Doc
New Member
The Five Ws and the How
WC : 1,166
With a satisfied sigh, Gorou finish his tea and dropped a few extra pieces of kan on his table before leaving. Visits to Rukongai had become more prevalent for him recently, though that was likely because all of the tea he’d had in Seireitei didn’t even compare to that which was brewed out in the upper districts. At a leisurely pace he made his way through the street and back towards Seireitei, oblivious to the pair of figures following him.
Eventually the redhead came to a crossroads, at which point his stalker decided to strike. A hand grabbed onto his shoulder, pulling him around and forcing him to face the most terrifying sight he’d laid eyes on in centuries. A short, brown-haired woman was standing next to a little boy no older than ten, if that. An angry and yet extremely fatigued look dominated her face.
“You! I knew I’d find you! Did you think you could run away from this!?” In spite of her petite and seemingly frail stature, she cried out as if she stood ten feet tall. In spite of her zeal, Gorou had no idea who she was or what she was talking about.
“What?” All he could utter was the one-word question. Though the boy’s hair had been shaved right down to the scalp, the fuzzy remnants seemed to have a distinctly familiar color...
“I don’t have the money or the time to take care of him anymore! It’s time you stepped up and faced your responsibility!” As she spoke the frantic woman seemed to become more and more anxious. After she finished she immediately bent down and ran her hand over the boy’s head.
“What...” still he was at a loss for words although he was quickly realizing what was happening. No matter how hard he thought or tried to look back, he still couldn’t place either the woman or the child in his memory. It baffled him beyond words.
“Go on now, and be a good boy,” following her whispered words she kissed the child on the forehead, and at a blinding pace vanished into the crowd. Only the samurai and the boy remained. Though Gorou could hardly tear his eyes off of the boy he’d been left with, the youngster was haphazardly looking around at nothing in particular.
“What!?” After nearly a minute of silence the question burst out of him yet again. It got the child’s attention, at least. A quizzical look overcame his face, and he looked up at the confused old man.
“Hey, are you really a samurai?” The boy’s question wafted through the air, but fell against an audience that wasn’t listening. Reality had washed over Gorou and he realized that he was suffering from shock, for all the good it did him.
“Can you teach me to be a samurai!?” After asking his follow-up question, the little tike gasped in awe and balled up his fists just under his chin. There was a sparkle in the boy’s eyes, as if being a samurai were his ultimate goal and he’d finally found a way to become one.
“...What...” the ronin snapped back to reality, and looked down at the curious kid. There was no question that what little hair he did have was red. Fighting against it was useless, and it wasn’t like he could just wish the boy away. The last time he’d stared into the eyes of a red-headed little boy, he’d expected to see him. This was a nasty surprise of catastrophic proportions.
“Hey! You have red hair too! My mom said that my dad had red hair! And she said he was a samurai!” Another awe-inspired gasp followed the boy’s discovery. To him, it was as if he was about to uncover a birthday present that had been hidden high up where he could normally reach.
“Are you my dad!?” Thus, the final blow was struck and there didn’t seem to be any two ways about it. A memory had finally surfaced that involved the boy’s desperate mother, but it was hazy and if Gorou focused on it brought about the blurry view of cups being filled and refilled with sake.
“Oh shi-” the shellshocked samurai nearly cursed, but quickly remembered his young audience and an ancient set of instincts kicked in, shutting him up. All the while the boy was completely and totally oblivious to his supposed parent’s thought process. Thoughts of samurais kept him quite distracted, and the thought of not only having a father but one that was also a samurai was taking his imagination every which way.
“Oh...kay...” Gorou breathed outward and tried to collect his dignity. After countless battles and having already had a child once, the short-haired little boy in front of him still seemed terrifying, and yet the child didn’t seem to be neither shy nor nervous. The irony was not lost on him.
“Can you tell me your name?” Slowly, the eighteenth seat lowered himself down to make eye contact with the kid.
“It’s Ryuunosuke! What’s your name? Is it Nobunaga?!” Unsurprisingly, Ryuunosuke’s first guess was of a famous samurai before even Gorou’s time. Though for a child his age to know his history that well was surprising.
“My name is Gorou,” the crouching samurai introduced himself quietly. From close-up he could see a vague resemblance, though the red hair was what kept his attention. There was a distinctive confidence to the boy’s stance and in particular, his eyes. It reminded him of Ryusei too much. Suddenly, the old man’s body stiffened and he stood up. Linking the two boys together was too much for him to process.
“And I am not your father,” his voice was bitter and without consideration for the age of the listener, “you should go back home, to your mother.”
Hearing the rejection visibly upset Ryuu, and for a moment he looked like he’d tear up. Seeing it shouldn’t have bothered Gorou, and he tried with all his might to be as stoic as a wall. However, the little redhead made his efforts unnecessary by straightening back up and sniffling his tears away.
“This is a trial, isn’t it!? Only great shoguns give out trials! And only great samurai in training get trials from great shoguns! Well I won’t fail! I’ll...uhm...” as Ryuu’s train of thought ran out he trailed off. For the second time the masterless samurai witnessed a similarity to his own son, but he admired that kind of strength enough to ignore the bitter memories.
Without replying, he went through any available resources in his mind until the answer occurred to him. It put a terrible taste in his mouth just thinking about it, but it did seem that Ryuu’s mother wouldn’t be taking him back, and he couldn’t live among the Heralds of Death. There was only one man he could think of with the kind of connections he’d need to give the boy a safe place to live for the time being.