Author's Note: My idea for "Domestic" was to have a series of loosely related ficlets about household issues. Each one was going to be inspired by a different member of my immediate family. I not sure if I'll ever get around to writing the rest, but since they are relatively independent, I now bring you Part 1 – unwittingly inspired by my brother.

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Soap

His hair is shampooed and conditioned, his face: washed, but even though the water is beginning to run cold, instead of finishing his shower, he stares at the green cake of soap. It had not occurred to him before today that others might consider it odd that he was using this particular bar – that people might make assumptions based on that knowledge.

This would not even be happening if Kakei had not made him switch with Rikuou this morning. He could have been taking inventory all day and never been the wiser.

It happened as two separate events. First was the old married couple. They had come into the store to pick up a small number of items in an apparent attempt to put off a full trip to the grocery. They bought a handful of random necessities, one of which was soap. He only noticed because of the ridiculous amount of time they spent bickering over which brand they should buy. Evidently, their usual pick was not among those Green Drugstore keeps in stock.

The husband wanted to try the bar with volcanic ash and pine tar. The wife said it smelled too masculine and that if he bought that, then she was going to have to buy a whole separate bar for herself. They were on a limited budget, she said. They couldn't afford to duplicate their purchases.

She suggested a different brand and the man countered her idea saying that the soap she picked made his skin too soft. Kazahaya thought that was a bizarre complaint. Wasn't soft skin a good thing?

The wife said that the next bar he chose left a film on her skin. He thought the advertising campaign for her next pick was too childish. On and on they went, their objections ranging from plausible to trivial with a helping of the downright outlandish tossed in for good measure. Who cares what font is used to list the ingredients? What kind of person refuses to buy a bar of soap because the paid spokesperson was in a bad movie?

Customers began to stare. Kazahaya wanted to go over, pick any random box, and say, 'Buy this or leave.' He didn't only because there was no doubt in his mind, Kakei would have killed him. A slow death, full of things too frightening to even begin to imagine and Saiga somewhere off in the background saying, "I tried to warn you, Boy."

When he managed to shake himself back to reality from his waking nightmare, the husband and wife were still at it. The soap was too hard. The scent was too light. The color was wrong. The shape was wrong. Finally, the husband picked up a box and asked defiantly, "What's wrong with this one?"

The woman waved her hand to dismiss the idea. "That brand is too expensive."

"Ha! It's on sale!" And just like that, the battle was over. The pair paid for their chosen items and left the store.

It had been a whole ordeal, but by itself, not enough to have him questioning the bar of soap in his hand. It had taken the addition of the second event for that.

Compared to the married couple, it was such a small thing – just two ordinary girls, maybe a few years older than he was. From the bits of conversation he heard, they were roommates.

They were only two people, but they paid for their purchases in three groups. Shared items in one group and personal items for each girl in separate groups. He and Rikuou had a similar policy. Items they shared were paid for by splitting the cost evenly in half. Personal items were paid for solely by the person using it.

The difference in the systems was which items fell into which category. He and Rikuou paid for things like toothbrushes and deodorant individually. Toothpaste, shampoo, and soap were shared expenses. Kazahaya paid for his cream rinse alone only because Rikuou said he never uses any – said the stuff makes his hair feel oily by the end of the day. The separate piles for the girls contained several duplicates from the list of shared items he and Rikuou had, among them: soap.

So now here he is, trying to shower, wondering if he should be bothered by the fact that only ten minutes earlier, Rikuou had been washing his body – his whole body, mind you, arms and legs, chest, stomach, everything – with this exact bar of soap.

After a moment more of contemplation, he comes to a decision. He has been using the same soap as Rikuou for the better part of a year. It would be silly to suddenly insist on separate bars now. It is not as if Saiga had been using it, or something completely gross like that. He says aloud, "It's just Rikuou," and proceeds with his washing. He'll just have to make sure that his and Rikuou's soap sharing system stays a secret – that way no one else will ever have the opportunity to draw the conclusion that his relationship with Rikuou is more like that of the married couple than the roommates.