Coffee and a Sgian-Dubh
by: Yidkirkin of the Warhammer
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
SPOILERS
Koyama has always hated Sakurai.
He had been an asshole to Koyama for a long time, since all the way back before they had been scarred challenging the nutjob of a President they used to 'work' for. From the minute they laid eyes on each other dislike curdled in their stomachs –but their futures hadn't cared about their feelings in that regard.
Koyama joined Claw only a few weeks after Sakurai, was even recruited by the same member of the main branch. He'd been barely eighteen years old and was three weeks into his second bout of homelessness, and the bulging backpack on his shoulder coupled with the grease in his hair didn't exactly hide that fact. Sakurai had been in the lobby when he arrived –even at seventeen the prick wore a crisp dress shirt and pressed slacks at all times –and the disgusted sneer thrown his way had made his blood boil.
It was no surprise they ended up in the medical bay less than a week later.
Nowadays, with Claw disbanded and the rest of seventh division well on their way to living productive lives, Koyama doesn't see Sakurai more than two or three times a month. Occasionally he'll catch Sakurai while walking home from work, but the other ESPer works the early shift erratically and Koyama stops in rarely as it is.
They don't see each other practically every waking minute, so from that Koyama's temper has grown a much longer fuse. They don't have to simmer in their disagreements if any come up, since they've grown friendlier with the other ex-Cadres. They aren't caught up in delusions of grandeur, they don't refuse to acknowledge their own shortcomings, the cycle doesn't feed into itself on and on with no end in sight.
Nowadays Koyama can be in a room with Sakurai and not feel like punching his throat out, can talk with him and the others and actually enjoy himself, can see him on the street and wave to him and not be surprised to get a nod in return.
It's nice; and even when his fuse eventually runs out, almost always in sync with Sakurai's even though he isn't usually the cause anymore, he's safe, because Sakurai's always hated him just the same.
Old habits die hard. Even if sometimes he doesn't mind being in Sakurai's company, even if sometimes he might actually like it, they hate each other. That at least is a constant they can fall back on, even in their new lives as proper citizens, and especially when they have no one else to go to.
"You've improved, loathe as I am to say." Sakurai huffs, sword snapped in two and hair dishevelled. His suit jacket is a lost cause, his jaw already bruising something fierce, and there's a scrape sluggishly leaking blood through his slacks.
"That was one of your newer swords, wasn't it ya bastard?" Koyama says; his head is spinning, the slices all over his forearms are stinging and one of the legs of his jeans is hanging by a thread above his left knee.
"Hah, as if I'd give you a handicap." Behind the awkward teasing tone Koyama notes the compliment and has to fight back a bashful grin. Sakurai's so much easier to talk to in the middle of this exhausted aftermath, when the stick up his ass disappears along with the stress he was trying to get rid of.
Sakurai grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, and Koyama turns his head to watch him even as he flings the snapped sword scabbard over so that it hits Koyama in the shin. He flips Sakurai off but the fight was so good that he can't really feel bothered, even when Sakurai throws a haughty smirk his way.
"I've got night shift; I'm going to get back home." Sakurai is already limping off, making it easy for Koyama to let his eyes wander a bit southward until he disappears into the trees. When his aura too is gone, Koyama gets to his feet and takes stock of his body, unsurprised at the few deeper slashes on his legs that he hasn't noticed before.
Koyama has his job now, his hobbies, his friends at the Western Society and the ex-Scar meet-ups every other week or so; he doesn't have either the time or the desire to get bent out of shape everyday like he used to in the past. Most of the time Sakurai isn't even the reason for his temper snapping, and a lot of the time he thinks that he's actually beginning to like him. Nowadays he finally feels like he's on his way to adulthood, and he's glad that Sakurai feels that way too.
Kotama has always, always hated Sakurai, from the moment they met to all the years in Claw to now when they take their bottled up stress and anger out on each other. He's an asshole with a stick up his ass, fussy over his clothes and dismissive of those that don't make a good first impression. His good moods are brief and kind words almost nonexistent –and it kills him to admit it, but he's a challenge to defeat in a fight even on Koyama's better days.
"Hate that fuckin' guy." Koyama mutters, as if to speak it will make it true again. Because he hasn't really thought that way in a while; instead he's been occupied by the look of Sakurai's ass in the jeans he wears to the ex-Cadre dinners, or the surprised laugh he let out at something Koyama said a few weeks ago, or the little compliment he'd paid Koyama carefully shrouded in an exhausted smirk and bright eyes.
Nowadays, Koyama wants to see if the fact that he doesn't hate Sakurai anymore will be enough to change what they have into something better.
Vvv
Sakurai can't stand Koyama most of the time.
Ever since they had joined Claw, Koyama had established himself to be an unapologetic musclehead with none of the same standards as Sakurai held. Over the intervening years he had gained a marginal amount of tact, but the fact remained that he wore on Sakurai's patience like no one else did.
Sakurai had only been a Claw member for two months when the man who recruited him brought Koyama into the base. He had instantly been turned off of any inclination to interact with him when he saw the absolute disregard he put into his appearance and hygiene. Later Sakurai would learn that he had been homeless until that point, but as far as he was concerned at the time it was no excuse; Sakurai had been in and out of the streets since he was a child and he had never looked like that. He hadn't hid his honest disgust at the smell Koyama radiated, and from that point on was consistently and constantly irritated with nearly everything Koyama said or did.
It was still a surprise to think that even though they clashed so often in those days they had never gone far enough to risk killing one another.
These days, with the former members of the seventh division leading independent lives and Claw no longer an ever present looming threat, Sakurai only sees Koyama and the rest around twice a month or so. It helps that Sakurai keeps himself busy –if ever he doesn't feel up to the now regular dinners or bowling or karaoke, work is a tried and true excuse that he isn't above taking advantage of.
Sakurai can tolerate a lot more of Koyama's normally infuriating behaviour when there's a longer buffer between their interactions. If they ever do have an argument now, there's no expectation that they work it out as fast as possible 'for the good of the organization' –they could walk away and let it fade into nothing naturally if they wish. And even though Sakurai still holds himself to a high standard, he also knows very well now that he isn't perfect or above criticism, and that gives him some much needed perspective.
These days, Sakurai is increasingly caught off guard by the amount of times Koyama can make him laugh without seeming to even try, can give Koyama a compliment and not even think twice, will feel bad if Koyama smiles at him on the street and he doesn't at least nod to him in return.
It is better, like this; even though Sakurai's patience can disappear at the tiniest slight, it is less often Koyama that contributes to it than it is some ignorant stranger. It's far more often that Koyama is the one whom Sakurai seeks out in order to relieve that anger, because he can take whatever abuse Sakurai throws his way, because he's always been there.
It's a fact Sakurai can't stand, that he still relies on someone even though everyone in his life has abandoned him seemingly without remorse. He shouldn't let himself fall into that trap again, because even if Koyama has been around the longest there is sure to come a day when he turns into too much of a proper citizen to bother with Sakurai anymore.
"Oi, oi, stay awake there, sunshine." An all-too-familiar voice chirps, startling Sakurai out of the light doze he'd fallen into at the cash register. He straightens to dust himself off self consciously –ignoring the throb to his injured leg –and glares tiredly at the ESPer standing on the other side of the counter. Koyama is wearing his Bouncer 'uniform' of a red shirt and open black suit jacket, so it's immediately obvious that he's just off of his shift and on his way home.
"It's not even four." Sakurai grouches. "How are you not dead on your feet?" Koyama lifts one of his arms and places a coffee cup on the scanner, sliding it Sakurai's way with a bit of a quirk to his grin.
"I hit my second wind –always do." He turns the cup around when Sakurai doesn't move to take it, revealing Sakurai's name written on the sleeve. "Shot of mint, two cream... that still how you like it?"
Baffled, Sakurai can only nod, pulling the cup closer and taking a hesitant sip when Koyama makes a 'go ahead' motion with his hands. It's maybe a touch stronger than Sakurai normally takes it, but the fact that Koyama must have gone out of his way to pick this up for him...
Koyama tugs at his earrings with one hand, a tick he's had since he first got the gaudy things, and blushes all the way to his ears. Sakurai looks away briefly to sip at the drink again, feeling awkward and off kilter at this unexpected gesture.
"Aight, I'ma head home 'fore that wind turns into gas." Koyama laughs brutishly –whether from his terrible joke or the sour expression that passes over Sakurai's face, he can't be sure. He leaves a few seconds later, disappearing from the view of the windows as he walks off down the sidewalk.
"...thanks." Sakurai says just that little too late, placing the cup safely beside the register for later.
Sakurai is still learning how to be a productive member of society; so many of his formative years on his own and then again with Claw have made it so he needs to unlearn just as much. He doesn't know if it's because he's older now, or that he's finally able to spend time alone, in his own space –but Koyama doesn't push him to frustration so much as he used to. Is this just what adulthood feels like for everyone else? Does Koyama feel this way?
Sakurai really can't stand Koyama most of the time; from the way he speaks to the way he fights and everything in between. He's a brute with an ugly sense of humour, has a gleam of violence forever in his eyes and no appreciation for the finer things in life. Any insight he offers is overshadowed by his irresponsibility, and his laziness is such that as Cadre it was always Sakurai who thanklessly picked up his slack.
"I can't stand owing him favours." Sakurai sighs, only marginally serious about it. Really, Sakurai figures he already owes Koyama something for how often he absently stares at his ass, or at the tight tank tops he chooses to wear to their spars, or even at that seldom seen relaxed tilt to his face when all of his accumulated stress and chutzpah fizzles out when their spars are over.
Sakurai takes another sip of coffee and pushes away the smile that threatens to crack over his face; he can wait to think about all of that until he goes home.