あの日の空

“Ha ha, I see! So he’s yours.” The pensive expression across the man’s face spoke volumes. More so when the dog in Saber’s arms came into view, morphing into something that could be called a smile, were it not for the aura that fell off his shoulders. Was this the so called ‘killing-intent’ he’d heard so much about? No, nevermind, there were more important things at hand. For instance: “The resemblance is uncanny! Well, I have heard dogs take after their owners, but to this extent… Oh, ah, here you are.”

The petite pup returns to the warm arms of its owner, and Saber is safe for another day. “Does he have a name?”

@badend​

izou stiffens, once again pierced by the unspoken question of why do people keep saying he looks like this mutt? the assassin was well aware of his nicknames in life. loyal to his teacher, loyal to his master — he had undoubtedly been takechi’s dog. but, even with that being the case, izou couldn’t understand how he resembled something like this, so harmless and small. hell, the only reason he had started to look after the damn animal was because that foreigner had wanted him to ( even izou couldn’t deny a child looking at him with such expectations in their eyes ). 

badend replied to your post: hopeled·:       “ Hmm….. I’ve never seen him eat…

please include a return to sender option on this mess thank u

            “I insist you take it, Sri Izou. It is the least I can do for your help the other day.”

“ Place the order with this machine, and then it’s printed on a ticket. I think. ” as if to demonstrate, and perhaps to learn how to use it himself, izou punches a finger against the screen of the ticket machine, which prompts some text to appear. alright, this was easy enough. size preference? did something like that really matter? and then — “ Toppings, huh. Do ya have a preferenc... wait. ” 

izou stops in his tracks, turning to look at the berserker with a confused expression. this had all happened rather suddenly, he would admit, but now the assassin was questioning why he was helping this guy in the first place. the out-of-place servant he had found staring at the screen like a lost animal. he did like to prattle on about being a god, if he remembered correctly. so it stood to reason that——

“ I dunno what ya hoped to accomplish, examinin’ me like this. ”

he wasn’t going to try his luck testing the limits of a berserker, rational as the nurse may be at times ( if you could call this rational ), though izou still wasn’t pleased to have had her quite literally grab him off the street and ‘initiate the examination‘. honestly, it had almost made the assassin’s heart jump out of his throat. this woman — she was pretty terrifying. he’d hate to see what’d happen if he was actually injured, impossible as that may be. it was ridiculous to think that the trash of this city could match his prodigal swordplay. 

    the night didn’t really suit someone like her. she’s heard that before– it was a place more fit for people who knew a weapon like the back of their hand and always found a dark red staining their clothes. not for someone like her, who spent most of her time in the sun. who had hands better suited for healing and helping that came with a warm smile and a shoulder to lean on if need be. she did enjoy the light of day, but there was something about night. when the sun sets, she feels a bit more freer to let her shoulders droop, the smile fall. to let just a peak of that weight and weariness that clung to her like a second skin make an appearance. after all, the night doesn’t tell. it keeps your secrets safe and secure– it doesn’t question and it doesn’t judge.

          it offered a moment of reprieve from everything. and she was just a human, underneath all the feats she’s accomplished and hellfire she’s walked through. the night gave her a chance to think, and with that, came dwelling on things. and that hardly led to any good.

     “ Hey, it’s not as if I ask for it most of the time. But it’s not like I can’t handle myself– I’ve learned a few things, you know. “ but she’s not arguing or trying to make a point. it’s more lighthearted in nature, a simple passing comment. “ Plus, with you here, what’s there to be scared of? “

     the weight on her head is there and then gone in an instant and Ritsuka is quiet a moment before she nods slowly. she wasn’t looking for company, but it was a welcome distraction to the thoughts that plagued her. whether intentional on the Izou’s part or not, she was thankful for it. there was nothing wrong with taking the time to think, but staying lost in one’s head for too long was never good. she was no exception to that.

               “ Okay. I can’t guaruntee I’ll be the best tour guide, but I could try. “

amused, izou snorts at her weak protest, hand instinctively tugging his scarf over the lower half of his face. a habit. she’s trailing alongside him now, and he’s content. much more so than when he had been unable to find her upon arriving in this place.

“ — never be satisfied with learnin’ a few things. Take advantage of Servants who’re willin’ to teach. Milk ‘em for all they’re worth. ” 

servants that aren’t him is a thought that claws at the back of his mind, the ever-festering reminder that he wasn’t anything more than a killer. someone like that could never be a teacher. she could never learn anything worthwhile from a hitokiri whose swordplay was based on a berserker-like form, a method only suited to the man named hitokiri izou. takechi-sensei had tried to drill the importance of stance into him once izou had at last been given the chance to train in a dojo ( it’s a necessity, izou-kun, you should never underestimate the basics ) but why should he care?  if he was capable of cutting down a man using his own techniques, made all the stronger by borrowing from other styles he had conquered, then what reason was there for him to fall back on anything lesser? 

he was above them for a reason. so, at the very least, he could make good on looking out his master. she was right about that much.

FEAR.

In longing, you feel fear. You're uncertain and wary of what your feelings may betray you to. You don't enjoy the feeling of not being in control of your own self, you ask, "why can't I just stop?" There's a cold feeling in your chest, your hands become clammy, you know you behold this desire too strongly, but the feeling goes nowhere. Rationally you think, "this desire is foolish and I don't need it," but that doesn't work for long. Secretly you yearn for that you seek, trying to hide it even from your own self, fearing that if you even let yourself know what you crave, nothing will be the same. Sometimes it's lonely. Sometimes you wish you could tell someone.... anything. You reference it vaguely in conversations, a joke that only makes sense to you, but is actually the longing veiled in fear. Your desire is forbidden, unattainable, by your own standards or someone else's, but it lurks in the back of your mind, persistent, deafening in the way that silence often is. 

    she knows what’s coming, can already tell by that stare of his. something along the lines of ‘ it’s dangerous being out this late, what are you thinking? ‘. she understood where it came from, that even if it was worded harshly or in a not-so-gentle manner, it was born from concern. this city was not Chaldea. it was not a place where she could walk along the halls at night without a single worry of harm befalling her. it was a place that held all sorts of dangerous people that came out when the sun set, but she wasn’t worried. 

                    what lurked in the dark here had nothing on what she’s already seen.

    “ I know, bu– OW.” whatever she planned to say was forgotten as she raises a hand to rub at her right cheek, which now stung. lips pull into a frown as she narrows her gaze at the Assassin, exhaling teresly. the stinging would go away in no time at all, but still. who enjoys getting their cheek tugged at? her hand drops back to her side and she sighs quietly.

      “ I’m fine. ‘m just not feeling like sleeping tonight.“ this was, unfortunately, one of those nights where sleep seemed to evade Ritsuka at every turn, no matter how hard she tried. late night walks have quickly become routine for her, which greatly messed up the time she actually did fall asleep. but she doesn’t complain much. she’s had to stay up many nights before to keep watch, so this is no different. 

   and besides, she’s ran into a familiar face, so it wasn’t like it was all bad. so she gives a small smile. “ Why are you walking around so late?  “

“ The night better suits a hitokiri. ” assassins whose hands were permanently stained red did not suit the light of day. “ And ya deserved that, y’know ” 

though even as he says it, there is no bite, no cruel intent in his tone. instead, his voice is quiet, conscious of the hour and of his master’s thoughts. didn’t feel like sleeping, was it? seemed more likely that she wasn’t able to. 

izou did not consider himself a smart man. he would never dare to assume he knew what ritsuka was thinking, nor any other person for that matter. after all, the assassin had no trouble in admitting he wasn’t good with people. he could never fully ascertain their intentions regardless of how close they became — not ryouma’s, not takechi’s, not even his own feelings. but izou does know one thing very well, and that is that being left alone to wallow in negativity does no good. not to anyone. lonely nights spent in tosa were a common thing during the last few years of his life, a time where alcohol had been his sole companion rather than those who were supposed to be his allies. 

his master didn’t deserve to go through anything like that, to feel that kind of emptiness. not when she was only ever full of good intentions. 

“ — Host club? ” 

the name was new to the servant, wholly unfamiliar, as izou struggles to read the sign half-obscured by shadows. the exterior alone suggested that the patrons of this establishment had a somewhat higher level of class than a hitokiri would. bright, pristine, expensive. the entry fee was probably more than he had for the night. did he even want to know what this place was? the fact that the grail had not deemed what a ‘host club’ was as information necessary for a servant to know suggested that it was better if he remained ignorant.

he wasn’t alone in examining the outside of the building either. one look at the other, a blonde with noticeably neat attire, and izou immediately thinks that he’d fit right in with the sorts of folk that had been flocking to this place only moments prior. not that it looked like he worked here yet, his expression equally as curious as izou’s own. 

“ Master, yer walkin’ around this late at night? ”

his expression is piercing, disapproving, and his hands are folded neatly into his hakama as he approaches the girl with a raised eyebrow. this master of his — she really lacked any sense of self-preservation, didn’t she? “ That ain’t yer smartest move. Haven’t I warned ya about the sorts of dangerous folk that can be lurkin’ at this hour? ” izou among them, though he alone could be trusted not raise his blade against her. she was not a target to be slain, but a master to be obeyed. 

when he reaches her, his expression remains displeased. his right-hand moves from the warmth of his clothing and towards her face, giving a quick but sharp tug to her right cheek. a warning, though it lacks any genuine anger. izou had half a mind to shake her head around a little, but this was still the first time the assassin had happened across ritsuka since arriving here. even if he wouldn’t admit it, the manslayer only feels immense relief that his master is unharmed. 

“ — not a Servant, huh? ” muttered under his breath, nose pressed instinctively into the material of his scarf, izou’s brow furrows. that was unexpected, though not impossible. 

pseudo servants were needlessly complicated. too much effort to understand, especially so for a man who prefered to keep things simple. and yet, it was just his luck that he’d happen across was the man who was once ( or perhaps would go on to become ) an alter ego, the one who had killed the acting director — that caster woman that his master had been so fond of, who she had been so devastated to lose. izou couldn’t say he cared much either way whether that woman lived or died, but he was loyal to that master of his. any enemy of fujimaru ritsuka was an enemy of his, one he would gladly cut down. such was his duty as a manslayer, his only purpose. would it really make any difference if it was the host he was cutting down rather than the servant?

if anything, the assassin was all the wearier in this man’s company than he ever would be in the company of a fellow servant. for a human, this man gave off a truly discomforting presence.

“ Yer... the new brat that Master summoned, ain’t ya? ”

out in the rain, no less, squinting at what looked to be a bush. really, kids were beyond him. hard to understand what they were thinking, utterly troublesome to deal with. and despite being summoned as a heroic servant, the kid izou only knew only as ‘voyager’ was very much a child. both in appearance and manner.

the assassin could already tell that if the brat got caught up in any trouble in this city, especially while in a powerless state, their master would have a fit. she was always doting on the younger servants, that fujimaru   — this one would be no expectation to that. so, with that thought in mind, he squats down, throwing the sleeve of his hakama over the smaller servant’s head in the process. an attempt to keep him somewhat dry, half-hearted as it was ( hell, at least he was trying ).

one of the four great hitokiri ( manslayers ) of the bakumatsu period, okada izou, summoned as an assassin class servant. 

izou worked under the tosa kinnō-tō, a loyalist party committed to the sonnō jōi. 

specifically, he was a killer directly under its founder and his teacher, takechi hanpeita, and carried out killings labelled  ‘heaven’s punishments’ on his command. in some media, he is referred to as takechi’s ‘dog’. 

a natural prodigy when it came to swordsmanship, izou was able to learn various styles and techniques with ease, though he purposefully never reached mastery in any particular form. 

even so, he was one of the most feared swordsmen of his era.

eventually he was captured and imprisoned as a rōnin, abandoned by the people he had followed so loyally. there are rumors that the loyalist party even tried to have izou poisoned when he was being tortured so that he wouldn’t spill the loyalist party’s secrets to his captors. 

all in all, his experience with takechi ( and with sakamoto ryouma, who betrayed the party and left tosa ) have left him rather jaded. easy to anger, izou isn’t quick to trust anyone, and he dislikes the thought of people mocking him.

though, in truth, izou’s a relatively simple guy beyond this.

he likes to drink, to gamble and to have fun in a ‘flashy’ way. he dislikes complicated matters, and prefers things to be presented simply. so long as you’re honest and straight-forward, you shouldn’t have any trouble with him - at least, not usually. 

he speaks with a very heavy accent, the tosa-ben !!