Author note: Unless I'm just being an ignorant search-bar failure, I think it's safe to say that this is the first story up on fanfiction involving Kowloon as a major character. If not, so be it, but I'd still like to draw attention to the area. More can be read up about the Walled City on both Wikipedia and actual accounts citizens and/or visitors have made about what life was like in Kowloon. If you have any interest at all, I really encourage you to look into "his" story. I won't blabber on here about the background information, but I know that some major points about Kowloon will not be explained as clearly as I'd like in this story alone. For any other fans of the "HK family" out there, please say hi and let me know if I'm doing alright! I can promise that canon!Macau will be making an appearance in later chapters, so please review :'D even if it's a slap in the face, it helps.
Aside from that, I hope you enjoy!
Hong Kong was never really surprised by the rather large amount of stares he received wherever he happened to go. As a person, he was often looked upon with surprise for his large eyebrows (it wasn't his fault he had them, nor was it genetics'). As a nation, he was made fun of for his rather creative ways of boosting his economy. Granted, it was a 4-D porno; but hey, it made the money – what's to complain about? And as just another Asian teen walking through the undusted streets of Victoria Harbor's finest ghetto, the cheesy Mandarin shopping bag sort of stood out.
He didn't really mind though; food was cheaper at Aniki's place anyways.
He often made trips to the Walled City. This time, however, was special. Not every day was New Years. Well, American New Years.
"You have lanterns? What for? Buy too early and it will be too late – realize you have brought last years'." The apartment keeper laughed as Hong Kong walked by.
"Not if I make them." He didn't smile (he never does, really), but he found the old man's flat humor amusing.
Usually one would have to pay a fee to visit on someone else's property, but Hong Kong had paid as many times that the man claimed he could retire happily on the teens' fees alone. "Mou man tai!"
The one thing he could never get over was the stairs. As a rather high-tech city, the contrast between his apartment and his brother's was like comparing a French pastry to mashed bean. The metal steps shook and squeaked as he went up. A few were missing though Hong Kong had figured by now which ones could actually hurt you when stepping in the wrong place.
Hand-made red and gold dragon and fish kites hung from the metal poles that held up various parts of the establishment. To anyone else, they were only shacks stacked on top of one another, but to Hong Kong, this was the world. Despite their reputation as "just another shanty town", the people here had real culture. They didn't need any sort of song or sport to hold them to it; they had each other.
Chimes of old soda cans hanging from the ceiling rang as he squeezed through the tightly knit entrance for the outdoor hallway. He felt like a gymnast; balancing several full grocery bags while trying to keep his eyes off the twenty-foot fall, his only protection a rusting fence with drying towels and faded clothes. An elderly woman cursed at him for coming up so high, claiming he was just another teenager trying something stupid.
Hong Kong bowed to her nonetheless, a small smirk on his face, "Fong sam, jii."
It was rare he showed his friends and family any sort of emotion, but back home where the only people he knew didn't remember him, he was like any other visitor. His smile, however, ended quickly at a note hanging from the detached door of his destination.
"…impounded?" He read aloud. "But I paid over for it last month…"
It was a funny thing to say for a place he didn't even live in. The apartment, if even that, seemed dead to the world. Outside, faded shouts of children and trash-made wind chimes filled the air with a dreary note. Hong Kong sighed and pulled down the slip, sticking a corner in his mouth so he could kick the door off its last hanging hinge, hands already full.
"If you're not here then I will make bao with your birds in the center."
With that, he failed to make any sort of threat. His voice sounded like a child wanting their mother to buy candy from the grocery store, a monotonic yet dragging tone he had held since his days under British rule.
He received no reply. Sighing, he fought his way through the piles of crumpled up papers and newspaper leftovers. "You really ought to clean this place…through I know you won't."
Again, no reply, "Where the bloody hell did he manage to wander off to now?" Hong Kong mused, only slightly surprised by his twin's tardiness.
The inside of the apartment was a small room, sort of like a walk in closet. The place to remove your coat and shoes was filled with trash and Buddha knows what else. Hong Kong made his way into the next room; half was an office, the rest with what seemed like a mattress piled up on stacks of old books and other "recycled" space-fillers. An automatic fan blew old papers and torn window curtains in a melodic way. The late-day sun could hardly shine through the clouded windows, leaving a sort of gloomy feeling to prowl around the flat.
"I knew we should've rented a loft." Hong Kong sighed and set down the bags on the only clean surface, the coffee table. His twin had his feet up, placed only a few inches away from a pair of goldfish barely moving around their open top bowl, a small trail of drool hanging from his chin.
"Wake up, stupid." Hong Kong kicked the chair the other was leaning back on. "You're competing with your idiot fish for the life of this place."
"Pftt-…!" Kowloon scrambled to grab hold on something, anything to keep him from falling back. "S-shit!"
Hong Kong sighed as the chair came down; Kowloon had failed. "Mmmph…stupid thing."
Kowloon was just as old as Hong Kong but seemed like a teenager when it came to appearance. His hair was always a mess, as if he had just gotten out of bed. He rarely changed his clothes. Either that, or he just owned several pairs of the same green shirt and slip pants, Hong Kong thought. And when it came to personality, Kowloon was no more mature than a first-year primary student.
"..."
"Idiot."
I'll be aiming to get the next part up soon. I realize the amount of people interested in characters like this amount to nothing more than a handful (or at least, that's what I've observed so far), but I'm still going to try and keep this story updated as quickly as possible. I don't normally publish stories here without first finishing them, so this "write-publish-write-publish" bonanza will be a first-time for me.
But above anything, please review ;;!
