[Takasugi isn't here to lobby for anyone's allegiance. For the moment, he's settled into taking advantage of the eager showcase of national pride to get himself a meal, and a seat among the stands to enjoy it.
Though, the view that accompanies his dinner is pretty pathetic.
A particular idiot wandering around has caught his eye - from the way he dotes on the horses to a few instances of the man following the same path.
Takasugi assumes that's due to Zura getting lost, overwhelmed by 'hospitality', rather than an intergalactic anomaly.
The only stellar irregularity here is Zura's brain.
Tossing the last of the skewer sticks to his plate, Takasugi rises to intercept the man's path by falling in step with him.
He doesn't have time for a coy greeting. The moment his foot falls into grass beside his old comrade, they're transported away from the field. Wood creaks beneath them, an expanse of hallway in familiar, Edo style.
It's dark, the air is crisp with the scent of night, and another Takasugi roams the halls. There's a bit of a sway to his steps, just a hint more than his typical saunter, and when he reaches the next available sliding door, he leans his head into the wood.
This memory isn't familiar. He must have been drunk. Takasugi fixes his gaze on Zura, rather than whatever scene is unfolding before them.] Yo.
wildcard
Though, the view that accompanies his dinner is pretty pathetic.
A particular idiot wandering around has caught his eye - from the way he dotes on the horses to a few instances of the man following the same path.
Takasugi assumes that's due to Zura getting lost, overwhelmed by 'hospitality', rather than an intergalactic anomaly.
The only stellar irregularity here is Zura's brain.
Tossing the last of the skewer sticks to his plate, Takasugi rises to intercept the man's path by falling in step with him.
He doesn't have time for a coy greeting. The moment his foot falls into grass beside his old comrade, they're transported away from the field. Wood creaks beneath them, an expanse of hallway in familiar, Edo style.
It's dark, the air is crisp with the scent of night, and another Takasugi roams the halls. There's a bit of a sway to his steps, just a hint more than his typical saunter, and when he reaches the next available sliding door, he leans his head into the wood.
This memory isn't familiar. He must have been drunk. Takasugi fixes his gaze on Zura, rather than whatever scene is unfolding before them.] Yo.
Looks like they kicked us out of their party.