#rkrn

Notes: This takes place after the events of RKRN volume 64. I summarized Demo's appearances in that volume in this post, but the main thing to know is that Demo tore off part of his bandanna to give to Sonnamon to tie his hair up.

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If there was something that Demo was happy to come out to the city for, to trek miles for, to wait around in the hustle and bustle of the summer morning when he could be training or working or even relaxing instead – if there was anything Demo would do all of that for, it was a job offer.

Especially a job offer from a place like Tasogaredoki Castle.

What other reason would there be for him to get a message from Tasogaredoki asking him to meet with one of their ninja? It wasn’t quite the great deal that a job like Ninjutsu Academy’s clerk would be, but working for a spell at Tasogaredoki Castle might not be a bad time – certainly he could do worse. Certainly he’d had worse.

But whoever he was supposed to meet was taking their sweet time. Demo sank further against the wall, spine curving as he settled it on the wall, the warm plaster pressing into the sharp of his tailbone. He peered down the row of buildings to his left, watching townsfolk shuffling in the hum and gleam of the morning heat. It was impossible that he’d gotten the meeting place wrong.

“Demoshika?” came a voice from his right.

“It’s not Demoshika,” Demo said, voice snapping, head snapping, the speaker – stray strands of hair poking out from his temples, pinched little mouth – entering his field of vision. A familiar-looking boy. “It’s Demo Shikanosuke.”

“My bad,” the boy said, expression and tone unchanged. “But I’m glad I found you so easily.”

Demo squinted his eyes against the rising sun. The last time he’d seen Sonnamon, the boy was passed out on the ground after he’d tripped on Shinbei’s snot, burgeoning bruise on his cheek and legs clumsily splayed out from his dirt-stained yukata like a lame horse who’d be better off put down. Demo’s lips pulled up. It’d left a hell of an impression. “And you’re from Tasogaredoki,” Demo said. “Shosen Sonnamon.”

“Moroizumi Sonnamon,” Sonnamon replied through clenched teeth.

“So?” Demo said, pushing himself off the wall and resting his hands on his hips. “What does Tasogaredoki Castle want with me? Everyone who’s ever hired me has been impressed by my skills, so I’m surprised it’s taken this long for them to—”

“The castle?” Sonnamon interrupted. “No way, this has nothing to do with that. Tasogaredoki’s already got enough manpower. We don’t need to bother with outside help.”

The anticipation of the morning, the words of the message he’d received, the smile dropping off his face and the frown that was replacing it, they all came down cold into Demo’s stomach where they rolled around like a heavy ring of prayer beads. Tch. He ground his teeth together. Then what was this, a waste of time? Sonnamon slung his bag in front of him and began to dig through it. Demo came all this way to meet one of the castle’s lackeys and there wasn’t even a job involved? It hadn’t been too much of a stretch to think a castle – yes, even a castle as big as Tasogaredoki – wanted him because of his skills. Demo’s gaze fell to the ground, heat burning the backs of his eyes.

“Here,” Sonnamon said. Demo looked back up to find Sonnamon holding something out toward him, and he took it. Soft in his hand, the cloth was a flash of pink, a slippery salmon color with green squares. It unraveled to its full length between his fingers and trailed like seaweed in the warm wind. The bandanna Demo had torn a piece off to give Sonnamon was still sitting in the bottom of his own bag, finding new life as a rag.

“I couldn’t find one that looked exactly like yours,” Sonnamon said, “but the colors are similar, at least. Thanks for the help.”

Demo’s gaze wandered between Sonnamon and the bandanna. It wasn’t a job offer, and it didn’t mean much, but some acknowledgment never hurt. “Right,” he said, “at Amitake Castle. You looked a little too pathetic for me to just ignore.”

“Hey, hey,” Sonnamon said, “what’s with you? I went to the effort of coming here to give you this and you’re mocking me?”

“What’s getting you all hot and bothered?” Demo asked, wrapping the bandanna around his head. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Sonnamon’s pinched little mouth grew into a scowl before he crossed his arms and leaned back, muttering to himself. Demo flattened the bandanna out on his hair. “...They really don’t need any hired help?” he asked. “Tasogaredoki Castle.”

“Like I said,” Sonnamon said, fixing his dark, beady eyes back on Demo, “we don’t need any outside help. Maybe a freelancer like you wouldn’t understand, but our team’s only as strong as it is because of our leader. He listens to all of us, he respects our contributions, and we give him everything in return. We’d all put our lives on the line for him if we needed to. Some ninja we picked up off the street could never reach the level of unity needed to be on our team, no matter how talented they are.”

Alright already, it was just a question. This guy was like a little dog who’d start yapping because you looked at his master the wrong way. He could talk about honor or respect or whatever all he wanted, but he’d decided on the easy life, clinging to one person so tight. Or maybe that beloved master of his had always kept him on such a short leash that he didn’t know any better.

“Hmph.”

“What’re you snorting about?” Sonnamon asked.

“Nothing,” Demo said, flicking his bangs off his sweaty forehead. “Thanks for returning the favor. Now we’re even.”

“I guess we are.”

“Tell your precious leader that if he’s ever looking for someone talented, he doesn’t have to look any further than Demo Shikanosuke.” Then, with a wave of his hand, he passed by Sonnamon and was off into the stifling morning crowd.

“Huh? You—”

Like blood beating in his brain, Sonnamon’s words kept coming back and back and back in Demo’s head. He clenched his fists and let the noise of the crowd lap at the words until the sound swallowed them whole. That someone would believe in and devote themselves to one person like that, and that they would be proud of that fact, the whole thing sounded like a joke. Nobody’s life could be more important to somebody than their own. But Sonnamon’s eyes had been dead-serious when he’d said those words, and it made Demo’s insides twist like snakes. Ugh, he didn’t have time to let that get to him. Quickening his pace, he glided through the crowd. He might as well pick up some job leads while he was in town.

Demo stopped at the intersection and looked back down the street. Sonnamon had made his way to the store on the other side of the road, a package of senbei in one hand, his other hand about to drop a few coins into the shopkeep’s palm. Then he’d run back, to that beloved leader of his, to that team he had so much of his valued “unity” with, to a place that would take even a brat like him in. To a place where he belonged. It was the kind of thing some people would be jealous of.

Jealous? The word brought a bitter little laugh to Demo’s mouth. No, no, there was nothing to be jealous of. Relying on others was for suckers, and Demo Shikanosuke was not a sucker. He traced a hand along his head, the bandanna soft and warm beneath his fingers, Sonnamon’s words – and the hard, insistent eyes he’d had when he said them – returning to Demo like waves on the smooth sand. The summer air, thick with nectar and pollen, was leaving a lump in his throat.