Chapter 8.5 – A ranger and a wolf
Just a bit late for breakfast…
But who knew that hundred kilometer cycling could take that long? Well, discounting the detours and stops for some extra activities on the way. Free money is free money, after all.
"Breaking news from […] A huge fight is currently taking place as the combined forces of major academies have taken their hands into controlling the ensuing chaos that spread throughout Kivotos!" The crackle from the television announcing the news.
Just the same down here, yet nobody seemed to bat an eye until the situation finally reached their doorstep. With explosion of gunfights larger than regular confrontations on Kivotos, broadcasted while she prepares breakfast.
For someone like Shiroko, this was nothing new. She loathed this, right? Well, that was a lie – not all of it. While the chaos itself was a source of her disdain, she couldn't deny at the prospect of floods of bounties for her to take on. The promise for the opportunity to get something out of this whole mess.
Her gaze hardened, a steely determination etched into her features. The world around her might descend into utter chaos, but for Shiroko, her only world was already in ruins.
That's why only a small part of her felt bad only for the people who only lived in those parts affected. As for the rest? Good-luck with them.
Sitting on the dining table, placed with a plate of runny sunny-side-up with sliced tomatoes, she watches as the news from an aerial view followed the figure running across the battlefield that caught her attention as the figure bursts into enemy line.
Her chewing paused as her gaze was focused by the television screen, the camera zooming in to capture the figure at the heart of the chaos. With a fluid grace that belied the intensity of the situation, they moved through the fray, effortlessly dispatching one sukeban after another. She could tell how the kicks, sweeps, and jabs seamlessly blended together in a relentless assault, hitting their targets with precise accuracy.
She was impressed.
But she held her tongue when the camera showed more sukeban groups approaching.
In more surprise shown for Shiroko is when she witnessed a daring maneuver, the figure even utilized their pistol as an improvised throwing weapon, the metallic firearm now cutting through the air with lethal accuracy, not with bullet it shoots, but by its own body before striking down on the head one by one and sending another adversary reeling to shoot their weapon only to fall.
It's hard to tell if that is the absolute dumbest thing someone can do, but it definitely ranks as the most impressive and showy display of one's capabilities.
The fight went on faster that even the camera struggled to keep up; the lens capturing only fleeting glimpses of the figure's prowess – a flurry of limbs, a whirlwind of devastation, leaving a trail of fallen foes in its wake now piling left and right where the figure went to fight like a car driving on a snow path.
The sight of its escalating intensity immediately now utterly captured Shiroko's interest.
She leaned closer to observe. A few more minutes it took her to notice there was an element of unpredictability that kept the sukebans perpetually off-balance or more frozen in thinking of how the figure might attack next.
Such unorthodox maneuvers and unconventional strikes were seamlessly woven into the figure's repertoire and was amazing to witness. It left the figure's adversaries struggling to anticipate the next move. Which is which and what would only for something entirely different to attack them with. A feint here, a sudden shift in momentum there – it was as if the figure was toying with them, always one step ahead in a deadly dance of combat.
Only one thing was brewing inside Shiroko's head.
Mm… cool.
After a cold shower left, she wore her usual uniform and head out. She still has to count her earnings from the helmet gang's money at the school's old radio club room she now uses as storage.
But never she could expect to meet the figure – or the man – himself. At least not this early on one of her trips around Kivotos.
"Excuse me. Don't mean no harm. I'm from Schale." Schale… Sensei… That's right! The one from the news.
Still, such luck she has.
In the shades of his coat, she spots a six-shooter. A revolver hidden underneath.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Yeah right. It might be wishful thinking if he happens to be the same person from that one morning.
That six-shooter with a guitar… Well, maybe he's stashed in his truck, so that theory of hers is still not out of the question just yet.
"Ah… So, it ain't just me. This place certainly attracts those types… In any case, I'd rather not wait and get mug the third time. They say third is always the charm, so I'd reckon we get off fast." Indeed, they should. Shiroko gave a nod as she cycled, with a truck trailing closely behind her.
"So, Abydos, huh?" Sensei practically raised his voice to be heard over the ambient noise surrounding them.
"Yes, there is nothing like it." Shiroko replied, her tone tinged with a hint of melancholy.
"Well, besides the criminals, but here it's more plenty." he remarked, casting a wary glance at their surroundings.
Shiroko's expression hardened. "Nothing for Valkyrie to bother when there's nobody worth protecting anymore."
"That bad, huh?" Sensei's brow furrowed, concern etched into his features.
The sound of the truck's engine made it impossible for her to catch that part. She asked once more. "What was that, Sensei?"
"Is it really that bad?" Sensei repeated himself. Now louder.
"You understand long before you could even care. Then you sympathize with them next." She said, her words carrying a weight of experience.
Sensei fell silent, allowing the gravity of her statement to sink in. "It's crazy to think about, a whole part of the city fell forgotten. Even somebody has to find something here worth saving."
Shiroko's gaze grew distant, her mind wandering to memories passed over to her best left undisturbed.
"What was that?" Sensei asked again.
"Nn… Sold off."
A heavy silence hung in the air, as if the weight of their conversation had drained the energy from their surroundings. There is nothing left. Just us and our school is all we have left.
Sensing the weight of the moment, Sensei then shifted the conversation. "So… About your school… What kind of place is it?"
Grateful for the change of subject, Shiroko responded, "Nothing special. Just an average school like the rest. Well, I do head the sports team. If that's of interest."
"Sports team?" Then Sensei's interest piqued. "So, there's more of you there still? What like baseball or something?"
A fleeting expression crossed Shiroko's face. "Nn… Not technically, I'm the only member of the team… The others… Are on another club that I am also a part of… I help in anyway I can."
"About the whole raider problem?"
"They're mostly a nuisance, but lately becoming more aggressive in their territories and far more organised as one of my Kouhai has noticed. It wouldn't be much of a problem if we aren't expending our resources to defend ourselves and theirs just seemingly endless."
"Eh, I know what if felt like." She heard the Sensei as he paused for a moment to choose his words carefully. "Listen, I'm going to let you in something just between the two of us. I used to run with a group back in the day. Many of us back then."
There was another pause in between. One longer. Shiroko asks. "What happened?"
"A lot of things happened. It… didn't pan out too well and next thing I knew there were many of us and until only a few of us were left by the end of it. Trying to do something… Probably good or probably stupid."
Just what are you, Sensei?
"Listen, you sound like a good, kid. Hell, I know you could just up and leave all of this and it'll never be your problem again, but you're still here with your friends. That takes respect to stand by them. Me? I reckon being useless isn't going to help remember their names. Good people, sure, they were flawed you could say, but good. So, I moved on, I didn't forgot them, instead, I carry them. Their names, their aspirations. Make something in their name they would be proud of. Make sure they won't be just another grain of sand in the huge desert."
Once again, the sensei spoke. Shifting his tone from serious to a more lighthearted one. "Besides, I'd never be the person that I am now without my friends. If you really value them, they'll be sure to do the same to you. Sorry, talking out of my head. Forget it."
"Hm… It sounds like you made them proud already," Shiroko remarked, raising her voice slightly to ensure Sensei could hear her over the ambient noise surrounding them.
Sensei's expression became contemplative, a mixture of pride and uncertainty flickering across his features. "…You think so? I don't know myself."
An admirable trait, nonetheless. Shiroko couldn't help but admire Sensei's humility, even in the face of apparent accomplishments.
"Thank you." Sensei replied, his words carrying a sense of genuine gratitude. "Thank you for listening to me."
A comfortable silence settled between them, the unspoken acknowledgment of their unique bond hanging in the air.
"…" Shiroko allowed the stillness to linger for a moment before breaking it with a soft utterance.
"Nn… No worries, Sensei," she assured him, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. You truly are a curious person, Sensei, she mused inwardly. She briefly fixed her gaze upon him, displaying a combination of affection and intrigue.
"Well besides, now I'm here, expect Abydos to clean house. Well, as long as any more raiders soon fill the vacuum for gangs since no authority here could last. Don't you worry." Sensei's words hung in the air as he spoke.
A simple nod from Shiroko.
"What was that?"
She gave a simple thumbs up to Sensei.
"Ah. So, what about you? How'd you end up here? Shirocko… Shi-ro-ko… Did I say that right?"
Subsequently, following the conclusion of the Countermeasure meeting… and cleaning up the club room after Ayane's outburst later.
"I'm telling ya' we could use them money from the purses from old ladies we snatch and turn them for funds on our bank heist. Hey I'm just making the best out of both worlds."
"No, just no…"
"Senpai, you're awfully staring at Sensei a lot," Shiroko remarked, her voice carrying a hint of playful accusation.
Hoshino's gaze snapped back from the window, pry her attention on the window overlooking Ayane with Sensei and Serika. A faint blush tinting her cheeks as she realized she had been caught. "Eh, is that so?" she replied, trying to regain her composure.
Outside, the scene unfolded like a bustling tableau – Sensei, his sleeves rolled up, carried boxes alongside the others, their muscles straining with the effort. Not entirely sure to Shiroko if it was a sight that had captivated Hoshino's attention, though she was loath to admit it openly.
"Mnn…" Shiroko hummed knowingly, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Hoshino cleared her throat, determined to maintain her nonchalant demeanor. "Hehe, don't mind me, just making sure if his trustworthy. You know how us adults are. Just looking out for you kids."
Shiroko's expression remained skeptical, but she didn't press the matter further. "I see…" she replied, though the tone of her voice suggested she wasn't entirely convinced.
The tension lingered between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken truth that hung in the air – Hoshino's interest in Sensei extended far beyond a mere concern for the students' well-being.
"How about you run along now."
"Nn…" With that, Shiroko took her leave.
"I'll do anything in return. Also you could stay just in case the helmet gang attacks."
"Anything huh?"
With that, I decided to take her up on her offer. Maybe she can be my way into this bounty hunting gig she got going; She might introduce me to people. I figured I might as well, and besides, I could use a good workout.
She showed me the way to the gymnasium, and I casually threw my gear onto the bleachers.
Where I was eyeing the nearby changing room.
I approached the door, grasping the handle firmly, only to find it stubbornly locked. Undeterred, I reached into my pocket and retrieved a handful of hairpins, their metallic surfaces glinting in the dim light. Its thin frames were seemingly fragile, yet deceptively durable.
Kneeling before the lock, I let out a slow, steadying breath, allowing my focus to sharpen. My fingers deftly maneuvered the hairpins, probing the internal mechanisms with a delicate touch. The soft clicks and scrapes echoed in the stillness, a rhythmic dance as I navigated the intricate maze of pins and tumblers.
Beads of perspiration formed on my brow, but I remained undeterred, my concentration unwavering. Each subtle movement was calculated, a meticulous dance of manipulation and precision, honed through countless encounters with locks of varying complexity.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a satisfying click resonated, the tumblers yielding to my persistent efforts.
"Nn..." A soft utterance slipped from my lips, the subtle sound betraying the presence of another. Took her a while to notice me.
"Hello Shiroko" I greeted her, turning to find her figure mere steps behind me. Her stealthy approach had gone unnoticed until this moment, her interest in my endeavor to unlock the door piqued.
As our gazes met, I saw a familiar expression – or the lack thereof - remained across her features – a yearning, silent plea for me I already could tell she wants me to teach her.
Her eyes alone shone, made it obvious.
"No." I proclaimed, my tone firm yet tinged with a hint of regret. As much as I wished to indulge her. Already got my time to teach her fist fights.
"Nn…!" A soft whine escaped her lips, a wordless protest against my refusal.
Unfazed, I cocked a brow, a silent acknowledgment of her persistence. This kid… A faint smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I relented, "Alright, in another time."
Those words ignited a gleam of excitement in Shiroko's eyes, the promise of a future lesson kindling a fervent anticipation within her. The air practically crackled with her palpable enthusiasm, a testament to her unwavering determination.
Upon entering the changing room, I proceeded to remove my Hermes Ballistic Combat Armor and replace it with a more suitable and lighter outfit.
A leather jacket that hung from my frame, its surface weathered and bearing the marks of countless adventures. The sleever sat in contrast to each other – one torn above the elbow, exposing my toned forearm, while the other cascaded down to my wrist, hugging the contours of my arm. Remnants of the jacket's original design had been meticulously stripped away, the pouldrons and extraneous straps for pouches, holsters, and sheaths discarded, leaving a more basic function.
A deliberate choice for my left arm exposed to easy aim and shoot. Or in this case, make fist fights a less burdensome to move when wearing with armor on and make my dominant hand more flexible.
When I went out, I saw Shiroko just right outside by the door. Her eyes droop down to the floor. I asked.
"Kid, you ready?" A curt nod from Shiroko.
She had changed into a different outfit. Skintight like those Brotherhood paladins would wear under their power-armor. Though Shiroko's outfit was a bit different. Abydos Cycling Group written on the back.
"First things first, it is necessary for me to assess your ability to handle yourself. Understand what your knowledge is before continuing," I announced, my words carrying a weight of authority.
Seconds after the statement left my lips, my eyes spot Shiroko sprang into action, her movements swift and precise, leaving no room for hesitation. The distance between us rapidly diminished as she closed the gap, her intent clear – to test far before she could last with me.
With a fluid motion, she wound up her leg, coiling it like a tightly wound spring, ready to unleash a devastating low kick. Anticipating her strike, I reacted with reflexes faster, grappling her leg with a single hand instead of adopting a defensive stance. My free hand shot out, seizing her ankle in a firm grip, and with a deft twist, I led her momentum behind me, exploiting her own force against her.
As she attempted to regain her core balance, her strike with a fist came swiftly, but my foot was quicker, outpacing her and sweeping her legs from beneath her. The ground rushed up to meet her, her body impacting the surface with a dull thud, the air expelling from her lungs in a sharp exhale.
Unfazed by the intensity, I turned back, extending a hand to offer her aid in returning on her feet. The air was charged with the sound of clashing swords and the faint scent of sweat.
Our exchange was far from over, and we continued to spar.
"Again." Shiroko knew this and gave a nod back.
The numerous sounds of thuds and our mixed grunts to one another echoing in the training room. This time around, Shiroko played it safe, this time a calculated restraint as she opted to play it safe this time around. Learned from her first fight.
Shiroko chose not to attack aggressively against a more grounded opponent. Instead, she tested me by stalling until an opening appeared as we both circle one another for me to block any attempts she might find. However, she hasn't realized that I won't be making the first moves on her. In fact, she caught on to this and decided to attack instead.
Surprisingly for me, and maybe for her, she went right back to her spot on the ground.
"Again." I said. Shiroko stood up once more. Misdirection, lure me out with false attacks this time. She was learning.
Determination radiated from Shiroko as she mirrored my movements, her eyes focused and her muscles tense.
She quickly threw false punches that were near and obvious protected by my stance that was pulled last second and instead went to grab the arm I used to block, but I evaded her and countered by slipping away from her hold and returned the favor by throwing her to the ground.
"Again."
I couldn't remember how many times she was put to the ground, but here she was again, with a single nod, before rising back up with her fighting stance raised.
With each repetition, Shiroko's imitations she spent refining were paying good for her, though there were still occasional hesitations and incorrect angles of swings and predictable attacks.
She was learning, slowly but surely, and each attempt showed improvement.
They say imitation is the highest form of flattery, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as we danced this familiar routine once again….
This is starting to remind me of back at the capital. Couple of fresh faces challenging me after physical training after just getting their asses served in front of the new recruits. Always rare for someone to approach me for a different reason; Maybe even brought with them a jug of moonshine as offering for me to teach them.
"Alright." I concluded. "I learned enough."
"Sensei?"
She said as she sat on the ground after just being stricken down. Her expression was still the same – expressionless – as her eyes return to me.
I looked down at her, my gaze tracing the contours of her face. A sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, the exertion of our sparring session leaving its mark. Beads of it rolled down her temples, their paths winding across her flushed cheeks before gathering at her jawline.
With a gentle sweep of her hand, she wiped away the droplets, her fingers trailing across the delicate curve of her neck.
Her chest rose and fell with each labored breath, the rhythm of her respiration gradually slowing as her body sought to steady itself. Strands of hair clung to her forehead, dampened by the exertion, framing her features in a subtle, alluring disarray.
"I'm impressed." I let my words wander.
Filled with pride, Shiroko raised herself from the floor and eagerly reached out her hand, gratefully accepting mine as I pulled her back up.
A few moments to get our bearings and rest. I came to my conclusion.
"You kid, are a fast learner I have to say. Though, your moves need more refining…" I remarked, scrutinizing her form with a critical eye. "But that's nothing because you were copying from me during our fight."
Shiroko's fingers curled inward, her nails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists tightly. Even her ears were moving erratically.
She really looks very enthusiastic about this.
"Which mind you, is a genuine talent nonetheless to adapt easily."
I couldn't help but acknowledge her passion, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Which mind you, is a genuine talent nonetheless."
"So, we're going to start with the basics…" Mix her with some Desert Ranger hand-to-hand training and with some tribal fighting techniques. That should be a good start…
With me thinking over where to start on her lessons, Shiroko went to her bag and pulled something out.
"Sensai, you must be thirsty," Shiroko said, bringing me back to reality. I turned to see Shiroko's hand with a blue bottle being offered to me.
An energy drink? "Sure," I replied, unsure of how it would give me energy like coffee.
But then Shiroko hesitated and said, "Wait…" As I held the bottle over my head and drank from its small opening, I realized I had to suck the drink out.. After a few moments, the liquid finally came out like going through a straw.
Tasted sweet and strange.
And then I waited, expecting a burst of energy. But nothing happened. "Where's the energy?" I asked, feeling disappointed.
Still, nothing could replace caffeine. Words I would live and die for. "Ah, thanks anyway." I tossed the bottle back to her as she stared at the plastic container for long. Longer than someone would, from what I could tell.
"Shiroko, are you okay?" I asked, my gaze fixed on the bottle in my hand. The room was dimly lit, with the soft hum of the air conditioner providing a background noise. I turned towards her, noticing that she hadn't followed me back to our designated sparring ring.
"Nn. Yes." I heard her say, but her voice seemed to catch ever so slightly, as if she were holding back some unspoken emotion.
As I turned back to observe her, the sound of her taking a long, earnest sip from her bottle. When she finally pulled the bottle away from her lips, a contented sigh escaped her, the silence that followed seeming to amplify the subtle cues of her actions.
For a fleeting moment, her gaze lingered on the bottle, her eyes tracing the path where my lips had touched the rim only moments before. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, her features betraying a hint of flustered embarrassment at the prospect of an indirect kiss.
Quickly, she averted her gaze, as if willing the unbidden thoughts to dissipate. With a slight shake of her head, she composed herself, the flush on her cheeks subsiding as she regained her usual poise.
As I stood there, I discreetly stole glances at her, shifting my eyes to the side. Idly waited for her to return, all the while stealing quick glimpses.
Finally, she joined me in the sparring ring, her movements carrying a touch of hesitance, a remnant of the moment of vulnerability she had allowed herself to experience.
Don't tell me…
I don't like it, no interest in it, and I don't want to know about it. Kids, I guess... I heard about childhood crushes and I hope it's just that and nothing more...
"Sensei? You're staring quite a lot." A faint murmur came from Shiroko as she approached closer to me. "Is there a problem?"
"Hah… No. Nothing to worry about. Come on, I've found a good place for you to start training on. "
…..
"So, Sensei."
"Hm? Nonomi, right?" I acknowledged, her familiar face registering in my mind. The one with the mini-gun walked beside me as I ready my truck for my drive to the convenience store.
"Yep. Glad you remember me," she responded with a warm smile.
"Since we're going to be working with each other. So what is it?" I prompted, sensing she had something on her mind.
"Just asking how was your time in Kivotos lately?"
"Hm…" I paused, reflecting on my recent experiences. "Well, I did visit Red Winter before coming here. I was asked to try the trains around the city. I got off early, and before I knew it, I found myself at a station over there."
Nonomi's expression shifted, a hint of concern flickering across her features under her usual cheery demeanor. "Red Winter? I heard that they're going over another revolution…"
"Yeah, I learned that halfway through my visit," I confirmed with a nod.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "Hehe… You sure picked a bad time for sightseeing there."
"Please, the sights I saw were ruins of buildings, fires breaking out, fresh craters from mortars, and the occasional tank rolling down the streets," I recounted, the images still vivid in my mind. "Long networks of trenches carved through any part of the road that wasn't stone or pavement, with people shooting at one another across no man's land. It ain't exactly the sight I prefer."
Nonomi's amusement faded, replaced by a sense of understanding. "Eh… Guess I misspoke."
"Don't even get me started on the public speaker system there…" I added, shaking my head. "Playing this annoying announcement over and over about how the enemy's preferred ruler is evil and should desert and join them instead. And that plays until midnight."
Despite the harrowing experiences, a faint smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "In any case, it wasn't all bad. I got to try some of their drinks there."
"Well, at least there's something good."
"Let me tell you something," I began, my voice carrying a weight of experience rushing back just to chastise my current life. "I don't know how exactly you could live like this. The guns, the explosions every morning while you sleep…" I paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "Sure, you have those halos on your head to help, but still."
My gaze met Nonomi, a mixture of curiosity and bewilderment swirling in her eyes. "What are you…"
Before I could respond, he pressed on, my words spilling forth with a candid intensity. "Well, as you might think of me or the news shows about myself, I don't in fact like getting shot trying to cross the street to get to my truck. Or buy supplies. " Before she finally voiced any response, I held up a hand, preempting any potential objections If I insulted her. "Don't take this as an insult; more of someone not from this city looking in retrospective. You people are certainly strange."
I let my words hung in the air. It was a perspective born from my life on the outside, an outsider's perspective that laid bare the peculiarities I had grown accustomed to. Now all ruined when I came to this city; turned things over my head like almost all of it no longer matters… Like learning about traffic laws here.
"I mean, you have such a good thing going for yourselves here, sure there are still problems like this debt thing, but compared to mine or the folks I came across my travels. You don't know how good you people here have it."
"…"
"Don't even answer. I probably won't listen. My outsider brain might be too unacquainted with the idea you might consider as the norm here for me to even understand. In any case, I'll be off to buy something to eat. I'll be back soon. Ignore all of this, I'm just tired." That being said and done, I hop on my truck and drove off.
Kept to my words and didn't bother to wait a response from Nonomi before I left.
The weight of my observation was undeniable, a sobering reminder of the harsh dissonance between the two worlds I've come from and arrived to.
Everything about this city looked so similar, yet so different, and its inner workings just as well complicated for me to just let myself become a rusted cog in an advance machine.
I still can't fit in.
"Arona, what's the progress on the cleanup?"
Honestly, I cut out a huge portion of chapter 8 because I was worried about bloating. Even If I already said my intentions with this story, being I want a slow burn type of fic. I want people to get invested in not only the main story, but the characters more and their interactions, but I think there is a line where some things in the story are best left unsaid or pushed somewhere else to be added in the future.
Or just casually mentioned in passing dialogues or actions.
With that being said, are you readers alright if I surpassed the 10k word count? I have been gutting my own chapters to stay at 7k and now at 8k. It won't always, but to certain chapters to reach more than 10k word count.
Lol even in my old Girls frontline fanfic I set up for adoption back in the day, had this problem with me worrying about bloating.
I still feel bad for the new writer got flakk from his writing style different from mine after the change.
There are several possible causes for Thirteen's little problem. One possibility is the radiation exposure from their travels. Another factor could be their chem addiction. Additionally, the various implants and experiments that Thirteen subjected his body to, whether consensual or not from other people to experiment on him, could also be a contributing factor. It's even possible that Thirteen has no recollection of these procedures at all, as they may have been done while they were unconscious from his various black out amnesias.
That or PTSD from his journey did something to his head.
Whichever it might be?