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Planet Yamatai, Kyoto
Kyoto War College
Spring YE37
Tall black barked cherry trees surrounded a large glass Yamataian temple on the south end of the Kyoto War college. The delicate petals veiled the greenhouse with hues of pink and red.
Beyond the large doorway, plants were arranged dramatically in moss and ivy covered stone planters that were separated by a large koi pond that snaked through the large building under glass and stone wakways. Pathways, dotted with benches in the more scenic areas, led one through the botanical garden towards the actual edible plants and fruit trees that the structure was meant to grow.
A red haired nekovalkryja tended the garden alone. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail which swished as she dug around in the soil of one of the stone planters. The War College shirt and regulation physical training shorts identified her as a student as did the modified uniform gun belt with a regulation NSP in the holster. The daisho she wore sheathed in blood red scabbards on the opposite side on her holster identified her as something else.
The condensation from the heat of the greenhouse beaded against her skin and wiped the sweat from her eyes, "I might have gone overboard with this garden." She said to no one in particular. Her skin vision reminded her that her usual companion was no longer there to respond and reassure her. Sora pursed her lips together for a moment and returned her attentions to the planter.
At the time she returned her attention to her botanical experiment, a series of muttering and grumbling noises began to creep through the leaves. Someone else had entered the gardens despite its relative solitude. Clamouring on past was a short man burdened with several things. Under his left arm was a bag of chips, a litre bottle of green tea, and a sword. Under his right were three data-slates, each bearing different markings for different subjects. He appeared haggard and strangely weighted down by the light-things he was carrying.
"Fuckin'... Fhrgin'..." he seemed at a loss for words as he stopped to better distribute what he was carrying. He looked like a Nepleslian, as grace and the gentle demeanour of most Yamataian men appeared to be lost from him. Yet, as he looked over his shoulder at Sora, his nature was found to be much more twisted. He smiled some strangely refreshed grin, but seemed to catch himself as it spread. On the man's seemingly thuggish face were red eyes illuminating a dark, tanned complexion nestled under a thick head of short-cut hair. A pair of elf ears poked from each side of his head.
This Minkan looked like an imp, who had just stolen everything he was carrying. Perhaps that would have been a good assumption, were it not for the fact he wore a white panel, and the unadorned pin of a Shoi Kohosei. This imp was a student.
Spitting fire, he turned away from her in favor of a small, clear glade. An orange tree, its height appearing little concern for him. Those things gathered under his arms were quickly arrayed in a small spread. Once he finished, everything was neatly placed. It seemed he was perfectly ready to begin whatever he had come in to do. Yet, as he stared at what he had made, he lost his temper, and appeared to be about to lash out against the tree near him.
In a fit of restraint, he began to strike his head against it instead.
"Argghhh! What am I doin'!?" howled the imp, seemingly bereft of his senses at this point. One of the oranges from the tree chose to answer by falling on him. Incensed, he snatched it up before it could land and almost fired it back at the tree. Yet, once more he showed restraint, as if collared. He heaved a sigh, and started to scratch his head, grumbling curses in two languages..
The nekovalkyjra heard the crack and the cursing. The noise jarred her from whatever zen state she might have achieved while gardening. Her red furred ears twitched in irritation. She took a few annoyed steps towards the imp glad in a kohosei's uniform and then stopped. She watched the fruit attack the Minkan and she laughed.
Her laughter was soft and melodious and lasted a few moments longer than it should have but she had not had cause to laugh in a while. Emerald eyes appraised the intruder in her solitude curiously, her annoyance giving way to concern. "Ano... are you okay?"
She walked towards the Imp cautiously, one hand lightly resting on the grip of her katana before she stopped again. Close but only far enough away that she could draw the blade to defend herself if she needed.
The imp lookly oddly familiar but she couldn't place his face. The nekovalkyrja wondered if she had seen him walking around the campus before. "Better be careful, the pomelo hurts more when it falls on your head."
His head fell back, as if loose of muscle, and let out an aggravated groan. For a moment, he appeared to talk to someone in front of him, cycling his hands one over the other. It seemed as if he were practicing something. Once he appeared to come to acceptance to who/whatever he was speaking to, he turned.
"Yeah? I betcha' catch a'lotta' these on those baskets," growled the man, pointing at the pomelo at her chest. He paused at that, then slapped his hand on his face. "Wait. I didn' mean dat. I meant to say..." That slapping hand slowly slipped up his face to his forehead. "... Ah... say..."
With a bitter moan, and fearsome yank of his hair, he tossed the whole thing over his shoulder, including the fruit. "Augh, fuggit'. Whad'ya want, Fruit-Basket?"
"Eh? Sore basket desu ka?" The nekovalkyrja tilted her head to one side looking at the Imp strangely as he pointed a finger at her chest. She looked down at her breasts and flushed pink. "Eh?!" Her hand on the katana's grip clenched.
She straightened her posture and forced a smile, "I think you are confused. You hit your head harder than I thought," there was polite hostility in her voice. "I just wanted to check on you, that sounded bad and you look like you might need some help with those," the nekovalkyrja gestured with her whole left hand to indicate his data pads.
"I'm normally the only one that comes in here around this time, so it is a good quiet spot unless some... yaomo starts crashing into things," she laughed lightly, the hostility still lingering in the polite tone of her voice. "Demo... let me look at your head, I'm medically trained so I can treat you without you having to report to the nurse," her right hand still had not drawn the katana nor had it moved.
"Tch," spat the man, eying her swords, "Don' think I ain't seen ya blades. Y'think you can pull a fast 'un on ol'Rolf? Ain't gunna' happen, Fruit-basket." There was hositility in his response, even if Sora did not deserve it. Yet, despite what temerity he had in regarding a Ketsurui, the imp appeared on the defensive. In fact, he looked uncomfortable just being there.
Then, he went on, "Heh, heh, heh. I'll tell ya what, doh'; if you wanna cop a feel dat bad, put those swords down and you can go to town." One of his calloused hands gestured to his head, but his words had an unfitting direction to them.
The nekovalkyrja nodded and removed her hand from her sword and closed the distance between them. She looked intently at the imp's forehead for bruising. "I am Sora," she commented lightly, the hostility finally leaving her voice. She pressed the jewel on her multifunction bracelet to run a basic diagnostic on the Minkin's injury but without touching him.
"What brings you in here?" She awkwardly asked as she conducted her medical scans. The young Ketsurui was unsure of what to make of this strange man with his stomping and obsession with baskets. She did not understand the context of the slang. She made a note to download a new urban dictionary of Nepleslian slang when she got home.
"Tryin' to study, what does it look like?" answered the man, grumbling as Sora started her scans. He seemed to take objection to her approach, but his red eyes were quickly taken by the multi-function braclet, like a cat. As if to get better look at her, the bracelet, or to annoy her, he leaned away from the mutli-function charm. "And ain't Sora a boy's name? Ain't never met a girl named Sora before."
"It's a name that can be used for both males and females. To be fair, I have never met someone named Rolf before either," she replied. The bracelet's jewel glowed green as it ran its scans and fed the results to Sora directly. "It looks like the branch got you pretty good, but you aren't concussed. You might have a goose egg there but no lasting damage."
"It's a nice place to study, but it looked more like you lost the fight to the branch. Just some abrasions on your forehead from the bark. I can get the first aid kit and clean them out for you so your body doesn't have to eject the wood from your wounds," the jewel stopped glowing once the scans completed. The nekovalkyrja's bright green eyes came back into focus as she stopped looking at the read outs floating across her vision. She was suprised by the man's reaction to the bracelet.
"Oh? You haven't seen one of these before?" She held her wrist and bracelet out so Rolf could get a better look at it.
"Uh, naw, I ain't spent much time lookin' at jewelry. Just nevah' seen one up close," grumbled the man as he stared at the little gadget on her wrist. Before his curiosity took him any further, his questioning expression turned back to her herself. There was a short analysis going on in his mind, as if gears were turning. "You do surgery on erry'body you meet? I mean, c'mon, iss' a fuckin' tree. Not like I hit concrete or nuthin'."
As if for emphasis, Rolf shoved his foot back, striking it at the base. The sudden shake likely angered the patient being, because it dropped another orange on him. It was like it landed on a button to cause such sudden reaction; the man went red in the face and threw himself around to strike the fruit-bearing plant with his fist. His knuckles nearly clawed bark off, as the bark clawed at his skin. "Fuckin' tree! Fuckin' school! I hate this place!" roared Rolf, practically mangy at this point, as he yanked his hand around in Sora's face, "Here! Ya wanna' look at 'dis too?"
"It's a multi-function bracelet, it's my communicator so I don't neccessarily need a data pad to do work." The nekovalkyrja's ears perked at the telepathy that entered her mind her reply was verbal, "AH. Daijōbu desu," Her attention returned to the man in front of her. "You're a ichinensee." She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively at nothing. She reached out to touch Rolf's hand. "If you're having long study sessions, even something like a splinter can be distracting. Why do you hate the school?"
Rolf snatched his hand away from her, flicking a bit of blood onto the grass. Had he fangs, he'd be baring them at her right now, with those elven ears pulled back to add to the feral gaze.
"'Cause erry'body's got a fuckin' problem wit me, dat's why," growled Rolf, somewhat angsty for his age, "You see all dat shit ova' 'dere?" He jabbed a finger at the slates on the ground, "Dat's extra work."
Then, he gestured to his face, "Ya look like me?"
Then, to his mouth, "Ya talk like me?"
Then, he paced back and forth, "Ya walk like me?"
His arms cast out in front him as if he were throwing the answer at her feet, "People judge you. I ain't no pretty Neko, I ain't no bright, blue-eyed Yammie boy on his first day at school. I'm Mali-fuckin'-farian, and apparently tha' instructors take issue wit..." He paused, "Wit..." Suddenly he threw his hands around, signing to his whole being, "Everythin'!"
"I agree, fighting is easier. At least then you know that people are out to kill you, it's all political here," Sora replied sympthatically. "So, why don't you know, say, 'Fuck 'em" and show them that you are better than them because you're actually working hard for it?"
"I don't hate you, if that helps any. You get to speak your mind at least," her bright green eyes appraised the blood on his knuckles and the blood on the grass. There was never a good way to banadage bloody knuckles. She figured that Rolf would probably need to help his body heal itself, once he was focusing on it, if he ever focused on it. "Where were you stationed last?"
Sora had earned herself a suspicious gaze from the Malifarian man. Her patience was something he apparently wasn't used to, and he took a step back. Once again, it looked like the gears were turning in his head; it was the mind of an animal who had decided to put himself in a corner.
"Why?" answered Rolf, his eyes narrowing to little red slits. "What's it to ya? Eh? Did tha' otha' students send ya'? Tha' teachers? I don' play no games, lady."
"No one sent me. I have no orders, I am just here because I didn't know what else to do with my time outside of martial training," Sora replied calmly, "I am Shoi Ketsurui Sora, I am a medical officer among other things. No one tells me what to do here."
"I have nothing to gain from helping you, but that's the point of helping... besides you remind me of someone on the Miharu."
"Ket... su... ru... ii..." Rolf played around with the name in his mouth, as that layer of information sunk in. Sora could see him pale a little bit, and sweat. Those sharp eyebrows of his furrowed heavily over his eyes. There was not much to reason was going on his mind save for figuring out he just harassed a Ketsurui. For a second, he seemed to fall into a stance that indicated escape.
Clap! Went his hands together, "Welp, ya got me. Yeah. YSS Miharu was 'er name 'fore she went Chiharu's way. Name's Rolf Eastwood." There was a break, as he collected his thoughts, "Shoi Kohosei Rolf Eastwood. I'd shake ya hand, but it's kinda' grody at dis point. Anywho, you probably recognized me from back in tha' day when I was on her afta' tha Battle a'Taiie, that was back in... what... YE 28? Eh... Yeah, probably."
Despite it being his past, he was strangely cloudy on the details. "Uh. So." He shrugged his shoulders, almost looking apologetic, "Anythin' else ya need t'know?"
"Well, actually, I see you have a sword and I'm learning to better use these," Sora lightly touched the handle of her katana for a brief moment. "I wanted to know if you were interested in sparring with me. Some... people tried to assassinate me a little while ago but I doubt they'll be polite about it a second time.... Samurai training is formal and people are afraid to hurt me," She paused for a moment, "You obviously don't care that I'm a Ketsurui and I need a honest fight without pretense... if you help me, I can help you study or get the teachers to ease off."
The Malifarian was clearly watching his step at this point, as he almost interuptted her three times to correct the woman. There was a quiet moment where he just stared at the Neko in front of him, perhaps out of the mode he normally would have galavanted as. He edged his foot out a bit, and put his hands on his hips.
"You wanna' fight?" He seemed to be restraining a smile, "Me?"
"Most of these new officers have never seen combat and are not willing to play," Sora replied simply. "Are you scared to fight me?" She smiled softly. "Fighting might help you vent too."
"I hadn't been in a good scrap in... months." Rolf seemed to reel from the realization, almost like someone having quit a smoking habit. He jabbed a finger in her direction, the other, more likely consequences leaving his mind. "You ain't gunna' go cryin' t'Koto-boss or Yui-sama if I win, eh?"
The young Ketsurui shook her head, "Iie... no. If I lose it means I need to train more. If I lose to you then the people that actually want to kill me will succeed and I haven't stopped being a victim." She sighed. "I used to have a samurai assigned to me but... he's gone now."
"Cheer up, Fruit-Basket," snapped Rolf, spinning around to reach for the blade he had brought in. The sword was meant to be held in two hands, but he picked it up off the ground by the scabbard. "When I'm done spankin' yer' green tail-end, ya won't have t'worry 'bout no assassins."
He slid the sheath off the blade, "You juss' gunna' hafta worry 'bout me."
Sora took several tentative steps backwards and drew the katana and wakizashi from their scabbards. The weight of Kotori's daisho in her hands was ressuring. "Should be fun, ne?"
The Imp didn't say much at that, rather he took that as a cue. He took a single step, but then gravimetric propulsion took over, and he shot at her like a bullet. A dark blade reached out ahead of him, and it seemed to be determined to sink into its target.
The Ketsurui met him halfway, bringing the katana up to deflect his sword and the wakizashi to strike below the parry. Her opponent rolled upward with the parry, pushing himself over her and past. The momentum he carried threw him several feet before he landed on his feet.
"You're f'real!" Rolf admitted with an excited trill, spinning around and gripping his nodachi tightly. "I thought you was juss' muckin' around wit tha' whole Samurai thing, 'cause ya' look all prim n'puffy."
Sora turned to face him, keeping her daisho up as she watched him carefully. "It's a consequence of being a princess, I guess." The blades of her weapons were transparent, reflecting the colors of the room around them.
"Well, I'm gunna' be honest," mused Rolf, rolling his shoulders and spinning his dark blade about, "I don' really spar. I only evah' killed folks wit' this thing." He shrugged as he fell back to his stance, "So... Uh... Just try t'stop me?"
"If it gets too bad, I'll just activate my Epidermis armor," Sora replied. Her sword stance was unrefined, but leading with her right. The wakizashi was held a little too stiffly in her left hand.
"Hm," Rolf surged forward again, this time in less of a charge. He shot up to her with the same step, but sought footing as he made his strike. The Malifarian was no samurai, and his own grasp of the sword seemed to be very much self-taught. However, the look in his eyes were that of a killer, and his upswing harshly struck at Sora's leading guard. His opponent was forced to step back, her block was slightly too slow and the tip of the dark blade passed through where a shirt should have been cut but did not make contact with fabric.
Sora manipulated her body's magnetic field to follow the length of her katana as she lunged forward with her wakizashi and kept her katana up against the nodachi. Rolf stepped back in order to whip is blade off one to address the other. Each of the man's strikes seem to carry immense force, and the momentum of a zesuaium blade. He slashed off the woman's strike before it could close in, the blade coming perilously close to knicking his face.
In response, he used his larger blade to ward her off for a moment, and step back. His eyes were on her, his mind ticking again, but this time his analysis wasn't some slow process.
He made a jerking motion, impishly lashing his sword at her, but didn't advance. She ducked backwards as she brought up both her weapons to block the blade, being more mindful now of the length of the dark blade against her two shorter blades.
Sora watched Rolf's body cautiously, redistributing the weight in her stance. If she led in an attack, she would need to close the distance without being impaled first. She held her swords defensively and waited for the imp to press an attack again.
"Snrk," Rolf snickered, breaking the song of swords for a moment. He seemed to find something funny. "C'mon, Fruit-Basket, am I gunna' hafta' keep makin' tha' first move 'ere? I'm startin' t'think y'don't like me." That last word howled as Rolf struck at Sora's left, on the side of her wakizashi, with a sweeping back-slash. Slightly too slow, Sora spun sidways out of the path of the blade. Her delayed movments were rewarded with a gash of crimson on her arm, her subdermal armor preventing the blade from penetrating deeper. Blood spilled down her arm and trickled onto her hand, pooling around the ito of the handle, staining the red brading a deeper shade of red.
Mindful of the distance she had to close, she propelled herself forward to the right of the nodachi, using her wakizashi to push the blade down and away from her body as she thrust the katana's blade forward toward Rolf's chest. "You could say that I'm shy," she murmurred softly when she was almost in arm's reach of her opponent.
The sound of her heart was loud in her ears. Her eyes were singularly focused on the impish man she was sparring with, but she was searching for indications of a counter with her skin vision as well.
A loud, angry hiss of metal snarled at against Sora's sword as Rolf yanked his blade back to deflect the strike. The man's ability to parry was limited when she tried to control the length of the blade, but he maneaveured to compensate. Yet, she had locked him into an awkward stance, and his ronin style of fighting showed. Her blade hissed up his, and then found purchase on his shoulder, the cut sinking into flesh. The man clenched his teeth as sparks seemed to fly in his mind as well as off the blade.
In a fit of pure exertion, Rolf quit the exchange and fell back, letting his sword play to its advantage for the moment. Yet, as he glided back, and apparently confident she wouldn't chase, he sank his bloodied sword into the ground.
"Time!" announced the Imp, digging his hands at the base of his shirt. "Iss fuckin' hot in here." With a bit of grunting he disrobed his top half, and settled his shorn top before the wound could sully the pure, white panel. What revealed was a tanned, masculine chest, that looked like it belonged on a Nepleslian than any Yamataian man. Knicks, cuts, and scars of abjurations of the past were still healing on his muscular, Minkan frame. The newest one oozed blood gently over his pectoral.
Shnk! The Malifarian tugged his blade out of the ground, and held out his arms, goading her. "You cn' take yer shirt off too, if ya want." He started to cackle, bringing the blade back to two hands. "Take ya time, I'm patient."
The Ketsurui stepped back into a more relaxed stance as the Malifarian removed his shirt. She looked at his scars appreciatively, blushing slightly at the mention of her going topless. "Eh?" She dropped the volumetric projection of the Kyoto War College shirt to reveal a white form fitted piece of body armor with a gouge in the front between her breasts where the nodachi should have ripped her "shirt" earlier. The "vest" was a modified chest and back panel from the old Type 30A uniform, secured over her sides and shoulders with vecro straps to keep it tight against her body. It was also likely that the Nekovalkryja was only really wearing the gun belt and saya under volumetric projections.
"This will have to do," Sora responded shyly. The gash on her arm had stopped bleeding and was finally oozing. "Ready?"
"Eh heh heh heh, I love my country," mentioned Rolf, eying Sora unabashedly, a certain knowing stare in his eyes. His teeth clenched and he rolled his shoulder, then set himself up for a strike. There was a shift in his movement, planting his feet square and then hurtling himself forward again. It seemed that he didn't mind making the first moves; this one being his dark blade making a testing lash over to her right side, over the clear Katana.
Then, another shift, the initial strike was a fient; the blade bounced back over to her left instead. It was there she could see he had established a kind of pattern. His strikes, the real ones, carried immense force because he threw himself into the kill. In that, the imp was too expressive, unlike actual Samurai who made no indications of their movements.
His opponent smiled brightly, despite the intense concentration she had to maintain to keep focused on the fight. The hidden personnel assigned to protect her had mostly maintained radio silence as they watched the fight but were now shouting advice at her in her head. "Hey! Peanut galley, shush!" She had developed her own pattern of blocking between the katana and the wakaishi, but the length of the nodachi was still a problem. "They are getting excited, but they are being distracting.."
Sora pushed forward with her left and slashed at Rolf with the katana again, as she attempted to close the distance between them. The other swordsman kneeled at that moment, yanking his blade over his head to catch Sora's as she came down at him. As he had taken her left and held her right, the Malifarian seemed to reason one direction.
He did something else a Sumurai would likely have never done, and that was collide with her. As they tangled swords he threw himself into her, running his shoulder into her chest. The grace of the spar was lost for the moment as the madman shoved her.
Sora, surprised, fell backwards when the Imp slammed into her between her guard, his momentium carried her to the ground. The position was awkward with the swords still tied up together and the Mailfarian on top of her. He kept his lenghty blade of her own, and leaned in on her a bit more. In fact, he seemed to be cozying up.
"Well, hey 'dere, Fruit Basket," growled Rolf, looking down at her as he kept her pinned. Judging by his tone, despite the aggression, he was about as surprised as she was. "You go tumblin' wit' all da half-naked swordsmen in da woods, or izzat just me?"
The Ketsurui continued to blush, wrapping her long legs around the Malifarian's hips, "You're just lucky," she replied softly, as her ankles crossed, lightly brushing the back of his legs as she locked the man in her guard, pressing her hips up against his. The Imp tensed up as he seemed split his focus between two dangerous blades, and two dangerous legs. He pressed back against her, the two of them brushing up at hips.
His blade rattled, as it had no where to go. Carefully, he looked at the two swords, and then he looked at her. Growling, he bucked back against her, not too unhappy in their situation, but not quite tossing the towel.
"Well," gasped Rolf, starting to sweat a bit more, "I think I won."
Sora used her leg's grip on his hips to roll Rolf over and flip positions with him, so she was sitting on top of him, her legs pressed on either side of him., Her swords were still tied up in keepin the nodachi pinned. "You think so?" She replied between harsh breaths, her body was slick with sweat and she was still blushing. Both of them were turning into a bit of a mess in the humid garden.
"Looks like a win from where I'm sittin'," answered Rolf, the situation having flipped in more ways than one. The Minkan rode his hips up into hers again from emphasis, despite his muscles still tensing from trying to pull his sword. "If you ain't careful, ya gunna' have to worry 'bout a different sword."
"Ano.. if I get off, is this over?" She replied quickly not thinking about what she was saying. Her leg muscles still tensed as she kept her center of gravity against his hips to keep him from tossing her and her arms to keep his actual sword from coming up.
"That..." growled Rolf, trying to compete against her natural strength, "... depends on how much..." He jerked, grinding into her, and exerting himself as firmly as he could from his 'disadvantageous position', "fun yer havin', Fruit Basket." The Nodachi, its inscription of "Hitodama" easily seen, hissed against her twin blades.
She gasped softly, clearly torn as she kept him pinned beneath her. "this is.. fun..but, I won't force you at sword point," she finally shifted her weight and hopped back up and away to avoid Rolf's sudden upswing when she relented. She resheathed her daisho in the saya and wiped the sweat from her flushed red face.
Rolf, on the other hand, laid splayed out with his nodachi still clenched in his hand. His chest was heaving for a moment, and when he came to realize it, put his finger up to indicate he needed another moment. There was a bit of uncomfortable shifting in the grass, and then the stiff Maliafarian came to his feet. With a free hand he wiped the sweat off his brow, and then slapped it off on his chest.
"Good... uh... good fight," solved Rolf, giving her a thumbs up. He rolled his legs around a couple of times, "I still won, but good fight."
"Thank you for the fight. How's your shoulder?" She asked apologetically as she grabbed a towel that had suddenly appeared behind her. Sora patted the sweat from her face with the towel before she held it out for Rolf, if he wanted it. The Malifarian took it, and snapped it out before rubbing it over his chest.
"I've had worse," reasoned Rolf, dabbing around the bloodied areas. "Uh... Hows ya..." He waved his blade at her, "Y'baskets? Looks like I knicked ya a couple times, but I don't remembah nabbin' ya tween the tits."
Sora looked down at the gouge on her vest and unsecured the straps securing it on her right side and shoulder. "I think that was earlier. It would've cut through a shirt if I had been wearing one." She removed the vest, revealing a black lace bra underneath. There was no mark on her skin to indicate the blade had penetrated further. "I don't see anything. I think the vest and the subdermal stopped it."
"Huh," Rolf loomed over and stared down at her chest, unceremoniously inspecting her. "Heck of a vest." His finger reached out for a moment, but then paused. There was a moment of caution in his mind as he realized what exactly he was doing. He wrapped a knuckle on her chest.
The realization seems to strike him, once more, "You ain't wearin' nothin'."
The Nekovalkryja laughed awkwardly as the Minkan touched her chest with his knuckle. "Clothing tends to get in the way of the armor capabilities of this body. I like layering though," her skinned was flushed red again as she blushed. Sora appraised Rolf's face again, uncertain. "It's a weird world we live in."
She held her vest in her hands, intending to put it back on but the Imp was still too close.
"Ah, we did just start swordfightin' about five minutes ago," answered Rolf, a somewhat careful look in his eyes. "Yer also a Ketsurui, so... eh heh... Never tumbled around with a Ketsurui. Uh." He looked down, and then up, and then down, and then up again. Then, cleared his throat.
A savage little grin spread on his face, "Wanna' bang it out?"
The words echoed in her mind as she processed what it actually meant. She was still blushing. "Ano.. after a shower?" Sora replied quietly, sliding the vest back on and resecuring it in place. "Are you rooming with anyone?"
"Eh, wass 'dat gotta' do within anythin'?" asked Rolf, confused. He jabbed his finger over to the tree where he had laid out all of his things, "I already put out all m'stuff ova' 'dere."
"Ah! Okay, sure. What do they have you doing?" Sora replied quickly, slightly relieved and a litle disappointed that she misunderstood what he meant. It had been a while since she had been that physically close to someone.
"Just some, uh, 'extra' work. Specific stuff, history a this country, pullin' apart a treatise on ballistics, an' apparent 'Decipherin' tha' link between modern and traditional methods a war'." Rolf shrugged at that, his more worried face taking over. He leaned in and jabbed her with his elbow, clearly feeling a bit more comfortable with her, "But you'ze a Shoi, right? You probably know all about it."
Sora nodded with a smile, the flush starting to leave her cheeks. "Yes, I can help you with these, it shouldn't take too long. Are you writing formals papers or just short essays?" She turned the volumeric projection of the War college shirt on over her vest again, and started to walk over to the study spot he had chosen under the orange tree.
"Essays," groaned Rolf, lighting up in realization when Sora put her shirt back on. He looked around for his own, before it hailed a small reminder that the Neko had put a neat gash on it, and the Malifarian had done his own measure of work in gnashing it off. So he kept pace with the Shoi. "Hey, if ya don't mind me askin', what's a leg-huggin', sword-swingin' Shoi like y'self doin' 'ere? I thought 'dey sent us places after we graduated."
"I was assigned to the Sakura when I graduated originally but I was sent back a couple of times for additional training in other areas. I'm back this time because I want to keep up with my qualifications but I'm only here a couple days a week... I'm at Samurai House the rest of the time training," She sat down on the grass, adjusting her saya a bit. She removed the holder that held her hair up in a ponytail and let it spill down her back for a moment, before she smoothed it back into a ponytail again. There was a solitary blonde streak in her mane of red.
"With any luck, you won't need to come back here again. The War college is the default location to send a Ketsurui with no orders, it seems," She sighed a bit. "Essays shouldn't be too bad."
"Maybe if it ain't y'first rodeo," answered Rolf, having appeared to fully cool off after their recent bout, despite the continued perspiration from the humidity. "I haven't been t'school since before tha' Star Army, and that was..." The Malifarian started to count on his fingers, first to five, then, to seven, then to ten, then back to seven. "Eight years ago? I remember not bein' all that popular with the teachers, but the shit they lay on you 'ere is rediculous."
Rolf yanked up the darker tablet, which had already been started on, "A fuckin treatise on ballistics? Everythin' runs on AMES, an' lasers!"
"Some people still use solid projectiles. There's a lot of math that can happen but it's all about angles," Sora smiled as she tapped the gem on her bracelet again, to bring up a volumeric window showing a pistol firing in slow motion, with a line indicating the path of travel to a non-moving target before it blew a hole in it.
"I know they're wantin' us t'tick off some box, but I juss' don't see it," Rolf came to his knees, taking in the the display put on like a schoolboy. "What's the point a'learnin' all tha' math iffn' tha' MEGAMI or what'eva is already figurin' it all out? I ain't spent much time on board a bridge, but I know tha' Weps ain't burnin' scratch paper t'figure out each shot." The Malifarian ran a hand through his hair, the frustration rising again, "I knew it was gunna' be hard, but all this juss' don't seem necessary."
"Just understanding the basic principles of it in the event of you having to do it manually, I guess?" She shrugged. "That's the point of college, unnecessary stuff that you might forget in actual practice. But if they blessed you with extra work, then it's meant to be fluff. You'll just surprise them by the essays being amazing." Sora smiled brightly. "Do you want to start with the ballastics or history? I... can also help you polish your appearance and accent, if you want more refined officer manners."
"Listen, I talk propa' Yamataigo," Rolf ennunciated with as much clarity as he thought was necessary. "It only matta's 'ere in tha' college right? I ain't seen no propa' place for a fightin' offica' like me that needed no manners or propa'speakin'." A few thoughts seem to course his mind as he stroked his chin spike, "What good iss' refined offica' manners to a face like this?" The Malifarian spread a twisted grin on his face for a mild emphasis.
"You have a very strong accent," Sora replied delicately, "The decorum and proper speaking will follow you throughout your career. It matters more now than it did when you were enlisted." She reached up to touch the Malifarian's face. "There is nothing wrong with this face. I think the refinement would only make you more attractive." Her bright eyes met his blood red ones as she spoke, "You won't want that, would you?"
There was a bit of searching in the Neko's eyes, the savage of a man she now held was tamed a bit. Better yet, there was almost a sense of trust sparking in that stare. Moreover, coloring his face was a little embarassment, as if he should have known that all along.
"I guess," Rolf cast his gaze aside, the lowly man somewhat ashamed to look at her, "it wudn't 'urt."
Suddenly, she felt a pair of fingers pinch her cheek, and then tug. "So, while you do dat," his eyes were on her again, his shark-like grin spreading on his face, "I'll show ya how 'dey fight for real up in space. You teach me how t'talk t'people off tha' field, an' I'll help ya fit in on tha' field."
She laughed again as Rolf pinched her cheeks. "Okay, it's a deal." Sora lowered her hand again and continued to smile. "This should be fun, ne?" She looked down at his uniform jacket and frowned. "I owe you a new jacket, can't have you looking like a proper officer with blood on that white panel."
"It'd make me look legitimate," joked Rolf, fighting for his tattered uniform, "These kids probably nevah' even seen blood before." The Malifarian cackled, though began to plane off when he looked back at Sora. "Eh heh heh, probably not tha' best idea, yeah. You should probably consida' a new vest while ya at it, y'look like y'gunna pop outta' that one."
"It's supposed to be tight," Sora sheepishly replied. "The projections can only go out so far so it has to be that way. Many Eihei don't wear clothes at all." She added with a slight blush across her cheeks again. "I will have a new jacket sent to your room unless you want one right now."
"Nah, iss' fine, less in the way," cackled Rolf, picking up one of the datapads and sliding it unlocked. "Unless you find it, ah... What wassit? Ungentlemanly? Thass' tha' term right? You like y'fellas wrapped up," He thumbed to himself with his free hand, "Or raw?"
"....I don't understand the context of the last question?" Sora replied with a puzzled look on her face. Her face flushed a darker shade of red at the telepathic suggestions she was given for what it could mean. "Unbecoming would be a better term than ungentlemanly. A fresh jacket not stained would be better presentation. I'll have a new one brought here."
"Wrapped up it is," answered Rolf, stroking the spike on his chin, carefully analyzing the woman's expression. He then stared off into the greener areas surrounding them, there seemed to be something he was looking for. "So, what, like a butler, or somethin'?" He put his hands to his chest, gesturing towards his wound, "Is he bringin' some bandages, too?"
"I wouldn't say butler but employees, maybe? I have a first aide kit in here, I can treat your shoulder if you're ready for it. I still don't know what you mean by wrapped or raw though? The only definitions I know in regards to that terminology are... sexual in nature?" Sora stood up and walked towards an alcove just beyond the orange tree for where the first aide kit was kept and grabbed the box. She turned and sat down in front of Rolf again.
"Eh? Don't know why ya'd say that," He leaned over to reach for the cut uniform and draped it over his chest. "Wrapped."
Then, he set it aside, and smacked his chest, "Raw."
Once more he covered himself, "Wrapped."
Another time he settled it on the grass, pointing his chest, "Raw."
The Imp gave her a mild shrug, a duplicitous grin plastered on his ridiculous face, "I don't see why ya got sex on tha' brain, Fruit Basket. I mean," With such temerity, he waved his hands over himself, "I could see why, but c'mon, we're studyin' 'ere."
"Yes, we have to work on the slang," she murmurred with the blush on her cheeks. "So for the purposes of treatment, raw... err, no shirt." Sora clarified as she opened the kit. "I can imagine the chaos you must cause in class with your slang. You are... unique."
"Yeah, I'm pretty much tha' class jewel, shinin' my unique brand a'wisdom all ova'," answered Rolf proudly, puffing his chest out with a bit of pride. There was a wider sense that he understood how terrible he was, but he made no show of it. "'Dey don't seem t'appreciate it like you do, y'know. They're mostly, 'Shaddup Eastwood-san', 'You're bein' rude Eastwood-san', 'I'mma tell my parents on ya Eastwood-san'."
With that little tirade, he sighed, giving her a bit of a more appreciative look, "I'm thinkin' iffn' your brand a'manners tolerates folks like me, I'm willin' t'learn it."
Sora pulled an alcohol wipe from the kit and moved closer to Rolf so she could get a closer look at and clean the cut on his shoulder. "A lot of what I have to teach you is tact, when to say something and when not to.. or how to say something politely that is actually really rude." She gently swabbed the wound on his shoulder to clean the blood away to see just how deep she had cut him. The cut turned out to be somewhat painful looking, her sword had sawed a neat gash on his shoulder. It wasn't really an injury, but his eyes dilated when she put the alcohol swab on it.
"Yoooour," grunted the man, "tellin' me 'dat... I can insult people an' not get in trouble?"
"If you do it right, Imp-san," the nekovalkyjra said sweetly as she set the swab down and pulled on gloves. "I will stitch this shut so your body can finish healing it faster, so please, stay still." She picked up a needle and thread from the kit, threading the needle easily. "It may hurt a bit so please, forgive me, Eastwood-san, ne?"
"You're... gunna stitch it?" His eyes gave her a bit of a leery stare, before looking at his shoulder. "Iss' not 'dat bad, right?" The Imp hadn't quite caught the Imp comment, and if he did, he may have been too focused on the surgical equipment to notice. "Iss' juss' a little papah' cut."
"It'll just be a little prick, maybe something you are used to, ne? It's a cut from a zesuaium katana, it's a deeper gash than a paper cut," she replied as she placed her left hand on his unwounded shoulder to steady him. Sora carefully and quickly pushed the needle through the cut skin on either side of the gash and threaded the wound shut.
"Not so bad, is it, Eastwood-san?" She calmly asked without looking away from the wound on his shoulder.
"Not at all," choked Rolf, his head thrown back for a moment. His hand was quivering a bit from the sensation of the needle, and each tiny prick. He took a deep breath and blinked off the milder sensations, before casting her a frustrated glance. "I guess all 'dat medical trainin' makes it easy t'pick fights wit' strangers, eh?"
"Most won't fight me once they realize who my grandmother is, " She replied softly as she tightened the threading and tied it. She set the needle in the kit and cut the extra thread. The medical officer let go of Rolf's opposite shoulder to finish dressing the wound. Sora applied a light bandage with a healing ointment over the stitches. "So you are the first to take me up on a fight, Eastwood-san."
"There, all done," She looked at her patch job for a moment before looking at Rolf's face. "You okay?"
"I'm great," grit the man through closed teeth, blinking his eyes again as she finished essentially tying up his shoulder. "Just a little pricks, right? Eh heh heh heh." Rolf gave a small jab in the side, and circled his hand around, as if spinning something. "I guess bein' a princess can't be dat' bad iffn' it means y'get t'fight whoeva' ya want."
He cast a glance at his shoulder, "Providin' y'put'm back t'getha when you patch'm up. Eh? Ha ha ha!" His cackling was simply demonic, "But seriously, thanks. 'Dis means we can get back to da' more physical stuff a lot sooner."
"It does," she removed her gloves and placed all of the wrappers inside them before closing the kit again and setting it beside her. "All of these essays are due tomorrow?"
"Eh, day 'afta' tomorrow, since dats how da' classes line-up, but I'm pretty sure I'm gunna' catch tha' same heat from my instructa's tomorrow." Rolf groaned, rolling his eyes back as if that were the end of him right then. "Probably gunna' keep whippin' me like a dog 'til I graduate, honestly."
"Well, I am only at the campus a couple days a week but, since the Samurai house and the palace are nearby... I can come by in the evenings after training to help you. Or, we can do a video call, if that works for you, Eastwood-san?" she suggested after a few moments of contemplation. Chizuri-sensei didn't consume all of her time with training so it would be doable. Her guards were going to be bored but that's better than people trying to kill their charge.
The Malifarian blinked, as if someone had given him strange news. Once more she got one of those questioning looks, a kind of look someone got when they were telling lies. Those red eyes of his were churning thoughts again.
"You're serious, you're gunna' do all dat?" asked the man, incredulous, "I mean, thass' a lotta' ya free time, y'know?"
"If.. you would like me to. I really don't do too much in my free time away from training, so this would be a good change for me," She replied shyly. "Most of my friends are gone so I don't have much of a life outside training." Sora pursed her lips together unsure, she looked at Rolf's face, hopeful that he wouldn't tell her no. His immediate answer was to scratch his head, appearing a little unsure.
"Iffn' it'll make ya happy, sure," answered Rolf, his savvy grin spreading on his face, almost as if he felt like he was doing her a favor. "You're tha' only person 'ere who ain't turned 'dere nose up at me yet." After a second, he took a mild glance around the area. "Maybe we could meet otha' places, gitcha' outta tha greenhouse and Lonely-Neko House."
He shrugged, smiling all the while as if he were spinning a deal, "All work n'no play makes Sora a dull girl, eh? Eh heh heh heh."
The nekovalkyrja blinked as the Malifarian agreed. She pounce hugged him, "Thank you, Eastwood-san!"
"Oubh! Tha' shoulda!," yowled Rolf as he was taken up by the Ketsurui. He hissed for a passing second, and then sighed. The sudden jump had taken him by surprise, seeing how timid the quiet Neko had been before.
Given a little time, he returned the gesture, patting her head. "You actin' like you ain't doin' me a favor."
She looked up at him with a sheepish smile again and let go, recomposing herself. "Gomen.. I almost forgot about your shoulder." Sora looked at the bandage again, hoping she didn't pop the stitches, because she would then have to resew it again. "I would be but it'll be fun for me and gives me something else to do."
"First thing, we're gunna' find ya somethin' t'do dat ain't sword-fightin' an' studyin'," decided Rolf, before eying one of the tablets, "Well, second thing, but it'll do." He rolled his shoulder, the wound feeling relatively intact. The realization of his current position seemed to set in, and he thought of something else, "You said you got people watchin' ya, right? 'Dey watch ya all tha' time?"
"Most of the time. After the incident a couple years ago and the death of my...yojimbo, they are with me whenever I am out," Sora replied carefully. "You won't notice them for the most part. Ah, there's your new jacket," she looked beyond Rolf towards one of the benches at the beginning of the grove, it had a Shoi Kohesei white type 35 jacket sitting neatly on top of it.
"Tha' fuck, how'd that get there?" Rolf's eyes widened, his ears winking up at down at the sight of the jacket. The Malifarian was a bit surprised, but also a bit uneasy at how he hadn't heard someone come in. He looked at Sora, and then the jacket, then Sora again, "You got ghost butlers?"
"They are stealthed... and they are not butlers, they are guards but they are around," Sora replied with a shrug. "I takes some getting used to." She moved a litte bit away from the man so she wasn't on top of his lap and pointed to the tablets. "So pick your poison, I guess, do you want to start on the ballistics essay or the history essay first, Eastwood-san?"
"Juss' call me Rolf," noted the Imp, moving on down to pick up his jacket, marveling the fact that he had just been delivered a jacket by a ghost butler. He wiped his chest of first, and the began to slip it on, "All my classmates call me Eastwood-san, I don' like how it sounds."
He plodded back over and sat down, "Ballistics, by the way, might as well start on somethin' interestin'."
"Rolf-san." Sora replied. "Okay, we can start from the very beginning with construction history with black powder or with combustion theory?" She suggested as she tapped her multi-function bracelet to query the War college's virtual library for sources.
"From tha' start?" Rolf proposed, a bit confused, but still following, "That's pretty much some serious elf-era stuff, yeah? When everythin' was killin' erry'body on this planet."
"Pretty much. Early projectile technology was originally as simple as a bow and arrow but evolved to gunpowder that exploded as a result of a spark produced by a metal object striking a plate at the end of a metal tube. The explosion pushing up a round ball through the tube in the opposite direction of the explosion towards a target. There we have the first projectile metal based firearms," Sora explained, using videos played through her bracelet's volumeric projection function to illustrate what she was talking about. "The chemical reaction of the explosion will move to where it has the most room to expand, so it's like a shape charge in that way...."
Planet Yamatai, Kyoto
Kyoto War College
Spring YE37
Tall black barked cherry trees surrounded a large glass Yamataian temple on the south end of the Kyoto War college. The delicate petals veiled the greenhouse with hues of pink and red.
Beyond the large doorway, plants were arranged dramatically in moss and ivy covered stone planters that were separated by a large koi pond that snaked through the large building under glass and stone wakways. Pathways, dotted with benches in the more scenic areas, led one through the botanical garden towards the actual edible plants and fruit trees that the structure was meant to grow.
A red haired nekovalkryja tended the garden alone. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail which swished as she dug around in the soil of one of the stone planters. The War College shirt and regulation physical training shorts identified her as a student as did the modified uniform gun belt with a regulation NSP in the holster. The daisho she wore sheathed in blood red scabbards on the opposite side on her holster identified her as something else.
The condensation from the heat of the greenhouse beaded against her skin and wiped the sweat from her eyes, "I might have gone overboard with this garden." She said to no one in particular. Her skin vision reminded her that her usual companion was no longer there to respond and reassure her. Sora pursed her lips together for a moment and returned her attentions to the planter.
At the time she returned her attention to her botanical experiment, a series of muttering and grumbling noises began to creep through the leaves. Someone else had entered the gardens despite its relative solitude. Clamouring on past was a short man burdened with several things. Under his left arm was a bag of chips, a litre bottle of green tea, and a sword. Under his right were three data-slates, each bearing different markings for different subjects. He appeared haggard and strangely weighted down by the light-things he was carrying.
"Fuckin'... Fhrgin'..." he seemed at a loss for words as he stopped to better distribute what he was carrying. He looked like a Nepleslian, as grace and the gentle demeanour of most Yamataian men appeared to be lost from him. Yet, as he looked over his shoulder at Sora, his nature was found to be much more twisted. He smiled some strangely refreshed grin, but seemed to catch himself as it spread. On the man's seemingly thuggish face were red eyes illuminating a dark, tanned complexion nestled under a thick head of short-cut hair. A pair of elf ears poked from each side of his head.
This Minkan looked like an imp, who had just stolen everything he was carrying. Perhaps that would have been a good assumption, were it not for the fact he wore a white panel, and the unadorned pin of a Shoi Kohosei. This imp was a student.
Spitting fire, he turned away from her in favor of a small, clear glade. An orange tree, its height appearing little concern for him. Those things gathered under his arms were quickly arrayed in a small spread. Once he finished, everything was neatly placed. It seemed he was perfectly ready to begin whatever he had come in to do. Yet, as he stared at what he had made, he lost his temper, and appeared to be about to lash out against the tree near him.
In a fit of restraint, he began to strike his head against it instead.
"Argghhh! What am I doin'!?" howled the imp, seemingly bereft of his senses at this point. One of the oranges from the tree chose to answer by falling on him. Incensed, he snatched it up before it could land and almost fired it back at the tree. Yet, once more he showed restraint, as if collared. He heaved a sigh, and started to scratch his head, grumbling curses in two languages..
The nekovalkyjra heard the crack and the cursing. The noise jarred her from whatever zen state she might have achieved while gardening. Her red furred ears twitched in irritation. She took a few annoyed steps towards the imp glad in a kohosei's uniform and then stopped. She watched the fruit attack the Minkan and she laughed.
Her laughter was soft and melodious and lasted a few moments longer than it should have but she had not had cause to laugh in a while. Emerald eyes appraised the intruder in her solitude curiously, her annoyance giving way to concern. "Ano... are you okay?"
She walked towards the Imp cautiously, one hand lightly resting on the grip of her katana before she stopped again. Close but only far enough away that she could draw the blade to defend herself if she needed.
The imp lookly oddly familiar but she couldn't place his face. The nekovalkyrja wondered if she had seen him walking around the campus before. "Better be careful, the pomelo hurts more when it falls on your head."
His head fell back, as if loose of muscle, and let out an aggravated groan. For a moment, he appeared to talk to someone in front of him, cycling his hands one over the other. It seemed as if he were practicing something. Once he appeared to come to acceptance to who/whatever he was speaking to, he turned.
"Yeah? I betcha' catch a'lotta' these on those baskets," growled the man, pointing at the pomelo at her chest. He paused at that, then slapped his hand on his face. "Wait. I didn' mean dat. I meant to say..." That slapping hand slowly slipped up his face to his forehead. "... Ah... say..."
With a bitter moan, and fearsome yank of his hair, he tossed the whole thing over his shoulder, including the fruit. "Augh, fuggit'. Whad'ya want, Fruit-Basket?"
"Eh? Sore basket desu ka?" The nekovalkyrja tilted her head to one side looking at the Imp strangely as he pointed a finger at her chest. She looked down at her breasts and flushed pink. "Eh?!" Her hand on the katana's grip clenched.
She straightened her posture and forced a smile, "I think you are confused. You hit your head harder than I thought," there was polite hostility in her voice. "I just wanted to check on you, that sounded bad and you look like you might need some help with those," the nekovalkyrja gestured with her whole left hand to indicate his data pads.
"I'm normally the only one that comes in here around this time, so it is a good quiet spot unless some... yaomo starts crashing into things," she laughed lightly, the hostility still lingering in the polite tone of her voice. "Demo... let me look at your head, I'm medically trained so I can treat you without you having to report to the nurse," her right hand still had not drawn the katana nor had it moved.
"Tch," spat the man, eying her swords, "Don' think I ain't seen ya blades. Y'think you can pull a fast 'un on ol'Rolf? Ain't gunna' happen, Fruit-basket." There was hositility in his response, even if Sora did not deserve it. Yet, despite what temerity he had in regarding a Ketsurui, the imp appeared on the defensive. In fact, he looked uncomfortable just being there.
Then, he went on, "Heh, heh, heh. I'll tell ya what, doh'; if you wanna cop a feel dat bad, put those swords down and you can go to town." One of his calloused hands gestured to his head, but his words had an unfitting direction to them.
The nekovalkyrja nodded and removed her hand from her sword and closed the distance between them. She looked intently at the imp's forehead for bruising. "I am Sora," she commented lightly, the hostility finally leaving her voice. She pressed the jewel on her multifunction bracelet to run a basic diagnostic on the Minkin's injury but without touching him.
"What brings you in here?" She awkwardly asked as she conducted her medical scans. The young Ketsurui was unsure of what to make of this strange man with his stomping and obsession with baskets. She did not understand the context of the slang. She made a note to download a new urban dictionary of Nepleslian slang when she got home.
"Tryin' to study, what does it look like?" answered the man, grumbling as Sora started her scans. He seemed to take objection to her approach, but his red eyes were quickly taken by the multi-function braclet, like a cat. As if to get better look at her, the bracelet, or to annoy her, he leaned away from the mutli-function charm. "And ain't Sora a boy's name? Ain't never met a girl named Sora before."
"It's a name that can be used for both males and females. To be fair, I have never met someone named Rolf before either," she replied. The bracelet's jewel glowed green as it ran its scans and fed the results to Sora directly. "It looks like the branch got you pretty good, but you aren't concussed. You might have a goose egg there but no lasting damage."
"It's a nice place to study, but it looked more like you lost the fight to the branch. Just some abrasions on your forehead from the bark. I can get the first aid kit and clean them out for you so your body doesn't have to eject the wood from your wounds," the jewel stopped glowing once the scans completed. The nekovalkyrja's bright green eyes came back into focus as she stopped looking at the read outs floating across her vision. She was suprised by the man's reaction to the bracelet.
"Oh? You haven't seen one of these before?" She held her wrist and bracelet out so Rolf could get a better look at it.
"Uh, naw, I ain't spent much time lookin' at jewelry. Just nevah' seen one up close," grumbled the man as he stared at the little gadget on her wrist. Before his curiosity took him any further, his questioning expression turned back to her herself. There was a short analysis going on in his mind, as if gears were turning. "You do surgery on erry'body you meet? I mean, c'mon, iss' a fuckin' tree. Not like I hit concrete or nuthin'."
As if for emphasis, Rolf shoved his foot back, striking it at the base. The sudden shake likely angered the patient being, because it dropped another orange on him. It was like it landed on a button to cause such sudden reaction; the man went red in the face and threw himself around to strike the fruit-bearing plant with his fist. His knuckles nearly clawed bark off, as the bark clawed at his skin. "Fuckin' tree! Fuckin' school! I hate this place!" roared Rolf, practically mangy at this point, as he yanked his hand around in Sora's face, "Here! Ya wanna' look at 'dis too?"
"It's a multi-function bracelet, it's my communicator so I don't neccessarily need a data pad to do work." The nekovalkyrja's ears perked at the telepathy that entered her mind her reply was verbal, "AH. Daijōbu desu," Her attention returned to the man in front of her. "You're a ichinensee." She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively at nothing. She reached out to touch Rolf's hand. "If you're having long study sessions, even something like a splinter can be distracting. Why do you hate the school?"
Rolf snatched his hand away from her, flicking a bit of blood onto the grass. Had he fangs, he'd be baring them at her right now, with those elven ears pulled back to add to the feral gaze.
"'Cause erry'body's got a fuckin' problem wit me, dat's why," growled Rolf, somewhat angsty for his age, "You see all dat shit ova' 'dere?" He jabbed a finger at the slates on the ground, "Dat's extra work."
Then, he gestured to his face, "Ya look like me?"
Then, to his mouth, "Ya talk like me?"
Then, he paced back and forth, "Ya walk like me?"
His arms cast out in front him as if he were throwing the answer at her feet, "People judge you. I ain't no pretty Neko, I ain't no bright, blue-eyed Yammie boy on his first day at school. I'm Mali-fuckin'-farian, and apparently tha' instructors take issue wit..." He paused, "Wit..." Suddenly he threw his hands around, signing to his whole being, "Everythin'!"
"I agree, fighting is easier. At least then you know that people are out to kill you, it's all political here," Sora replied sympthatically. "So, why don't you know, say, 'Fuck 'em" and show them that you are better than them because you're actually working hard for it?"
"I don't hate you, if that helps any. You get to speak your mind at least," her bright green eyes appraised the blood on his knuckles and the blood on the grass. There was never a good way to banadage bloody knuckles. She figured that Rolf would probably need to help his body heal itself, once he was focusing on it, if he ever focused on it. "Where were you stationed last?"
Sora had earned herself a suspicious gaze from the Malifarian man. Her patience was something he apparently wasn't used to, and he took a step back. Once again, it looked like the gears were turning in his head; it was the mind of an animal who had decided to put himself in a corner.
"Why?" answered Rolf, his eyes narrowing to little red slits. "What's it to ya? Eh? Did tha' otha' students send ya'? Tha' teachers? I don' play no games, lady."
"No one sent me. I have no orders, I am just here because I didn't know what else to do with my time outside of martial training," Sora replied calmly, "I am Shoi Ketsurui Sora, I am a medical officer among other things. No one tells me what to do here."
"I have nothing to gain from helping you, but that's the point of helping... besides you remind me of someone on the Miharu."
"Ket... su... ru... ii..." Rolf played around with the name in his mouth, as that layer of information sunk in. Sora could see him pale a little bit, and sweat. Those sharp eyebrows of his furrowed heavily over his eyes. There was not much to reason was going on his mind save for figuring out he just harassed a Ketsurui. For a second, he seemed to fall into a stance that indicated escape.
Clap! Went his hands together, "Welp, ya got me. Yeah. YSS Miharu was 'er name 'fore she went Chiharu's way. Name's Rolf Eastwood." There was a break, as he collected his thoughts, "Shoi Kohosei Rolf Eastwood. I'd shake ya hand, but it's kinda' grody at dis point. Anywho, you probably recognized me from back in tha' day when I was on her afta' tha Battle a'Taiie, that was back in... what... YE 28? Eh... Yeah, probably."
Despite it being his past, he was strangely cloudy on the details. "Uh. So." He shrugged his shoulders, almost looking apologetic, "Anythin' else ya need t'know?"
"Well, actually, I see you have a sword and I'm learning to better use these," Sora lightly touched the handle of her katana for a brief moment. "I wanted to know if you were interested in sparring with me. Some... people tried to assassinate me a little while ago but I doubt they'll be polite about it a second time.... Samurai training is formal and people are afraid to hurt me," She paused for a moment, "You obviously don't care that I'm a Ketsurui and I need a honest fight without pretense... if you help me, I can help you study or get the teachers to ease off."
The Malifarian was clearly watching his step at this point, as he almost interuptted her three times to correct the woman. There was a quiet moment where he just stared at the Neko in front of him, perhaps out of the mode he normally would have galavanted as. He edged his foot out a bit, and put his hands on his hips.
"You wanna' fight?" He seemed to be restraining a smile, "Me?"
"Most of these new officers have never seen combat and are not willing to play," Sora replied simply. "Are you scared to fight me?" She smiled softly. "Fighting might help you vent too."
"I hadn't been in a good scrap in... months." Rolf seemed to reel from the realization, almost like someone having quit a smoking habit. He jabbed a finger in her direction, the other, more likely consequences leaving his mind. "You ain't gunna' go cryin' t'Koto-boss or Yui-sama if I win, eh?"
The young Ketsurui shook her head, "Iie... no. If I lose it means I need to train more. If I lose to you then the people that actually want to kill me will succeed and I haven't stopped being a victim." She sighed. "I used to have a samurai assigned to me but... he's gone now."
"Cheer up, Fruit-Basket," snapped Rolf, spinning around to reach for the blade he had brought in. The sword was meant to be held in two hands, but he picked it up off the ground by the scabbard. "When I'm done spankin' yer' green tail-end, ya won't have t'worry 'bout no assassins."
He slid the sheath off the blade, "You juss' gunna' hafta worry 'bout me."
Sora took several tentative steps backwards and drew the katana and wakizashi from their scabbards. The weight of Kotori's daisho in her hands was ressuring. "Should be fun, ne?"
The Imp didn't say much at that, rather he took that as a cue. He took a single step, but then gravimetric propulsion took over, and he shot at her like a bullet. A dark blade reached out ahead of him, and it seemed to be determined to sink into its target.
The Ketsurui met him halfway, bringing the katana up to deflect his sword and the wakizashi to strike below the parry. Her opponent rolled upward with the parry, pushing himself over her and past. The momentum he carried threw him several feet before he landed on his feet.
"You're f'real!" Rolf admitted with an excited trill, spinning around and gripping his nodachi tightly. "I thought you was juss' muckin' around wit tha' whole Samurai thing, 'cause ya' look all prim n'puffy."
Sora turned to face him, keeping her daisho up as she watched him carefully. "It's a consequence of being a princess, I guess." The blades of her weapons were transparent, reflecting the colors of the room around them.
"Well, I'm gunna' be honest," mused Rolf, rolling his shoulders and spinning his dark blade about, "I don' really spar. I only evah' killed folks wit' this thing." He shrugged as he fell back to his stance, "So... Uh... Just try t'stop me?"
"If it gets too bad, I'll just activate my Epidermis armor," Sora replied. Her sword stance was unrefined, but leading with her right. The wakizashi was held a little too stiffly in her left hand.
"Hm," Rolf surged forward again, this time in less of a charge. He shot up to her with the same step, but sought footing as he made his strike. The Malifarian was no samurai, and his own grasp of the sword seemed to be very much self-taught. However, the look in his eyes were that of a killer, and his upswing harshly struck at Sora's leading guard. His opponent was forced to step back, her block was slightly too slow and the tip of the dark blade passed through where a shirt should have been cut but did not make contact with fabric.
Sora manipulated her body's magnetic field to follow the length of her katana as she lunged forward with her wakizashi and kept her katana up against the nodachi. Rolf stepped back in order to whip is blade off one to address the other. Each of the man's strikes seem to carry immense force, and the momentum of a zesuaium blade. He slashed off the woman's strike before it could close in, the blade coming perilously close to knicking his face.
In response, he used his larger blade to ward her off for a moment, and step back. His eyes were on her, his mind ticking again, but this time his analysis wasn't some slow process.
He made a jerking motion, impishly lashing his sword at her, but didn't advance. She ducked backwards as she brought up both her weapons to block the blade, being more mindful now of the length of the dark blade against her two shorter blades.
Sora watched Rolf's body cautiously, redistributing the weight in her stance. If she led in an attack, she would need to close the distance without being impaled first. She held her swords defensively and waited for the imp to press an attack again.
"Snrk," Rolf snickered, breaking the song of swords for a moment. He seemed to find something funny. "C'mon, Fruit-Basket, am I gunna' hafta' keep makin' tha' first move 'ere? I'm startin' t'think y'don't like me." That last word howled as Rolf struck at Sora's left, on the side of her wakizashi, with a sweeping back-slash. Slightly too slow, Sora spun sidways out of the path of the blade. Her delayed movments were rewarded with a gash of crimson on her arm, her subdermal armor preventing the blade from penetrating deeper. Blood spilled down her arm and trickled onto her hand, pooling around the ito of the handle, staining the red brading a deeper shade of red.
Mindful of the distance she had to close, she propelled herself forward to the right of the nodachi, using her wakizashi to push the blade down and away from her body as she thrust the katana's blade forward toward Rolf's chest. "You could say that I'm shy," she murmurred softly when she was almost in arm's reach of her opponent.
The sound of her heart was loud in her ears. Her eyes were singularly focused on the impish man she was sparring with, but she was searching for indications of a counter with her skin vision as well.
A loud, angry hiss of metal snarled at against Sora's sword as Rolf yanked his blade back to deflect the strike. The man's ability to parry was limited when she tried to control the length of the blade, but he maneaveured to compensate. Yet, she had locked him into an awkward stance, and his ronin style of fighting showed. Her blade hissed up his, and then found purchase on his shoulder, the cut sinking into flesh. The man clenched his teeth as sparks seemed to fly in his mind as well as off the blade.
In a fit of pure exertion, Rolf quit the exchange and fell back, letting his sword play to its advantage for the moment. Yet, as he glided back, and apparently confident she wouldn't chase, he sank his bloodied sword into the ground.
"Time!" announced the Imp, digging his hands at the base of his shirt. "Iss fuckin' hot in here." With a bit of grunting he disrobed his top half, and settled his shorn top before the wound could sully the pure, white panel. What revealed was a tanned, masculine chest, that looked like it belonged on a Nepleslian than any Yamataian man. Knicks, cuts, and scars of abjurations of the past were still healing on his muscular, Minkan frame. The newest one oozed blood gently over his pectoral.
Shnk! The Malifarian tugged his blade out of the ground, and held out his arms, goading her. "You cn' take yer shirt off too, if ya want." He started to cackle, bringing the blade back to two hands. "Take ya time, I'm patient."
The Ketsurui stepped back into a more relaxed stance as the Malifarian removed his shirt. She looked at his scars appreciatively, blushing slightly at the mention of her going topless. "Eh?" She dropped the volumetric projection of the Kyoto War College shirt to reveal a white form fitted piece of body armor with a gouge in the front between her breasts where the nodachi should have ripped her "shirt" earlier. The "vest" was a modified chest and back panel from the old Type 30A uniform, secured over her sides and shoulders with vecro straps to keep it tight against her body. It was also likely that the Nekovalkryja was only really wearing the gun belt and saya under volumetric projections.
"This will have to do," Sora responded shyly. The gash on her arm had stopped bleeding and was finally oozing. "Ready?"
"Eh heh heh heh, I love my country," mentioned Rolf, eying Sora unabashedly, a certain knowing stare in his eyes. His teeth clenched and he rolled his shoulder, then set himself up for a strike. There was a shift in his movement, planting his feet square and then hurtling himself forward again. It seemed that he didn't mind making the first moves; this one being his dark blade making a testing lash over to her right side, over the clear Katana.
Then, another shift, the initial strike was a fient; the blade bounced back over to her left instead. It was there she could see he had established a kind of pattern. His strikes, the real ones, carried immense force because he threw himself into the kill. In that, the imp was too expressive, unlike actual Samurai who made no indications of their movements.
His opponent smiled brightly, despite the intense concentration she had to maintain to keep focused on the fight. The hidden personnel assigned to protect her had mostly maintained radio silence as they watched the fight but were now shouting advice at her in her head. "Hey! Peanut galley, shush!" She had developed her own pattern of blocking between the katana and the wakaishi, but the length of the nodachi was still a problem. "They are getting excited, but they are being distracting.."
Sora pushed forward with her left and slashed at Rolf with the katana again, as she attempted to close the distance between them. The other swordsman kneeled at that moment, yanking his blade over his head to catch Sora's as she came down at him. As he had taken her left and held her right, the Malifarian seemed to reason one direction.
He did something else a Sumurai would likely have never done, and that was collide with her. As they tangled swords he threw himself into her, running his shoulder into her chest. The grace of the spar was lost for the moment as the madman shoved her.
Sora, surprised, fell backwards when the Imp slammed into her between her guard, his momentium carried her to the ground. The position was awkward with the swords still tied up together and the Mailfarian on top of her. He kept his lenghty blade of her own, and leaned in on her a bit more. In fact, he seemed to be cozying up.
"Well, hey 'dere, Fruit Basket," growled Rolf, looking down at her as he kept her pinned. Judging by his tone, despite the aggression, he was about as surprised as she was. "You go tumblin' wit' all da half-naked swordsmen in da woods, or izzat just me?"
The Ketsurui continued to blush, wrapping her long legs around the Malifarian's hips, "You're just lucky," she replied softly, as her ankles crossed, lightly brushing the back of his legs as she locked the man in her guard, pressing her hips up against his. The Imp tensed up as he seemed split his focus between two dangerous blades, and two dangerous legs. He pressed back against her, the two of them brushing up at hips.
His blade rattled, as it had no where to go. Carefully, he looked at the two swords, and then he looked at her. Growling, he bucked back against her, not too unhappy in their situation, but not quite tossing the towel.
"Well," gasped Rolf, starting to sweat a bit more, "I think I won."
Sora used her leg's grip on his hips to roll Rolf over and flip positions with him, so she was sitting on top of him, her legs pressed on either side of him., Her swords were still tied up in keepin the nodachi pinned. "You think so?" She replied between harsh breaths, her body was slick with sweat and she was still blushing. Both of them were turning into a bit of a mess in the humid garden.
"Looks like a win from where I'm sittin'," answered Rolf, the situation having flipped in more ways than one. The Minkan rode his hips up into hers again from emphasis, despite his muscles still tensing from trying to pull his sword. "If you ain't careful, ya gunna' have to worry 'bout a different sword."
"Ano.. if I get off, is this over?" She replied quickly not thinking about what she was saying. Her leg muscles still tensed as she kept her center of gravity against his hips to keep him from tossing her and her arms to keep his actual sword from coming up.
"That..." growled Rolf, trying to compete against her natural strength, "... depends on how much..." He jerked, grinding into her, and exerting himself as firmly as he could from his 'disadvantageous position', "fun yer havin', Fruit Basket." The Nodachi, its inscription of "Hitodama" easily seen, hissed against her twin blades.
She gasped softly, clearly torn as she kept him pinned beneath her. "this is.. fun..but, I won't force you at sword point," she finally shifted her weight and hopped back up and away to avoid Rolf's sudden upswing when she relented. She resheathed her daisho in the saya and wiped the sweat from her flushed red face.
Rolf, on the other hand, laid splayed out with his nodachi still clenched in his hand. His chest was heaving for a moment, and when he came to realize it, put his finger up to indicate he needed another moment. There was a bit of uncomfortable shifting in the grass, and then the stiff Maliafarian came to his feet. With a free hand he wiped the sweat off his brow, and then slapped it off on his chest.
"Good... uh... good fight," solved Rolf, giving her a thumbs up. He rolled his legs around a couple of times, "I still won, but good fight."
"Thank you for the fight. How's your shoulder?" She asked apologetically as she grabbed a towel that had suddenly appeared behind her. Sora patted the sweat from her face with the towel before she held it out for Rolf, if he wanted it. The Malifarian took it, and snapped it out before rubbing it over his chest.
"I've had worse," reasoned Rolf, dabbing around the bloodied areas. "Uh... Hows ya..." He waved his blade at her, "Y'baskets? Looks like I knicked ya a couple times, but I don't remembah nabbin' ya tween the tits."
Sora looked down at the gouge on her vest and unsecured the straps securing it on her right side and shoulder. "I think that was earlier. It would've cut through a shirt if I had been wearing one." She removed the vest, revealing a black lace bra underneath. There was no mark on her skin to indicate the blade had penetrated further. "I don't see anything. I think the vest and the subdermal stopped it."
"Huh," Rolf loomed over and stared down at her chest, unceremoniously inspecting her. "Heck of a vest." His finger reached out for a moment, but then paused. There was a moment of caution in his mind as he realized what exactly he was doing. He wrapped a knuckle on her chest.
The realization seems to strike him, once more, "You ain't wearin' nothin'."
The Nekovalkryja laughed awkwardly as the Minkan touched her chest with his knuckle. "Clothing tends to get in the way of the armor capabilities of this body. I like layering though," her skinned was flushed red again as she blushed. Sora appraised Rolf's face again, uncertain. "It's a weird world we live in."
She held her vest in her hands, intending to put it back on but the Imp was still too close.
"Ah, we did just start swordfightin' about five minutes ago," answered Rolf, a somewhat careful look in his eyes. "Yer also a Ketsurui, so... eh heh... Never tumbled around with a Ketsurui. Uh." He looked down, and then up, and then down, and then up again. Then, cleared his throat.
A savage little grin spread on his face, "Wanna' bang it out?"
The words echoed in her mind as she processed what it actually meant. She was still blushing. "Ano.. after a shower?" Sora replied quietly, sliding the vest back on and resecuring it in place. "Are you rooming with anyone?"
"Eh, wass 'dat gotta' do within anythin'?" asked Rolf, confused. He jabbed his finger over to the tree where he had laid out all of his things, "I already put out all m'stuff ova' 'dere."
"Ah! Okay, sure. What do they have you doing?" Sora replied quickly, slightly relieved and a litle disappointed that she misunderstood what he meant. It had been a while since she had been that physically close to someone.
"Just some, uh, 'extra' work. Specific stuff, history a this country, pullin' apart a treatise on ballistics, an' apparent 'Decipherin' tha' link between modern and traditional methods a war'." Rolf shrugged at that, his more worried face taking over. He leaned in and jabbed her with his elbow, clearly feeling a bit more comfortable with her, "But you'ze a Shoi, right? You probably know all about it."
Sora nodded with a smile, the flush starting to leave her cheeks. "Yes, I can help you with these, it shouldn't take too long. Are you writing formals papers or just short essays?" She turned the volumeric projection of the War college shirt on over her vest again, and started to walk over to the study spot he had chosen under the orange tree.
"Essays," groaned Rolf, lighting up in realization when Sora put her shirt back on. He looked around for his own, before it hailed a small reminder that the Neko had put a neat gash on it, and the Malifarian had done his own measure of work in gnashing it off. So he kept pace with the Shoi. "Hey, if ya don't mind me askin', what's a leg-huggin', sword-swingin' Shoi like y'self doin' 'ere? I thought 'dey sent us places after we graduated."
"I was assigned to the Sakura when I graduated originally but I was sent back a couple of times for additional training in other areas. I'm back this time because I want to keep up with my qualifications but I'm only here a couple days a week... I'm at Samurai House the rest of the time training," She sat down on the grass, adjusting her saya a bit. She removed the holder that held her hair up in a ponytail and let it spill down her back for a moment, before she smoothed it back into a ponytail again. There was a solitary blonde streak in her mane of red.
"With any luck, you won't need to come back here again. The War college is the default location to send a Ketsurui with no orders, it seems," She sighed a bit. "Essays shouldn't be too bad."
"Maybe if it ain't y'first rodeo," answered Rolf, having appeared to fully cool off after their recent bout, despite the continued perspiration from the humidity. "I haven't been t'school since before tha' Star Army, and that was..." The Malifarian started to count on his fingers, first to five, then, to seven, then to ten, then back to seven. "Eight years ago? I remember not bein' all that popular with the teachers, but the shit they lay on you 'ere is rediculous."
Rolf yanked up the darker tablet, which had already been started on, "A fuckin treatise on ballistics? Everythin' runs on AMES, an' lasers!"
"Some people still use solid projectiles. There's a lot of math that can happen but it's all about angles," Sora smiled as she tapped the gem on her bracelet again, to bring up a volumeric window showing a pistol firing in slow motion, with a line indicating the path of travel to a non-moving target before it blew a hole in it.
"I know they're wantin' us t'tick off some box, but I juss' don't see it," Rolf came to his knees, taking in the the display put on like a schoolboy. "What's the point a'learnin' all tha' math iffn' tha' MEGAMI or what'eva is already figurin' it all out? I ain't spent much time on board a bridge, but I know tha' Weps ain't burnin' scratch paper t'figure out each shot." The Malifarian ran a hand through his hair, the frustration rising again, "I knew it was gunna' be hard, but all this juss' don't seem necessary."
"Just understanding the basic principles of it in the event of you having to do it manually, I guess?" She shrugged. "That's the point of college, unnecessary stuff that you might forget in actual practice. But if they blessed you with extra work, then it's meant to be fluff. You'll just surprise them by the essays being amazing." Sora smiled brightly. "Do you want to start with the ballastics or history? I... can also help you polish your appearance and accent, if you want more refined officer manners."
"Listen, I talk propa' Yamataigo," Rolf ennunciated with as much clarity as he thought was necessary. "It only matta's 'ere in tha' college right? I ain't seen no propa' place for a fightin' offica' like me that needed no manners or propa'speakin'." A few thoughts seem to course his mind as he stroked his chin spike, "What good iss' refined offica' manners to a face like this?" The Malifarian spread a twisted grin on his face for a mild emphasis.
"You have a very strong accent," Sora replied delicately, "The decorum and proper speaking will follow you throughout your career. It matters more now than it did when you were enlisted." She reached up to touch the Malifarian's face. "There is nothing wrong with this face. I think the refinement would only make you more attractive." Her bright eyes met his blood red ones as she spoke, "You won't want that, would you?"
There was a bit of searching in the Neko's eyes, the savage of a man she now held was tamed a bit. Better yet, there was almost a sense of trust sparking in that stare. Moreover, coloring his face was a little embarassment, as if he should have known that all along.
"I guess," Rolf cast his gaze aside, the lowly man somewhat ashamed to look at her, "it wudn't 'urt."
Suddenly, she felt a pair of fingers pinch her cheek, and then tug. "So, while you do dat," his eyes were on her again, his shark-like grin spreading on his face, "I'll show ya how 'dey fight for real up in space. You teach me how t'talk t'people off tha' field, an' I'll help ya fit in on tha' field."
She laughed again as Rolf pinched her cheeks. "Okay, it's a deal." Sora lowered her hand again and continued to smile. "This should be fun, ne?" She looked down at his uniform jacket and frowned. "I owe you a new jacket, can't have you looking like a proper officer with blood on that white panel."
"It'd make me look legitimate," joked Rolf, fighting for his tattered uniform, "These kids probably nevah' even seen blood before." The Malifarian cackled, though began to plane off when he looked back at Sora. "Eh heh heh, probably not tha' best idea, yeah. You should probably consida' a new vest while ya at it, y'look like y'gunna pop outta' that one."
"It's supposed to be tight," Sora sheepishly replied. "The projections can only go out so far so it has to be that way. Many Eihei don't wear clothes at all." She added with a slight blush across her cheeks again. "I will have a new jacket sent to your room unless you want one right now."
"Nah, iss' fine, less in the way," cackled Rolf, picking up one of the datapads and sliding it unlocked. "Unless you find it, ah... What wassit? Ungentlemanly? Thass' tha' term right? You like y'fellas wrapped up," He thumbed to himself with his free hand, "Or raw?"
"....I don't understand the context of the last question?" Sora replied with a puzzled look on her face. Her face flushed a darker shade of red at the telepathic suggestions she was given for what it could mean. "Unbecoming would be a better term than ungentlemanly. A fresh jacket not stained would be better presentation. I'll have a new one brought here."
"Wrapped up it is," answered Rolf, stroking the spike on his chin, carefully analyzing the woman's expression. He then stared off into the greener areas surrounding them, there seemed to be something he was looking for. "So, what, like a butler, or somethin'?" He put his hands to his chest, gesturing towards his wound, "Is he bringin' some bandages, too?"
"I wouldn't say butler but employees, maybe? I have a first aide kit in here, I can treat your shoulder if you're ready for it. I still don't know what you mean by wrapped or raw though? The only definitions I know in regards to that terminology are... sexual in nature?" Sora stood up and walked towards an alcove just beyond the orange tree for where the first aide kit was kept and grabbed the box. She turned and sat down in front of Rolf again.
"Eh? Don't know why ya'd say that," He leaned over to reach for the cut uniform and draped it over his chest. "Wrapped."
Then, he set it aside, and smacked his chest, "Raw."
Once more he covered himself, "Wrapped."
Another time he settled it on the grass, pointing his chest, "Raw."
The Imp gave her a mild shrug, a duplicitous grin plastered on his ridiculous face, "I don't see why ya got sex on tha' brain, Fruit Basket. I mean," With such temerity, he waved his hands over himself, "I could see why, but c'mon, we're studyin' 'ere."
"Yes, we have to work on the slang," she murmurred with the blush on her cheeks. "So for the purposes of treatment, raw... err, no shirt." Sora clarified as she opened the kit. "I can imagine the chaos you must cause in class with your slang. You are... unique."
"Yeah, I'm pretty much tha' class jewel, shinin' my unique brand a'wisdom all ova'," answered Rolf proudly, puffing his chest out with a bit of pride. There was a wider sense that he understood how terrible he was, but he made no show of it. "'Dey don't seem t'appreciate it like you do, y'know. They're mostly, 'Shaddup Eastwood-san', 'You're bein' rude Eastwood-san', 'I'mma tell my parents on ya Eastwood-san'."
With that little tirade, he sighed, giving her a bit of a more appreciative look, "I'm thinkin' iffn' your brand a'manners tolerates folks like me, I'm willin' t'learn it."
Sora pulled an alcohol wipe from the kit and moved closer to Rolf so she could get a closer look at and clean the cut on his shoulder. "A lot of what I have to teach you is tact, when to say something and when not to.. or how to say something politely that is actually really rude." She gently swabbed the wound on his shoulder to clean the blood away to see just how deep she had cut him. The cut turned out to be somewhat painful looking, her sword had sawed a neat gash on his shoulder. It wasn't really an injury, but his eyes dilated when she put the alcohol swab on it.
"Yoooour," grunted the man, "tellin' me 'dat... I can insult people an' not get in trouble?"
"If you do it right, Imp-san," the nekovalkyjra said sweetly as she set the swab down and pulled on gloves. "I will stitch this shut so your body can finish healing it faster, so please, stay still." She picked up a needle and thread from the kit, threading the needle easily. "It may hurt a bit so please, forgive me, Eastwood-san, ne?"
"You're... gunna stitch it?" His eyes gave her a bit of a leery stare, before looking at his shoulder. "Iss' not 'dat bad, right?" The Imp hadn't quite caught the Imp comment, and if he did, he may have been too focused on the surgical equipment to notice. "Iss' juss' a little papah' cut."
"It'll just be a little prick, maybe something you are used to, ne? It's a cut from a zesuaium katana, it's a deeper gash than a paper cut," she replied as she placed her left hand on his unwounded shoulder to steady him. Sora carefully and quickly pushed the needle through the cut skin on either side of the gash and threaded the wound shut.
"Not so bad, is it, Eastwood-san?" She calmly asked without looking away from the wound on his shoulder.
"Not at all," choked Rolf, his head thrown back for a moment. His hand was quivering a bit from the sensation of the needle, and each tiny prick. He took a deep breath and blinked off the milder sensations, before casting her a frustrated glance. "I guess all 'dat medical trainin' makes it easy t'pick fights wit' strangers, eh?"
"Most won't fight me once they realize who my grandmother is, " She replied softly as she tightened the threading and tied it. She set the needle in the kit and cut the extra thread. The medical officer let go of Rolf's opposite shoulder to finish dressing the wound. Sora applied a light bandage with a healing ointment over the stitches. "So you are the first to take me up on a fight, Eastwood-san."
"There, all done," She looked at her patch job for a moment before looking at Rolf's face. "You okay?"
"I'm great," grit the man through closed teeth, blinking his eyes again as she finished essentially tying up his shoulder. "Just a little pricks, right? Eh heh heh heh." Rolf gave a small jab in the side, and circled his hand around, as if spinning something. "I guess bein' a princess can't be dat' bad iffn' it means y'get t'fight whoeva' ya want."
He cast a glance at his shoulder, "Providin' y'put'm back t'getha when you patch'm up. Eh? Ha ha ha!" His cackling was simply demonic, "But seriously, thanks. 'Dis means we can get back to da' more physical stuff a lot sooner."
"It does," she removed her gloves and placed all of the wrappers inside them before closing the kit again and setting it beside her. "All of these essays are due tomorrow?"
"Eh, day 'afta' tomorrow, since dats how da' classes line-up, but I'm pretty sure I'm gunna' catch tha' same heat from my instructa's tomorrow." Rolf groaned, rolling his eyes back as if that were the end of him right then. "Probably gunna' keep whippin' me like a dog 'til I graduate, honestly."
"Well, I am only at the campus a couple days a week but, since the Samurai house and the palace are nearby... I can come by in the evenings after training to help you. Or, we can do a video call, if that works for you, Eastwood-san?" she suggested after a few moments of contemplation. Chizuri-sensei didn't consume all of her time with training so it would be doable. Her guards were going to be bored but that's better than people trying to kill their charge.
The Malifarian blinked, as if someone had given him strange news. Once more she got one of those questioning looks, a kind of look someone got when they were telling lies. Those red eyes of his were churning thoughts again.
"You're serious, you're gunna' do all dat?" asked the man, incredulous, "I mean, thass' a lotta' ya free time, y'know?"
"If.. you would like me to. I really don't do too much in my free time away from training, so this would be a good change for me," She replied shyly. "Most of my friends are gone so I don't have much of a life outside training." Sora pursed her lips together unsure, she looked at Rolf's face, hopeful that he wouldn't tell her no. His immediate answer was to scratch his head, appearing a little unsure.
"Iffn' it'll make ya happy, sure," answered Rolf, his savvy grin spreading on his face, almost as if he felt like he was doing her a favor. "You're tha' only person 'ere who ain't turned 'dere nose up at me yet." After a second, he took a mild glance around the area. "Maybe we could meet otha' places, gitcha' outta tha greenhouse and Lonely-Neko House."
He shrugged, smiling all the while as if he were spinning a deal, "All work n'no play makes Sora a dull girl, eh? Eh heh heh heh."
The nekovalkyrja blinked as the Malifarian agreed. She pounce hugged him, "Thank you, Eastwood-san!"
"Oubh! Tha' shoulda!," yowled Rolf as he was taken up by the Ketsurui. He hissed for a passing second, and then sighed. The sudden jump had taken him by surprise, seeing how timid the quiet Neko had been before.
Given a little time, he returned the gesture, patting her head. "You actin' like you ain't doin' me a favor."
She looked up at him with a sheepish smile again and let go, recomposing herself. "Gomen.. I almost forgot about your shoulder." Sora looked at the bandage again, hoping she didn't pop the stitches, because she would then have to resew it again. "I would be but it'll be fun for me and gives me something else to do."
"First thing, we're gunna' find ya somethin' t'do dat ain't sword-fightin' an' studyin'," decided Rolf, before eying one of the tablets, "Well, second thing, but it'll do." He rolled his shoulder, the wound feeling relatively intact. The realization of his current position seemed to set in, and he thought of something else, "You said you got people watchin' ya, right? 'Dey watch ya all tha' time?"
"Most of the time. After the incident a couple years ago and the death of my...yojimbo, they are with me whenever I am out," Sora replied carefully. "You won't notice them for the most part. Ah, there's your new jacket," she looked beyond Rolf towards one of the benches at the beginning of the grove, it had a Shoi Kohesei white type 35 jacket sitting neatly on top of it.
"Tha' fuck, how'd that get there?" Rolf's eyes widened, his ears winking up at down at the sight of the jacket. The Malifarian was a bit surprised, but also a bit uneasy at how he hadn't heard someone come in. He looked at Sora, and then the jacket, then Sora again, "You got ghost butlers?"
"They are stealthed... and they are not butlers, they are guards but they are around," Sora replied with a shrug. "I takes some getting used to." She moved a litte bit away from the man so she wasn't on top of his lap and pointed to the tablets. "So pick your poison, I guess, do you want to start on the ballistics essay or the history essay first, Eastwood-san?"
"Juss' call me Rolf," noted the Imp, moving on down to pick up his jacket, marveling the fact that he had just been delivered a jacket by a ghost butler. He wiped his chest of first, and the began to slip it on, "All my classmates call me Eastwood-san, I don' like how it sounds."
He plodded back over and sat down, "Ballistics, by the way, might as well start on somethin' interestin'."
"Rolf-san." Sora replied. "Okay, we can start from the very beginning with construction history with black powder or with combustion theory?" She suggested as she tapped her multi-function bracelet to query the War college's virtual library for sources.
"From tha' start?" Rolf proposed, a bit confused, but still following, "That's pretty much some serious elf-era stuff, yeah? When everythin' was killin' erry'body on this planet."
"Pretty much. Early projectile technology was originally as simple as a bow and arrow but evolved to gunpowder that exploded as a result of a spark produced by a metal object striking a plate at the end of a metal tube. The explosion pushing up a round ball through the tube in the opposite direction of the explosion towards a target. There we have the first projectile metal based firearms," Sora explained, using videos played through her bracelet's volumeric projection function to illustrate what she was talking about. "The chemical reaction of the explosion will move to where it has the most room to expand, so it's like a shape charge in that way...."
