Work Text:
The world comes to in a slowly lessening fog of greys and dim lights.
A groan escapes him, warbled now that it comes from a voice box. He didn’t want to admit it, but it felt strange to him, wrong somehow, because it sounded so different despite the voice analysis and digital duplication crap that doctor pulled off. Maybe it was the fact it didn’t feel the same way to speak anymore, either.
So many things felt wrong to him now. It wasn’t just his voice; he had to get used to a completely different way of moving around and interacting with the world. Not just walking either, reaching for things became difficult when he hasn’t learned to judge the dimensions of his new arms and hands yet or the distances it takes to grab an object. Hell, even his eyes work in a different way now – sometimes he even forgets to shut them when he falls asleep. Does it even count as being asleep anymore, or is it just a standby mode?
Everything is different. He feels strangely naked like this. There is nobody there to truly help him, aside from the doctor who turned him into what he was now. After all, she was a cyborg as well – albeit with far more experience. But he could tell she was getting tired of him, in the same way a child might get tired of a new toy. He made it through the surgery without givin’ up the ghost, that’s all that mattered to her. Learning to live with this body was his problem.
He'd spent the last week at this damned lab, waiting for his synapses to rewire or whatever it was that kept him from feeling confident enough to get back out there again and continue his new life’s mission. He knew it was necessary, but he was getting increasingly more restless and agitated. In truth, it felt like his chest was about to split from all the pent-up anxiety and all the terrible emotions he kept bottled up for a time he would get to hunt the IPC once again.
His legs led him outside his room, into a seating area that reminded him a lot of one you’d find in hospitals. It was a marginal improvement, but at least it was a change of scenery. He’d spent some time calibrating his new vision here before, with more things to focus on than in the cramped space of a patient’s room.
Boothill sunk into a chair in the corner.
He was glad there weren’t a lot of people about. Before all of this, he felt confident in his body, in his ability to fight – he knew he’d regain it all in due time, but for now, it was something like being a newborn lamb, stumbling and having to learn how to walk, to run, to live as fast as possible while everything else was lying in wait for it to fall. An exaggeration, maybe – this laboratory was pretty well hidden, a secret even to most Galaxy Rangers, who were among the few groups to work together with the scientists that worked here.
All of a sudden, his sensors register an impact focused on his right shoulder.
“What the f-“
His newly augmented eyes zero in on the source of the disturbance – a color-stained shirt, a mess of pink hair, green eyes that blaze with indignation as a little fist is raised in a stance that he guesses is supposed to look threatening, but ultimately makes him pause.
A child.
“-fffork…?”
Despite everything, his neurochip still remembers the withering stares Graey used to throw at him whenever he let slip a swear word around the young ones, and cyborg life be damned, he supposes it works on him even now.
“Where did you even come from?”
“You attacked Ninja Okami last night! I remember you!” Her voice is an indignant shriek, her face serious as can be.
Boothill, for one, is stumped. But before he can take even a moment to consider her words proper, the little girl unleashes more punches to his arm.
“Hey, hey, stop it!”
For a split second, he’s afraid of reaching for her at all, of misjudging the distance or the newfound strength of his cyborg body, but it’s gone in an instant when he catches a glimpse of the girl’s knuckles.
His hand grips the back of her shirt, and she’s lifted into the air not unlike a kitten being scruffed. Boothill supposes a kitten would flail around far less, though.
“What insolence! Release me, Evil Ninja!”
“What the heck are you on about, scrap?” A hand passes by his face far too close, and he holds her a little further away.
“You tried hurting Ninja Okami yesterday! I saw it!” Her movements grow less for just a moment. “Ninja Okami saved me from Osaru’s domain! I will not stand for this violence against a Ninja Hero such as herself!” Her voice grows in volume, and she’s back to flailing around full force again.
It takes a moment for her words to make sense to Boothill – he remembers the visit of the very same gray-haired Galaxy Ranger who once helped him become one, and her recounting what happened with a certain kid she rescued, with a memetic virus and far too much motivation to join their ranks. Shit, he didn’t think she’d brought her to this here lab. He remembers getting into a shouting match with her, too frustrated at her attempt to assuage him about his new body without understanding the difficulties he was facing. He also remembers having pushed her. Maybe.
“Ah, I- listen, scrap, ‘Ninja Okami’ and I know each other”, he tried, awkwardly at that, to explain. “It ain’t anything the both’a us won’t smooth over later on” – he hopes – “So, uh… do you mind?”
His other hand grabbed one of hers, now significantly less motivated to take a swing at him after what he’d said. The girl’s face was drawn into a frown, and her eyes flicked over his face, deep in thought.
“You’ll hurt yourself if ya keep this up, little ninja”, he held up her own hand to her face, her knuckles already slightly bloodied in some spots. “And we can’t have that, yeah?”
The frown on the girl’s face disappeared slowly, and since her limbs had stopped their attempted assault on his arm, he put her down again.
Contrary to his expectations of what would happen after that, the girl did not run away.
No, she just stood right there, rooted in place for what felt like an eternity, staring at him with an analyzing gaze so focused and calculating that it made even him uncomfortable, and that was saying something.
“Can I uh… help you?”
“You seem to be telling the truth, Ninja Kinzoku”, her tone was serious, as was her face. Ninja what now? Boothill didn’t quite know what to make of it. “But I don’t understand. If you truly are her comrade, you shouldn’t be attacking a fellow Ninja! It goes against the Cosmic Ninjutsu Inscriptions!”
“Well”, he let out a drawn-out sigh, “’s just how it is sometimes. Y’know, friends lock horns from time to time. Like I said, it ain’t anything we can’t resolve the next time we see each other.”
Her gaze dropped at that, mulling it over in her head. She looked sad.
“She was nice to me”, the child said, far quieter than before, “You shouldn’t be mean to her. She’s a Ninja Hero.”
Boothill was at a loss for words for a moment. His own childhood felt a hundred years in the past now, after everything that happened, and he’d been the youngest of his siblings, too, so consoling a kid her age was making his neurochip run hot. In his past life, he’d often thought about how he’d manage in situations like these, back when he held onto hands far tinier and more fragile than his own. The fire and smoke had burned away at many memories, but he remembers the weight of responsibility he’d held, once, about a future that was violently robbed from him and his… his-
He stopped mid-thought.
He couldn’t let himself be absorbed by anger or grief right now, not when he could blow up at someone innocent, and that someone being a kid, no less.
Before he could come up with what to say, the girl had already recovered. She eyed him curiously.
“What are you here for anyway, Ninja Kinzoku?” Her small hands picked up one of his own, completely fearless and unaware of the multitudes of modifications made to them that made them deadlier than anyone could hope to guess at first glance. “I thought this was a medical facility…”
“Oh, I uhh-“ he took a moment to think about how to phrase it best. “I asked the doc to give me this here body” – he asked very nicely - “’Cause I had to. Havin’ a human body wasn’t cuttin’ it anymore for the work I gotta do. Had to get a more indestructible one, I s’pose.”
It was the truth, not that he felt like lying to the kid anyway. He was sure she’d have figured it out in a matter of seconds anyhow.
His human body wasn’t suited for his lifestyle anymore. Despite his undeniable skills with guns, and him trying to be as careful as can be, sometimes – too many times – he’d been cutting it rather close, caught a few bullets or broke a couple of bones. Every second he had to spend recovering was wasted time he could have spent following any fleeting trail Oswaldo fucking Schneider might have left behind. Casting away his flesh and bones wasn’t a decision he made lightly, but it was necessary if he wanted to accomplish his mission. And there was nothing he wanted more.
“But why are you still here?”, she looked at him with a confused pout. Boothill had to admit that it looked rather adorable. “You got your new body, right? What’s stopping you from leaving then?”
“Well, ‘s a lot of stuff I’ve gotta learn to deal with all over again, y’know? Nothing’s like it used to anymore”, he took a moment to look at his hands, the cold grey metal reflecting the dim light of the hallway. “It’s like havin’ to start over on the most basic a’ things, and it’s- it’s just-“
“Frustrating?”
He’s not sure when the pink-haired girl sat down facing him cross-legged on the chair next to his, but her gaze is softer now, understanding.
“I guess so”, he says, “I just need a few days to recalibrate, I s’pose. The sooner I get outta this dump, the better. Uh- no offense…”
The girl huffed out a laugh.
“I’m inclined to agree, Ninja Kinzoku! I, too, would prefer to get back out there to continue my fight”, the easy confidence she shows at those words deflates a little, “but alas, it seems I’ll be kept waiting here for a while longer…”
The girl eyes one of the adjacent hallways, where one of the scientists working at the lab passes by in the distance, not noticing them sitting in their little nook. Her face grows taut again, gaze downcast and shoulders stiff.
“None of them take me seriously at all”, she confesses. “Everyone except Ninja Okami looks at me no different than those Evil Ninja Osaru Fiendlings did before I escaped. Like… like I’m different.”
‘Evil Ninja Osaru’, Boothill guessed, must be Dr. Primitive, based on what the grey-haired Ranger had told him. His chest ached with anger at the thought of what they did to this poor kid – she’d made it out, sure, but she’d never be able to lead a normal life.
“Of course you are, kiddo”, his hand ruffled her hair, much like he’d used to tease his siblings or friends, in another life. With that as a goal in mind, he didn’t even hesitate to think too hard about the distance or force of the movement. “But that don’t mean anythin’ bad, you know? I’m different too, ain’t I? I guess we both gotta learn to live with it, yeah?”
He racked his brain for a way to comfort her more effectively, and found them easier than he’d thought.
“From what I heard, you did just fine the way you are. More than fine, actually. You got real potential, kiddo! And fu- forget whatever anyone else says about you or looks at you like. What’s important is how ya treat others. You just gotta do your best to help where you can, and if anyone’s bein’ a di- uhh… dummy - just don’t let it get ya down, and keep doin’ your own thing, little Ninja.”
Before he can think of what to say or do next, little arms are flung around him in a surprisingly crushing hug, considering he can’t exactly feel it the same way as before anymore. It’s… nice, Boothill thinks. If it were anyone else in this lab, or any other Ranger, he’d probably have his gun whipped out before they know it, but…
Truth be told, he was starting to question his ability to feel anything but anger, hatred and anxiety, all dark, desperate feelings that left him feeling hollower than ever, until he started to feel like nothing but a vengeful ghost roaming the galaxy.
The girl lets go after just a moment, unaware of the torrent of now-unusual emotions she’s causing him to experience, her face beaming.
“You speak the truth, Ninja Kinzoku!” She hops down from the chair, “I shan’t forget it!”, and makes to run back to wherever she came from in the first place.
“H-hey kiddo, hang on!” Boothill gets up from his seat a moment later. Thankfully, he spots the mop of pink hair right around the corner, the girl having spun back around to face him. “I haven’t even gotten your name yet!”
“Oh! I am the dazzling Ninja, aka Rappa! Nice to meet you, Ninja Kinzoku!”
She says her name with a big smile, and something about the little girl reminds Boothill of a bird ruffling its feathers with pride. He decides he likes that look on her.
“The name’s Boothill”, he answers with a lopsided grin. “Nice to meet you too, Ninja Rappa.”