AN: Hiya readers! Fancy seeing you here! Thank you for checking out another one of my katanaship installments. This one is from Usagi's POV and I personally am very rather of it. As always, if you find anything noteworthy, be it positive or negative, please drop me a message!
Warnings: Established!Katanaship: Slash relationship (Leo/Usagi). Mention of bullying. Lots and lots of fluff.
Summary: Oneshot. Usagi doesn't care what people say. Or at least that is what he tells himself. / "Are you," Leonardo says quietly, "ashamed of me?"
TURTLE SOUP AND RABBIT STEW
It's wrong, people tell him. Not natural. Insane. Dangerous. Messed up. He's not good for you, they say. He'll never love you back, they say. He'll play with you and when he's done you're dead. Ninja are like that, you know that better than most, they say. Think about your safety. Think about your friends. Think about your reputation.
Strangers stop him in the streets to yell at him, whispers follow him down the road until he is out of earshot. [He has come to loathe his hearing these days.] Whenever Leonardo visits him, Usagi makes sure that they stay clear of the cities if at all possible. His friend doesn't seem to mind; he's not overly fond of people anyway, and if he suspects anything, he never says so. [Sure, sometimes he looks at Usagi over the dwindling flames of their campfire with a strange sadness in his eyes, but there could be any number of reasons for that. Right? Right.]
But despite all of his precautions there comes a day when they have run out of supplies and the weather has been awful for weeks, when not even his friend is able to find something edible in the woods and the meadows are a mess of mud and debris, and Usagi finally accepts that they have no choice but to find an inn for the night. They enter the small village of Otobe at dusk, and while Usagi initially thinks of the seemingly deserted streets as a good sign, he is quickly reminded that the night belongs to the filth, the gamblers and the beggars and the drunkards. His friend won't let go of his hand, and he wishes rather fiercely that they weren't quite so obvious [and he hates himself for it, oh, how he loathes himself, but the thought lingers in the forefront of his mind like a red flag]. Alas, it is too late to worry, and there is nothing for it, after all. He won't stop tying his ears into a top knot, and Leonardo won't stop wearing his mask, and that is what they are. It's too late to consider doing anything now but move forward.
They find an inn in a more peaceful part of town, but his initial relief is short-lived. As soon as they enter, they attract stares, and Usagi is shocked to find that people have heard of them even here in this remote mountain village. The atmosphere is hostile, even though his friend doesn't seem to mind, just walks straight past the accusatory glances and the openly annoyed stares to the counter to ask for a room.
"I won't rent out to the likes of you," the innkeeper says and spits on the ground next to him. "Ninja scum." He means to look threatening, but it turns out to be a pitiful and silly sight and, frankly, quite a sad one.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Leonardo says, always polite, never willing to pick a fight if there is another option, and turns to go. Usagi is gripping his hand so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, but nobody stops them- until suddenly, someone is in the way of the door.
The young neko boy is obviously drunk, reeking of alcohol, and confusing the haze in his head with courage when he blocks their path. He looks at the tell-tale dirt stains on their clothes, the mud on their feet, the tired line of their shoulders, and thinks himself victorious without a fight. "Nob'dy wants ya 'round, don't we," he slurs and pokes Leonardo in the chest. "Serves ya right, hidin' in the bushes like the savages y'are. No wonder he's ashamed ta show you, I know I'd be." He hiccups, and Usagi has not wanted to hurt another living creature that badly for a long time, but Leonardo is still holding his hand with a dangerously calm expression on his face, and so he remains where he is and prays to the gods that they get out of this unharmed.
"Are you," Leonardo says quietly, "ashamed of me?"
In the second that it takes Usagi to understand that the question is aimed at him, the drunk has leaned in closer and placed an elbow on his friend's shoulder. "'Course he is," he says and grins. "Little ninja scum like-"
Even though Usagi has been expecting it, the punch, when it comes, is impossible to follow. Lightning-fast a green fist strikes a scrubby face, and the force of the blow knocks the stranger backwards and into the door where he slides down, whimpering in pain and sudden fear. Leonardo doesn't spare so much as a glance at him. "I wasn't talking to you," he says, but his eyes are on his friend, searching, waiting still.
Usagi thinks of the first time they held hands, the first time they kissed, the first time he buried his head in the crook of the other's neck and breathed in the scent of clear water and earth and how he thought that if safety had a smell, this was it, and he thinks of them sneaking out of court balls and Leonardo's quiet laughter that is always reserved for him and the way his friend's hands are calloused in all the places that give away a burdened soul. When he looks up and his onyx eyes are meeting the other's brown ones, his expression is fierce.
"Not once," he says and his voice is shaking, "not for one single moment have I been ashamed of you, I could never, not with you being the way you are, but right now," and at this he looks down at the pathetic bundle that is lying at their feet, clutching his nose, and the room is dead silent when he continues, "right now I am ashamed of these people who dare to call themselves civilized." And he stands up on his tip-toes to place a soft kiss right on his friend's mouth. "Let's go," he says as softly as he possibly can when liquid madness is still coursing through his veins. "I'd rather spend a lifetime in the mud with you than spend another second in this room."
They walk out the door, and they are still holding hands, and Usagi thinks that if they weren't, nobody in the cramped little inn behind them would still be breathing right now.
The door behind them doesn't fall shut when it should, and they turn around to find a middle-aged farmer behind them. The man regards them calmly before he smiles and nods to himself. "Young love," he says conversationally and indicates with a jerk of his head that they should walk with him. "Reminds me of my early days when I first met my missus." He goes ahead, and after a glance at each other they follow him down the road and back into the outskirts of the village. "Does my old heart good to see that not all hope is lost for our youth," the man says. "Sorry to see you struggle. It's not much I can offer you, but you are welcome to stay with me and my family tonight."
"We don't want to cause any inconvenience," Leonardo protests. Not for the first time [and if he has any say in it, not for the last time either], Usagi finds himself staring at his friend of New York City, who would have every right to wear his swords at his side and call himself a samurai, and who fights like a possessed, and who is still so humble that he would decline a peasant's offer for shelter not out of false dignity, but of responsibility for the poor.
"Nonsense," the man says and waves them in. "You can tell some stories to the children in return. Tell you what," and suddenly they are inside the one-room hut, and it's warm and smells like straw and soup and the slightly sticky odor of too many people living in close proximity, "if you can get them to go to sleep without complaints, I'll whip out the sake, too."
Leonardo laughs, and at the sound something heavy is lifted from Usagi's heart and dissolves in the night.
