Chapter Text
“Are you sure you want to get off here? This planet is becoming a wasteland.”
Kamui, in his child form, gazed out the panel windows that offered a sweeping view of a blue and green jewel of a planet set against a black backdrop of millions of stars. It had been a long time since he’d been down there.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he finally replied, turning to the captain with a bright smile.
The captain, Rozell Grey, was a squat and slender Amanto with pale grey skin and a bulbous head with large, inverted teardrop-shaped black eyes and a narrow slit for a mouth. He managed a cargo freighter, but doubled as a smuggler, bringing supplies to this planet’s downtrodden population beneath the ever-probing radar of the T-1138 Zardon Android Federation, which now controlled the entire world. Kamui frequently traveled on the captain’s ship because he didn’t ask questions or demanded anything more from Kamui other than the occasional payment or muscle against interlopers. “I won’t be coming by again for a long time,” Rozell Grey said, “You’ll have to find other transportation off-planet.”
“I’m sticking around for a few months,” Kamui said, “Don’t wait for me.”
The captain nodded, tucking his long-gloved hands behind his back, his shiny, silver and black uniform catching the rays of the distant sun. “Well, I hear the Kaientai might be coming back again for more survivors. Maybe you can hitch a ride with them instead.”
That was the general idea. They had absolutely nothing in common besides their shared Yato heritage, but Mutsu had told Kamui he could catch a ride with her anytime as long as he promised not to kill any of her passengers, consume all their provisions, or get on her last nerve. So far, he’d only managed to injure three, consume half, and get on her fifth last nerve. But he paid them back by protecting the ship and dealing with any troublemakers that threatened their lives.
Protecting people – the thought of it was revolting, even after two full decades of inadvertently doing just that by fighting the Zardon androids on this planet. At forty-four, Kamui suspected he had begun the unwanted process of mellowing out that had plagued Baldy right to the end. But playing bodyguard raked in money and network benefits, which he always needed as a former Harusame general and part-time pirate.
“Drop me off first,” Kamui said, “Fly low over the tundra and I’ll jump off from here.”
“Fine. Don’t get caught.”
“Same to you, Shorty.”
“We’re at the same eye level.” The captain sighed, and then offered a smile as thin as his lips. “Take care of yourself, Kamui.”
The freighter trembled during its atmospheric entry, as masses of swirling cloud and vapour swept pass the windows, the stars gradually fading from view. Kamui sat on the window ledge, watching the geomagnetic storm play out and thinking about what he’d do once he landed. He planned to keep a low profile and stay in his child form for awhile because the last time he had been here, he had singlehandedly destroyed an entire battalion. The androids would be looking for a red-haired, long-braided adult with a parasol, but they wouldn’t be looking for a red-haired, long-braided child with a parasol. At least not right away.
The child form was just for traveling from place to place. In his true, adult form, Kamui planned to dish out more revenge against the androids for killing the last of his kin: Kagura and Baldy.
Kamui stared incoming expanse of a frigid ocean and icebergs appearing from behind the last vestiges of cloud cover. Somewhere along the way, fighting the androids for sport had become fighting for revenge. It had taken him a long time to admit that to himself and an equally long time to admit a more painful truth that he still tried to deny even now.
Just then, an announcement from the bridge crackled over the speakers with Captain Rozell Grey explaining the landing procedures for his crew and the few passengers he carried. They would have to abide by all laws of the T-1138 Zardon Federation. The captain reminded everyone to have their passports and other travel documents ready for inspection by the androids.
Kamui got up and grabbed his parasol and rucksack. He silently made his way down the corridor toward the cargo bay, knowing the crewmembers there would open an emergency underside hatch and allow him to drop from the ship without pausing in its voyage.
“We’ll be landing in less than an hour,” the captain said, “Welcome to Earth.”
Oil and other chemical fluids found within the androids’ innards was a nice change from blood, Kamui found, as he strolled among the smoking wreckage of a Zardon patrol of androids, his boots crushing a fractured arm and squashing a mechanical eye until it stopped blinking repeatedly at him. Oil splatters on his face and clothing would be difficult to clean, but not impossible. He had done all of this before, countless times. It was better to clean oil off than blood – not out of a sense of morality but rather one of preservation. With oil stains, he was less likely to be questioned for suspicious activity.
This patrol was the first he’d encountered of the androids among the northern tundra of Earth, straddling the continents of Asia and Europe. The patrol had not suspected him to be Kamui the Destroyer, a nickname he’d heard frequently back in the day. Rather, they had accosted him after he’d ignored their attempts at communication. Then, he’d transformed back into an adult and swiftly dealt with them before they could send a message back to their superiors.
Most of the androids resembled humans, but Kamui had fought enough of them to note the lack of light in their eyes, betraying their absence of a soul. There were other indicators, of course: Zardon uniforms, the metallic sheen on their skin, the barcode on their necks, the scent of oil. But Kagura used to ramble on and on about the importance of the soul. Even when you encountered people on the edge of death or people who had given up on hope completely, there was still a semblance of the soul in their eyes, in their auras. It was something androids would not be able to replicate. At least, not these ones. Kagura said that the barmaid called Tama had a soul, even if she was not human. You had to learn to tell the difference.
It was all a bunch of sentimental, poetic nonsense to him, but Kamui had met Tama and even the one called Kintoki before. They were nothing like the Zardon androids or any other galactic androids Kamui had encountered. The Zardon androids were machines of their own making, destruction encoded within their wires the way the desire for battle was encoded in his blood. Tama and Kintoki invented and preserved; the Zardon androids controlled and destroyed.
Becoming enemies was only natural.
Kamui lifted his eyes to the horizon of frost-moulded bogs and lakes stretching endlessly before him. To the untrained eye, the terrain only looked barren, but there would be reindeer and polar bears and birds and more for him to feast on. He had enough rations to last until he reached a human settlement – be it a town or a city – but until then, he would spend time living and hunting for food here in the wilderness, alone. It had been years since he’d parted ways with members of his former organization; his fellow survivors of the Yato race, all of whom had scattered away to different planets, seeking out new lives and new ways to hone their strength.
None of them would ever return to a planet where an endless conveyor belt of androids quickly irritated and tired them out. Earth was not worth the fight to them, not when it had taken more Yato lives in the beginning of the calamity. Earth was nothing to Kamui, either, but he had promised to come back one day and conquer all the strongest beings the planet had to offer. There didn’t seem to be any strong warriors left, though.
The wind howled across the land, tugged at his cloak. Kamui inhaled a lungful of cold air and started off southward, plunging deep into the unknown.
For the next few months, Kamui traversed the Earth.
Humanity had continued to progress all over, even while under control of the Zardon Federation. Cities grew, technology advanced, and populations replenished themselves in the shadow of their global conquerors. It was no ideal way to live, but as Kamui had discovered over the years, humans were not just physical weaklings; they had brains and resilience and sheer guts to attempt the seemingly impossible. Hadn’t Kagura said something about that? Baldy, too. Even Abuto had expressed some admiration for the samurai of Japan, fending off Yato enemy attacks so long ago in a different era.
The thought of Abuto again made something prickle deep within Kamui, like a mosquito bite from the inside. Nothing he did to quell the irritating sensation helped. The only way to get past these instances was to stop thinking about the people who caused them in the first place. They were never coming back, after all.
Kamui wandered through verdant glens and swam in deep lochs. He trekked through deserts and bathed under waterfalls. He hiked through seemingly impenetrable rainforests and roamed across veldts under starlit skies. He navigated across vast oceans and down wide rivers. He journeyed through windswept plains and snow-capped mountain ranges. He saw many sights and heard many languages and ate many kinds of wild game and human-prepared meals. He weathered through different climates, traveling at night in hotter places and taking advantage of cooler daytime temperatures. Sometimes he pickpocketed while in his child form, which made theft easier; it had to be done when resupplying in towns and cities since he had no intention of carving out a living on Earth.
Wherever he stopped to destroy enemy androids, the people cheered and thanked him before cowering in terror when they dared to get too close to him, dared to think he was one of their own: a weak human. Still, the bravest who spoke to him called him a hero, which didn’t instill any pride in Kamui. It was strange to be thought of as a hero when he’d been the villain most of his life – and proud of it. A hero would never steal from those he helped, but a pirate would. He accepted the hero label if it brought him free food, but then he departed as quickly as he’d arrived and continued on his way without indulging in any pointless conversation.
Kamui never picked up any traveling companions. A strong warrior didn’t need them. He walked alone and always alone.
Kamui considered his next move while sitting around a campfire of his own making under a starless sky somewhere in the coastal plains of the Arctic. Eastern Asia was the last part of Earth he had yet to explore and hunt androids along the way. After that, he would probably return to space travel, maybe stop on Rakuyou or some other planet, and hunt monsters again. Hunting androids provided him a good workout, offered numerous test subjects for new abilities and skills that he continuously honed. Aging toward his fifties hadn’t slowed him down in the slightest. Yato lived and breathed battle, and Earth was just another battleground to him. There were seeds of rebellion sprouting up all over, as the humans found and researched ways to strike back against the Zardon Federation for a fourth time in nearly thirty years since the first invasion.
Kamui didn’t plan on joining any of those rebellions. Natural, flesh-and-blood enemies took time to develop and grow strong. The androids were mass-manufactured on a daily basis, making it difficult for humans to overpower machines. The only way to defeat the entire Federation was to destroy the makers and their founder, Doctor Vero, said to be half an android himself. He had appeared once on-screen two decades ago, and had not been seen or heard of since, according to some of the humans Kamui asked. But Vero was the original inventor of the two most feared android commanders, Androids 98 and 99.
Doctor Vero was a former colleague of a man named Gengai Hiraga, long dead from the first invasion. Kamui had learned this from the last time he had spoken with Baldy, who had tried to hunt down Vero only to be killed by 99.
Kamui picked up his stick of roasted fish and stared at its charred surface for awhile before consuming it whole and then spitting out the bones. “Stupid old man,” he muttered when he was finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Letting yourself get done in by a bunch of scrap parts.”
Afterward, he ended the evening off with a bout of exercise, fighting imaginary enemies with a series of jabs and kicks and strikes. There had been no android encounters for the past three days, but it was important to stay in shape.
Then, he slept and tried to forget that Kagura’s birthday was in two and a half months.
Kamui walked barefoot along a beach at dusk after a thunder and rainstorm had passed, leaving the sky bruised with deep shades of blue and purple. The last of the sun’s rays cast a soft orange light against the towering cedars that lined the stretch of sand on an island that felt like the edge of the world. The waves drowned out all other sounds. Kamui let loose his long braid and breathed in deeply, the tang of saltwater and the freshness of rain making for a soothing combination of scents to lull his body and mind to rest.
The sand was cold in between his toes, but he didn’t mind. He’d build a fire and warm up and make camp later. He might even dig for some clams as a late-night snack. But, for now, he wanted to roam along the shore and bask in the damp chill of the oceanside to numb the lingering pain of a gash on his arm, a wound that he’d bandaged up days ago. It was healing, albeit slowly.
There had been two androids patrolling the northern region of mountains and lakes and dense forests, seeking more humans to bring under their control. Kamui had disposed of the first one easily, but the second android had caught him off guard with its bright red hair and azure blue eyes. For a few seconds, Kamui thought he was seeing somebody else. With Kamui distracted, the android had tried to slice his arm off, but then it soon fell prey to Kamui’s brute strength, losing its own arms instead – and its legs, and its head, and all the other parts that had once made it whole.
It wouldn’t have mattered if Kamui had lost his arm when he wasn’t whole to begin with.
Kamui stopped and stood facing the waves rushing toward the land, breaking across the sand and swashing as far as possible before receding back toward the deep. There was a human village further south and inland, but other than that, it was safe to say he was completely alone out here with the ocean.
But then his neck prickled with the sensation of being watched, and he turned around, narrowing his eyes, scanning the treeline in the dying light. Finding nothing of significance, he turned back toward the ocean and glanced around, his eyes landing on a rocky outcrop extending out into the water like a hand, the boulders like knuckles upon which a single raven perched and gazed back at him.
“What are you looking at?” Kamui asked, voice hoarse, for he had scarcely spoken in days. There was nobody to talk to – not that he really wanted anybody. Talking to a bird was a welcome change. He wondered if Mom had also talked to birds or the other remaining lifeforms on Kouan, so that she wouldn’t forget the sound of her own voice.
“Get lost,” Kamui said to the raven, although he didn’t care much if it did or not.
The raven remained on the boulder, tilting its head and jeering at him with a throaty sound. Kraa, kraa.
“Shut up,” Kamui muttered.
Look at you.
Kamui stared into its shiny black eyes.
Look at you, all by your lonesome.
He couldn’t remember moving as fast as he did. His fist struck the boulder, shattering it into pieces.
The raven flew off in a flurry of black feathers and offended squawks that reverberated before fading in the crash of waves.
Kamui slowly straightened up, pulling his blooded fist back and shaking it free of rubble. Strands of his hair played about his face, as he watched the raven soar far and away, leaving him alone once more.
Days later and miles southward, Kamui, back in his child form, boarded an airship bound for Kyoto, Japan.
It had taken him these long months to decide whether he should return to Japan or not because every time he thought of that country, he thought of the battles he had enjoyed there, like those in Yoshiwara and the Iga village and high above the seas on an airship. And he thought of all the food he had eaten at various restaurants, bought or pilfered, and how the best could be found at Snack Otose. And he thought of all the people he’d known there in the city of Edo, now called Tokyo.
Most of all, he thought of Kagura, for Japan had been her home, the place of her second birth.
And the place of her death.
In the end, Kamui decided to go back and pick up the search for Doctor Vero and Android 98 and Android 99. One of them or all three of them – they would make for challenging opponents. Strong opponents, most importantly. He was looking forward to finding 99 and wrenching its head from its body and crushing its circuits into dust.
99 had also killed Kagura, finishing her off in a final blast of light.
“You always were a weakling,” Kamui murmured to himself, standing outside on the viewing platform, parasol open and shielding him from the sun’s rays.
Halfway on his journey from Kyoto to Tokyo, Kamui entered a part of an old inland road that was littered with fallen trees and scorched earth and traces of a rockslide at the base of a mountain. Among the debris were mechanical parts – wires, cables, sprockets, bronze plated pieces – as well as crushed swords and guns and tattered bits of clothing caught in between chunks of erupted ground. Closer to the undamaged forest, there was a makeshift, wooden grave marker. The name was beginning to fade, but its caretaker would be back to retouch it.
There was a new road now, so there appeared to have not been a need to clear this road of the remnants of Sakamoto Tatsuma’s Last Stand.
Kamui had not borne witness to the battle, but Mutsu had told the story while he ate a meal aboard her ship, which was temporarily adrift in space while waiting for clearance to enter another planet’s atmosphere. Sakamoto had trapped a battalion led by Android 96 by this mountain. With an airship, he had fired the cannons at the mountainside, igniting a massive slide of boulders and trees to crush the battalion. But when Sakamoto and a team had gone down to assess the damage and ensure that all androids had been destroyed, the surviving upper half of Android 96 had shot Sakamoto through the chest with its remaining power, and the two generals had died atop the mound of rubble.
Sakamoto had been one of the last Jouishishi warriors to stand up against the Federation. His death had been Mutsu’s breaking point; she’d soon left Earth, taking as many survivors with her who sought refuge elsewhere, far away from the Zardon androids. It was the least she could do for Sakamoto’s sake because Earth was his home and he had sacrificed his life defending it.
“You ran away,” Kamui had said, after consuming a bowlful of rice in the silence following Mutsu’s story.
Mutsu, wearing Sakamoto’s red coat with the tattered middle, had regarded him dispassionately, replying, “That all depends on what you think I’m running away from.”
“Battle,” Kamui answered, as if it was obvious, “Yato do not run from battle.”
“Maybe.” Mutsu turned to the window, gazing at the stars. “Maybe it’s not battle I run from.”
In the middle of the mass android graveyard, Kamui stood atop the highest point, stretched out in his adult form, open parasol behind him, as he took in his surroundings. He had stayed away from Earth for a long time, despite the fact that it was a battleground ripe with possibility. It should have been a buffet of bloodlust for him, but after awhile, it had grown tiresome, and so he had left. He didn’t think of it as running away, but rather there it was pointless staying on a planet where there was no one fun to fight or bicker with anymore.
Kamui continued on his way until he veered off on a side trip, finding a clearing with a clear stream ribboning through it. He drank from it and refilled his flask, and then removed his boots to dip his feet into the water. He sat there for some time. All around him, insects warbled and birds sang. His clothes felt heavier with the growing heat of a breezeless day, so he shed his cloak and coat underneath, and rolled up his trousers to the knees. Summer was his least favourite season on this planet. Perhaps he should have returned during winter, but then he would have missed her birthday—
“I don’t care about that,” Kamui said, and then tilted his head to the blue sky and raised his voice. “Who needs birthdays, anyway?” He grinned, stretching facial muscles he hadn’t used in awhile. When there was no one but wildlife to talk to for days on end, he felt no need to smile or scowl at anything. It was always just him and him alone.
A dog barked behind him.
Kamui jumped up to his feet, bent a knee forward on the grassy bank, both hands gripping his parasol, aimed at the intruder.
Ten feet away, a large white dog stood in the clearing, panting with his tail wagging. Around his neck was a worn red collar and above his eyes were uniquely shaped eyebrows. Kagura had called him Sadaharu.
Kamui didn’t lower his parasol, kept his eye on the dog. Maybe the androids had started to manufacture droids in the form of animals, designed for covert operations such as capturing a Yato warrior who had felled hundreds of androids in just a week and had been recently sighted on Earth once again. How else would the beast have caught him by surprise? Maybe he was getting soft.
He also didn’t know whether Sadaharu had perished in battle or otherwise over the last two decades. Who would be taking care of Kagura’s pet now? Not that he cared. Sadaharu didn’t look undernourished and apparently had a longer lifespan than the average dog. Kagura had mentioned something about Sadaharu having divine qualities, whatever that meant. There was no place for the divine in Kamui’s life.
Sadaharu barked again and then grew distracted by a black butterfly with a blue triangle flitting about his nose before landing on it. Transfixed by the sight, Sadaharu blinked at the butterfly twitching its wings.
Kamui finally lowered his parasol, slowly. Unless the display of curiosity was simply a ruse to put him off his guard again, Kamui suspected a robotic dog would already have knowledge about butterflies and might not entertain one as innocently as this dog.
The butterfly flew off, and Sadaharu watched it fluttered above the grass and a patch of wildflowers.
Exhaling a breath, Kamui climbed out of the stream and let his parasol hang by his side, as he watched Sadaharu pad forward, the beast growing larger as he approached. Kamui had forgotten at how big this dog was. Hadn’t Kagura ridden him like a horse at times? Sadaharu was roughly the size of a full-grown Earth horse, but wider and fluffier. Fluffy? When had such a feeble word entered his vocabulary, Kamui wondered with disgust.
Sadaharu stopped just a couple feet away and sat his rump down in the grass, tail flicking from side to side, expectantly.
Kamui told the dog, “Get lost.” He didn’t need somebody’s oversized pet dog following him around.
Sadaharu didn’t move, but panted, which looked a lot like an annoying smile.
Kamui gathered his things together, refilled his flask, and hoisted his rucksack around his shoulders, and walked away.
The last time he glanced behind him before leaving the clearing, Sadaharu remained by the stream, smiling as only a dog could, his tail still wagging.
Summer slowly bled into autumn, the trees displaying their changing crowns of fiery red and orange foliage and the days offering blessedly cooler weather. Kamui had reached the Tokyo region, but he hung back and traversed around the outskirts of civilization, choosing to wait and assess the current situation with the Zardon Federation, for Tokyo was one of their main bases on Earth.
That, and he needed to figure out a way to lose Sadaharu, who had been following him for over a week. Even now, as Kamui walked through the woods, Sadaharu followed at a distance, stopping now and then to investigate a scent or creature, but always catching up to Kamui before the distance between them grew too great.
At first, Kamui tolerated the dog’s constant presence because Sadaharu could sense more than a human or a Yato. Twice, Kamui had managed to hide well ahead of time when an android patrol entered the area. There were no plans to engage in battle just yet. If he was going to find Vero and the two most feared Androids, then Kamui would have to operate more covertly and save his strength. For the time being, he’d have to stay vigilant, especially when he was so close to the sprawling metropolis.
But he couldn’t do that with a dog hanging around him. At a full gallop, Sadaharu’s paws kicked up debris and generated tremors in the ground. He was too bulky and too noticeable with that snow-white fur.
So Kamui led Sadaharu deep into the mountains, deep into thicker forests where he would try to lose Sadaharu. He didn’t plan to kill the dog, as he gained nothing from Sadaharu’s death. Besides, he could already hear both Baldy and Abuto telling him to leave Kagura’s pet alone or else she’d probably kill him at least five times over in the afterlife.
“That’s an exaggeration,” Kamui said, treading through deadfall, hoping it would deter Sadaharu’s efforts. “She wouldn’t be able to kill me once.”
The beast continued to follow him, trampling through the brush, making far too much noise. Kamui was ahead by half a mile, but he could still hear branches snap and bushes crush under the weight of the large dog. A few birds squawked and flapped their wings, startled away into flight. With a frown, Kamui watched them wheel about in the air above the treetops. Perhaps there was a nest nearby, but that was far from his concern. Any sudden disturbance of birds warranted investigation and unwanted attention from the enemy.
Kamui stopped in his tracks, and waited for Sadaharu to do the same. As expected, the dog grew silent, and for a long moment, there was only the wind passing through the forest and the low whir of insects. Kamui lifted his face toward the canopy and drew in a deep breath.
Then, he took off in a sprint.
For the better part of two hours, Kamui ran as fast as he could, veering off in different directions every five minutes. He raced halfway up a mountain and then leveled off for awhile before he began a swift descent. In his adult form, his long legs made great strides, widening the gap between himself and Sadaharu. Sometimes he leaped off rocky outcrops and opened his parasol and sailed down the mountainside before he dropped back on his feet and continued his getaway.
Sadaharu was surely far behind, lost and confused, Kamui hoped, as he happened across a river, pausing only to slake his thirst before skirting around its edge, keeping within the fringes of the forest, hidden from plain view. By then, his lungs and his muscles were beginning to cry out for rest, even though this was the best workout he’d had in a long time. No weakling human possessed the stamina for this kind of excursion.
But there were some who had lasted long enough.
Kamui knew of a seven-day standoff in between the androids and the last remnants of the Kiheitai, led by Takasugi Shinsuke, somewhere within the Alps. The type of battle androids there had been built for prolonged conflict; they had outlasted the humans even with their energy sources cut off by Shinsuke’s forces. It had been a risky battle, but at that point, Kamui suspected Shinsuke had no qualms about risks anymore. The man had been driven by maddening grief over the loss of Gintoki, the first of them all to die by the mechanical hands of the androids.
At the end of the seven days, Shinsuke – and Kawakami Bansai, Kijima Matako, Henpeita Takechi – and his surviving forces were all wiped out.
Kamui slowed down at a point where the river bent in a southern direction, bringing his pace to a casual walk, heart pounding his ears, sweat dripping off his forehead. The wind had picked up, howled through the swaying treetops, cooling his heated face. He looked back toward the mountain range, satisfied to see no white dog in sight.
Finally, he had rid himself of the beast.
Sadaharu turned up at dawn the next day.
Kamui heard the bark before he even opened his eyes, having sought shelter at the base of a large tree where he slept on a bed of moss. Kamui sat upright in a flash, breath misting in the morning chill.
A panting Sadaharu sat among the dewy ferns. Pine needles, twigs, and leaves clung to his coat. A sprig of knotweed stuck up in the centre of Sadaharu’s head, between his ears, reminding Kamui of his own prominent lock of rebellious hair above his forehead.
“You damn dog,” Kamui said, narrowing his eyes at Kagura’s annoying pet. He climbed to his feet and stretched out his slightly sore limbs. As a younger man, he would’ve recharged quicker from yesterday’s romp around the wilderness, but as life was slowly teaching him, he would have to properly listen to his body sooner or later.
Sadaharu barked, and he looked rather cheerful, which only served to further irritate Kamui. This was not some heartwarming story of a man and his dog on a camping trip. “Get out of here,” Kamui said, dusting off leaves and a couple of spiders from his clothes. When Sadaharu didn’t budge, Kamui feigned a charge, wildly waving both of his arms. “Get! Go!”
Sadaharu closed his mouth and tilted his head and twitched his nose, but still, he did not move.
By now, Kamui’s patience – if it could be called that – had frayed to the tiniest strands. Scowling, he went and kicked at the remains of his campfire, spraying ash and dirt toward the dog. “Get out of my sight, you stupid mutt!”
Sadaharu flinched and lifted a paw in defense, whimpering.
“I don’t care about a single one of you weaklings!” Kamui continued, stalking forward to the dog, “I don’t care about this damn backwater planet! Just hurry up and die already!” Sadaharu remained rooted in place, so Kamui shoved the dog toward the bushes and then rushed him again. “Stay away from me, you—"
You couldn’t even protect her.
Stunned by his trail of thought and that same prickle beneath his skin, Kamui’s mouth soundlessly worked to spew more vitriol, as he watched Sadaharu’s fur spike upward from tail to head, lips rising to show his fangs. Before Kamui could next blink, he found himself backhanded into the forest by one massive paw.
There was nothing beneath him for a few seconds, just the air snatching all around at his clothing. Then, his body struck a tree, hard, splintering and toppling it over while he plunged down to the forest floor. Wheezing and groaning, Kamui shakily pushed his weight off the ground, struggled to stand up to meet the force crashing through the brush toward him, fast and ferocious.
Like a cannon, Sadaharu headbutted Kamui in his center. Airborne again, Kamui sailed backward into the trees, cracking them on his way down, plummeting like a boulder toward a small clearing where he reduced the ground to rubble.
The sky was above him now, daubed with the warm red colours of dawn. Kamui inhaled dust and dirt; he spat blood and spittle. Blurry vision streaked with spots of pain gradually cleared to dust clouds rising from his Yato-shaped crater in the clearing. He was paralyzed for several moments before one of his fingers moved, and then the rest of his body followed suit, muscles tightening in intervals, checking to see what was unbroken, what was still connected. Then, he exhaled heavily and smiled in spite of his bloody teeth.
For the first time in many years, Kamui found himself in intense, physical pain, and yet it was somehow easier to bear than when he finally came to terms with the loss of Kagura a decade ago. Pain he could see and touch was simple; pain he could not reach was incurable.
Slowly, Kamui crawled out of the crater, his breathing ragged, every movement sending jolts of pain throughout his body. Somewhere within, a bone or three was broken, and a tooth had been jarred loose. He would probably resemble a heavily bruised peach by noon. Kamui wanted to collapse and close his eyes and pass out into a restful coma until he was ready to awaken again, but before that happened, he was going to reach the top of this crumbled pit first to determine if Sadaharu was a real threat or not.
At the top, Sadaharu sat there, waiting. When Kamui stumbled to his full height and faced the dog head on, Sadaharu stood on all fours with his hackles raised, fangs gleaming in the sunlight, as a warning growl passed through his clenched teeth.
Kamui took long, deep breaths, his left eye sealed shut by the wind rapidly drying the blood sliding down his face. Then, he grinned and croaked, “Damn mutt.” It had been a long time since Kamui had been challenged and defeated so easily like this. Perhaps Sadaharu trailing after him from this moment onward wasn’t such a bad idea.
Sadaharu stopped growling, his lips folding back over his teeth, and he regarded Kamui curiously before moving forward to lick the blood off his face.
Kamui was only conscious of this act for a few seconds more until he lapsed into darkness again and fell face first into the ground, still grinning.
He had found the strongest being left on this planet.
They journeyed together for several days while Kamui debated on when he should return to Tokyo.
For the most part, Kamui left Sadaharu to fend for himself, because he hadn’t come back down to Earth to babysit. Surprisingly, for a former house pet, the beast didn’t have much trouble finding food. Over the years, wild instincts had reawakened, drawing Sadaharu toward rabbits and other small game. Sadaharu’s new diet suited Kamui just fine, for he had always preferred wild game to packaged meats – though he never turned down any food at all, cooked or raw. Yato stomachs were built tougher than a weak human, storing greater amounts of energy for later use and withstanding even the most unappetizing of meals. Survival was priority; live to fight another day.
There were other benefits to Sadaharu’s company: when Kamui wanted to rest but also cover more ground, he could ride on Sadaharu’s back in child form, allowing time for proper recuperation from his injuries. Sadaharu didn’t seem to mind – in fact, he seemed rather excited, yipping whenever Kamui climbed up top and settled on him, like a man on horseback. The nights were growing cooler, and Sadaharu’s bushy fur provided ample warmth, so much that Kamui often woke up to find that either Sadaharu had settled down near him or he had crawled over to lay against Sadaharu’s middle, which was preferable to stones and roots poking in his sides.
Kamui decided that he would keep Sadaharu around for awhile. It wasn’t because he was lonely or anything. The benefits of the beast simply outweighed the drawbacks, and it was better to have the powerful dog as an ally rather than an enemy. If anyone was lonely, it had to be the dog. How or why the Sadaharu had come to find Kamui was a mystery, though. If Mom were around, she’d probably say it was because he smelled like Kagura due to their shared blood or something revoltingly sentimental like that.
“That’s not it,” Kamui said one late night when he stared into the orange flames of the fire, listening to it crackle and pop before he tossed in another piece of dry wood. “He probably got tired of hanging around humans.”
From across the campfire, all snuggled up in a ball for the night, Sadaharu made a little contented whine and then settled back into sleep.
Kamui watched him for awhile and then heaved a sigh before turning in for the night.
When there was only one month to go until her birthday, Kamui made the decision at last to go into Tokyo and start his hunt for Vero and 98 and 99.
Kamui packed up camp before dawn one morning, sparing time only for a quick breakfast of wild roots and berries and leftover roasted wild boar meat, which he shared with Sadaharu. “I’m taking you back to your home,” Kamui told him, as they ate, “It’s better for me to travel alone.” It felt strange talking to another living entity after months of traveling and hunting and fighting alone. Mostly, he only spoke to himself and ghosts. “I can’t look out for others. I’m only responsible for me and me alone.” A selfish way of living Mom would say and probably Kagura, too. Maybe he was becoming too much like Baldy, who had left the family at home far too often. The memory of those lonely days made Kamui frown. Some things were hard to forget or forgive, even decades later.
Besides, Sadaharu was Kagura’s pet, not his. He had no obligation whatsoever to take care of the dog. He was not the type to keep pets.
Sadaharu barked and wagged his tail.
They set off east toward Tokyo, taking their time down the mountainsides and through the forest. Villages and small towns were avoided, and judging by the android watchtowers in a few of them, the rural countryside was not left untouched by the Federation. On another day, Kamui would take time to knock those towers down and destroy every enemy android in the area. But now he had to keep a low profile while gathering information. He stopped in one village as a child, trading wild mountain yams he had collected on the way for the purpose of acquiring a small tin of indigo dye. Sadaharu stayed behind in the forest after Kamui promised he wouldn’t try to lose him again.
When Kamui returned, Sadaharu nearly bowled him over in excitement, yapping and sniffing at Kamui’s clothing.
“Settle down, mutt.” Kamui waited until Sadaharu sat down and then took out the dye tin. “You need a disguise. Hold still.”
A half hour later, they were off again with Sadaharu’s eyebrows dyed indigo along with a few dashes on his coat to mark him differently from the familiar image of the Yorozuya dog. It was a risk, but it might pay off.
When they arrived in Tokyo, Kamui planned to head straight for Kabukichou, the last known place to find the surviving members of what he called the Yorozuya Brigade. Every acquaintance, be it Shinsengumi or Jouishishi or Oniwabanshu, was dumped into one category for simplicity’s sake. Other than Mutsu, the survivors of the Yorozuya Brigade had remained on Earth. They would know more about the current whereabouts and ongoings of Doctor Vero and the two deadliest androids.
Early evening was approaching by the time Kamui and Sadaharu reached the outlying cities of the Tokyo Metropolis. From their vantage point atop a large hill, Kamui could see smoke rising the distant north, unsurprisingly – he knew that region had become a bit of a battlefield wasteland from the first battles raged against the Federation. Humans had probably tried to make a stand there again, keeping the conflict away from the majority of civilians.
Kondou Isao of the Shinsengumi had perished in that first battle, defending the city and his men. Kamui remembered that because most of the Yorozuya Brigade had been devastated by that loss, forced to continue the fight until a respite allowed them to send him off with the proper funeral rites.
The androids were built stronger after that.
By nightfall, Kamui and Sadaharu were passing through Akiruno, looking for a cheap meal and a place to sleep. Tomorrow, they’d make their way to the heart of the Metropolis and seek out the surviving Yorozuya Brigade members.
As they walked through streets rebuilt with new architecture and shops where more than half the wares were parts for androids and other robotic machinery, Kamui and Sadaharu were stopped by a Zardon Federation officer out on patrol.
The unsmiling android had golden hair and metallic grey eyes, and their uniform was brown and orange with the Zardon logo of a golden sprocket with a ‘Z’ in the center emblazoned on the left side. “What is your name?”
Still astride Sadaharu in his child form, Kamui grinned and replied, “Who, me? I’m just a rabbit with no name.”