Hmmm? Then why don't you take back that handy knife of yours and try cutting the meat off one of these leg bones.
[Though his chosen syntax is that of a question, his tone is more demanding than anything else. He's got his hands full with a very disgusting lower intestine, and he doesn't feel like being patient.]
[It is not a question, and so while Minato looks very, very uncertain about this, he quietly takes back the bloody knife, frowning a little at the feeling of holding it in his hand, and reaches out for that leg bone.
Why... is this happening... suddenly, going along with this doesn't sound so great.
But he's going to try anyway, because saying "no" doesn't seem to cross his mind either; he grabs the bone firmly and starts trying to cut the muscles and tendons right off. He doesn't have anything near Kamui's well-practiced movements here, so it's going to take a bit, but he's at least...trying.
Unhappy, but he is, expression a little grossed out despite himself.]
[Kamui finishes with the organs as Minato tries his best to cut down to the bone. He hums, either pleased or amused that Minato still isn't refusing him.
Then again, he hadn't refused Minato either. Better fertilizer means better food, after all. He'll gladly do this much for the sake of his stomach.
[A bloody, disgusting onion. But he sets his jaw and takes the knife and tries again, putting a bit more muscle into it. He's scrawny, but he's more athletic than he looks; putting the effort into it, he's able to peel more of the muscle and meat from the bone.
He's also like.
Regretting this a lot, but there's no backing down now.]
He supposes that's a title he deserves for being so squeamish, but still...]
... Thanks for handling it. I'll get the fire started.
[That's a skill he's picked up since coming here, at least; he can pretty competently get the wood stacked and start up a fire, lips pressed together at the lingering blood on his hands.
[It is certainly a thing that is difficult to deal with despite how carelessly Kamui brings it up. At least he doesn't seem to mind this line of questioning. He's always been happy to talk about the Yato Clan.]
Hmmm? Did you think I was from Earth? No way! The Yato Clan are born a lot stronger than humans; our senses are better too. There's really no comparison.
After all, most humans run away the moment they recognize us.
[It's the ones who don't that Kamui has taken a liking to: the infamous samurai.]
Oh, our home planet is long dead. I'm not from anywhere.
[Recounting his time on planet Rakuyou... It's pointless now, a history he never had the power to change. Dwelling on his origins will just cause him to hesitate on his quest forward.]
That's a stupid thing to apologize for. Hearing something. [He sneers, a nasty little smile meant to mock Minato for bothering to apologize over anything at all.] Space ships are fine with me as long as they have a destination. I'll hitch a ride on any ship that'll take me to my next battlefield.
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[Which, surprisingly, implies there was once a time when it did bother him. That was a very, very long time ago.
Next comes the slicing of muscle tissue to reveal the organs hiding within. Kamui unceremoniously begins dumping them out onto the hide.]
I thought you would have turned away by now~
[He teases, just because he's not being enough of a jackass right now apparently.]
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[Minato would be lying if he said he didn't want to. This is disgusting (organs..... oh no...), but it's not the worst thing he's ever seen, and...]
I asked you to help me. I think it'd be pretty rude of me to turn away since you're doing so much of the work.
[The least he can do is watch and try to learn, right?]
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[Though his chosen syntax is that of a question, his tone is more demanding than anything else. He's got his hands full with a very disgusting lower intestine, and he doesn't feel like being patient.]
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Why... is this happening... suddenly, going along with this doesn't sound so great.
But he's going to try anyway, because saying "no" doesn't seem to cross his mind either; he grabs the bone firmly and starts trying to cut the muscles and tendons right off. He doesn't have anything near Kamui's well-practiced movements here, so it's going to take a bit, but he's at least...trying.
Unhappy, but he is, expression a little grossed out despite himself.]
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Then again, he hadn't refused Minato either. Better fertilizer means better food, after all. He'll gladly do this much for the sake of his stomach.
He wipes his hands on the wolf's hide.]
How's it feel?
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It's... really gross...
[He is a poor city boy who was not made for this, though his expression is still relatively level despite all of this.]
Is this right? Like this? [The way he's managed to cut it off--he'll ask Kamui for his assessment there.]
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Put more force into it. You're too hesitant. Just think of it as an onion, and peel away the layers.
[Werewolf meat, onion. It's all food to him.]
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[A bloody, disgusting onion. But he sets his jaw and takes the knife and tries again, putting a bit more muscle into it. He's scrawny, but he's more athletic than he looks; putting the effort into it, he's able to peel more of the muscle and meat from the bone.
He's also like.
Regretting this a lot, but there's no backing down now.]
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[As if Minato is ever going to do this again. But Kamui remains willfully oblivious to the poor guy's suffering.
Now that his hands are semi-clean, he pushes himself back to his feet and surveys the edge of the forest for dry wood.]
Keep that up. I'll start the fire.
[If Minato wants to switch jobs, now is the time. Before Kamui walks off.]
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Um, yeah, that's--]
Er-- is it okay if I start the fire instead...?
[Please save him, he does not want to do this for another period of time, even if it's just five more minutes..]
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Sure. I'll be faster than you anyway.
[His lips turn up in a sneaky smile.]
You did try, little mousy.
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He supposes that's a title he deserves for being so squeamish, but still...]
... Thanks for handling it. I'll get the fire started.
[That's a skill he's picked up since coming here, at least; he can pretty competently get the wood stacked and start up a fire, lips pressed together at the lingering blood on his hands.
Ick...]
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Got any metal racks or pots back in town? It's about time to start cooking~
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I have some pots we could use. Let me go grab them.
[At least he's like. Aware. Of where he sits on the totem pole of running errands in this duo.]
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When Minato returns, there will be a healthy stack of bones waiting for him near the fire. They're still fresh, and that's no good for fertilizer.]
Cook 'em til they're dry. Then we can crush them.
[Guess what Kamui's favorite part is.]
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Time for some...bone cooking?]
Huh... I didn't know any of this. I guess it really is a way to use all of the werewolf, instead of wasting it...
[(It's gross though.)]
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[He hums under his breath as he remembers... well, something fondly.]
Housen may have been weak willed, but he did like being efficient.
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Hm.
There's a lot to process there, but he's going to go with asking about the less alarming statement, first.]
"Yato"...? Is that what you are? [He's not human...?]
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Hmmm? Did you think I was from Earth? No way! The Yato Clan are born a lot stronger than humans; our senses are better too. There's really no comparison.
After all, most humans run away the moment they recognize us.
[It's the ones who don't that Kamui has taken a liking to: the infamous samurai.]
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I see... [Huh.] I really had no idea. [Though he could've probably picked up that Kamui wasn't normal by how easily he picked up that werewolf.]
So if you're not from Earth, where are you from?
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[Recounting his time on planet Rakuyou... It's pointless now, a history he never had the power to change. Dwelling on his origins will just cause him to hesitate on his quest forward.]
I lived most of my life on space ships, you know.
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I... am sorry to hear that. I can't even imagine what it would be like to live most of your life on a space ship.
[It sounds kind of... lonely, though?]
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Huh... is that right?
[What a lifestyle.]
But... do you have a home, then?
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[He's not the least bit bothered by that either.]
All I have is what's in front of me.
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