From Sendai to Tokyo (Xenica, Open)

[attr="class","castleonthehill"]There went Shiroishi-Zaō Station, one of seven rail terminals the high-speed Shinkansen was scheduled to pass over on its way to Ōmiya, the first intended stopping point before Tokyo proper would be reached. Considering how fast these bullet trains operated on a daily basis, it wouldn't be more than a small handful of minutes before the second passing point, Fukushima, would come and go like leaves on the wind.

Saruyuki tilted his neck to the left, then the right; his vertebrae produced a couple of gruesome popping sounds that elicited several concerned glares from a few salarymen, but rather than allow them to live up to their reputation in the figurative sense, he paid them no attention. He was prepared for a vigorous workout this afternoon, something no guy in a suit ever gave any serious thought to.

A suspicious vibrating rumble erupted from beneath an older woman's portly frame, lasting no less than two whole seconds. Unfortunately, Saruyuki happened to be within close proximity to the lady, who seemed virtually unaware of the atrocious cabbage-scented odor that now lingered near her, even as a collective of people visibly made faces of disgust and moved to conceal their noses from such a foul olfactory assault. Some of them even attempted to shift their figures just enough to get away from this human tuba.

Shit, I think I'm gonna be sick... Just as Saruyuki gagged silently and lifted the collar of his school blazer up over his lower face, he captured a glimpse of somebody in the crowd who, for all intents and purposes, dressed herself up for the sake of standing out. American-style clothes, shredded jeans, and a pair of striking red eyes looking all around her like a fly searching for rotten meat. And from the way her coat pocket seemed to produce faint traces of light, she had probably just finished using her phone.

Well, good thing she wasn't anywhere close to this old windbag. Assuming the smell wouldn't travel throughout the rest of the train, that is.

This was going to be a long ride...

[attr="class","castleonthehill"]Right as Kōriyama Station was about to make its visual approach, the girl in Western attire throws out a disrespectful insult to the poor old woman, who meekly averts her gaze. Saruyuki narrows his own, but only for a moment; he considered tossing one back to the flippant interlocutor, much like how a baseball catcher would if he harbored a grudge against the team pitcher, however this would certainly have caused an uproar among the other passengers. No need to throw more snakes into the pit. Not after that last time he took the train...

Thankfully, the hideous aroma manages to dissipate before it could offend even more people—somebody took the liberty of cracking open a window pane several centimeters wide. Even the subtle whiff of Nishigō's industrial machinery plants proved to be far more tolerable than the deadly flatulence of an older woman way past her prime.

Damn, Nishigō, already? That meant the Shinkansen was bound to pass Shin-Shirakawa Station. Three more and the train would already be unloading passengers at Ōmiya, skip over Ueno, and then they would finally reach the capital. Silently, Saruyuki offered his faceless savior a thankful nod, unaware yet unconcerned of who it may have been.

With a deep breath of fresh air (relatively speaking), the blond boy tried to zone himself out of the humdrum and into a more uplifting state of thought. There was training to be done, muscles to be developed, strength to be achieved. After watching The Flash Legs last night, Saruyuki felt utterly compelled to perfect Tao-liang Tan's deadly Shaolin kicks as best as his own teenage body could muster. 

Here's hoping he didn't have a repeat incident like last time – were it not for the help of a couple of girls in the Sewing Club, he would have had to explain to his old man how he came to bear a huge rip in the posterior of his slacks...

[attr="class","castleonthehill"]The next station to come and pass was Nasu-Shiobara, leaving approximately less than one-hundred and fifty kilometers before the Shinkansen liner reached the capital of Tokyo. As the minutes elapse, Saruyuki mentally runs through a number of choreographed sequences, picking and choosing which moves to practice and which ones to leave for another session. Even without the physical act itself, he never stopped practicing, never quit refining his technique.

Some fifty kilometers later, give or take a couple, and there goes Utsunomiya. A few hushed whispers from some other passengers graze passed the blond schoolboy's ears like bullets that missed their mark. Some were male, others female, but none of them pertained to Saruyuki – none that he was able to distinguish for himself, to say the least. He was too busy thinking of how to generate enough momentum to perform a bicycle kick.

Oyama breezes by, but it would be a large handful of minutes before the train made its first stop at Ōmiya Station. A tiny amount of rail turbulence rocks the train's interior, for lack of a better way to put it, causing Saruyuki to jiggle about along with the rest of the folks, nearly pushing him into a stock trader standing parallel to him. "Sorry," he apologizes with blunt courtesy, receiving an affirmative nod from the gentleman in the pressed suit before they both returned to the insular bubbles of their own thoughts.

"Ōmiya Station, now arriving." The intercom repeats this announcement a second time for the passengers still attempting to shake themselves out of the trance-like state that hung over their sholders like weighted cloaks. As the Shinkansen slows itself on the initial approach, the momentum shifts accordingly, causing the train's riders to lean slightly; this, too, was the norm for commuters. Once the liner came to a full stop, as marked by an audible hiss below the tracks, a second message blares over the speakers: "Ōmiya Station. Please exit the train in an orderly fashion."

Almost immediately, people begin to scramble their way out of the cramped cabin space as soon as the doors slide open. Saruyuki breathes in relief, yet keeps himself stationary to allow the crush of commuters passed without resistance – this included the portly old woman with the flatulence problem, as well as the fellow who nearly got a chestful of Saruyuki's face. In fact, the seats had been vacated just enough to grant Saruyuki his own spot to sit down, which he took without hesitation—

—only to be matched in both thought and action by the black-haired girl wearing American attire, whom apparently thought it appropriate to express her sense of rebellious delinquency by striking up a random conversation with somebody she didn't know, which just so happened to be Saruyuki himself. Whatever floats her boat, he guessed.

"Join the club. I'd offer a uniform, but you seem like you have that covered." Saruyuki said with an insouciant shrug, casually checking his weathered and worn cell phone for any messages which may have been thrown his way during the ride from Sendai. Good, his dad wasn't blowing up his inbox yet.

Ten minutes, that was how much time the Shinkansen would stay docked in Ōmiya before it was scheduled to depart for Tokyo. While Saruyuki was in no real rush to get to the capital, the abundance of passengers coming in and going out made it that much easier for a couple of young men to slip into the cabin undetected – in fact, it would appear as if they were actually trying to hide from the shaggy-haired boy and his yankī girl counterpart.

"You headed for Tōkyō, too?" Saruyuki asked, seeing as how the young woman chose not to depart when there was still plenty of time left to do so. And while it was still fresh on his mind, he followed up with another question, "If you don't mind me asking, what brought you to Sendai? Tanabata isn't gonna happen for another four or five months." That was the default reason people traveled to Sendai, anyway.

Either that, or she must have some kind of hidden passion for the Sengoku period.

[attr="class","castleonthehill"]Saruyuki paid little mind to the young woman's vague replies, seeing as how he didn't exactly have any valid reason to invade on her privacy, which was strange, considering her own apparent willingness to thoughtlessly butt in on his business. But that last comment of her's was utterly gratuitous.

"I've heard hamsters make scarier threats than that," Saruyuki rebuffs without skipping a beat, folding both arms into his chest as he brought one leg up to cross it over the other, "I ain't no tourist." Like she could claim to have any sense of awareness about what was going on in his life...

The Shinkansen's pneumatic doors slide closed upon the intercom's last signal to board; thankfully, there weren't as many commuters as there had been when the two teenagers left Sendai. Within seconds, another sudden jerk causes the train to buckle, and they were off for the capital, which sat thirty kilometers away, just beyond the reach of Ueno Station.

But Saruyuki couldn't shake the feeling that this chick was actually trying to get under his skin, as if she were really just an evil alien parasite in the guise of a human girl. Closing his eyes, the boy's brow scrunches inward as he meditates on a few postures and stances he intended on practicing later, hoping it would be enough inspiration to keep his mind off of her earlier dig about running away from home—

If only he could, though.

[attr="class","castleonthehill"]Did you run away? If that's true, then you should probably just turn around and go home.

Saruyuki could practically feel the yankī child's comments smoldering beneath his skin like hot steaming coals. Her insinuations that he was a runaway were harsh enough on their own, but telling him to abandon this course of action and go back did nothing but remind the schoolboy of his old man; such remarks were always deprecating for Saruyuki, who just wanted to be left alone and go about his business like everybody else. He scoffs at the stunning similarities between the two people, this strangely-dressed girl and his own father. Narcissists...

It wasn't until the Shinkansen sped through Ueno Station that the female interloper continued her prying with even more offhanded questions, only this time, she happened to make mention of rumors regarding the supposed existence of giant monsters and other such phenomena.

Wait, she wasn't kidding, was she?

Oh.

Oh.

"You mean like Gappa, Daimajin and King Ghidorah?" Saruyuki couldn't help but let off a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head at her attempts to be entirely serious with him, "And I thought I was the guy who watched too many movies." Could she really blame him for being skeptical? Probably, considering she was the one who brought the subject up in the first place. Nevertheless, he wasn't wholly ignorant of the topic – Saruyuki might not pay much attention to current events, but he wasn't some cave-dwelling troll without Internet access. "I dunno, I might have heard a comment once or twice? It's not like I pay any attention to that kinda stuff, I got my own problems ta deal with."

The tall male figure in priestly clothes stiffens his back, while the cluster of schoolboys several seats further down hawked Saruyuki and his conversational partner from between the numerous other passengers, practically glaring at him with predatory intent.

"Look," Saruyuki says to the girl, being conscientious enough to avoid addressing her in the diminutive sense like she had done with him, "I dunno what you're tryin' to convince me of here, but I'm pretty sure what you're smoking is a five-year prison sentence just waitin' to happen." Ten if she also happened to be growing, which, good luck with that; Japan's anti-cannabis laws were notoriously strict.

The Shinkansen would be arriving in the administrative Chiyoda ward shortly, meaning the American-dressed girl would have to probably board another train just to get around the immense foot traffic. That is, assuming she was like every other person in this country and had change to spare for a second ticket. Saruyuki didn't mind the extra walking distance, really, as the day was still plenty young enough and the exercise was good for his leg strength.

[attr="class","castleonthehill"]Saruyuki shrugs in response to the girl's resignation, being careful to brace himself in his seat as the Shinkansen grinds its way to a full stop with a final hiss, wrought iron wheels scraping against the tracks below like nails on a chalkboard. Her parting comment is delivered with the same passive indifference, but the blond schoolboy yields enough courtesy to give the other teenager a mild wave of the hand before standing up to depart from the train's interior.

Chiyoda. The district reeked with the stench of bureaucracy, Saruyuki thought with a light frown, but he wasn't here to file administrative reports. It was merely a halfway point in his journey to Shibuya, which sat a couple of kilometers away from the ward but could be walked to without too much difficulty, provided he was smart enough to avoid the areas which had congested traffic. Never skip leg day.

While Saruyuki ducked and weaved through the crowds of people to reach the staircase leading outside, the terminal's lighting system went haywire for no less than several seconds, causing him to pause just long enough for his instincts to send him a neural impulse to defend himself. As if to validate these gut sensations, the voice of that girl from earlier screamed out, possibly to someone else, but it was all Saruyuki needed to swivel on his feet with his arms raised—

—A fist connects with his forearms, and in that same instant, Saruyuki uses one of his own hands to thrust forward and shove his attacker backwards with just enough upper body strength to get a good look at his face. If looks could kill, Saruyuki would have dropped dead on sight, but they weren't just after him – they had to drag the other girl into this mess, too. Instantly, his teeth clench together into an open scowl, and his fingers curl into tightly balled fists.

"Goddammit, Akamori, what the hell do you want?!" Saruyuki delivers his question with venomous outrage, adopting a stance reminiscent of the one which all Wing Chun practitioners took up before a fight was about to begin. "I told you and your goon platoon to leave me alone!"

"You're in no position to make demands, Takemitsu," shouts the bulky schoolboy with arrogant affect, brushing his school blazer as though his chosen victim hadn't actually managed to stave him off, smugly pointing a thumb over at Xenica and the other delinquent punks that surrounded her, "Not if you don't want anything bad to happen to your little lady friend over there."

A thinner, lankier student skillfully summons a Balisong knife from his pocket and flourishes it for the both of them to see, prompting an irritated growl from Saruyuki. "You're a goddamn scumbag, Akamori! Stop draggin' other people into my issues!" he screamed.

"Too late, asshole. This is what you get for makin' me look like an idiot last week!" Akamori bellows with bravado. It was a small but noteworthy glimpse into Saruyuki's tumultuous life, and it was a scenario he had never planned for, but regretted all the same.