Dime for your Time [Yusei, Ashai]

The land of the living. The idea of coming back to it was fascinating. Could people see him? See him after he turned into an unrecognizable stain on the pavement? In either case, every experience he had in the Soul Society at large showed him he was weak and out of his depth. Starting over in there, bolstering the thin and overworked Shinigami ranks was the least he could do. It was in this context that Yusei walked over to Ashai. "Mm. Slow day at work? I’m sure we could help eachother out."

Yusei stood there. His clothes were workmanlike, loose hakama-style pants, a juban jacket, the most cushioned sandals he could afford. Everything was clearly mended and sewn together with black fabric, but splattered with a mixture of different dyes, calling to mind a tie-dye pattern. His zanpakuto was tied to his hip. He looked a bit tired as-is, and kept his sunglasses propped up against his bangs rather than his eyes proper, so she could see them.

He kind of scanned her over, and blinked. Rabbit ears? No nose or whiskers. Interesting. He carefully maintained that eye contact 70% of the time, lest he be accused of staring. He stood straight with his shoulders back, save for a brief bow. "It’s been twenty-five years since I lived there. I wanna see if anything changed. I’m willing to part ways with the last of my last stipend from the Gotei. My wages at the mill are fine, but I held onto it for moments like this."

She laid out his options right then and there. Yusei thought for a minute. Africa, like the whole continent? A lot of thoughts were coming, and she could see the gears turning in his head. Only now could he truly travel the globe. The words of a famous man rang out in his head. Get ready to learn Chinese, buddy. Yusei blinked, and looked back to Ashai. "Mm. I lived and died in Osaka, I wanna go back there."

Yusei stood there. His eyes widened. He then crossed his arms, and raised a brow, ever so slightly. He had a few questions for her, but only one was polite enough to say outloud. "Africa? Like, all over? That’s… wow. What happened there? I had my hands full enough defending the Rukon district."

He dug around in his robe for a second. Yusei produced from his pocket an envelope with a pressed gold wax seal. He offered it to Ashai in an outstretched hand, the other hand sitting on his hip. "Ready when you are. I wanna see Nihon again. And… how are you doing this exactly?"

She laid it all out for him. Those little stories he’d heard just kind of pieced themselves together. He’d seen maybe one Menos Grande ever. She could see his eyes dart away as he started imagining a hole in space big enough for an army of them. As terrifying as it ought to be, his eyes lit up for a second. He envied that kind of power. Then he caught Ashai eyeing the envelope. "Should be all of it in the envelope. Keep the change. I don’t wanna look at that stamp anymore."

He folded his arms, watching Ashai slowly tear open the gate. That drew to mind a million questions, but none of them seemed that important at the time. "…Mm. So you must be—"

Perish the thought. As the gate opened up, Yusei slowly walked through. His sandals touched an entirely new type of floor, and the sensation was indescribable. Wasn’t concrete, wasn’t sand, wasn’t anything in particular. Lovecraftian, like trying to describe a color that doesn’t exist, or a texture that’s somehow every texture. If she looked at him, Ashai would see his eyes light up, with an almost childlike wonder. "Do you have any business down there too, or are you headed straight home?"