the unsung.

plum blossoms. - epilogue

    Kicking the grass as he arrived, Guanyu stalked up towards a house, further removed from the city, surrounded by trees and flowers. It was bright and colorful, like a mural of stone, lively outside just as much as it was within. His last stop before returning to Amah's.

    A place to stay away from prying eyes anytime a job needed doing in Singapore, Xiaokai and Michio called it Safe House 79, acquired sometime during their shared childhood to store weaponry and other resources. But to Guanyu, it had always been Auntie Meixing's.

    There was something here, absolutely essential, that he had to pick up. Amah had been postponing its fetching for years, and insisted that Guanyu bring it home now. She would be very disappointed indeed if it eluded her grasp once more, poorly hidden from her sight by someone who wished to keep it from her for longer than they should've.

    Upon stepping on the front porch, a sort of panic immediately flooded Guanyu's head, brought about by the barely-muffled screaming of children from within the home —

    Just then, his uncle answered the door.

    "Oh." Said the man, who'd always had a plain demeanor and general energy which somehow very much exuded that of a rectangle. His eyes were wide with surprise, and yet also completely unfeeling.

    Suddenly, a sort of fight-to-the-death erupted between the two as they pushed against the door from both sides with equal force, either just as disgruntled and frustrated, Guanyu desiring nothing more than plain and simple entry, his uncle adamantly denying it.

    "Uncle Genjo!" Guanyu groaned against the wooden panel, digging his heels into the floor in an effort to push back, Amah's instructions echoing in his head.

    "No, tenk-yew." Genjo murmured, voice unchanged, as always.

    "UNCLE." Guanyu grunted, "Let me in."

    "We are okay. Tenk-yew." Genjo reiterated, comparatively effortless.

    Left with no other choice, Guanyu's eyes glowed Aurically and he shoved his uncle backwards with some finality.

    For a moment, one bone-chillingly awkward moment, perhaps more awkward than anything Guanyu had ever endured before (which was saying a lot), they locked eyes and stood, barely a meter apart, both disheveled and shaken up, Genjo clad in a flowery pink apron above a fluorescent yellow turtleneck (an odd fashion choice, but a fashion choice nonetheless), Guanyu's mouth curled downwards, his nose scrunched, in an expression of pure appall.

    "Oh, Guanyu, hello. I did not see you there."

    "Uncle Genjo, you've just spent the last minute trying to shove me off your porch."

    "Yes, but I did not see you there." Genjo insisted, slowly. "My favorite nephew, what brings you here?"

    "I'm your only nephew."

    "Yes. My ring-bearer. My favorite."

    Raising a brow, Guanyu shook his head, determined, "You know why I'm here."

    Genjo's voice grew light, like an aerosol can, "I haven't the slightest clue — "

    "THEN WHY DID YOU FIGHT ME?"