quite a lot recently, and making idle conversation about the state of the Shinshinkai dojo now that it lay in the hands of Katsumi.
Guts remained still, but Doppo caught it a second time, that tick. Guts leaned forward, resting his elbows against the bar counter, but his left hand once again reached up towards his head. Guts stared at his reflection in his drink, reaching back and craning his neck. A ripple in his drink was the only sign he got perhaps a tenth of a second before it vanished from his hands.
Guts' eyes followed the drink as it appeared in the grasp of the man next to him. Yujiro promptly dumped the contents into his mug, before downing it all.
"Could I get another one of those?" He inquired with the barkeep, who was standing quite far back from the counter. Of course, the timid man's first instinct was to sneak a glance at Yujiro, gauging his reaction. But the Ogre actually seemed to be in quite a good mood. He had an unbothered, relaxed expression on his face. Even his muscles seemed a little slack compared to usual. He slowly poured his patron another glass, placing it on the counter and hastily moving over to the lounge to look for less intimidating guests to serve, since the four men sitting at the bar were acting as a general people-repellent, diverting all traffic away from the counter.
"So, I hear you're a swordsman, the old man drag you here or something?" Guts eyes finally met Yujiro's, his suspicion towards the man opposite him was obvious.
"Yeah." He kept his words short. His eyes were burning a hole through his glass as he avoided contact with Yujiro as much as possible.
"You the one that killed that dragon?" Yujiro smirked, "Or maybe it was a unicorn?" Yujiro was trying to egg him on, it was obvious to the two Orochis, who were familiar with his particular brand of mockery.
"I wasn't the one that killed the dragon." Guts said curtly, without a trace of sarcasm or humour in his voice. He immediately turned back to his drink, still eager to avoid conversation altogether.
Katsumi's eye twitched at that last comment. He had to be joking, right? Yujiro tried his best to stifle a laugh, but eventually the entire bar shook with his roaring chuckles. He slammed the mug he was holding into the counter, clapping Guts on the back hard enough to jolt him forward a little.
"You're a funny guy, you know that? I gotta introduce you to my son, he'd love you."
Guts let out a sigh. "I'm afraid I can't do the same for you." Guts continued to lower the mood with his endless whining about his dead family.
"Ah yeah, I heard you had a wife and kids right? Didn't know you were such a ladies' man. Though I hear your girl was pretty promiscuous."
...
Silence rang through the bar, something had changed. Katsumi felt a shudder run up his spine, seemingly out of nowhere.
"What did you just say?" The Orochi's eyes converged on Guts' no longer hunched over silhouette. His attention had clearly been caught with that last comment. Still, was that a guess on Yujiro's part? Or did he know something extra about the swordman's life? Katsumi could hardly remember any details about the Black Swordsman's family, let alone such a specific, cutting detail.
"Ahh, nothing. But still, keeping her around after she gave her body away to your boss? You're pretty forgiving, huh? Or maybe you liked watching her get it on with other men?"
For a moment the entire room fell silent for a second time. People were unsure why they suddenly felt compelled not to speak, even those not seated directly at the bar, but Doppo and Katsumi could tell instantly. There was a new, previously unfelt presence in the room, leaking out of Guts. That 'spirit of battle' that radiated off of powerful men like the Hanmas. This kind of feeling was usually one you'd feel if you pissed off Jack or Baki, yet seemingly out of nowhere, the two found themselves leaning away slightly, their bodies tensing up, anticipating the danger intuitively.
"It's a damn shame the old man couldn't bring her back too huh, maybe she'd let me have a turn too~"
Guts was out of his seat in maybe a quarter of a second, his movement barely perceptible, but Yujiro was quick to follow him. Guts eyes were dilated, his brow burying itself into his own skin. He grit his teeth and threw an overhand left that shook the bar's counter and spilled his own drink.
But even in that quarter second, Yujiro was faster. His hand pressed against his opponent's face, in the Typical "humiliation first" style he was known for, and in maybe another second, he'd already spun around and thrown his 220 pound opponent straight through the beautiful full-wall window of the bar. Glass was sent flying in every direction as Guts' body sailed clean through the window adorning the one outer wall of the previously quite enclosed bar. A passing car ended up directly in his trajectory as his body was imprinted into the side of the coupe. Guts fell to the ground, catching himself with his arms, kneeling to regain his composure. Yujiro stepped through the broken glass, looking even more amused than before, his hair creeping away from his scalp, standing on end unnaturally.
"Sorry, Baki, but he threw the first punch. I'll just play with him for a few minutes." Yujiro murmured to himself, content with his clever skirting of the deal he'd offered his son. "You should probably stay down, old man, wouldn't wanna break your frail body." Guts was heaving, shaking, Doppo carefully stepped over the broken glass, followed by Katsumi. Doppo felt a twinge of disappointment, but this was what usually happened when people fought The Ogre.
Guts craned his neck, the whiplash of the impact had hurt badly, just who was this man? To throw him so effortlessly through a window and straight into a car? He reached his hand back to pop a stiff spot in his spine.
A warm trickle ran down his palm.
Yujiro paused. The warrior in front of him had suddenly, with no warning, completely let down his guard. He was obviously well trained, even if no one else could realize the talent sitting in front of them. Yet, at this moment, Guts seemed completely defenceless. Something had caught him so off guard that he had neglected the fight right in front of him. His opponent had stilled, just a moment earlier. Not moving, barely breathing. A glazed over look captured his eyes as he processed something clearly important.
"I was right, goddammit." Guts' face was suddenly flooded by consternation, anger, and above all, sorrow. His brow had creased into an ugly expression as he staggered back upwards, seemingly even more enraged than before. Was he lamenting the difference in their strength? Yujiro found himself genuinely confused, but trekked forward regardless.
"You shouldn't be here..." Guts leaned against the hub of the car he had smashed into, profusely wiping the blood from his face and neck.
"I got no clue what you're talking about, but now that you've tried to attack me..." Yujiro grinned coyly. "It means I have no choice but to defend myself." Guts could barely hear his words over the incessant flaring of the car alarm behind him, and the deafening sound of his own racing thoughts. He pushed all of the warning signs away. This man certainly appeared unnatural, but jumping to conclusions could cost him dearly.
"So? You gonna fight?" Yujiro continued to creep closer towards him, cutting off any hope of escape. Guts pushed himself away from the wrecked car, turning to inspect the interior. It's driver was buried beneath the steering wheel airbag. He tore off the car door, more concerned with the safety of the elderly man trapped inside than the condition of the vehicle. He pushed the airbag back to retrieve him. The man had lesions on his forehead from the impact, and was clearly unconscious. He gingerly removed the victim of their brawl from his small hatchback, and laid him outside the car, propping him up against the wall of the cab until he could be moved later. His pulse seemed steady, and so, Guts turned back around to face his assailant. His eyes were almost watering, his brow crumpled into a disgusting expression of anger and contempt.
"You did this to yourself." Guts spun around, happily revealing his back to his opponent, his arm wrapped around his back as if he were attempting to scratch some unreachable bug bite. His arm launched forward with the momentum of his body, cleaving directly into a nearby streetlight, which flickered and died with the impact. Smouldering metal reached the nostrils of the people on the street, before a clean cut revealed itself in the base of the lamp. Groaning against the pull of gravity, a rough shove sent the 16 foot tall piece of metal hurdling towards Yujiro's location on the adjacent sidewalk. A simple sidestep rendered the attack impressive, but useless, before those thoughts were quickly retracted as Yujiro found himself flying down the street with little warning. Guts had heaved the 400 pound piece of aluminum against his torso, and swung it at him like an oversized baseball bat he could barely get his grip around.
Guts felt his abs tighten to stiffen his upper body, his legs crack and squeeze, finally getting some much needed exercise. The satisfaction of watching the man that had insulted his late wife go hurdling 20 meters was just icing on the cake. Still, the bigger issue remained that man's inhuman nature. Guts felt he could rely upon his instincts, and they were all telling him the same thing. Guts was forced to drop the heavy pole, the torque causing immense pain just from the follow through. It was likely exerting several thousand newton-meters of force onto the axis of rotation, which would certainly dislocate his shoulder if he attempted to swing it more than three or four times. He happily relinquished his weapon, content that no mere man could survive that kind of impact. Strutting up to his still downed opponent, he found Yujiro indeed still on the ground, and even with a bruise to show for all his trouble. Yet, he was clearly unamused. His hands were cushioning his head, lounging against the sidewalk like it was some sort of beach chair. There was a cocky grin on his face, which was quickly beginning to irritate Guts more than his nagging suspicions about this man's origins.
"Don't pretend like that didn't hurt, prick." Yujiro gingerly stretched his legs and yawned before responding.
"Yeah, your little sting hurt. Congratulations, you're right up there with wasps and centipedes" Yujiro sneered. Guts was boiling over in rage at this point. The kind of impact Yujiro was just subjected to would splatter any normal human across the pavement, yet he treated the injury like a joke. It was, yet again, not normal at all, not human.
"Get up."
"Don't wanna~" Yujiro responded coyly. Guts made a move for his throat, only to find himself being dragged towards the ground. He caught himself before he could hit the pavement, sitting on all fours. He scanned the ground to find his target, but no one was there. Turning his head, he saw the towering man now standing above him, standing on one foot, as the other hovered above Guts' back.
A foot lodged itself into the pavement where the swordsman's body had been just one second ago. The man in question had performed an acrobatic manoeuvre, propping himself up on one hand and flipping away, landing on his feet 2 meters away from his opponent. He dropped lower, nearly back onto his hands, springing forward into a tackle. He collided with Yujiro in classic football-tackle fashion, who in turn sprawled his feet out and braced against the impact, skidding back 2 or 3 meters before his feet dug into the pavement and brought them to a stop. Yujiro overhooked Guts' arms, squeezing them against his armpits so as to disallow escape. He tossed his opponent over his head with a grunt, sending him flying into the air, and then back down onto the rough terrain. Guts landed without much effort, raising his head only for his vision to be blocked completely by a massive limb flying towards the side of his head. He gracelessly ducked under the lightning-fast kick, stumbling backwards, arms raised, the concentrated look returning to his face.
A crowd had begun to form around their battle, and Guts grew concerned about his ability to manage an opponent clearly stronger than him while ensuring everyone's safety. Katsumi and Doppo were gesturing to the more bold onlookers not to get too close. He privately thanked them for their help. He redirected his attention towards the man in front of him, who was positively beaming at this point. Although his expression would do little but terrify most people.
"Good... you might be able to do it, if you put your heart into it." Guts didn't understand the meaning of his opponent's words, but he couldn't let this... unnatural man slip away without further questioning.
"I can't let you leave."
"You don't have a choice in what happens next anyway, swordsman. Without your toys you're about as dangerous as an infant." Yujiro smiled. "But since I think you'll make a good playmate for my son, I'll show you one last thing as a bonus, for a job well done."
Guts' eye began to twitch, randomly. He found himself unable to get the twitching under control either, it was purely subconscious. He could not quell the pain suddenly welling up in his body either. Was it the impact from crashing into that vehicle earlier?
Suddenly, his eyes shot into focus, dilating as he noticed the change in the air around him, distinct from the atmosphere he had felt when his opponent had entered the bar. The crowd all took a step back. Yujiro's muscles began to ripple, his veins bulging from the pressure those muscles were exerting, pressing them against his skin. His shirt began to tear away at the seams. Yujiro watched as his opponent began to tremble.
"I knew it, there's no other explanation."
With a final pop, Yujiro's shirt tore clean away from his body. His overgrown body contorted, and his back muscles tightened until they almost resembled a face. His hair stood on end, waving in the wind, and he raised his arms, as if seeking some embrace from his fellow warrior. Guts understood the gesture. 'You get one more attack, so hit me as hard as you can.' Still, even if Guts wanted to meet the man across from him with all of his might, he couldn't. He could barely stop the pounding in his head, in his heart, even in his tired muscles. Too much was happening at once for him to process. He wished he had something to hold, a weapon, or even an old friend beside him to tell him he was being delusional, that the thoughts welling up in his mind were just old ghosts, haunting him one last time. But the facts were undeniable. Every sign was there.
The man in front of him was a monster.
The monster took a step, and then another step. His imposing, massive arms were slowly beginning to encircle him. Guts couldn't move. This moment felt like a rejection of everything he'd worked for. His peaceful, dying thoughts from all those hundreds of years ago had been ripped away, replaced with confusion and uncertainty. He needed answers where there were none to be found. The flashing lights, the noise, the smog in the air, his senses were dulled, his mind was clouded, it felt impossible to focus. The arms grew nearer, they wrapped around his shoulders gingerly.
"Welcome to the 21st century, swordsman~" Yujiro gave him one last smile, before Guts found himself mid-flight. An impossibly strong force shook his internal organs as he rocketed away from his last known position. He crashed through several cheap wooden stools, and into what felt like stone. He heard cracks. Whether that sound originated from his body or from the wall, he didn't know,
He saw two silhouettes converge on him in a second, blocking the harsh light emanating from the overhead bulbs. As his vision returned, Guts realized the monster from earlier was not one of those shadows. It was his two new modern companions, the Karate master and his son. Shocked and concerned expressions adorned their faces as Katsumi reached down to feel his pulse. His arm didn't reach its target though, as a sudden gust of wind caught the two men off guard. Guts had already run back out to the promenade, frantically searching either which way for his previous opponent. He staggered around, bracing himself against whatever was closest to him. His breathing was ragged, and he paid little attention to the state of the bar that had now been completely destroyed by the two fighters. A member of Mitsunari's posse that had driven them there hastily made out a cheque to the owner in the background. The Ogre was nowhere to be seen. He doubled back to the Orochis.
"You two, what do you know about that man?"
Doppo sighed. His hand rose up to his face, covering his no longer functional eye. "Yours truly."
Guts paused. The man he had just fought was the dangerous, barely human man Doppo had spoke of. Was that brief remark meant to be some sort of warning? "Where is he headed next?"
"No clue. America, maybe. He's not very talkative, even with people he knows." Doppo replied in an apologetic tone. He wouldn't say anything out loud, but the plan he had thrown together had quickly escaped his control. The Ogre was a man that inspired a lot of violence in just about whoever he made contact with, but the end result wasn't supposed to be his favourite bar being destroyed and an unarmed man getting beat around for 3 minutes.
"How do I follow him?" Guts' line of questioning was direct, he wanted access to Yujiro for a second time, that much was obvious. His tone was harsh and direct, in a way it hadn't been before. Previously, he had been soft spoken, reserved. His attitude betrayed no real fighting instincts at all, so much so that Doppo and Katsumi didn't even consider him a threat.
The two felt their words get stuck in their throats. This man had just been tossed through a wall, twice, by the most powerful man alive and yet he was completely resolute in an immediate rematch. Doppo pitied the man a little. As the answer wouldn't please him.
"I doubt there's any real way to follow him. He's a bit of an exemption to international law. He can go anywhere he likes, no questions asked. The agents at any border, or even a passing police officer would almost definitely ask you for ID, which you don't have." Gut's expression soured. He didn't understand a lot of what was being said but the point was clear. You're stuck here, and he's not. Kastumi finally decided to pitch in.
"If you're that eager for your blood match, why don't you just lure him back here to Tokyo?" Doppo and Guts stopped, turning their heads.
"You heard it from the man himself." Katsumi leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper.
"He's got a son."
Author's note: Sorry for the wait, job stuff. I made this one extra long as an apology.
