Plant Food
Plant Food
By Nix Winter
Disclaimers: Weiß Kreuz isn't mine, na. Ken isn't mine. He might not even be truly in character. I'm still getting to know him. and I suppose that ought to be in the warnings, but there it is.
Three o'clock in the morning was a bad time to be awake, if one had the seven o'clock opening shift, but Ken Hidaka couldn't sleep. Blood was good for the plants anyway. He stood at the workbench, only the moonlight easing the darkness, and that only physical darkness. In his hands, he worked with his bunuks, cleaning, picking the last of the dried blood from the very base of the claws. He wore his work apron, nothing else, preferring the chill of a February night in the green house to the feel of clothing on his skin. His clothing, that he'd worn on the mission he'd concluded closer to midnight, were ashes now, burned up in the incinerator, stirred and burned again. The green house wasn't really all that cold, even if goose bumps stood up along the line of moonlight down his back, right down to his bare legs. And so he stood there, deeply concerned that he get every last flake of dried blood from his claws.
His teeth clenched, but he wasn't aware of the tension in his jaw, wasn't aware of the burning in his eyes, exhaustion and denied something, expression, maybe. It had been a woman tonight, a drug dealer, with curly dyed black hair. She was too small time for the others to be interested. She'd committed three murders and gotten away with them all, until tonight. Her children were in foster care for the second time, and that was perhaps why he'd done it. Now, after it was done, and he'd completed the more important part of the mission, finding out who was supplying her, now he wondered, wondered about redemption and salvation, about if there had been something worth saving in the woman whose blood he was vigorously cleaning from his claws.
He might even be in a bit of trouble. The information he had been sent to get, he'd gotten and they hadn't said NOT to kill her, but home in the greenhouse, he felt out of control, as if he were walking on the very edge of still being human, bordering on not caring if he became demon or not.
The sun rose, over writing the moon, even as his thoughts continued to darken. He shoved his claws into the back of a drawer, silently hoping that the more legitimate police never came looking for evidence. Policeman: *studying Ken's personal plants* "Say, now, can you tell me why they grow so well?"
Ken-in-his-day-dream: *innocent look* "Good plant food."
Police officer: *Nods* "I was just wondering, you see, my wife tries to grow that kind and they're always wilting. Drives her to despair it does."
Ken-in-his-day-dream: *nods more, crosses his arms over his chest* "You can take her that one, if you want. It's been fed really well."
Officer: *lifting the plant* "Why thank you! I'm sure she'll just enjoy this to no end!"
By the time he got to the end of that imaginary fiasco, he was standing at the back door, wearing nothing but the apron still, watching the sun rise, feeling it burn away some of his anger like it was lifting the dew. It had been the court papers on the woman's table, he decided. That was why she was filler in the foundation of a new building. Those two kids she had, the state was gonna give them back, and Ken knew, knew deep down in his bones the woman wasn't any safer now that she'd been when the kids were taken away from her. Those kids were safe now, at least from her, at least as safe as vulnerable little orphans could be in this world. He wondered if either of them liked soccer. Of course, the youngest was too small yet, but maybe the older one, she looked like a shy girl in the photo with the court papers, too skinny with long thin brown hair and eyes that were endlessly wary. Maybe he could get her to join his inner city soccer team. Maybe that would be too obscene. Kill the mother; teach the kid how to play soccer and smile?
"Ken-kun," Omi said, having sneaked up behind him, again. "Are you okay?"
Ken spun, eyes wide, and suddenly the apron was WAY too narrow. Omi held put pants and a tee-shirt, a clean pair of boxers. "I left'em on the workbench for you last night, but I guess you didn't see'em, uh? It's kinda early, did you get any sleep?"
Ken snatched the cloches, only aware now that his jaw was aching because it had gone even tighter at Omi's genki smile. Anger did not belong in the sunlight. He didn't really want to be a demon. He wanted to be a man, a good man, and Omi's irritating smile made him believe that he could be, if he tried hard enough. "Uh, no, just got in a little while ago. Thanks for the clothes, Omi."
He side stepped into the green house, putting plants between his backside and the glass facing the oriental restaurant across from then in the back. Omi grinned, then waved to the old woman who cooked there as she threw out a box of produce rubbish. "Ohayo, Grandma-san!"
"Ohayo, Omi-kun! You and Ken-kun come for lunch today! I fix you very good lunch today! My granddaughter is coming from Hong Kong! She be here today!"
Omi just nodded and waved. He had class actually, and judging by the color of Ken's cheeks, he didn't think the chocolate haired man was planning on eating Chinese any time soon. "Ken-kun, I'll make you a smoothie, okay? Wheat germ and soy protein, okay?"
Ken's stomach rolled over and played dead, but he was just putting a foot into his jeans. Disappointing Omi was not high on his list of 'How to be a good man', so he said, "Sure, that'd be great. Don't make yourself late for school, though, okay? Thanks for the clothes."
"No problem. We're going to have tulips to sell today, put them on sale."
"Okay," Ken said, not really caring that the tulips ought to go on sale, as he shoved an arm into his tee-shirt.
A few minutes later, he was sitting behind the counter, counting out his drawer for the day and Omi brought him his smoothie, all done up nicely with whipped cream on top. He almost felt guilty accepting it, but he did so because it made Omi smile.
Aya joined him just as Omi was out the door to class, caught him sitting there with his bare feet hooked around the legs of the stool. All that red hair, he thought and suddenly Ken was smiling, a smile that lifted his face all the way to his eyes. Aya, almost a mirror opposite sometimes, Ken though, frowned at him. Sunlight glinted from the earring he wore and violet eyes raked him over. Aya didn't see him the way Omi did. Everything was nice to Omi. Ken almost felt whole and clean when Aya looked at him like that, felt like all his sins were clearly visible and accounted for and that Aya didn't hate him anyway. It was like sunlight pouring over the infection in his soul and he found himself grinning even more stupidly.
Red eyebrows drew down, violet flashed. "We wear shoes in the shop, Hidaka."
"I'll remember that." Ken said, not really able to get himself to stop grinning. Around Aya, he felt like a man, not a good man, but a man nonetheless. "Remember to smile at the customers, Fujimya."
"I will remember that," Aya snapped back and though they didn't say another word to each other until lunch, and Ken didn't put on his shoes and Aya didn't smile, Ken felt comfortable, felt some emotion he couldn't name. All he knew for sure was that the anger wasn't going to swallow him before lunch.
Disclaimers: Weiß Kreuz isn't mine, na. Ken isn't mine. He might not even be truly in character. I'm still getting to know him. and I suppose that ought to be in the warnings, but there it is.
Three o'clock in the morning was a bad time to be awake, if one had the seven o'clock opening shift, but Ken Hidaka couldn't sleep. Blood was good for the plants anyway. He stood at the workbench, only the moonlight easing the darkness, and that only physical darkness. In his hands, he worked with his bunuks, cleaning, picking the last of the dried blood from the very base of the claws. He wore his work apron, nothing else, preferring the chill of a February night in the green house to the feel of clothing on his skin. His clothing, that he'd worn on the mission he'd concluded closer to midnight, were ashes now, burned up in the incinerator, stirred and burned again. The green house wasn't really all that cold, even if goose bumps stood up along the line of moonlight down his back, right down to his bare legs. And so he stood there, deeply concerned that he get every last flake of dried blood from his claws.
His teeth clenched, but he wasn't aware of the tension in his jaw, wasn't aware of the burning in his eyes, exhaustion and denied something, expression, maybe. It had been a woman tonight, a drug dealer, with curly dyed black hair. She was too small time for the others to be interested. She'd committed three murders and gotten away with them all, until tonight. Her children were in foster care for the second time, and that was perhaps why he'd done it. Now, after it was done, and he'd completed the more important part of the mission, finding out who was supplying her, now he wondered, wondered about redemption and salvation, about if there had been something worth saving in the woman whose blood he was vigorously cleaning from his claws.
He might even be in a bit of trouble. The information he had been sent to get, he'd gotten and they hadn't said NOT to kill her, but home in the greenhouse, he felt out of control, as if he were walking on the very edge of still being human, bordering on not caring if he became demon or not.
The sun rose, over writing the moon, even as his thoughts continued to darken. He shoved his claws into the back of a drawer, silently hoping that the more legitimate police never came looking for evidence. Policeman: *studying Ken's personal plants* "Say, now, can you tell me why they grow so well?"
Ken-in-his-day-dream: *innocent look* "Good plant food."
Police officer: *Nods* "I was just wondering, you see, my wife tries to grow that kind and they're always wilting. Drives her to despair it does."
Ken-in-his-day-dream: *nods more, crosses his arms over his chest* "You can take her that one, if you want. It's been fed really well."
Officer: *lifting the plant* "Why thank you! I'm sure she'll just enjoy this to no end!"
By the time he got to the end of that imaginary fiasco, he was standing at the back door, wearing nothing but the apron still, watching the sun rise, feeling it burn away some of his anger like it was lifting the dew. It had been the court papers on the woman's table, he decided. That was why she was filler in the foundation of a new building. Those two kids she had, the state was gonna give them back, and Ken knew, knew deep down in his bones the woman wasn't any safer now that she'd been when the kids were taken away from her. Those kids were safe now, at least from her, at least as safe as vulnerable little orphans could be in this world. He wondered if either of them liked soccer. Of course, the youngest was too small yet, but maybe the older one, she looked like a shy girl in the photo with the court papers, too skinny with long thin brown hair and eyes that were endlessly wary. Maybe he could get her to join his inner city soccer team. Maybe that would be too obscene. Kill the mother; teach the kid how to play soccer and smile?
"Ken-kun," Omi said, having sneaked up behind him, again. "Are you okay?"
Ken spun, eyes wide, and suddenly the apron was WAY too narrow. Omi held put pants and a tee-shirt, a clean pair of boxers. "I left'em on the workbench for you last night, but I guess you didn't see'em, uh? It's kinda early, did you get any sleep?"
Ken snatched the cloches, only aware now that his jaw was aching because it had gone even tighter at Omi's genki smile. Anger did not belong in the sunlight. He didn't really want to be a demon. He wanted to be a man, a good man, and Omi's irritating smile made him believe that he could be, if he tried hard enough. "Uh, no, just got in a little while ago. Thanks for the clothes, Omi."
He side stepped into the green house, putting plants between his backside and the glass facing the oriental restaurant across from then in the back. Omi grinned, then waved to the old woman who cooked there as she threw out a box of produce rubbish. "Ohayo, Grandma-san!"
"Ohayo, Omi-kun! You and Ken-kun come for lunch today! I fix you very good lunch today! My granddaughter is coming from Hong Kong! She be here today!"
Omi just nodded and waved. He had class actually, and judging by the color of Ken's cheeks, he didn't think the chocolate haired man was planning on eating Chinese any time soon. "Ken-kun, I'll make you a smoothie, okay? Wheat germ and soy protein, okay?"
Ken's stomach rolled over and played dead, but he was just putting a foot into his jeans. Disappointing Omi was not high on his list of 'How to be a good man', so he said, "Sure, that'd be great. Don't make yourself late for school, though, okay? Thanks for the clothes."
"No problem. We're going to have tulips to sell today, put them on sale."
"Okay," Ken said, not really caring that the tulips ought to go on sale, as he shoved an arm into his tee-shirt.
A few minutes later, he was sitting behind the counter, counting out his drawer for the day and Omi brought him his smoothie, all done up nicely with whipped cream on top. He almost felt guilty accepting it, but he did so because it made Omi smile.
Aya joined him just as Omi was out the door to class, caught him sitting there with his bare feet hooked around the legs of the stool. All that red hair, he thought and suddenly Ken was smiling, a smile that lifted his face all the way to his eyes. Aya, almost a mirror opposite sometimes, Ken though, frowned at him. Sunlight glinted from the earring he wore and violet eyes raked him over. Aya didn't see him the way Omi did. Everything was nice to Omi. Ken almost felt whole and clean when Aya looked at him like that, felt like all his sins were clearly visible and accounted for and that Aya didn't hate him anyway. It was like sunlight pouring over the infection in his soul and he found himself grinning even more stupidly.
Red eyebrows drew down, violet flashed. "We wear shoes in the shop, Hidaka."
"I'll remember that." Ken said, not really able to get himself to stop grinning. Around Aya, he felt like a man, not a good man, but a man nonetheless. "Remember to smile at the customers, Fujimya."
"I will remember that," Aya snapped back and though they didn't say another word to each other until lunch, and Ken didn't put on his shoes and Aya didn't smile, Ken felt comfortable, felt some emotion he couldn't name. All he knew for sure was that the anger wasn't going to swallow him before lunch.