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Ext. Narukami Island, Hanamizaka. Near midnight.
While his primary experience was in leading soldiers to victory, Gorou found that he actually preferred, in a way, diplomatic talks. He mused to himself, as he strolled back from the long-running meeting between himself and Kujou Sara. Almost everything he’d said had been planned ahead in even longer meetings with Kokomi. They had, together, drafted responses to as many demands, offers and ultimatums they could imagine the shogunate employing. That said, much of the thick stack of documents had gone unused, their worst case scenarios and catastrophizing never being realized. He was relieved to have had to mainly share the requests of the humble people of Watatsumi itself, rather than fight against oppressive military sanctions or taxes.
With this successful first diplomatic mission under his belt, he was in high spirits, and whistled to himself as he walked, his bushy tail wagging. However, not long after the stench of copious amounts of stale alcohol reached his sensitive nose and made it wrinkle in disgust, a man who was, by all appearances, a low-ranking shogunate soldier, sprang out of an alley. He leveled his spear against Gorou’s neck, and it wavered relatively slightly, given his obvious inebriation. Gorou simply stood there, hoping he could talk his way out of this if he listened to what the man had to say. He’d been forbidden to fight while on shogunate land, to avoid reigniting the war, and so his options were limited, even against this obvious incompetent.
“You! If it weren’t for you, I’d still be an elite! My platoon was outfoxed by you and I was disgraced!” He slurred his words, swaying slightly as he spoke, “I’ll fucking kill you!”
The drunken soldier reared back, preparing to thrust his spear with all his might, when, without warning, what could only be described as a very small, very dense, armored black bull came flying through the air like a meteorite, and connected with the soldier’s forearm, which bent in a place and at an angle which nature had never meant it to be able to. A single sharp snap rang out, followed by a shrill shriek as the pain set in. The man collapsed and fell, to his surprise, into Gorou’s arms. The brave general pulled out what medical supplies he has on hand, and began assessing the damage. He could figure out where the bull, which is now mooing contentedly nearby, came from later.
“It’s okay, it’s a clean break. You’ll still be able to fight, if you just let me set it and put it in a splint. You’re going to feel some… pressure.” Gorou was experienced with treating battlefield injuries, and his instincts to help a wounded soldier had kicked in automatically, regardless of the affiliation or attitude of the particular soldier. The soldier, for his part, was quietly whimpering, simultaneously desperate for and ashamed of receiving Gorou’s help.
Gorou snapped the haft of the spear, fashioning it into a makeshift splint before he took hold of the man’s arm. He pulled the bone away from the break, causing the man to scream again, then aligned it and allowed the muscles to pull it back into place before securing the splint around it. The process took about thirty seconds, by the end of which the patient had lost consciousness. It was also at about this point that the heroic rescuer waiting to be noticed grew impatient and jumped down from the stone wall he’d been perched on.
“Oi! Haven’t you got any gratitude for the guy who saved ya? What’re you doing torturing that guy for?”
“Torturing? I was performing basic first aid. Surely that was… obvious…” Gorou trailed off as he stood up from his squat and turned to take in the man, no, oni who had intervened. He stood over two meters tall, not counting his horns, his eyes were framed by vermillion makeup that was also applied in patterns across his body. His bare torso, framed by his jacket, spiked collar, and ferocious belt buckle, was muscular and sculpted, and Gorou’s eyes spent longer than entirely necessary flitting over the outlines of the oni’s abs.
“Oh, well, that’s alright then! Congratulations! You’ve been saved by the one and oni authentic Arataki Itto! Mark this day on your calendar so come next year you can celebrate your Ittoversary!” He boldly proclaimed this, proudly pointing a black-nailed thumb at his chest, then laughed long and loud, eventually inhaling a firefly and coughing it back up. Gorou blinked, somewhat stunned by this development.
“I suppose I should… thank you, of course, but also admonish you for excessive use of force. This isn’t my jurisdiction, but I would classify that,” here Gorou pointed at Ushi, still grazing nearby, “as a deadly weapon, used the way you do. I assume you did… throw it, yes?”
“Yeah, I threw’im! He loves it! Don’tcha, Ushi?” Itto leans down and pets the bull, who wiggles happily and moos.
“That’s not the issue, the issue is that you seriously injured that man and it could have been much worse! You really need to consider the consequences of your actions!” Gorou admonished him, and Itto, for his part, did look contrite.
“Oh, yeah… you’re prob’ly right. That sorta stuff is just too much for normal folk. But still, when I saw you just standing there, about to get impaled, what was I supposed to do?” Itto grumbled, mildly indignant.
“Well, you could have simply made your presence known with a loud shout. Criminals tend to think twice about committing crimes when they know there’s a witness. Particularly one they couldn’t silence if they wanted to.”
“Oh. Yeah… yeah that makes sense! I’ll do that next time! For now, come with me to my hideout, in case any of his buddies come after ya. My gang and I will protect you!” He grinned, putting his hands on his hips, then asked, “Who are you, anyway?”
“My name is Gorou. I’m the general of the Watatsumi Army, and, more recently, Watatsumi Island’s diplomatic envoy to Narukami.” He explained, a little surprised that his ears and uniform hadn’t made him immediately recognizable. This guy must not keep up with the news.
“I, uh, thought you’d be taller,” The oni squinted and leaned forward somewhat, “Yeah, yeah, I can see it now, though! Oh man, I’m so stoked to meet you! Let’s get to the hideout and talk more there.”
A half hour walk down a poorly maintained cobblestone path later, they stood atop a small hill, surrounded by lavender melon trees, where a modest hut sat in plain view. A bamboo water clock see-sawed back and forth near the entrance.
“So, where’s the hideout?” Gorou asked, wondering where a secret entrance could be hidden at this placid abode.
“You’re lookin’ at it, buddy!” Itto gestured grandiosely at the house.
“Shouldn’t it be hidden? I guess it’s out of the way, but it has a mailbox! Surely the address is on file?” The bewildered general’s confusion only grew with Itto’s response.
“Pshaw! Everybody expects a hideout to be hidden! Nobody bothers looking for an obvious hideout! Kahahaha!” He laughed, putting his hands on his hips and throwing back his head. Several birds flew from a nearby tree.
Gorou considered this. It was unorthodox, but he couldn’t actually say it was ineffective, without evidence. “So, you’ve managed to evade capture with this strategy?”
“Nah, I wind up in the slammer maybe a couple times a month, but I know a guy who’s good for getting me out quick and legal like. Something to do with cultural preservation, or something.” Itto grinned as he delivered this news, then opened the door and beckoned Gorou in.
“That’s… that’s absurd!” Gorou just couldn’t figure this guy out, and he kept getting more and more curious. Well, it would be wrong to say he couldn’t figure him out. It was obvious. It was all glaringly, blindingly obvious. It was just also patently ridiculous. Fascinated, he entered the dwelling and stood to the side of the threshold, waiting for his host to enter and turn on the lights. He could see vague shapes by the light of some embers in a crude hearth, but exact recognition defied him.
“Hey, I didn’t come up with the excuse!” Itto entered after Gorou, closing the door behind them, picking up a log from a pile by the entrance and throwing it into the fireplace. It thunked against the back with enough force to make Gorou wince, then settled into the embers and slowly began to catch. Itto, meanwhile, started lighting obviously-homemade candles and setting them in reflective sconces that appeared to be made from crudely bent and thoroughly polished scrap iron. He continued to speak while he gradually lit the room.
“Ayato did, the first time I was late to one of our beetle fights. Dude looked everywhere for me and by the time he’d found out what happened and gotten me out he had to go to some meeting, so we ended up postponing that match. That was actually lucky for me, because just before I’d been arrested, I’d totally lost my prize onikabuto! I didn’t win the match when we did meet back up, but we put up a good fight!”
“Wait, ‘Ayato’? Like, Kamisato Ayato? The head of the Yashiro Commission?” Gorou’s inspection of the increasingly visible room was halted by his shock at Itto’s casual use of the name.
“Oh yeah, he’s a great guy! I can tell you some awesome stories later-”
“Wait wait wait, I met with him just a couple hours ago, and he was quite possibly the most refined and dignified man I have ever met. You’re telling me he makes excuses to get you out of prison… in order to have beetle fights?” Gorou interrupts, truly astonished by this revelation. The Kamisato clan head had not given him that impression, and he was generally good at reading people.
“Or trading card games! Sometimes trading card games about onikabuto! There’s this kid over in Konda village who’s great at making original cards by hand, and me and Ayato showed him the light of beetle fighting, and, well, he made a few dozen copies of various beetles. Then he started adding equipment, and battle cries, and all kinds of cool stuff. The really cool thing is you can bet the cards on real beetle fights and then-” Itto rambled at length, and Gorou was unable to get a word in edgewise. Somehow, it really was interesting to him, though.
Gorou nodded, listening, and then began to find himself nodding off. He began to slump out of the chair, too tired from the events and stressors of the day to remain awake. Itto’s voice, too, brash though it was, had quickly become familiar and comfortable. Even with his eyes closed, as they were, he could hear the wide smile on Itto’s face, and the warmth of the oni’s joy competed with the now-roaring fire. Before the dozy doggy general could hit the floor, Itto had hopped up and caught him in an impromptu bridal carry.
“Gotcha, good buddy! Can’t have you getting hurt on my watch! It would bring shame to the proud Arataki name if I let any harm come to great general of Watatsumi, my new friend, Gorou!” Itto’s voice was loud enough to rouse Gorou from his slumber, but he was still too tired to do much other than blink tiredly.
“I’m sorry, I’ve had a long… day…” He dazedly forced out the apology as Itto carried him to the bedroom. The single bed, slightly too small for the oni in the first place, was, to Gorou, used to sleeping with or without a rock for a pillow, the height of comfort. He nuzzled his face into the pillow, squirming a bit to get comfortable, as Itto tucked him in.
But, as the oni turned to leave, he found that one of Gorou’s comparably small hands was latched onto his belt. “What, you want me to stay?” he tried to keep his voice quiet enough to not fully rouse his guest, but loud enough to warrant an answer.
Gorou nodded slightly and tugged on Itto’s belt as he moved toward the far side of the bed, resting his back against the wall to leave room. It wasn’t much room, but Itto didn’t particularly mind, even if he didn’t really get it. He laid down facing Gorou, who almost immediately curled up against him, his head resting on Itto’s shoulder.
“You’re hard…” Gorou mumbled.
“Uh,”
“Hard muscles… like rock.” The more than half asleep general continued, cuddling closer to the pleasantly startled oni.
“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m pretty tough!” Itto awkwardly accepted the compliment, turning to face away from Gorou before he could realize how right he had been. “Good night, lil buddy! I’ll finish that story about the beetle cards in the morning. Just you remind me.” He yawned, more comfortable in his now-crowded bed than he’d been in it alone in a long time, and quickly joined Gorou in slumber.