Chapter 1: Never Doubt The Inexhaustibility Of The World's Supply Of Suspicious Men
It had been a long day at the Hokutoshinken. A long day of just about nothing, that is – a brief influx of customers at lunch and dinner, with one lonely soul in between, and other than that there was little for Ikumatsu to do but make sure everything was spotless and prepare ingredients in advance for the next few days' worth of ramen.
She'd already chopped and stored away what could be enough vegetables for the next two weeks.
But the day, it would seem, was not willing to end just because the sun had gone down. Just as she considered calling it a night – maybe because she considered it – there came another customer.
It was a man, but just what kind of man was impossible to guess: his hair was clearly unnatural and what part of his face wasn't obscured by sunglasses was free of both lines and expression. That was easy then, she thought, startled by her own bitterness, a troublesome one. He had the most curious fashion sense she could recall seeing – in her shop, at least – from the perfectly-tailored trenchcoat to the shamisen on his back. Some startling, horrible combination of a rock star and an action movie hero... or worse.
Apparently unaware of just how jarringly out-of-place he looked here, he bowed and said in a voice that was somehow both gentle and brusque, "Good evening. I hope you do not mind my visitation at such an hour... Ikumatsu-dono, was it?"
Ikumatsu's eyes widened. She didn't recall ever seeing this man before, yet he knew her name. Where could he possibly have heard it? Even his manner of speaking struck her as suspicious; in her experience, people who spoke like that were either dangerous or pretentious, and she wanted nothing to do with any of that.
Still, he was polite enough in his proceedings, and she figured it would be better not to question him. After all, there was a possibility she would never have to see him again after this.
With as warm of an expression as she could muster, she bowed and greeted the stranger in turn. "Yes. Good evening; please, have a seat."
It seemed he'd been waiting for her to say that, as only then did he approach the counter. His footsteps were bizarrely silent on the hard floor, but he still made noise – as he got closer, distorted strains of music from the headphones he was wearing carried over. Even as he sat down on the second stool from the right, his posture rigid, he showed no intent of taking them off.
"I have heard quite a bit about your shop," he said, as though he knew exactly what she was wondering. "It was about time I came to try for myself."
That wasn't much of an explanation. She sighed and turned away, only to find herself glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. The more she observed this man, the stronger the feeling that something wasn't quite right grew, weighing her down.
If only she could figure out what exactly was bothering her. For now, all she could do was remain calm and watch him carefully.
She realized suddenly that he'd spoken, and seemed to still be looking up at her attentively for a response. It was rude to keep glaring at him like this; she shook her head and briefly bowed again. "Sorry. I'm not sure who would be telling you about a place like this, but I appreciate it. Was there anything in particular I could interest you in, or would you like me to surprise you?"
"I haven't eaten ramen in a long time; I daresay I would be content with anything. Hmm... what is the special today?" If only there were any inflection in his voice, his attitude could have seemed friendly. "Do you get new customers often? This shop has such a warm atmosphere to it, I wouldn't be surprised if it drew people in... but I apologize for bothering you with small talk."
"Oh?" Ikumatsu tried to give the appearance of being genuinely interested by his words; it was the same thing she did for everyone. She'd heard every kind of small talk possible before, she was just thankful there was nothing controversial being brought up. "It's fine. Warm atmosphere, huh? That's not something I hear every day." She chuckled, relaxing slightly. "Come to think of it, you're the first stranger I've had here in a while."
As she spoke, she paced the kitchen, gathering ingredients and rearranging their locations a little. "I didn't mean to seem so standoffish. You already know who I am, so I suppose I can spare you the introduction." She tilted her head in his direction again, setting down the cabbage she'd been staring at. "And the special is shoyu ramen. Can I interest you in that?"
"Sounds delicious," the man replied simply. He seemed to be glancing around the shop now, but it was hard to tell with those sunglasses. What could he possibly be looking for? "You really don't have new customers often? I stand corrected, then. Perhaps you have not been promoting it yourself...?"
Still trying to carry on the semblance of being relaxed and lighthearted, Ikumatsu replied after a slight hesitation, "It's not something I've thought of doing. Promoting the shop, that is."
She gave him a weak smile and proceeded to prepare his order. The ingredients were all already in order; it didn't take more than a minute. The solemn gloom she could feel herself spiralling into was broken by a little laugh. Somehow, amusingly, this particular bowl looked heartier than ever.
After a moment of admiring her masterpiece, she placed it in front of him just like she would for anyone else.
"Enjoy," she said as cheerfully as she could.
The man nodded once and picked up the chopsticks with an odd sort of finesse.
A few seconds after he started eating, she turned away, starting to clean up whatever mess she'd made. There wasn't much – however much she absorbed herself in her work, she found herself glancing at him at increasingly more frequent intervals, making sure he didn't need anything, trying to read him, wondering why the hell he was eating so quietly when you'd expect him to be slurping like everyone else.
It wasn't quite silent, but it was close enough for all it was doing for her nerves. But there was nothing for it. There wasn't anything to talk about, and the man didn't look much like the type to carry much of a conversation anyway. If his words hadn't told her that much already, the fact that he still wore those bulky headphones did.
She figured it was late enough that she shouldn't be expecting anyone else; only complete weirdos and runaway criminals showed up at a time like this. It would be a good idea to put everything away now so she could close up the shop as soon as this one left.
Just when she got to that, as though spiting her for assuming he wouldn't talk, his voice cut across the stillness. "I am no expert on ramen, but..."
This made her freeze, tensing almost defensively. There it was – what everyone noticed about her cooking. Couldn't anyone ever say anything else? Her back still to him, she waited silently for him to continue.
He sure took his time with it. "You needn't put too much value in my most unprofessional opinion, but if it makes any difference to you, this is the finest meal I have had in years."
The tension drained from her immediately; she'd anticipated being offended and found herself almost incredulous. She turned to face him again with a slight, disdainful huff and a half-smile, mumbling the only words she could in response to this: "Thank you."
She was never certain how to take compliments. For one, there was no way of knowing if people were really being sincere – the possibility of false compliments out of pity or duty, or because of some ulterior motive always made her uneasy. For another, she wasn't comfortable having to accept a kindness that was never meant for her.
But she set these thoughts aside, offering a more affectionate smile before she returned to the last of her work. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."
A few more minutes passed before the man set the bowl down away from himself and leaned back a little with a contented sigh. It was the first show of relaxing he'd made since he'd first sat down – and it was accompanied by the first thing resembling a smile.
If only the smile reached his voice. "I apologize if it is not in my place to ask, but what exactly have I done to offend you? You sound most hesitant to speak to me."
Her eyes widened momentarily before narrowing into a subtle glare. "Is... that so? Well, I'm sorry. It's really nothing you've done."
Why he would ask such a question was beyond her. To Ikumatsu, who preferred only to speak when it was necessary – especially considering she didn't know a thing about him except for her own opinions – his words and actions were irritating, if not absolutely infuriating. Did he realize how much trouble he was causing?
At that thought, she realized something, and confessed before she could stop herself, "You just remind me of... of someone."
The name of a particular long-haired ronin nearly slipped from her lips, but she managed to correct herself in time. A fear that he may have heard just a little bit of it, or that he even already knew what she was talking about welled up within her. She had no business in bringing up someone like that – it would not only put her in danger, but that man as well.
As much as she felt like breaking down from the embarrassment at that moment, she remained outwardly calm, waiting for the intruder – no, just customer – to make his next move.
If he'd noticed her blunder, he made no indication of it, but that really didn't mean much. "Ah well, perhaps I was mistaken. And yet, it almost feels as though you've a quarrel with me." He pushed away from the counter as he spoke, then slowly stood up, adjusting his sunglasses. "I do not intend to stick my nose in where it does not belong, and I apologize again if I have said anything I should not have. But I do wish you would be honest with me on this one matter: am I simply overtired, or is there something you're holding against me?"
At first, Ikumatsu was offended that he would even suggest she'd been unkind. Her brow furrowed. The more she thought about what he said, the greater her resentment grew. It wasn't resentment at his suggestion, she realized, but at the way she'd been acting the whole time. He was right.
He was right, and this angered her. So much so, she could no longer hold her thoughts inside.
"And what if there is? First of all, take off those headphones! You shouldn't be trying to converse with anyone with those unfashionable things on. Second..."
She crossed her arms over her chest and continued, "Second, just what's with that outfit, anyway? Last I checked, we weren't filming some low-budget action movie here. And third..."
Now she knew she was saying too much. She realized the next thought trying to escape was perhaps the worst insult she'd ever given anyone. The scathing words sat at the tip of her tongue, ready for her to deliver the final blow.
But suddenly, from the recesses of her mind, there came a familiar voice, reminding her how she should treat people, even if she didn't necessarily agree with them:
Practice kindness for its own sake.
That was all the gentle, reassuring echo told her. It had been so long since she heard him say that, and to hear it again, even as a distant memory at a time like this, was startling. She forgot what she was going to say.
"... Forget it." She averted her gaze. "It's not like you'd understand, anyhow." Letting out a heavy sigh, she looked up at the man again. He still looked amazingly unperturbed, his only movement being his hand sliding into a coat pocket and back out again. "Please, don't take any of this personally. I really don't have anything against you, I just feel uncomfortable tonight for some reason. I can't quite put my finger on it... I hope I'm not coming down with something."
Just as the insults hadn't evoked any particular reaction, neither did this poor attempt at an apology. It almost seemed possible that he hadn't heard a word she was saying, but he gave a quiet, understanding nod.
"Perhaps I should be going then, before I have a chance to trouble you further." There was a strange curve to his mouth as he spoke, something that almost seemed to suggest he knew exactly why she would be feeling uncomfortable.
With a slight bow, he took a few steps backward toward the door. "And next time, I'll try to dress more to your tastes," he added with another hint of a smile.
"Now, where the hell do you think you're going?" Not only did he have the gall to accuse her of being impolite, but he was also trying to walk out without even the mention of payment. If there was ever a man in Ikumatsu's shop with a death wish, this was the one. This, more so than anything else he'd done, was unforgivable and, on the behalf of her late husband's honour, she wasn't going to let him get away with this.
For once not hesitating at all, she stormed toward the man, her hand catching his wrist. "You haven't even paid yet, and you think you can run off?!"
She started to glare piercingly at him, but the moment she looked up at his face, which still betrayed nothing, she found she could only stare. Her mouth opened to continue, but there were no words. The same discomfort she'd felt intermittently since his arrival struck her with a terrifying intensity.
But she couldn't back down now. Her free hand, clenched tightly into a fist and already poised to strike before she'd even consciously realized she might have to, was drawn back closer to her body. She could feel her own heartbeat, a little too rapid for her liking but steady nonetheless.
Though she was quite frazzled and had to look away to speak to him, she took on a more disgusted expression and added, "Besides, didn't your mother ever teach you manners? Honestly, people these days..."
"If you were to calm down for a moment, you'd find your answer was there all along." Raising his eyebrows slightly, the man motioned with his head toward the counter.
Sure enough, there was money sitting there, beside the empty bowl. It was hard to tell from here, but it seemed like far more than the price of the ramen.
What a crafty bastard.
"And..." he added, almost contemplatively, "no, as a matter of fact, my manners are entirely self-taught. Perhaps I could use some pointers, but I suppose it would be best not to take them from a shop owner who would take refuge in violence against her customers." He nodded again, this time almost in some sort of approval. "It seems I have underestimated you, Ikumatsu-dono, and for that I truly am sorry. You've a most interesting melody after all..."
And what exactly did he mean by that? She would let the comment about her violent tendencies slide, since arguing with it would only prove his point more, but a melody? Perhaps it had something to do with those headphones he wore; he seemed like someone who enjoyed music too much. Or it could be some bizarre pick-up line, not meant to be taken to heart. Some part of her wanted to know more about him, rather than wanting him gone – but the opportunity for that had passed her by. For now, she'd have to relent and see if he would return some day.
Ikumatsu closed her eyes, looking down and smirking in amusement. "I'll accept that apology, at least." She loosened her grip and the man immediately pulled his hand free, taking a step back. "But really, I should be the one apologizing for all the trouble I caused you. Next time you come by, we can be sure to introduce ourselves properly and start again."
She bowed low, then, before she could stop herself, she blurted, "Thank you."
This of all things finally seemed to surprise the man; he paused for a moment, tilting his head slightly – somewhat irritatingly – to one side. At last that minimal attempt at a smile returned, this time seeming almost sincere.
"I have faced far worse than this, I assure you, and every time it is the same; I only bring it upon myself. Now, if you do not mind, I have spent far longer here than I originally intended, and I've still a job to get to tonight." It was very dark outside now, and it was anyone's guess just what kind of job he had or whether there really was one at all.
He turned away and stepped lightly to the exit, only to look back over his shoulder at Ikumatsu just as he reached the doorway. "The next time I have the chance, I'll be certain to drop by, Ikumatsu-dono." His face reverted to the impassive expression he'd worn almost the whole time, and his voice took on a distant quality. "I may have a strange way of expressing it, but I'm glad we've met. Goodbye." At that, he bowed one last time and disappeared out the door, leaving the shop's proprietress alone to wonder whether or not she would have been better off if he had never come at all.
Author's notes: Perhaps I owe you an explanation. But you're not getting one. This wasn't a crack pairing from a random generator or drug-induced trance, but in fact the result of RP interactions between myself and a friend (DoctorPerky on this site) over the course of... about a year? This chapter especially is largely just paraphrased from our first RP thread. And where it all went surprised us as much as anyone. Consider this a cautionary tale to all roleplayers who ship chemistry.
This was posted on AO3 first but I realized not nearly as many people are seeing it there. And that's no good, I'm proud of it. The only thing better than writing Bansai is writing Bansai from the perspective of someone who judges everything he does.
