The woodland environment created a familiar, if somewhat foreboding green wall of plant life, being the first separation from Ayabukuro and the cold mountain wilderness beyond. Here in the calm stillness all knowledge of the city might have just been an energetic dream, broken at last by the crisp air, and lingering quiet. The constant chatter and sounds of city life that Emishro had already began to zone out faded with every step their small party took from the train station. Crossing patches of cultivated grass swards, beneath park trimmed trees, they entered into the rugged forest proper beyond. Across a small parking lot, they rendezvoused with the rest of their Club by Sorano’s jeep, parked on the edge of a tourist path, seemingly abandoned at that early evening hour leaving the seven them alone. Except for Sensei-Kazama, though Emishro could not see him, and could not say whether their Sensei would be joining them directly or watching quietly from the sidelines.
An eagerness hung over them, anyone could sense it, and Emishro was not about to wait a second more. Giving the parking lot one last look over to ensure their continued privacy Emishro slipped his spectacles off his nose, folding each delicate arm in turn before slipping the glasses into his jacket pocket. The effect was immediate. Emishro’s heart rate slowed, each beat sounding louder and louder in his enhanced hearing, until it grew and intermingled with seven heartbeats of his surrounding clubmates. His vision sharpened, every detail becoming obvious and forging a world whose brilliance made his previous magically void experience seem dull by comparison. Blood flowed through his limbs, energizing them until Emishro flexed his fingers, feeling a new strength there, like he could crush anything with a pincer grip. He waited, allowing the brief high to wash away as his body adjusted. Not for the first time his internal subjective mind wondered why it ever let his objective consciousness smother this feeling of power behind the limiter. He could take the glasses even now, smash them to dust and be free of that lifeless, boring world he’d left behind!
Emishro took control at once, staying his wayward hand, not allowing the euphoria to dictate his actions. He recalled the first lessons his mother had given him, to be in command, always at the wheel and in perfect harmony with his senses. He took a deep breath, relaxing his pent-up muscles which longed to spring into action and run, or climb, or do something. He looked to the others, seeing them all in various states of anticipation, he could practically smell the excitement off some of them, though it was weak compared to the heavy aroma of maple from the nearby trees.
“Should we…?” Emishro frowned, without Kazama-Sensei they did not have a leader. Or at least not one he knew of. No one to step up and take command, to give orders and instructions. He knew how to fight, and how to sneak and act, but the actual hunting part was new territory. He glanced from one Hunter to the next, wondering which one would take charge, and whether the other veterans would adhere. Somehow, he couldn’t image Yayoi or Isana follow each other’s orders willingly. Jack was new, like himself and ruled out. His gaze went to Seishiro and Sorano. Both seemed likely to him, though he would have to get to know them better to be certain. He stopped at Shuro, she had been a reluctant leader already, allowing the rookies to accompany her, showing the way to the train. Reluctant though and more of a loner, Emishro and Keiji had moved to a different part of the train car to give her space. Keiji perhaps? The two of them had been engrossed in conversation on the ride, and already Emishro quite liked the younger hunter. He was smart, and easy to talk to and ever since he shook Emishro’s hand back at the club room the two had been getting along rather well.
Uncertain, but curious Emishro waited. Maybe they already had a chosen leader, or maybe everyone acted individually of one another. He would have to wait and see.
