justonetruth | (no subject)

(no subject)

Walking through the hallways slowly, though not without a destination in mind, Hakuba Saguru was deep in thought. Obviously many years older than another Saguru, this one was in his late thirties and using a cane to support his left leg as he walked. His dress was reminiscent of an english professor; tweed jacket, tan pants and a shirt set off by a dark brown tie. And a mostly hidden bulge under his left arm, from a gun in a shoulder holster.

Someone perceptive (or intrusive) enough to notice the ragged scar tissue on his right wrist, mostly hidden by his sleeve, might connect this Saguru to the one who used to wander the mansion attached to 1412.

Disturb? >_

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Shinichi, attired in his usual kimono, his sword swung irreverently over one shoulder is heading towards the library for another hit of science. He's happy -- until he catches sight of Hakuba. There is a pause as he takes in the resemblance to another resident of the Mansion, the clothing and the age, and after a moment, Shinichi tucks his sword into his obi and attempts to look like someone who treats his sword with respect.

Saguru has a cane! This strikes a currently wheelchair-bound Eight as mightily amusing, though that may have something to do with the fact that whoever had been taking care of the thief-turned-fighter had managed to wrangle him into taking some painkillers. Ordinarily, he would have been blessedly unconscious at this point, but his body had clearly had enough of that whole 'sleep' thing.

So he was patrolling the mansion- as much of it as he could patrol while operating through a thick haze of drugs. And now he's almost literally run into a Saguru with a cane. "You have a cane," he observes.

Yes, he is captain obvious, and yes, he does look like he belongs in that wheelchair at the moment, thank you very much. The less said about the state of his legs, the better, and they're currently hidden under a thin blanket, to boot.

Hakuba used to be someone who kept his emotions back, but failed at hiding them in times of surprise or stress. He has improved at his 'Poker Face', so to speak, and so regards Shinichi with only the barest flicker of surprise at seeing again the youth whose death he orchestrated.

"Shinichi-kun?" he queries, paused in the hallway.

"Indeed I do."

There's enough of a lack in resemblence from Eight to Kaito for Saguru to get the words out smoothly before his brain registers the similarity and joins the dots, leaving him with a stunned expression on his face, something that is rarely seen from him nowadays.

He clears his throat, expression smoothing out as he walks a few careful steps closer to the wheelchair bound man.

"You appear to be in possession of a wheelchair."

"Ah," Shinichi says, bowing in acknowledgement. "It is pleasant to see you again, Hakuba-san."

"Yeah, and if you get the number of the bus that put me here, that'd be great." He's doing a good job of sounding at least somewhat coherent, even if a statement that doesn't trail off does take him a bit to get out. He smiles up at Saguru. "You know, this is... the second time I've run into one of you with both my legs broke." Not that this Saguru is his- Eight can tell that right away.

"What did Saguru-guru do to get the cane?" He's perfectly innocent. Really. If you ignore the fact that he's just goosed the blond.

Hakuba nods his head in return, careful to show less respect for the teen in the depth of his bow.

"And I to you," he replies. "Though I do not beleive I have met 'you' before?" He ends on a querying tone, to elicit information from the teen if he can.

"Ah?" Shinichi blinks, considering Hakuba with a frown -- until understanding dawns. "We did not discuss Newton-sensei in the library shortly after my arrival here?"

Eight's statements desrve further investigation, but Saguru prefers to slide information from people, rather than bluntly question them. People were so much more malleable if they didn't realise how much information they had given you.

"My knee was injured some years ago." A brief smile, and a backwards step out of Eight's pinching range, his only reaciton to the grab. "It never fully healed. Please do not do that again."

"No. I do not believe I've encountered you before. Though..." Hakuba scans Shinichi briefly, thinking. "I would hazard a guess at the Edo-period?" He smiles, expecting his guess to be correct and only awaiting Shinichi's confirmation.

"Well that sucks... and I won't do it again if you don't make it any fun." No, he wasn't testing this Saguru at all, what are you talking about? Now, at least, he knows that this Saguru is a lot less fun to harass than some of the others, though that doesn't mean he's going to give up trying. What, are you kidding? He's stuck in a wheelchair and drugged off his ass.

He's bored, in other words. "Sucks t'be you. Does it hurt?"

"It is not exactly the same, but it is close enough," Shinichi agreed. "Closer than anything else at least." He approaches Hakuba with poorly concealed curiousity. "Your accent is different. You are not from ... England?"

"Only when it rains." Saguru shifts his weight to stand more comfortably, putting more of his weight onto his cane. "And of you? What occurred to put you in this chair?" Direct questions are suitable when the conversation leads that way. And Saguru has noticed the slurring, and slight slowness to this one's answers and speech. Drugs of some kind, obviously.

"I am, orginally. But I have spent a great deal of time in Japan since I departed. I imagine my accent has changed substantially." Saguru shifts his weight to stand more comfortably, resting on his cane. He is keeping a quiet watch on Shinichi lest he come too close, or begin to act threatening, but he is not overt about his wariness.

"There was a guy who didn't like me. He brought twelve friends." That has the chirpy, speedy delivery of a canned answer- it's certainly not the truth, at any rate. No, the truth is, Eight mangled his legs while chasing down yet another alternate black org, and was rather lucky to get in and out of the hospital without extra injury.

The scarred, wheelchair-bound man smiles up at Saguru some more, wondering when the man will notice that his hair has turned a violent shade of pink, with equally loud stripes of green, orange, and yellow through it.

There is something more to his stance than an old wound ... Overt interest is not polite and Shinichi does his best to look merely polite. "I hope that your time in Japan has been -- better than appearances might suggest," he said, hoping that the remark was not too personal.

Not yet, apparantly, as there's no visible reaction. Or it could be that this Saguru is much better at hiding his reacitons that any other you might encounter.

Though that was intruiging. Saguru hadn't been sure whether Eight held the scruples against violence he had found in other Kaito during his time here. Apparantly not.

"The man seems to have dealt you quite a blow," he states, raising an eyebrow at Eight's battered form.

"He brought twelve friends," Eight repeats, settling further back in the wheelchair. "I still won, though." No, he's not bragging- he's establishing that he is Just That Good when it comes to hand-to-hand combat.

Saguru offers a pleasant, neutral smile. "I have enjoyed my stay, yes." And no comment on his injury or use of his cane. It may be slightly illogical to despise this Shinichi for something another did, but his hate runs deep and he has no desire to make things easy for the teen.

Shinichi is used to being despised, and equally used to pretending he doesn't notice it. A few more polite comments and then a polite exit, curiousity unsatisfied. "That is as well. It seems you have made Japan your home -- any particular part of it?"

"Against thirteen men? You must be skilled." Talking to a Kaito again, any Kaito, no matter how different from his own, is warping the rules he set for himself. He thought he missed the assassin as sharply as he had the day he was killed, but the ache is much more intense now he finds himself across from a Kaito that is so different from the one he remembers. He has to school himself against a foolish action.

"What style of fighting do you employ?" Because it had obviously not been a gunfight, and Eight's musculature spoke of experience in hand-to-hand.

"I travel quite a lot, though I do mostly stay in Ekoda. It's something of a second home, I suppose." Still smiling pleasantly, and noticing the change from openly curious to more reserved, Saguru expects an end to their conversation soon. Though there's no great loss there; he has other, more pressing concerns, and investigating the teen's peculiarities comes second to him. "And yourself? Where do you make your home?"

"Hand-to-hand. I don't use guns that often- don't like 'em. They've killed me a couple times 'afore." Admittedly, he didn't mean to let that last part slip... but oh well.

Ekoda? So close? "It seems there are many here that favour that village," Shinichi commented. "Perhaps you will find a friend here."

He is surprised at the question -- surely he's done nothing that requires being reported? Then again, this Hakuba must be thinking of his Shinichi. "I am fortunate to live in the village Beika."

"Like the one I knew, then." Hakuba deliberately uses the past tense. "It appears some of the differences between you are nearly nonexistant."

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