Author's Notes:
I'm back, with a new series!
More info on it and where I've been in general at the end of the chapter.
Forgive me, ба́бушка́. You've told me to stay safe while I study abroad in Japan. Instead, I've gone and walked right into змея's maw.
The train's somber cluttering rang all around. It was evening, late enough for regular high-school students to start heading back home on school days, where sun still loomed on the horizon. Usually, Tsubame liked that time of the day. A short in-between where the world was bathed in peachy daylight, before it is swallowed by night and coveted anew with blearing artificial lights.
Usually.
For today was ruined by one specific thing—No, scratch that. One specific person sitting across from her.
"You've been quiet for a while now, darling. Is something bearing you down?" Said this specific person, her words dripping with sickly sweet venom.
She was a brunette with curling, voluminous locks, clad in a classy white blouse and a knee-length black skirt embroidered with a floral pattern. She sat with hands on her lap, professing her chest like a bird does its plumage. A leather-bound designer purse sat next to her. Tsubame didn't know who made it, but one glance was enough to tell that it was top shelf.
It pissed her off. Having just been on a street reconnaissance mission, all Tsubame wore was a gray tracksuit and a flimsy t-shirt. For her to show up dressed all fancy like it's nothing felt like a spit to her face.
"I sure do wonder, Kochō. What could possibly be grinding down on my nerves today?" Tsubame snarled, her teeth grinding as she spoke.
"...why yes, I do believe it is pollen season right about now. Do you have any allergies, Tsubame?"
It's hopeless. She can't do it anymore. Tsubame slumped over, head sinking into her palms.
Kochō. Granddaughter of the headmaster of Metropolitan Hakuō Women's Academy— the most renowned educational facility for women in Japan. Also, said academy's student council president. Also, in spite of them being ostensibly on the same side, her very own nemesis.
"I don't have any allergies, Kochō. We've been playing this game for almost a year now. Give it a rest."
"Why, I'm not playing any games. I'm being quite serious, you know?" She let out a chuckle, sonorous like a bell. "...is it a flu then?"
Tsubame groaned, leering at her through the fingers. "You're the one making me sick, you damn snake."
Kochō made no comment of it. She merely smiled like she owned the world.
The nerve of that girl. Her jaw felt like clenching whenever she did that stupid smile of hers.
"Just fess up what you're here for already. I know it's one of your convoluted schemes again."
Kōcho sighed, placing a single hand to her cheek. "Straight to the point as always. How disappointing. I would've hoped that an extended stay in our country would've taught you some proper etiquette."
"Sorry for not wanting to put up with your nonsense. It's hard to be nice when you strut into my day completely unannounced and treat yourself like the main event."
"You certainly are one for me. I'm working very hard to find time for you in my schedule, you know?"
Tsubame groaned, again, louder than the first time. "You're the most infuriating woman I've ever met."
She so very wished that she could just leap from her seat and lunge at Kochō's throat. But she couldn't. She wasn't the one holding up the barrier.
A third party was holding it up instead.
It was a system Kochō designed specifically to keep her in place. The mediator would plant themselves somewhere within her vicinity, throwing up a barrier the moment Kochō approached her, thus leaving her with no choice but to contend with her charade. She's fought her several times before and fighting someone on top of Kochō never seemed like a particularly enticing idea so she had to bear with it.
And yet, much to her chagrin, Kochō never aimed to kill her. She wanted her alive. Their "dates", as she would describe them, always centered around a single topic. And that topic was…
"So, when are you transferring to Hakuō?"
...this.
It was a question that loomed over her ever since the moment they met.
"Never."
And this was the response she always gave.
"We're both in our final years already. I'm riding it out with Maisen to the very end, whether you want it or not."
She's gone so far already. She couldn't leave them behind. Not yet, not before her time is due.
"Are you certain?" Kochō asked. "We still hold documents from your infiltration last year. Using that, along with our connections, your transfer would be smooth and painless."
A pained sigh crawled out of Tsubame's lungs. "How about you listen to yourself for once? You're asking me to leave my life behind like it's a change of clothes. It's not as easy as that."
"I know, I know. Kanzaki too, had shown resistance when I've first extended my offer to her..." She feigned a sob, only to raise her arms in a shrug and smirk instead. "How thankful I am that she turned around in the end. I am so proud of her these days."
How dare she compare her to that пизда́?
"I'm not her. I'm not about to give up my identity just because you ask me pretty."
"Shinobi don't have an identity. You know this just as well as I do."
"I…" Immediately, she bit down on her words. "Tch, you and your crafty tongue."
Silence filled the car, the two of them lingering in an uncertain pause. While, physically, they were apart by just a few feet, the gap between them felt as vast as an ocean. A quivering calm, in which the weather coukd chanhe at any given moment.
And then, a hum seeped into the quiet, smooth and devious like a violin.
It came from Kochō.
"Indeed, the society we live in claims that we deserve no names… no futures… no truths..." Her voice trailed through the air like a threaded needle. It entered her head one ear, interweaving her ideals unto cognition, and out came the other. "...such antiquated values, wouldn't you agree?"
"...yeah." Tsubame muttered.
This was the worst part about Kochō. Tsubame couldn't bring herself to honestly say she's wrong.
Her participation in Maisen was decided long before she was born. In exchange for Maisen supporting emigration of their graduates, their children had to attend their shinobi course when of proper age and ability. She's known this since childhood, but she didn't really get what it entailed until she actually entered high-school.
The sheer abyssal depth of the world of shinobi, suddenly opened beneath her feet, forcing her to either swim in blood or sink out of good will.
Yet still...
"...that doesn't mean I'll join you. Not because you're wrong. But because I hate you."
Kochō's lips pursed, her brow furrowed in a knowing glance. "It's about her, isn't it?"
Tsubame nodded.
The person without the help of which she wouldn't have gone as far as the elite team. A senior that taught her fundamentals that she still abides to today. A guideline to get her through the life of a shinobi.
"You killed her." She then uttered. "Right before my very eyes. How could I ever forgive you for it?"
She couldn't face Kochō's gaze as she spoke those words. It wasn't because she possessed any inherent abilities bound to her eyesight, such as the legendary Kagan. That would've been rational. It would've made logical sense.
But no, this wasn't the case. Within those eyes hid something that unnerved her at a pure instinctual level. A haunting spectre that burned itself into memory, commanding to either submit or step aside.
Hers were the eyes filled with pure unbridled and humanly ambition.
Each time their eyes met, she felt as if stepping into a pit of snakes. Slithering, coiling, devouring her piece by piece the longer their eyes lingered on each other. Doubt, shame, anger. Venoms that etched away at her soul, all stemming from the woman in front of her. Once again, there was no choice but to submerge in those depths.
Swallowing the bile in her throat, she turned her eyes to meet Kochō's, a sweltering pit in her stomach forming at the mere idea of it.
Kochō's otherwise sharp smile mellowed the moment Tsubame faced her again. "...I'm not asking for your forgiveness, Tsubame. I merely ask of you stand by my side, as I work to fix society's ails."
"No." She said, staunchly, in dejection. "You can't buy me with promises of a future, Kochō. It's a losing battle." She's seen and remembered the end result of such promises all too well back home. Even in her generation, she felt this… melancholy of an unhappened future. It made her reluctant to dream.
"Oh, Tsubame…" Kochō bemoaned, her mood faltering. "This is about more than just you. It's about the future of this very country, it's about millions of people."
"Your country, not mine."
"That you are bound to serve nonetheless."
"I will not help you overthrow the government, Kochō. There's no future to be found in war. Only death and ruin."
Hearing that, a disappointed sigh escaped Kochō. One that felt aimed at herself, nit Tsubame.
Calmly, Kochō reached into her purse and stood up, pulling something from within—her cat o' nine tails. She trailed her fingers across its' cords, light upon the surface up until she reached the ends, at which point she clutched them tightly. "Tsubame, if it's your personal grudge that prevents you from seeing the light, then I've no choice but to set your head straight by force, if I have to."
"You just can't ever give up on anything, can you?" Tsubame muttered, giving her a wry smile. "Fine, whatever. Give me a lecture while you're at it. I just know that you love the sound of your own voice."
Kochō smiled. "Let us begin your rehabilitation then."
Justly thus, she lashed out.
Air ripped. Glass shattered. Motions played out in Tsubame's mind moments before they took place. Heeding them, she ducked to the floor.
"Fact #1: The shinobi system is a staged conflict." Kochō spoke, her eyes following after Tsubame. "Good and Evil do not matter to businessmen or politicians. Those fossilized pigs in human clothing use both sides with impunity, so long as they answer their beck and call!"
Tsubame threw her head up. "The government's corrupt, big news! How about something new?"
The cords cracked again.
Tsubame swayed aside, the strike almost missing her. Almost, as blood dripping down her cheek warmly let her know.
Before Kochō could strike again, Tsubame flipped back to her feet, unzipping her jacket within the move. A pair of sabers dropped from within, their guards and pommels one and the same with the blade. Much thicker than shashkas, they were more akin to a bardiche than any conventional sabers.
Her Wings of Steel.
She dropped her hips, catching them to reverse grip just before they hit the ground.
Whip cracks fell like thunder, one after the other. Tsubame weaved between them with the footwork of a boxer, then closed the distance and launched an uppercut with her Wing's guard.
Kochō leaned away, just barely out of reach. Her blouse tore, leaving a wide rip around her chest, exposing a black bra adorned with white lace around the edges.
She replied with a kick to a kidney, aimed through the gap between the blades.
Tsubame staggered back, her poise breaking.
Kochō immediately retook their initial fighting distance and whipped at a low angle.
Unable to move away in time, Tsubame flipped her Wing at the whip instead. The lashing broke, it's cords wrapping around the weapon.
Immediately, Kochō raised her leg and slammed it down on the whip's cords.
Tsubame's Wing twisted away, her arm along with it.
"How about some statistics then?" Kochō asked, a wicked grin flashing in the eyesight's corner.
Tsubame whimpered, her teeth grit in pain. "Do I, ugh, look like a math nerd to you?"
"Fact #2: The system is unsustainable." Kochō continued, regardless of her non-answer. "Even with oversea programs in place, the difference between application and death rates narrows with each passing year. Do you know what this means?"
"That Japan's birth rate's in the ditches?"
The moment the remark left the confines of her mind, Tsubame felt a sharp yank at the tied Wing. She let go of it, in fear of getting her shoulder dislocated if she didn't. In result, it flew straight to Kochō's free hand.
"That," She continued, giving the Wing a cursory glance. "was unneccesary. You're on the right track though."
Tsubame straightened up with a groan. This was bad. If this drags out any longer, they're bound to shift to their Shinobi Forms. She hasn't got the time to go that far, her train stop's coming up and letting Kochō get her way is the last thing she wants in any situation. She had to finish this ASAP.
"Fine, enlighten me then, oh mighty miss orderly! What is the cause of that?" She said, settling into the fool's role.
"It's quite simple, truth be told. It's because new schools started opening up all over the country in recent years. Evil schools first, raised with corporate investors' funding, and good schools afterward, in order to 'combat' said newly-risen schools. In fact, those ivory tower scoundrels at Gessen even opened a junior high branch recently."
"That so, eh?Everyone's clamoring for a piece in the market then."
"Unfortunately." Kochō smiled bitterly, then leveled the blade against Tsubame.
"How about a round of fencing for a change? Put those daft hands of yours to work and all?"
"You're on." She grinned, putting up her other Wing in front, blade still pointed to the floor.
Kochō reciprocated the smile, then lunged, swinging the stolen Wing down.
Sucker. The motions were clear in Tsubame's eyes. Where the whip was a flash, the sword was a still picture. She caught the blade against the guard and, shifting the angle of her wrist, slid it past, blade scraping against blade.
She charged, driving the spiked pommel into Kochō's right shoulder. Immediately after, Tsubame clutched her by the throat with her free hand and swiped her at her legs with a kick. Kochō went down at once, Tsubame falling with her.
As soon as they hit the ground, Tsubame drove the pommel deeper in and clambered atop her, pinning the arm that wielded her saber with a knee. Blood gushed from Kochō's shoulder, staining her blouse with red. She glared at the wound, her grin finally abating into frown. Yet, despite her dominant arm being taken out of commission, pride and righteousness somehow failed to abate from her countenance.
"Just as terrible an in-fighter as always. Now, got any more facts for me?" Tsubame said, loosening her grip on her throat.
Kochō heaved a breath, thrashing about to gain any leverage. It was for naught. Once down, whoever's on top held the advantage.
If she really wanted to, she could kill her here and now. No more invasive visits. Get revenge for her senior and the guilt plaguing her since her death. All she had to do is apply a little bit more force to her throat and keep her still...
...if only she could will herself to do it. If only she couldn't see the good she could do if she applied her efforts elsewhere.
Eventually, Kochō settled back down, sweat heavy on her brow. "...why are new schools being raised?"
"Because there's money in it."
"Wrong. Think back to Gessen. What advantage is there in sending out children still in their adolescence against trained units?"
"...there is none."
Tsubame's head dipped in thought. Why use shinobi this young? Just from a physical standpoint, there's a massive gap in capabilities, let alone the mental. Unless one happens upon a prodigy, it's essentially a lost cause. Unless...
"...match fixing. But for what purpose? Why involve shinobi at all when the end result's basically predetermined?"
"Because it's not about the end result, Tsubame. It's about the bloodshed that ensues."
Suddenly filled with disgust, Tsubame found her hand leaving Kochō's throat, landing a blow to her cheek instead.
Despite taking the hit straight on, smile bloomed anew on Kochō's face. "There's a second bottom to it all, Tsubame. A rising pressure threatening to burst and drown everything, and all we do in response is cover up the imperfections to avoid addressing the core issue."
Tsubame punched her again. "Talk straight for once!"
Her cheek began to bruise and swell, yet Kochō still held her eyes set on Tsubame… no, past her. "That… will have to wait until another date."
Just then, a shrill whistle came from behind.
"Сука́ Блять!" Tsubame swore, urgently ripping the Wing out of Kochō's shoulder and spinning back to the sound.
｢Go, Bullet Chilopoda!｣
Tsubame hardly had the time to register the newcomer's appearance before a deafening boom hit her ears and a gray blur zipped before her eyes.
She dodged at the last moment, the blur pulling past her to another car.
It came back around within moments, even as more still trailed into that car, seemingly infinite in it's length, aiming back at Tsubame. She spun her Wing around and swung at it instead.
The strike bounced, pulled back from the sheer force of motion. The blur veered the way it came first, only to course back around just as it has before.
Only one way out then. Tsubame thought, before pressing her other hand against the Wing's blunt side. She angled it along the blur and, the moment it came close, thrust the blade against it's side.
Sparks flew on impact. Discordant cacophony coveted Tsubame's attention. Air friction from the passage burned at her skin. Her fingertips bled as she held onto the weapon to keep it steady.
In the corner of her eye, she saw coming it again from the other side. She twisted herself to face it, using the pre-existing line as an anchor. Direct contact with this winding thing would maim her for life, if not kill her on the spot.
She repeated it again and again until, finally, she noticed one of the lines disappear. One by one, it moved on.
Before she knew it, it was gone. Before she knew it, she found herself on her knees, collapsed from exhaustion. Her mouth dry, eyes bleary, she felt as though she was on the brink of passing out.
She heard before that Shinobi Arts are instantly fatal when struck by them without an appropriate protection and this was a hard proof to that claim. It was a miracle it finished wheb it has.
｢Golly gee!｣ A high-pitched voice snapped her out of daze, muffled due to ringing in her ears. ｢Miss Kochō, you're bleeding! Are you alright?｣
It's owner passed her right after. It was a young girl, likely around her age, dressed like a common train attendant, with light brown hair tied into a ponytail. Tsubame's eyes followed after her.
Then, she saw Kochō. She lied where she left her. "I am in excruciating pain. Thank you for asking." She said.
The girl knelt down by Kochō's side. Half in awe, half in shock, Tsubame watched as her outfit spun out into individual threads, which soon dissipated into nil, it's form supplanted with a white sailor suit overlaid with woolen gray cardigan.
She barged into the car already clad in her shinobi attire. That should not be possible.
Shinobi Transformation required of the user to draw upon their inner ego as their body underwent the state of fight-or-flight. It required a certain amount of time, as mind and body had to be brought and knit into alignment with each other. This initial stage was often dubbed most dangerous for the beginners, as each shinobi is just as vulnerable to injuries as any normal person without the protection it grants. They might possess more strength or agility than an average person, but a bullet wound was a bullet wound still.
In short, it was impossible to access without being exposed to some form of danger first. So for her enter a fight in that state from get go… it was like entering a knifefight with a tank.
As the possibilities sank into her mind, the girl had pulled her cardigan over Kochō to cover up her injuries. Then, she pulled her uninjured arm over her shoulders and helped her back on her feet.
It didn't take long before Kochō looked at Tsubame again, managing an uneven smile even after everything. "Tsubame, allow me to introduce you to one of my newest associates. This is Motochika, an Elite Student from the Shinozuka Technical High School. Motochika, say something about yourself."
｢I like trains.｣ She giggled, finally turning to Tsubame in earnest.
A wave of unease washed over her the moment their eyes met. While, physically, their eyes had made contact with each other, Tsubame had an errant feeling she's not looking at her. It was as though there was something else, standing in her place, that served as her focal point instead.
"Thank you, Motochika." Kochō said, visibly worse for the wear.
"...how?" Tsubame muttered, stsring st Motochika, trying and failing to make sense of her.
｢I like trains.｣ She repeated, as if that answered anything.
"Now then, I think it is best that we all part ways for tonight." Kochō said. "I have a puncture wound in my shoulder to attend to and you, my dearest Tsubame, have... plenty of other matters to take care of yourself."
The two began trudging away, moving past Tsubame to disembark from a different car, to avoid public association. Their footsteps echoed in Tsubame's ears, like the ending notes of a song.
"...Tsubame." Kochō suddenly called out, stopping in the gangway between cars. Tsubame craned her head towards her.
The gap between them was vast. One could say they were entire worlds apart. And yet, looking out over that immaterial chasm, even if they were less than a blip on each other's horizon, their eyes met, alight in a spark of understanding.
"You need only ever to reach out to me if you wish to learn the truth. You know where to find me with ease."
"...is this your third fact?"
"Yes."
"Piss off."
With Kochō's smiling visage disappearing behind the closing, Tsubame was left all alone.
Only then did Tsubame have the mind to check the state of her Wing.
It was ruined beyond repair. The edge was grounded away enterily, Motochika's Art having torn halfway into the blade while it went on. It was nothing more than a scrap of useless metal now. She'll have to put in a replacement request at the academy.
She attempted to stand up, only to keel over immediately. She felt at her stomach, finding no fabric but grazed skin instead. Her shirt must've torn up during that Art as well. There's no way she'll be able to hide it from Ageha, she's gonna raise a storm once she's back at the dormitory.
Bracing herself for the pain, she stood up again, succeeding this time. She knelt down for the Wing Kochō ripped away from her during their spat and carefully slid them both back into her jacket. The basic art of concealment warped the space around them as she zipped it up, allowing her to move about with them without anyone noticing. It didn't make them any less heavy to carry around though.
Mere moments after all finished up, the barrier dissipated. All signs of the fight vanished, space around her returned to it's original shape. Thankfully, there were hardly any other people to speak of in this car, all of which were too preoccupied with a world of their own to pay any attention to some girl in grey. Standing there, today's events fekt as nothing more than a figment of her imagination.
Yet, what just happened was too real to be dismissed as a mere daydream. What Kochō said back then still lingered in her mind .
Conflicts for the sake of slaughter? What did she mean by this? It couldn't be prejudice, if Gessen—one of the most upper crust shinobi schools—is entangled in it on the losing side.
Entertainment for the rich? No, that's unfeasible. It'd require either a way to perceive events within the barriers from the outside or someone on the inside to record the events, both of which were too grave of a security risk to the secrecy of shinobi to consider.
Was it for some other loftier goal then? What second bottom did she speak of? What would necessitate sending units into intentional slaughter?
The answer eluded her. No matter how hard she tried, she wouldn't figure it out like this. Rather, as the train announcement remarking the incoming stop subtly told her, it was time to leave today's events behind. It was a question to be pondered another time, as was the matter of whether she should pursue or ignore this thread in the first place.
As the train set into the station, Tsubame set her eyes upon the world outside. It had already grown dark, the sun having hidden behind the buildings yet still in an empty lull that preceded the moon's grand entrance. The stars were peeked through the celestial canopy, one by one, slowly coalescing into constellations as they have each and every night, even if she couldn't always see them.
It was time to go home. Her girls are waiting.
Author's Notes:
Hello, and thank you for reading this chapter. I've gone silent for quite a while, so how about a little Q&A to get into that?
Where I've been?
Finishing up my education. I've been entering my final year around the time I dropped the second chapter of the Zodiac Sampler, so I've had to focus on that, as annoying as it was. That took up a lot of time and a couple other stuff popped up in the meanwhile. I've been trying to get the third chapter up and going but there was just too much buffer in play. In the meanwhile, and as soome of you might've seen, I picked up editing duties for Molochor's rendition of Senran Kagura 7EVEN as well as DearUnclePete's "The stars foretold a poor relationship" (title might change in the future) as of it's latest chapter. They've both got that *spark* of inspiration within them, so I'd really appreciate if you gave their works a look.
What is New Typhoon?
A way to get out of obligations. Senran Kagura New Link started to throw burning coals under my feet when they started their Zodiac Arc and started giving material to the characters. I started the Zodiac Sampler when there was no material to speak of, so I had a lot of pre-written thoughts and ideas before the canon got to them. For example, Ginrei and how she has a completely opposite temperament to the canon to what I thought up with. This personality I gave her is now too crucial to the overall dynamic to reel back to what the canon does.
Okay, but what is New Typhoon?
To put it bluntly, it is an umbrella term for the Senran Kagura fanfics that revolve around characters originating from the New Wave mobile game and which come from my hand. The Zodiac Sampler is a part of that, as is New Typhoon Records. Timeline-wise, it follows the events of Burst alone, because SK's timeline shenaningans are too convoluted for me to start from anywhere but the beginning.
What is New Typhoon Records then?
It is a serial/anthology series of one-shots that revolve around New Wave characters. They're meant to be like, vignettes into their lives, glimpses into a world outside the core roster. That's not to say that mainline characters won't appear at all, they'll appear when it's appropriate, like it would be the case with New Hanzo or New Hebijo teams.
One question. Why?
Because I think it'd be horrifically funny to write about characters with zero source material and which almost no one cares about. Btw, this chapter is a tribute to a friend of mine, who's a particularly fervent Tsubame fan. A true believer, he is. What about the Zodiac Sampler?
It's on the schedule. The next chapter will, hopefully, come out before Christmas. As thanks for everyone's patience, I'll let it slip that this one will center around Syuri.
What about those new Zodiac girls, Kureha and Tamayura, btw?
We'll get around to that by the next chapter.
And that is all from my side. If you wish to ask about something else, please sound off in the comments. I welcome all and any feedback!