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Did a little experimentation with this one, trying to do almost no dialogue and making it feel more like a story being told than actions being performed.
>Hueco arrived just a few days after the incident in the mountains, having taken a boat he got there later than he could've with a portal; but, truthfully, it was far easier to take a portal to a place that he visited before. In the case of Barbarossa, a place he had never visited before, taking a portal to it would risk him opening it miles away, high up in the air, in the middle of the ocean, or inside a wall.
>nevertheless, he arrived at Barbarossa.
>he had a promise to fulfill...
>stepping off the rocky wooden ship, he took in the salty sea air of the oceanlocked country. Splashing waves came from beneath his feet, lapping against the pillars that supported the enormous city, while the noise of chatter sounded out through the rest of the city.
>how he would love to check out the fresh fish they have here, he could smell it. Friend fish, grilled fish, smoked fish, raw fish, cooked in all sorts of ways. The gruesome idea of what a /fishman/ would taste like, he half jokingly wondered. It wasn't the time for that. There was someone he had to meet.
>it's been 59 years... Was she still alive? She was human after all and 2 years older than the immortal Hueco... Did she even remember him...? What about his memories of her?
>He.. Remembered she was a wild child, she teased him frequently, he remembered her name was Sheryl.
>Lost in thought, Hueco leaned against a street lamp on the side of the road, physically as well as mentally off balance.
>"She's alive" he told himself over and over... "I must fulfill my promise, make her know that I'm alive too..."
>with a deep breath, calming his nerves just enough to press on, he went into the city. Going past shops, hotels, and other customs of the city. He got a few stares from the citizens. "A person with cat ears here?" "Did he come just for the fish?" "I thought cats didn't like water."
>ignoring the comments, he went from person to person and asked each one. "Have you heard of a woman named Sheryl? She should've lived her for a about 60 years." Something along those lines..
>upon being asked her last name, Hueco would would go silent, or just say "I don't know."
>when asked why he's looking for her, he'd just say either "I'm her nephew," "I'm her grandson," "I have a package for her," or some similar, progressively worse excuse.
>Regardless of the variation of the question, every reply would be.
>"I don't know."
>"Sorry, I don't know her"
>"I know a Sheryl," Only for it to be the wrong person.
>Among other questions not having to do with Hueco's reason for being there...
>In the end, the catboy was left with a pointless journey and a shattered, already rotten mood. Crestfallen, sitting down on a curb, staring down at his feet, he began to mumble to himself, low enough so no one could hear exactly what he said. Mumbling about this all being for nothing, how he failed to meet Sheryl again, how...
>How she might be dead.
>the hot sun meeting down on him, he began to doze off, not caring if he fell asleep right then in their at the side of the road... Then, he felt a finger tap on his shoulder, catching his attention.
>looking up, he came eye to eye with a middle aged man. Dark skinned, a typical trait of Barbarossans.
>Pointing to Hueco's ears, he tried to speak to him, but clearly had a tenuous grasp on English at best. But, the words he said, Hueco caught
>"Said about person with cat ears."
>and most importantly, despite butchering the pronunciation:
>he had a lead... He actually had someone who knew her. Hueco tried his best to converse with the man, despite the language barrier, and before long, he was following him. Through streets and alleys, to the outskirts of the city, the middle class district. All till they ended up in front of a small, wooden house...
>the man explained how her eye sight had declined years ago, so he had to live with her and help her along in her old age. Despite the fact that she couldn't see him again, Hueco was comforted with the information that she was alive...81 years old, but alive..
>the man opened the door and let Hueco in. A quiet cozy house. Poor lighting though and smelled a bit musty, well ike a old person's home. A voice called down from behind a door, greeting the man, and asking who was with him, having heard the extra footsteps... To which the man simply said, in another language, Hueco couldn't understand it, it all sounded like mumbo jumbo to him. But, he caught his name in there... "Something something something, Hueco"
>Hueco stepped forward, hearing the voice. It was older, weaker, but it had a hint of familiarity to it... It /was/ her voice. Hueco found himself on the verge of tears.
>with that, a long silence came over the room, a short gasp was heard from the door, The rushing of feet. Hueco could tell, that she must've been feeling the same. Heart racing, a mixture of sadness and happines, the sense of reunion...
>He was greeted by a stout old woman. Short, hunched over, using a cane to walk, old age having taken its toll on her. Meanwhile, after all these years, Hueco was as youthful as he was when he left. She stepped closer, unable to see him even from a few feet away. But, through her blurry, decayed vision, she saw the vague image of him. Slender, petite, tan skin, and those ever present ears... No, there was something different about him, something he didn't have when she last saw him. A sense of maturity, maybe? He seemed a bit more jaded... For better or for worse, considering what the catboy had been through.
>the two friends stood in front of each other, a silence falling over them, which was then broken, upon Hueco speaking up, barely able to do so, as he slowly broke down.
...I'm sorry for being late.
>the two friends, after 59 years of being apart, wrapped their arms around each other, tears streaming down Hueco's face.