gyuupyo

[gyuupyo]

pretty neesan!!

     “ I’m inclined to let you know that this is not an acceptable place for playtime in this weather, Sir. “ Seeing the heat signature on this poor… thing caused some older sister reflex to kick in, yet her concern was voiced with little emotion to it. Needless to say she may not actually be worried, but if it’s a human she kind of has a duty to look out for them. It’s a troublesome thing.

@gyuupyo​

“why not? hey, pretty neesan, how come?” the world is his playground, signed off by a beeline of grimy snow; and at its end, lambo, all bug eyes and mucus icicles protruding from his nose. a poor thing indeed, he blinks at the t-doll with the near palpable intelligence of a sock monkey. then he chirps again: “lambo-san lives under the slide! even though s’cold lately...”

[gyuupyo]

no pants!

            had this been a cartoon, a comical braking would have been heard all around the wards with how kohaku stopped near-dead in her tracks.  eyes blink and she peers at her shoulder to the company that tagged along with her.    ❝  how long have you been back there  …  ?  ❞

his joyride stops here, or so it seems. when the pretty lady turns her head and spots him, he peers right back with his bright baby eyes; two persisting, prominent greens in the murky weather. “lambo-san was cold! he found a warm place to rest but then it started jumpin’ around!” stealth on point―unintentional or otherwise. “we’re like big, big kangaroos! neeeigh!”

[gyuupyo]

٩(◕‿◕)۶

(҂•̀︿•́~)つ︻̷┻̿═━一

[gyuupyo]

“lambo-san is lonely... he wants to play with the animals, but they’re all sleeping ‘cause of car-ber-ation.”

[gyuupyo]

pretty big sis!!

            at first this whole thing had seemed cute.  make a cookie in the likeness of yourself, or even anyone else.  the first thought that occurred had been to of course just make herself and be done with it.  things hadn’t quite gone to plan, and instead she’d chosen to make a miniature sized cookie of someone she knew from back home.

              lately everything lately reminded her of home, and of those she knew.  people that she missed.  this was no different.  dizzy wanted to bat away the painful emotion   (  get a hold of yourself !  this isn’t like you.  no time for tears.  )  the longer she remained here, the more it felt more of a prison.  dizzy held onto hope that soon she would be reunited with everyone, and happy.  yet the more that time passed, the more homesick that she felt.  what if they all forgot her ?  it was a pain she didn’t want to feel again after her own adoptive parents had eventually left her all on her own as a child.

                a sigh squeezes from her chest until she feels no air in her lungs.  no time for tears.  she raises an arm to wipe tears away and clear her bleary sight.  she can’t let anyone see her crying, lest she ruin the elated atmosphere.

the coat is a generous gift from giorno, cozy and warm without sacrificing lambo’s normal style―if it could be called that, really, and if babies could have style―fuzzy and white with black splotches that make him look more cow than ever. if he didn’t know better (and really, he almost didn’t), he’d think himself a marshmallow and try to chomp on the material.

he has other sweets to occupy him at the moment, though, courtesy of a fibonacci kiosk he had somehow figured out. in his hands is a gingerbread cookie in the likeness of, predictably, another cow. it is no secret that he misses his pet gyuudon, misses mamma, misses everyone. he is no stranger to these lonelier thoughts, pitching more than a few fits during his time on the island―how many months had it been? his birthday had passed, so had halloween; now christmas, too, would be spent without his makeshift famiglia back in namimori.

and perhaps kindred spirits gravitate to each other. for how tiny and filterless they are (and maybe precisely because they are filterless), children especially seem to have an eye for these things―even lambo is not to be underestimated once he gets a good look. marching out of the larger festival commotion, he spots a teal-haired woman who is looking less than merry, despite all the magic around them. his eyes linger on her for a few more seconds. then he looks back down at his cow cookie, and then back up again.

okay. maybe, just this once, he’ll be good. tiny boots dragging through the snow, lambo sloshes up to dizzy and gives her hem a tug.

“gyuuuuu. big sis, lambo-san will share this with you.” the cookie itself is nearly bigger than both of his black mittens holding it, but they snap the gingerbread treat in half. surprisingly, the pieces turn out fairly equal. lambo waves one up at her, looking expectant. it’s got one udder and more vanilla frosting than chocolate, and maybe she’s already got a better cookie, but the offer is still sweet.

[gyuupyo]

no pants!

                  ❝  that’s  …  a lot of snow.  ❞

                    ❝  good thing i can climb trees and move with haste !!  HYUP !!  ❞  kohaku  … please, put some pants on.  your normal attire is not enough for th–  and she’s off.

and up from behind her shoulder pops one (1) cow baby!

“no pants! no pants! no pants!” how and when the hell had he even climbed onto her back? moreover, why are neither of them bundled up? “the pretty big sis sure jumps fast! wheeeeee!”

[gyuupyo]

susususususuki-neesan!!

          ❛  You’re just a child, Lambo-san.  ❜ She easily concedes to boy’s preferred honorific; it’s harmless to do so and too much has been denied in her own life that it’s practically a nonissue. Childhood, after all, can bear as many difficulties as adulthood, if not more. ❛  You have a lot to learn.  ❜ About plants, about life, but here, she keeps the conversation thread simple. ❛  When I was young I didn’t know much about plants either and had to be taught. We all have to be taught most things, and that’s fine. You’ll be able to catch up one day, I’m sure.  ❜

          Gratitude and compliment in fell swoop, the youjin grins and remembers this is why she tends to prefer interacting with children over their elders. Though quickly they can turn cruel, echoes of parents and older siblings and the world around them—if anything, this one’s been taught well. ❛  My name is Susukihotaru.  ❜ Spoken with care and deliberate pronunciation—a practiced method from when the twins were still forming words to the world around them and names were first on their list. ❛  I would love your help whenever you can spare it. Finding me won’t be too hard will it ? The city isn’t a small one and you are rather small yourself.  ❜ 

thump, thump. his heart latches onto kindness in the simplest places, because of all things he had not expected this. so he curiously parrots, with blooming warmth in his chest, “one day, lambo-san really will?” she refers to him a child, but it is warm and without contempt; not an exasperation hurled back at his ignorance, but a reason with elaboration so that he may strive yet. while he stares on with mild fascination, the itchiness beneath the makeshift bandages gradually slips his mind. so do the distant backs of his loved ones.

“ssssu-su-ki-ho-ta-ru.” lambo gives it a whirl, nodding his head to each syllable and having a little fun with the first few. “you’re susuki, susukihotaru-neesan! and i’m lambo-san! and lambo-san will catch up to the pretty susukihotaru-neesan and be a helpful, tolerant boy!” he’s bubbly, maybe doubly so when he’s feeling ambitious. “neesan doesn’t gotta worry ‘cause he’s good at findin’ all kinds of stuff!” most of all trouble, if the poison ivy hadn’t already proven as much. that aside he has nothing if not full confidence in the art of the pest―lambo makes it a habit to show up in the oddest of places, at the most unpredictable times. susukihotaru will not be losing him anytime soon. “we can always call on the telly-jelly-belly-phone, too.”

[gyuupyo]

mister chicken!!

@gyuupyo​

the goose runs along the destroyed streets, looking for safety, but seeing none.

but, what it does see is a little cow print, afro’ed toy on the floor. being the responsible (mostly klepto) goose it is… it picks up the toy in its beak. the toy is strange though. for one, it feels soft and alive. it’s also extremely sticky with a slight smell of farts–but the goose perseveres, for this toy would look dashing in its new hidey hole whenever it finds it.  

we don’t quite know what lambo is doing. in an ideal world, he would be in school, playing with other children and learning his alphabet. but lambo is on the ground―probably either photosynthesizing or too stuffed to move after eating god knows what from the garbage―and when the goose harvests him, his body makes some odd teddy bear squeak that certainly sells the idea that he is, in fact, a cute cow print toy.

lambo is a little more sentient, though. staying limp like a rag doll, he lets this happen without protest, mainly because he is desensitized to these very bizarre adventures and making new friends in unconventional places.

“gupi,” he passively gurgles, little limbs dangling from the goose’s beak. “a chicken? a chicken that goes quack-quack?” and maybe there are a lot of things wrong here. but that aside. ”where’re we going, mister chicken? quack-quack, cluckity-cluck, moo-moo. old mcdonald had a farm, b-i-n-g-o!” sings lambo, evidently having the time of his life.

[gyuupyo]

dino-dino!

❝ Nice , that’s the spirit ! ❞ With that vouch of confidence , Lambo was hoisted off his shoulders and placed down on the slippery rink surface . Turned out rollerblading on ice wasn’t too much different from skating , with an added pinch of danger he was sure wouldn’t phase . Lambo wasn’t exactly a regular kid !

Both hands still firmly wrapped around Lambo’s for now , Dino glanced down , ensuring his young companion was at least steady on his feet before entertaining any notion of releasing him on the ice .

❝ Alright , on my count I’m gonna let go , you’ ready ? ❞

❝ One … Two … and threeeee ! ❞ 

“la-la-lambo-san is ready, d-duh, lambo’s―” the running theme persisted: despite all his claims of invincibility, lambo had very little bite to reinforce his bark, and before long a teeny peep slipped from his mouth―gupya―for the ice sheets felt overwhelmingly odd on his feet, their glassiness a far cry from the comforts of solid ground and the friction it guaranteed.

inevitably, though, it was lambo; and like a true sandbag, lambo could take more than a few hits. how luckier than his teacher should be dino, one of the few from back home who might have batted an eye for his safety or lack thereof. it had been precisely because of his mindful judgement that lambo did not immediately topple over face first. he did in his nervousness, however, blast out an enormous fart―the echoing magnitude of which somehow shot him forward like a demented little rocket ship. a gurgly shrill blasted behind him in his semi-smoke trail, “dino-dinooooooo!”

... but at least he hadn’t fallen yet.

[gyuupyo]

“but lambo-san ate all the halloween candy already. can’t he have some of your chocolates?”

[gyuupyo]

pretty neesan!!

          ❛  A bit.  ❜ She hums, humors before putting the cloth under the hold of her sharper canines and pulls—tearing repeats it once more so two long strips are formed. ❛  It’s usually so animals don’t eat them, but others get affected too, so that’s why you have be careful.  ❜ Words as gentle as the practice action of wrapping frayed cloth around hands and between fingers,  and all finished with a tie firm enough to not come loose. ❛  A bath will help you feel better and so will some medicine. I don’t have that either, so this is the best I can do. It’ll keep you from scratching and accidentally making it itchier.  ❜

“gupi!” fascination glimmers in his eyes; he’d had his encounters with man-eating plants, no doubt able to think for themselves, but the idea framed nature with a different sort of sentience. “the plants are too smart... lambo-san can’t keep up, yeah...”

but all in due time. he experimentally wiggles his fingers after her handiwork, taut fabric stiffening the joints. “thank you, pretty neesan.” chimes lambo like a schoolhouse practice, which makes it all the more sweet. he thinks he’s supposed to say thank you, at least―mamma would want that. he is not so disciplined, however, to refrain from rubbing his hands in attempt of some relief. the cloth denies him enough to earn a stinky squint. “t-to... ler... ate...” with some effort the dirty look subsides, and he directs his attention back up. “you’re a nice lady! lambo will help you find more plants when he gets better, okay?”

[gyuupyo]

pretty neesan!!

          ❛  No, they haven’t.  ❜ Not yet anyway, no need to worry the child about it. ❛  You’ll have to be careful with plants like those; they’ll make you itch.  ❜ Here, she wishes for balms and salves but can make do with what she has. A handkerchief on her person which she reveals. ❛  Will you hold out your hands for me ?  ❜

“like chicken pox? what’re they all itchy for? is it ‘cause they don’t want lambo-san to play with them?” childhood, full of whats and whys. at the very least, he yields. lambo offers both hands to her, palms up that only look a pinch grubby. “does lambo have to take a bath now?”

[gyuupyo]

pretty neesan!!

          ❛  Oh ?  ❜  Inquiry turns to shock and she quickly plucks the poisonous crown off his head and to the side. ❛  Thank you, but that plant isn’t very safe. I’ll teach you how to tell the difference, but do your hands itch ?  ❜ 

“uh-huh,” he nods once, heavy and nearly toppling over for it. his hands (on the other hand) are already distressing over spots criminal of contact. “lambo wants to scritch-scratch a bunch! do you have ants in your pants, too?”

[gyuupyo]

pretty neesan!!

          ❛  The weather is changing so quickly. I wonder if there are any more summer herbs left to gather.  ❜

“lambo-san found one!” plopped bottom first in a patch, he dons leafy laurels of poison ivy.

[gyuupyo]

“candy! candy! candy!” the very first time he ventured to golden, grotesque cats floating about, he’d thought it was halloween. time flies, doesn’t it? “is it finally time to go trick-or-treating yet? do i make you smell my feet yet?!”

[gyuupyo]

demonshare‌:

Isn’t this terribly familiar—the easy application of a title and pitched and stumbling explanations of a child? “ Shit. ” He says carefully, wracks his brain to see if it sounds familiar. It does vaguely, in a sense that he’s probably heard it once or twice while traveling. He didn’t know the exact usage for it though. “ I know that one too. ” Proud of himself for it too—knowing and piecing things together. Easily done with a child’s logic, that actually does make more sense. Everyone seems mad and everyone seems to be repeating the word with fervor he hasn’t yet experienced here. “ You say fuck when you’re mad. ” Another piece of the puzzle neatly in place, though Hyakkimaru prefers his anger released in the forms of screams, new words are good to have on hand. “ Narcs are bad? The police are bad? They make people upset…like samurai. ”

“yeah, yeah! you got it! we both got it!” he claps something akin to praise, feet kicking again, but this time out of idle self-entertainment. “shit! and fuck, too!” in a way, the exchange fills him with accomplishment. it’s rare that others let lambo speak over five words (who am i? you’re lambo!), let alone talk himself up or settle into some perch of seniority. 

“sa-mu-rai?” but a budding friendship is give and take, after all: the word is packed with historical context he doesn’t quite understand, the occasional cartoon back home aside. “with the swords? they’re like the police, but with swords?” the comparison hits a little out of left field for lambo, but he takes it in stride. the thing about children―most of them, at least―is that they are so painfully, almost brutally candid; and as if to compensate for their ignorance, they bare their hearts to feel through the world with them. “what’s wrong? why’d the samurai make you upset, big bro? did they hurt you, too?” an owlish blink. “y’just gotta,” and his arms gesticulate, flail out as wide as they can then, “beat ‘em up with your big muscles, yeah! or shoot ‘em with grenades! fuck samurai!” lambo goads like he knows so much―and maybe he doesn’t, but maybe he at least knows enough.

“do you want lambo-san to protect you from the shitty samurai? he doesn’t have big muscles yet, but he’s invincible. he’s got superarmor and everything!” his hands reach up to slap both the d-cups on his head.

[gyuupyo]

demonshare‌:

Catching the wayward child is near instinctual; small stature and flighty nature reminding him of moments when Dororo would go flying during fights if too close to the action. Barely a thought and the child is easily scooped up by the scruff of his clothes. Hyakkimaru tilts his head and parrots a new set of words with interest. “ Fuck the police. Fuck? ”  

his wee limbs keep flailing, running midair until it registers to lambo that he’s been scooped. “fuck!” he chirps back the profanity, parrots it just the same, really, all affirmation and innocent spunk. it’s a fun word among plenty of others he’s picked up along the way―mostly off the streets―but all tailored with some sense of taboo. and at his age, what else could be so exhilarating? “fuck the shitty police! big bro, you dunno what those words mean? ‘shit’ is what comes out of your butt, lambo-san knows that one! uuuuh... ‘fuck’ must be when you’re mad! everybody’s mad at the fuckin’ narcs right now.”