Soukoku One-Shots

White Wings and Wicked Heavens Pt. 5

Age 22

Chuuya had been alive for over two centuries now, and he had never experienced such an unprofessional kidnapping.

"Tell us where she is!"

Chuuya eyed the man, unamused. He'd said his name was Gen'emon, head of his family, and Chuuya supposed it made sense upon first glance. The man was broad, muscular, and covered in scars. The only problem was that he clearly had no idea what he was doing.

"I have no idea who you're talking about."

Gen'emon put all his strength into a punch to the shoulder. The shoulder.

It hurt, granted, but it would have hurt a lot more if the man had punched him anywhere else.

"Give up the information right now before I beat you to a pulp," he snarled, spitting all over Chuuya's face.

What he had gathered in the past hour or so that he had been tied to this chair was that a family, the Kashimuras, had kidnapped a young woman from another family, the Tsushimas. Evidently, the Kashimuras had red hair similar to Chuuya's, so the Tsushimas assumed he had something to do with the young woman's kidnapping.

"I told you I don't know anything about this, dipshit."

Another bare-knuckled punch, this time to his ribs. A better place than the shoulder, Chuuya supposed, but he didn't even think he'd bruise.

"Then perhaps it's time I make you learn," Gen'emon hissed, spitting all over Chuuya's face.

He didn't want to cause violence where he didn't have to, but that was the final straw. Besides, Chuuya had other places he should be right now, and being locked in a basement caught in a family feud wasn't it.

Chuuya slipped a blade from his sleeve—one of twelve he kept on him for situations like this—and sliced the rope wrapped around his middle. Gen'emon's eyes widened, but Chuuya didn't give him enough time to do anything about it when he lunged forward and punched him square in the jaw.

Gen'emon stumbled backward, bright red blood spattering his lips and chin. When he grinned, Chuuya could tell his jaw was broken. "You pack a punch, huh? Didn't expect that from a shrimp like yourself."

Chuuya clenched his fists. He was supposed to help people, dammit, not split their lips and break their jaws. He was only wasting time.

Then again, the bastard called him a fucking shrimp.

"Try taking some notes," Chuuya barked, ducking below the large fist aimed at his nose. Gen'emon stumbled, caught on uneven footing, and Chuuya straightened just in time to see the realization dawn in his beady eyes, just before Chuuya roundhouse kicked him straight in the nose.

A sharp crack! echoed through the basement as Gen'emon slammed against the wall. Blood splattered it where his head hit the stone, and then he thudded to the ground in a pile of bent-backward limbs. Chuuya did feel a bit bad when he saw the blood start to ooze out from beneath his cheek, mingling with the drool that dribbled from the side of his open mouth.

Oh well. It served the bastard right—maybe he could use this opportunity to learn how to actually make someone hurt, Chuuya figured. Then again, he'd have to wake up first.

As if on cue, Chuuya's wrists suddenly began to sting. He held up his hands, scowling, and scowled further when he saw the band of reddened skin around each of his wrists, just beginning to blister. That was his fault for not paying enough attention, he supposed, but it was still a pain. If he ran into Yosano at his next destination, maybe she would help him out.