Metro City; Moving Forward:
Who knew that navigating a whole new world completely blind could be so difficult?
From the moment he left his hotel room to the minute he found himself in the same train station he had meandered past the previous day, Gouten could not, for the life of him, get his bearings. Wandering around Metro City in the early hours proved to be a bad idea; Luke hadn't given him directions, and he had forgotten to ask, and now their lack of foresight has become an issue.
Buildings seemed to meld together and almost move with each step he took. People moved both sporadically, and as one simultaneously and completely ignored his plight. There were so many loud sounds and disgusting, smoky scents that Gouten's normally idle temperament shifted into one with increased irritability. Even the air tasted weird. There were so many things he took for granted back home that now, in retrospect, he'd never even realize were things he appreciated.
'Ugh,' he thinks to himself, 'What a strange place.'
Gouten resists the urge to sigh. Plugging the name 'Buckler Security' into his phone revealed it was halfway across the city, near the water. Thankfully, if he moves quick enough he can catch the train and make it within the hour. Annoyingly, he didn't have that much time to get to the station.
If he took the sidewalk, that is.
He could almost hear Ms. Felicia scolding him for what he was about to do, but time was of the essence. Probably. A small, devious smirk graces his face as his grip tightens on his duffle bag. He comes to a sudden stop, unintentionally bumping into the person on his tail. He reaches into himself, feeling a power that was just beyond his grasp and dives head first. Power bleeds from him like a comet's tail, and for a split second, he becomes much too bright to even look at, lest one goes blind.
"Hey, watch it bu -"
The last thing the poor person saw before Gouten vanished was a monster being born into the world with a feral smile on his face. The concrete shattered with his first step and people became even more when he darted by at speeds that he rarely got the chance to go. He never truly understood how he was able to do this, but the feeling he got from it; the surge of power from an unknown place, felt like a high. Everything feels so natural when he's like this - whatever this is - and before he can really stretch his legs, he arrives at his destination. His sudden arrival surprises people, as he expected, and he quickly puts on a small, but charming smile to assure them that he's not a threat.
He'd never been to a train station like this one before. Hawaii didn't have any besides smaller, shorter transits for the tourists, so he has no idea what to expect as he descends down into the cave-like maw of Metro's underground. Everything is almost entirely too bright, not unlike a doctor's office, but carrying with it a distinctly unclean and manufactured modern vibe that matches cheap leather or plastic. He almost immediately notices the lack of clocks and how time seems to flow both too fast and painfully too slow, followed by the visual of long-faded out graffiti, and the shredded remains of posters.
Even now, in the early hours, the place is decently full, but alien. No one talks to anyone, nor do they touch one another, and it pushes the distinctly unnatural feeling place into the realm of uncanny.
The deep rumbling of the train cart is the only reason he was aware of the passage of time; a guttural groan that echoes off the walls, a feeling like nails being dragged on a chalkboard made of Gouten's own bones. It's unpleasant and sends a chill down his spine and an ache to his gums.
He's unabashedly thankful when the train comes to a stop and the doors open, allowing him entry. If he read the website correctly, this should take him to southern Metro, near the bay, a cool ten minutes away from Buckler Security. For normal people, that is. Gouten could probably make it in less than half that time, if he put his back into it.
Regardless, it's some time before he gets there, so he doesn't think about it.
What he does think about though, is the fact that a few people are rowdy. Really rowdy. So rowdy, in fact, that he's not at all surprised to see a fight break out.
Thankfully, he had brought his headphones with him.
They were old and well-worn, and a gift from Ms. Felicia for his fifthteenth birthday, but they still worked. Sure, the signs of their age were there, along with the signs of his shotty self-repair, but they worked and that's all that mattered. Opening his fairly small playlist, Gouten's hand automatically went to his favorite song; letting the melodic, soothing strings of the violin lull him into a sense of cool disquietude. Then the vocals started in, every bit as smoothing and airy as he remembered. Everything else ceased to matter after that.
What started as a simple fight, turned into a small brawl between every able bodied person in the cart. It was strange, admittedly, but even the sheer chaos in front of him did little to disrupt the flow of music in his ears. The pretty woman beside him though, - small and mousy, with clothes on that seemed just a few sizes too big and with unkempt hair - seemed to be more out of sorts. She's visibly uncomfortable, and Gouten feels for her - not having any visible way to distract herself, or it simply not being enough - so instead of moving, he inches nearer to her, close enough that she could probably hear the song herself, had things been quieter, using his larger frame to shield her from any incoming projectiles.
He doesn't bother to see if she notices or not, instead keeping his eyes mostly closed and his head down and his mind miles away. He fails to see it, but the woman is looking at him with a face twisted in confusion. Be it her own disposition, or Gouten's, something halts her attempt at getting his attention. The fighters are getting more brutal and animated, and closer and she wants to tell him.
Before she could though, the train hits a rather bumpy spot, and a man tumbles toward them. She braces herself for discomfort, but it never comes. Gouten's hand snaps up like a viper, palm wide open and brings the man to a dead stop. It was like he hit a wall made of flesh and bone, and she can barely hide her surprise, and evidently, neither can the man. With a flick of the wrist, Gouten pushes the man back into the fray, where he is promptly dogpiled by his peers and enemies. No one dares to get close to them, not after seeing the intense look on Gouten's passive face, nor after they feel an ominous od of danger whenever they wander too close.
As if the morning could not get any stranger, following the massive altercation in the train cart, people just... left. No parting words, no ill will, no police interference. Nothing.
If you ignored the injuries and destroyed clothing, people acted as though nothing happened at all. Gouten had to pinch himself just to make sure he wasn't in some kind of realistic fever dream.
'Am I dreaming?' The song's haunting lyrics echo in his mind.
"You must be new here," Gouten pauses at the voice and looks around to see the comment came from the same petite woman on the cart. He doesn't verbally respond, but the look on his face seemed to give away his confirmation. Truthfully, he hadn't expected her to stop at all - especially given that his headphones were still on - or even acknowledge him. "Yeah, I can just tell. Like magic." She makes a small gesture with her arms and Gouten can almost see the regret of her awkward action forming on her face. "Did you, uh, hear that?"
"The song ended," says Gouten cooly. The man makes a face when she gives him a look. "They just stopped," he says, mystified. "All of that fighting and then they just stopped and carried on."
"Just a normal day in Metro," she says casually. "They call Las Vegas "Sin City", and they call Metro City "Fight Club", but you know what they say; first rule of fight club." She vaguely gestures to the world around them. People are still moving around as though they aren't even there. It's so... different compared to how it was in Hawaii. Less homely and more... distant and impersonal.
"I see," Gouten says quietly. He really has no idea at all what she's talking about, but he has a tight schedule, and can't ask. "Thanks for the information, I guess."
"Thanks for the protection there." She responds with a smile and nod. He seems marginally surprised at her gratitude, but nods nonetheless, "I hate the subway sometimes."
Gouten decided that day that he also hated the subway.
When Gouten arrived at Buckler, the first thing he noticed was that there were more people than he had expected. Luke hadn't mentioned anything to him about a group in his call this morning, nor did he mention anything about a security card.
"Sorry, bud. Can't let you in," a tall, stout security guard says at the entrance of a large, chain link fence. "Not without a card."
The flat look Gouten threw the man's way could almost be counted as a power itself. Then he sighed. This morning had already been off to a rocky start.
"Can't you call Luke so he can verify?"
"No can do. Coach gets really nerdy about his trainin' time. He's probably in there wailin' on a bag."
Really? That was something he couldn't do? Unbelievable. Gouten could feel a headache coming, and wondered what to do. He could simply walk past him, but something told him that it would likely end in a fight if he did and while he had absolutely no qualms about fighting right now, it would've probably been a bad look for his first day. He could also attempt to scale the fence, which would be easy for someone with his... experience. But once again, a nagging voice in the back of his mind -that sounded far too much like his adoptive mother - reminded him that actions have consequences.
'I know,' he thinks to himself. Before another plan could enter his mind, a vaguely familiar face. She was short, with a curvy figure with a nice, deep tan and auburn hair styled into a short ponytail with bangs framing the sides of her face. They make eye-contact for the briefest of moments before she double takes. Whatever tiredness she had before instantly evaporates.
"No way!" She says, surprised. "It's you, from the bar!"
Gouten makes a face and then sighs once more. No need to lash out at someone who didn't do him anything.
'I know...'
"It's me," he concedes, dryly. "Good to see you too."
She smiles at him, "Doesn't look like it's good to see me. You look like you've had a rough morning. Ope, let me just..." She reaches up and pulls something from his shoulder; a piece of food covered in lint. Then she makes a face then pulls her hand away as though he physically burned to the touch. She swayed slightly where she stood, looking anywhere but his eyes, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean -"
"It's fine," Gouten says easily. Judging by her actions and mannerisms, she might be new here too. "Thanks." She lets out a full-bodied sigh of relief.
"Yeah, no, that's awesome. I was really scared for a second there," she says, a warm smile returning to her face, "Old habits die hard, I guess."
"You're new around here too."
"Yeah, I just moved in from bumfuck nowhere Wisconsin."
Gouten snorts at that, and the woman fully relaxes, "Sounds like fun."
"Nothin' but fun and cows out there. Mostly cows though. Anyway, what brings you here this morning? You lost, or no?"
Gouten shakes his head no, "It's my first day, and no one told me I had to bring an ID card."
The woman grimaces, "Ope, yeah... that's 'bout on brand for Coach. Probably got excited and forgot."
Gouten's face goes flat. He really lost a fight to this man. Badly.
"No worries. Hey, Calvin! C'mere once, real quick! This guy's with me, and good ol' coach just forgot again."
The security guard gives Gouten a suspicious side-eye, "You sure, Tiko? I've never seen the guy around."
"You, betcha!" Tiko says dismissively, "Met him last night and we had a couple-two-three beers. He's all good!"
Like the man he met before, this woman - Tiko - seemed really... positive. It was strange, really. To see such trust in him, a stranger. He appreciates it, even if the sentiment is lost on him.
"If you say so," Calvin shrugs, "I'm sure you'd kick his ass if he came at you sideways, anyway."
"Calvin!"
Gouten snorts again and shrugs.
When Tiko flashes her card and they're allowed entry, they both bear witness to dozens of people doing various drills in the courtyard. Breeze from the harbor and sea blows in Gouten's face and sends his hair all over the place, but the scent reminds him of simpler times.
"Thanks." He says, after a while.
"Don't mention it! When we get to the main gym, I'll show you where the locker rooms and bubblers are, then yer on yer own."
Gouten blinks, 'What the hell is a bubbler?'
The interior of Buckler looks no different than any other combat gym Gouten had been to in his life; people are sparring all over the place, trainers are showing people how to correct their forms, there's a cage off to the side and various punching bags... in the corner of the room? Strange, but not the thing that catches his golden eyes.
No, it's a saying plastered on the wall right at the entrance.
"You want to know what strength is?" it reads in bright, stark white text, "Once you start looking for it, nothing else catches your eye."
'Ain't that the truth?' Gouten thinks bitterly.
His thoughts are interrupted by the sounds of loud, repeated smacks. He knew what it sounded like to hit a heavy bag, and he knew what it sounded like to really hit a heavy bag, but what he hears now is akin to a series of gunshots. Loud, deafening even. It doesn't take long to locate the sound from the center of the room; it being Coach Luke absolutely wailing on the leather as though it stole something from him.
His form is somehow both wild and raging, and refined and precise at the same time. Each blow delivered with not an ounce of wasted power or energy. Suddenly, Gouten began to understand just a bit more how and why he lost. Luke, so lost in his own world, then draws back with his right fist and points a finger gun with his left hand and then, bang. The punch easily snaps the chain the heavy bag hung on and sent it careening into the wall behind it, joining the heap of other bags.
The gym comes to a stop immediately, and everyone turns towards the man with various degrees of shock and awe. Gouten is no different, but he hides his well. Then Luke slowly stands up and wipes his brow, turning to give everyone a charming smile before his eyes fall on Gouten.
"Hm, my new recruit!" He says cheerfully, "Kids, take a breather." The expression he gives Gouten is a strange one; filled to the brim with muted excitement, pride and just a bit of cockiness. "Welcome! This is Buckler Security Services. I'm Luke, the coach here. You're here for basic training, right?"
"You invited me here," Gouten responds plainly.
Luke's face twitches for a bit, "Just go with it, man. I stayed up all night practicing this introduction."
"...right."
"Okay, let's get you measured up!"
After getting measured up - which was really just Gouten going to one of the locker rooms and filling out a sheet about his physical size and getting his picture taken - he comes back out and hands Luke his card.
"Gotta say, pretty boy, you're photogenic. Alrighty then well, that should wrap up your enrollment. Again, you can call me Luke, or just coach. Whatever floats your goat."
"My goat? Don't you mean my boat?"
"I know what I said. Okay then, hope you're ready to begin." Luke doesn't wait for a response, instead turning around and walking further onto the training mats. In the time it took Gouten to change into the hideously tight tank top and bright orange sweatpants that was Buckler's uniform, the other students had cleared out. Luke really wanted to give him special treatment, huh?
Along the rafters on the second floor, he can see all of the students, including Tiko, staring down at him, completely absorbed in the proceedings.
"Do you do this for everyone?" Gouten asks absently.
Luke grins, the same way he had before back in Hawaii. Gouten has one to match. "Forgive a guy for a bit of favoritism. But we fought already, right? We can skip the basics just a bit."
Gouten scoffs at that, "Whatever you say, coach."
Someone rings a bell and the fight begins, similarly to before. Gouten is fast and from what he knows, Luke isn't as mobile, so he uses that to his advantage.
The three meter gap is closed between the two in the blink of an eye and rears back a punch, keeping his eyes locked onto Luke's face, while keeping his excessively large forearms in his peripheral vision. Luke snarls like an animal and leans back, raising a knee in an attempt to intercept Gouten's charge.
To Luke's surprise, Gouten quickly crossed his arms and pushed down on the man's leg, using it as a make-shift springboard to propel himself upwards, raising his own knee towards the man's chin.
Luke's arm snaps out to block it, but the force of the blow sends him stumbling back, just a bit. When he regains his composure, Gouten notices the steam coming from his right arm. His eyes get a bit wider, but his feral grin doesn't waver in the slightest.
"Sand Blast!"
The bullet of compressed air explodes from Luke's fist and inside the building, echoes so loudly that Gouten is a bit surprised that none of the windows cracked. Sand blast isn't easy to see, nor is it easy to avoid, but Gouten somehow manages both with a side step and ignores the satisfying pop the attack makes when it hits the brick wall. Luke charges after that, leaving no room for recovery and the two meet somewhere in the middle. Fist meets fist, and Gouten handily loses the exchange as pressure rattles through his very bones, but still, his grin doesn't fall.
"You've leveled up," Luke mentions. "Fast learner."
'You have no idea,' Gouten doesn't say. "You still talk a lot."
Luke doesn't have a reply to that, and instead darts forward quicker than his frame would have Gouten believe and lowers his center of gravity with his shoulder forward. Gouten parries to the side, tapping Luke on the arm as he goes by. It does little, if anything, to throw him off course, but it does buy Gouten enough time to make some space.
Or so he thinks.
Luke suddenly drops to the mat and rolls on his shoulder, and the split second steam is all the warning Gouten has for what's coming next.
The Sand Blast that follows is much faster and harder than the others, and actually lands squarely on Gouten's chest. It was akin to getting hit by a bat and knocks the wind out of his lungs. He reels, trying to keep his eyes open as the raging bull of a man charges again.
Gouten can see the steam.
Luke smiles and winks. "Checkmate," the entire room watches in slow motion as a golden glow encompasses Luke's entire arm. "PERFECT!"
Gouten's smirk widens to a near smile. With a twitch, his head snaps to the side as the blow misses him by mere centimeters. He can feel the power behind it; the streaks of gold sending a chill down his spine and making the hair stand up on the base of his neck. For a split second, Luke is left wide open. Gouten ruthlessly exploits this opening.
He can feel it, the embers of power that buried themselves deeply in his soul.
Tiko can feel it too. Suddenly, a crackle of pure energy appears in the room. The fine hairs on her arms, her spine, her neck - stand on edge and at rapt attention. She looks down at the fight as time seems to all but stop as the feeling washes over it, triggering every single one of her instincts to run. All she sees is Luke and that man, but gradually, her coach seems to be little more than a blur as the man's form grows sharper and more pronounced.
Gouten, completely unaware of the power he exudes, only focuses on the feeling within himself. It's like a high - like his body is truly at peace and as though he's as one with the world around him.
He throws the punch. "Perfect."
Had you told Tiko that someone detonated a firecracker in the room, she would've believed you. The direct impact was truthfully something to below and the impact rippled around the room, sending not one, but two reverberations through her vertebrae. Coach rockets across the room and slams into the far wall with a grunt, and satisfying thud, much like the bags he punished on a daily basis. Much like the students he messed around with. She'd be lying if he said she wasn't just a bit happy that someone finally managed to tag their ever powerful coach, but she couldn't revel in the feeling.
That man's aura was nothing short of heavy. Like an invisible pressure pushing down on her shoulders. He's the only thing she can focus on for the moment, appearing rather pleased with himself, yet so thoroughly disconnected from his actions at all. He's there, in the room, but he's somehow everywhere else at once.
"Perfect..." Gouten says again, to himself. He must look mad, with the way he can feel all eyes on him, but he frankly doesn't give a damn. Right now, in the heat of battle, is when he's truly alive. He reveals in it; the power he produces. The thrill of combat. The hunt. His glee almost reaches a new apex when Coach Luke doesn't stay down. In fact, he rises with a thin line of blood streaking down his nose and over his mouth.
He's grinning almost as widely as Gouten is. Shark-like.
"Whoo! That was one hell of a hit! No one's ever hit me with my own perfect Flash Knuckle before. You hit hard with a capital HOLY CRAP!" Luke says, pushing down on one side of his - probably - broken nose and snorts, shooting out a blob of crimson. "I'll give it to you; you won that round. I wasn't expecting you to pick up that quickly. But hey," his demeanor changes, as though someone hit a switch, "Looks like this random encounter got upgraded to a mini-boss."
Gouten, truthfully, pays the man's words no heed. "Whatever the hell that means."
"It means - Sand Blast!"
If Gouten thought Sand Blast was fast before, it's positively lightning now. In the blink of an eye, Gouten is hit in rapid succession by bullets of compressed air that easily knock him over before he could react to the pain. The air pressure - or was it an actual bullet, Gouten's head was still reeling - seemingly came out of nowhere and knocked the wind out of his lungs. Gouten had never been hit that hard before in his life. Not even those thugs in Hawaii, who would throw everything and the kitchen sink at him, had never sent his head spinning in a single hit before.
He'd, of course, expected it from the man who had handed him his first real defeat in years back in Hawaii, but what he hadn't expected was for him to be holding back so much power. Was the gap between them really that vast? Was there really that much left for him to learn? The thought was just as humbling as it was exciting. Luke stays across the room and waits for the man to stand, seemingly shocked at his resilience.
"Wow, I really put my back into that one," Luke says, impressed, "Man, you've got guts!"
Gouten says something in Hawaiian that Luke can't parse and darts across the room, but it's clear that he's running on fumes. That Sand Blast hurt, and no matter how much Gouten wanted to continue - to chase the high of power that he got whenever he really got into a fight - his body simply refuses to keep up.
Luke meets his advance half-way, but this time, coated in a bright, violent shade of neon green. Gouten is taken aback by this development and can barely react to the high kick Luke throws at his skull. He blocks on reflex alone, but Luke is relentless, following up the kick with a rapid, rising uppercut to Gouten's stomach. He coughs up an embarrassing amount of bile and recoils, but Luke missteps, and overextends his follow up strike, and Gouten tries to punish him for it.
He throws a punch - one of out desperation rather than intent - and is shocked when Luke takes the hit head on. It was like someone threw a bucket of paint on him, the way an inky substance flies off of him. It's a smattering of oranges and blues, and protected him from the impact of Gouten's blow, keeping his momentum wholly for the spinning back fist that whips Gouten's head to the side. His knees go weak and his arms slump. He tries to move, to avoid the finishing blow, but it's all for nought; Luke already has him in his sights.
He can see the punch coming in slow motion. That obnoxiously bright orange glove closing in on him with missile-like precision. Gouten braces himself for his world to be rocked.
Luke stops a centimeter away from his face.
The wind from the blow sends his hair all over the place. Gouten's jaw slowly falls open when the back of Luke's knuckles tap against his forehead.
"That about covers it for basic training," Luke says with a smile. "Normally, they're a bit more boring than that, but hey, you get the idea."
Gouten blinks in confusion, pain temporarily forgotten. "...wha -?"
"What? This is just the start of basic training, you didn't think this was a real fight, did you?"
Honestly, yes. Those hits definitely felt real. "Right."
"But really, that's all the basics are. Simple. And boring," he says with a laugh. "But remember, even the biggest rockets need a stable launching pad for take off, otherwise, they're just gonna crash and burn. You get me?"
Gouten does, even if it's a bit hard to take him seriously with a small stream of blood still dripping down his nose.
"Coach," someone calls out from the rafters. Gouten hides his surprise well; he'd forgotten people were around. "How is any of that... gonna help him handle this?"
Gouten looks up just in time to see the young man spring off of the catwalk's railing. Luke shoves Gouten away and leans back, allowing the man to sail harmlessly between them. Gouten stumbles and his eyes dart to the side.
It's a young man with a similar complexion to him with long black hair with red streaks tied into several braids, and intense green eyes. He's wearing a strange attire, matching blues on both his traditional Asian martial arts gi and sweatpants. His accessories are equally unique and foreign, with him sporting a matching pair of large, blue bracelets on each wrist with an ornate, golden triangular pattern.
He stands up and glares at Gouten with his guard raised, slowly moving from left to right, sizing him up.
Like he wanted to fight.
Like he was weak.
Gouten returns his glare.
Luke sighs and mutters something under his breath, but doesn't try to stop them. Not when the strange young man smirks at him.
Gouten doesn't waste time in taking a defensive stance, a pale imitation of Luke's before him. His opponent is wide open - but not in an intentional way - -and Gouten resists the urge to scoff. Before either can say something, the man charges at him with several quick steps and lands a flurry of strikes on his guard, none of which really do much in terms of damage, but do force him to remain on the defensive. He wasn't that hurt, but he was fatigued enough that he couldn't control the fight the way he'd like. It was frustrating, in a way, to watch the man swing haphazardly at him with no real technique and an excessive amount of openings, but not having the strength to return fire. He'd have to force the issue, make the man overextend or miss, or something in order to land one good hit. One would be enough.
The opening comes several seconds later, when Gouten pivots a strike that would've landed cleanly on his temple. The man stumbles, off-balance, and Gouten an overhand right, intending to end the fight then and there.
To his surprise, the man not only recovers quickly, but already had a counter-attack in place.
Two fists fly, and two fists land. Cheek to cheek.
Gouten reels and stumbles back. The man is thrown off his feet and onto his backside.
"Bosch, c'mon man," Luke admonishes with a shake of his head. He gives Gouten a once over, and then walks up to Bosch with his arms crossed. "Are you really gonna be the type to jump before you think?"
"But coach," Bosch challenges, shooting to his feet. "That was the kind of situation I want to learn to deal with?" He looks over to Gouten, who's rubbing the ache in his jaw, "you're not here to punch bags either, right!?"
Luke, for all of his quietly intense confidence, looks unsure and awkward for a moment. He rubs the back of his head and then chuckles.
"All of this excitement, where's my manners? This is Bosch, he signed up for the same regiment you are."
Bosch regards him with a grown and his both hands on his hips. It's hard to tell, but Gouten thinks he's still sizing him up.
"Gouten," comes a cool response.
"Look, both of you are my trainees and you joined around the same time, give or two a few days," Luke carries on, "So play nice, okay?" It was weird really, seeing Luke wear the face of a begging puppy.
Gouten and Bosch regard each other silently for a few moments.
"Coach, we both came here looking for strength. If both of us are trying to find our strength, sooner or later, one of us is gonna get there first. What happens to the other person, then?" Bosch's tone caused a dramatic shift in atmosphere and tone. Gone were the fiery, driven eyes of a man who had everything to prove. Who fought with conviction. Now stands before Gouten, a man of calm insecurity. It's like looking into a broken mirror. "We all know that no one's going to be friends after that. So why bother pretending now?"
'I don't need friends.'
"Ah, Bosch, my man. That's a really tough question." Luke admits, "You gotta know what strength means before you go looking for it. You go looking for the wrong things in the wrong places, and you really might end up in that situation someday."
'Gouten, I know you mean well but must you get in trouble every time?'
"But y'know what? You can cross that bridge when you get there!" Luke's jovial tone brings a new light back into the conversation. "You two are still my plucky trainees! Listen to what your coach says and put your hearts into your training!"
Gouten did listen. And he listened to how Luke pointedly didn't answer Bosch's question.
"Focus on that!"
Bosch sighs and rubs the back of his head, turning slightly to give Gouten a somewhat shameful look.
'Are you really gonna be the type to jump before you think?'
'You could really use more friends. No, the kids don't count.'
Gouten slowly extends his arm. Bosch takes it with a similar level of reservation.
"Alright! Now, let's get back to business! You wanted something more practical, right? Well, practicality comes in many forms. But if you want to start off on the right foot in this city..." Luke marches to the door with renewed vigor and throws it open. The light on the other side is blinding. "Hit the streets! Tiko!"
Tiko jumps at the call of her name, "Ye- yeah?"
"Come here, show these two around! They're both too new to not get lost!"
"Wha - yeah. Okay. Yes, sir!"
"Take the world by storm guys! I'll message you sometime today with your first objective. We'll be in touch."
A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave a review it you did.