Warnings and disclaimer still apply
All Things Familiar - Now
He'd received the phone call to confirm a few hours before, and he'd spent the rest of his day off picking up around the apartment. It had been awhile since he had guests over. After vacuuming the floor, he looked across at his living room in all its sparseness. He didn't need to be a detective for over twenty years to know that this was the apartment of an aging single man. He turned a full circle and sighed at what he saw. Was there a way of making this place look a little bit more comfortable, he wondered, a little bit more like a home and not just a flophouse for an old geezer? He sucked in his breath as he realized he'd forgotten about his magazines. He scooped them up off the couch and went into the bedroom. Normally he wouldn't care if they were seen, but for some reason, it felt better to let the ladies spend some time in the closet for the night. As he was throwing them inside, he noticed something that he had forgotten to bring out when the weather started to chill a month earlier.
He scratched his head. Would this be a little too much, he wondered. Going back and forth in his mind, he couldn't decide if using it would really matter, but the cold air that seemed to carpet his floor between November and March reminded him of why it might add some extra comfort to guests.
"What the hell," he said, reaching into the closet. "It's winter anyways. Isn't this what people use in winter?" He took it out, piece by piece. He had to dig around behind the boxes until he found the comforter. He brought it up to his face and smelled it, making sure the mildew hadn't colonized it completely. "…It'll do, I guess."
He brought it all into the living room and began setting it up, screwing the legs into the bottom frame first and then placing the comforter on top. Last he laid down the large table top over it. Standing back, he looked at the kotatsu. It had been a long time since he'd seen it fit to warm more than one person. He bent over and plugged the attached cord into the wall and sat down, placing his legs underneath the table. After a minute, he could feel the warmth building up under the blanket. The mildew smell wafted up with the heat, but he shrugged it off with a "What can you do?" and dropped his arms down on the table's surface. He didn't remember laying his head down. All that registered was that his legs suddenly felt so warm.
It was the knock that jolted him awake. He blinked his eyes open and for a moment he didn't recognize where he was. Then he remembered that he'd cleaned and that's why the living room looked so different. He got up slowly and instantly regretted pulling his legs out from the heated table. He checked the clock as he walked down the hall.
Almost six-thirty. "Leave it to him to come an hour late." He opened the door and found two red-nosed faces looking back at him.
Eyebrows raised, Kasai opened the door wider. "My guess from the look of you two is that it's pretty cold outside."
"It's freezing!" Tokitoh pushed past Kubota and rushed inside. He was holding his hands over his ears, covering them completely. Kasai noted that it was cold enough to warrant gloves on both hands. He turned to see Tokitoh kicking off his shoes and then looked back to the other boy still standing outside the door.
"Are you coming in?" he asked.
"Just waiting to be invited." Kubota smiled.
"Heh, like that ever stopped you before." Kasai waved him in.
"Someone has to be polite, Kasai-san." Kubota ducked inside. "What with the Great Tokitoh already looking through your fridge."
"Am not!" Tokitoh's voice carried over from the living room.
These kids never changed, he thought, shaking his head. "What took you two so long anyways?"
"Somebody had to finish a video game before we left." Kubota bent down to slip off his shoes.
"It was the stupid game's fault!" Tokitoh poked his head back in the hall. "It wouldn't let me save with the last bosses!"
"Okay, okay, it's fine." Kasai rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter-" He stopped when something was slipped over his wrist. He looked down to see a plastic 7-11 bag hanging from his arm.
"We also picked something up for you on the way." Kubota smiled at him and headed down the hall. Kasai looked in the bag to see a six-pack of Asahi.
"I love how the underage kid buys the cop the beer," he muttered, following his nephew.
It was his idea originally. It had been a week before, and they had been standing outside an apartment down near the docks. Its former occupant was the latest victim of the drug that both he and Makoto were searching for information on. His nephew's motivation was different from his official police work though. Makoto's incentive was standing right there next to him, hugging his arms around his chest, complaining about the cold.
Kasai had to stop himself sometimes, or else he'd get caught staring at them. The way these boys worked though was so funny to him. He had lived with Makoto for two years, and yet here, watching him interact with this kid who had no memory, it was like meeting a whole new person, someone completely different from the nobody boy he once played against. This "cat" his nephew picked up was a real puzzle to him too. One second, the boy would be threatening to rip your arm off, and the next, he'd be sleeping peacefully against Makoto's shoulder. But Kasai found out that the kid was a puzzle to himself as well. And that's why they were standing there outside the door as other officers were finishing on cleaning up.
"Looks like I called you two out here for nothing." Frowning, Kasai glanced back into the apartment. Blood stained the wall where the body had lost to the drug inside it. There was little evidence outside of the corpse on the ground, its remaining limbs transformed and contorted, the fur and the claws covered in the same red that streaked the walls. As for the drug that caused it, that "WA", there was nothing. Once again, Kasai was met with another bloody wall of no information on this case, and once again, Makoto's cat was faced with no more clues on his own private search.
After first looking inside, Tokitoh's eyes avoided the corner where the corpse was, and he remained out in the hallway, trying to stay warm. He was only wearing one glove that afternoon, and he kept his other uncovered hand in his pocket. Makoto reached out and gently rubbed his shoulder for a moment before pulling his hand back. It was a motion that only lasted a few seconds, but Kasai had noticed it, even if Tokitoh hadn't looked up. It was little things like that, touching, looking, and even speaking, where Kasai saw how much, in just a year, his nephew had changed. Why, he wasn't totally sure, but what he was sure about was-
"Ahem." Someone coughed, and Kasai blinked. He turned to look over at Makoto who had made the noise.
"Something wrong, Kasai-san?" he asked.
"Um…uh, no. Why?" He shook his head.
"You were staring. I thought something was on your mind." Makoto replied, leaning against the doorway.
He had done it again. Kasai had to stop himself from smacking his forehead. "Nah, just…thinking about this." He waved to the inside of the apartment. In the way Makoto was looking at him, he didn't think his nephew bought his lie.
"Well, if that's it for today, I guess we'll be off." Makoto saluted him and started down the hallway. "C'mon, Tokitoh."
"…Oh, okay." Makoto's words seemed to snap the other boy out of his thoughts. He turned to Kasai. "Thanks, Pops, for calling us and all." While still not looking inside, he waved his gloved hand to the apartment. "Maybe next time we'll find something." Shoulders slumped, he followed after Makoto.
Watching them retreat down the hall, Kasai couldn't help but think, I sure hope so, kid. Even if it's just for your sake.
And his thoughts followed up with, and that would probably be for Makoto's sake too, I guess…
And then, watching them walk away, he couldn't help but think, what about my sake, eh? What about this tired old man who seems to find nothing but red walls and ripped-up bodies? His gaze fell to the corner where one stray arm lay, as if it had been torn off and tossed aside, like it had no other use but to bleed onto the floor. He grimaced at it. What struck him the hardest about this case was that they realized the victim had died probably a month earlier. It was the many complaints about a smell in the hall that forced the off-site manager to stop and pay a visit. That's when they were called in, and that's when he called Makoto. Only this time, there was nothing to find, but some poor fuck who died alone, leaving only skin and a smell behind.
That's going to be me too, he thought. It's going to be me alone, dead on the floor, and some fucking cop is going to come by and complain about how shitty I stink. It's going to be me, all alone, probably with the fucking TV still on. It's going to be me too, all alone-
The boys were still walking down the building's stairs when he reached them. He was out of breath from running the few flights to catch up, and both turned to look at him. Tokitoh's eyes were wide in surprise, but Makoto, seemingly unfazed by him following them, had that familiar half-smile on his lips.
"Hey, are you kids-" he wheezed. His hand reached instinctively for his cigarettes as he talked, even though he knew they wouldn't help with his breathing. "…busy next Sunday?"
And that impulse led him to now, following his nephew into his unrecognizably clean living room. He stopped when he saw Tokitoh staring at the table.
"Why's that got a blanket around it?" the boy asked, pointing to the comforter.
"It's to keep the heat in." Makoto answered.
"What?" Tokitoh looked from him back to the table. "Whaddya mean, heat?"
"Just sit down and see." Makoto patted his shoulders. Kasai watched the boy slowly settle down on the ground. Having Tokitoh around was like living with a foreigner, except this foreigner could speak your language. He just had to be introduced to things that every other person his age took for granted. Poor kid didn't remember anything from before Makoto picked him up, and by the way he acted at first, violent and sharp like some cornered animal, Kasai figured that maybe that was a good thing. He didn't want to think of what made a kid that way. Maybe his past was one like Makoto's- ignored and abandoned. But unlike his nephew, Tokitoh seemed to want to find his past. Kasai's gaze fell on the boy's gloved right hand that was lying on the table.
His past, and whatever happened that brought on-
"Ahem."
He looked up from Tokitoh to see Makoto's eyes on him. He felt his face warm up as he realized what just happened. Scratching his head, he turned towards the kitchen. "You two settle down here. I'll get dinner ready."
"Hey, Pops, what are you cooking?" Tokitoh, figuring out what the kotatsu did, had slid half of his body under the table.
"Okonomiyaki," he called back as he went to open the fridge. He was going to need the cabbage…the pork…
"Ha, I win! I told you it wouldn't be curry!" At the shout, Kasai poked his head back into the living room to see Tokitoh pointing towards Makoto and beaming triumphantly.
"Don't tell me you two had been betting on me," he muttered, turning back to the fridge.
"Well, it's just that I remember what you used to cook." Makoto replied. He walked over and leaned against the door frame into the kitchen.
"Don't forget I won!" Tokitoh called out to his back. "Pay up."
"Later, I promise," was all his nephew answered. Kasai felt a shiver run down his back. He didn't know if it was the chill from the open fridge, or the tone in Makoto's voice that caused it. Something about that "later" felt a little too rich in meaning for him.
He started to pull out the food when he felt a presence directly behind him. He turned to see Makoto's tall figure standing over him. The light was behind his head, so his whole face was left in shadows. Kasai squinted up at him. "Thought I told you to sit down?"
"Yeah, but thought I'd come in and see if you needed any help. Assist the elderly and all that."
"Ah, fuck off." Kasai stood up, cabbage in hand. Makoto was giving him that half-smile again, and Kasai never knew who it was mocking more. He looked down at the head of cabbage in his hands. It had been a while since he had to cook for more than one person. His fingers pressed in, feeling the cool leaves beneath their skin.
"So, is that a no to help?" Makoto's voice pressed him, as cool as the leaves.
If this was a game, Kasai thought, it would be my move next, wouldn't it? He smiled at that. It had also been a while since he had played his nephew. That was their real element, wasn't it? Not family dinners, not sharing a space, but playing the game, the back and forth until one wins. His eyes met Makoto's and he hoped his smile looked just as crooked.
"You want to help, smart ass?" He tossed the cabbage at him. "Then while you're cutting out the bull shit, chop that up too."
"Hai, hai." Makoto saluted him with his free hand and went over to the sink.
They worked in silence for a few minutes. Makoto washed and prepared the cabbage, and Kasai got out the rest of the ingredients. While he was searching for the okonomiyaki mix, his hand fell on a bag of crackers. He took it out and looked at it for a moment. "You hungry?" he asked.
"Nope." Makoto shook his head as he began to slice into the cabbage.
"Hm. Maybe Toki-boy would want some of these." He turned towards the living room.
"He would, probably, if he were awake," Makoto said. Kasai looked out to see the other boy curled up in the blanket with only his head poking out. Eyes closed, his face was one of pure peace and contentment. Kasai quietly walked over to the doorway.
"…He really does look like a cat sometimes, doesn't he?" he asked, almost to himself.
"Yep. But he sure does get mad when I tell him that." Makoto replied. "Just like a cat would."
"Heh." Kasai leaned against the door frame. The kid looked so different now than when he first met him, almost a year before at Makoto's apartment, the apartment that his father was putting up. Back then, this cat looked like someone had tried to suck the life right out of him. He was just shade, pale, and thin, but his temper still was strong, and Makoto's scratched cheeks and hands were proof of that.
It was his bandaged nephew who met him at the door on the day he saw Tokitoh for the first time. He had called Kasai earlier, asking him to come over. "I want to show you something," he said without any other explanation. It was while he stood in the hall on that cold winter's day when Makoto offered his little addition to his phone call.
"Before I let you in, Kasai-san, you have to promise me one thing." Makoto held the door half-open so his body blocked any view inside. As he talked, one hand absently traced a band-aid on his chin. "You won't report this to the police. You won't report this to anyone."
"Look, Makoto, what the hell is going on-" He stopped himself as his nephew's expression fully registered.
His usual half-smile was gone, replaced by a frown as serious as the gaze that met his own. "Call it a favor, if you want." Makoto said, his voice low. "A favor between."
He never finished that sentence, but left it in the air as if seeing if Kasai himself could fill in the answer. A favor between…family? Friends?
They weren't either of those things, at least they weren't before. Kasai looked down and dug around for his cigarettes. They weren't anything before except competing players, and never then did Makoto ask for a favor, even when he lost money or he needed cigarettes. He didn't even ask if he could live with him. He just came and left.
Makoto had never asked him for anything. Not once.
And maybe that's why, before he even entered the apartment, he decided. He lit the cigarette at his lips, and as he breathed in, he nodded, and the smoke seemed to nod with him.
"…Yeah. If that's what you want." Because, you've never asked me for anything before. And if this is the only thing that this shitty old uncle can give you- "I promise."
And that's when Makoto invited him inside for the first time. And Kasai saw another life of his nephew that he never knew about. He wasn't cutting school this time though. Makoto, who loved new things, but who never got attached to anything, not even to his family, finally picked up something so strange, so rare, that he wanted to keep it.
How did you do it, kid, he wondered, his gaze resting on Tokitoh's sleeping face. I still don't get why he just picked you up like that, and I still don't get how you found him in all that mess that he was-
His thoughts were interrupted as he felt the package of mix slip from his hands. He looked up to see Makoto holding it.
"Are we ready to make this?" His nephew looked at him quizzically.
Caught staring again, Kasai tried to cover his embarrassment up with a sudden cough. "Ah, jeez, my throat's all dry." He patted his chest lightly. "I think I'm gonna grab one of those beers." Avoiding Makoto's gaze, he turned back to the kitchen, leaving his earlier thoughts and the sleeping Tokitoh behind.
Opening the fridge, he pulled a can out from the six pack. "You want one too?" he asked.
"Sure." Makoto answered. There was no drinking age in this apartment. Of course, Kasai knew there were no kids here either, no matter how old they were.
Kasai tossed him a can and opened his own. "Let's get this thing started before your cat wakes up."
Neither of them spoke as they worked. As he was mixing the packet into a bowl, he glanced over at Makoto who was slicing up the pork. This strange quiet, interrupted only by chopping and stirring, brought on another memory, one from years before, before Tokitoh, before Makoto's new life. They were like this in the kitchen. Makoto was in his school uniform, which was still too short in the sleeve. It was after work, and Kasai was cooking. It was always something quick then, something easy, something a man and a boy, or a man and an almost-man could eat with little work and little complaint. Makoto sat on the stool with a book in his hands. After his attempt at conversation received the usual "little of this, little of that," Kasai took the only thing he could grab, since the right words were obviously out of reach. "Here," he said, placing a bowl and some potatoes in front of Makoto. "Take a little of those," he pointed to the potatoes, "and a little of that," he placed a peeler in front of him, "And make yourself useful."
"Okay." Makoto shrugged and started to peel. Then the kitchen fell back into their quiet again, but this time it felt more comfortable. As he listened to Makoto peel and slice, he thought, it's not just me now. Now it's the two of us. He smiled, and was glad his back was to the boy. Even if we don't talk, maybe…maybe this is okay. Maybe this is what it's supposed to be. Doing something…together.
Still remembering, Kasai held the stirring spoon still, and without looking up, spoke. "Doesn't this remind you of old times?"
"Hm?" Makoto gathered the small pieces of pork into a pile on the cutting board.
"Right now." Kasai left the spoon in the bowl and waved at the kitchen around them. "Makes you think of old times, huh? Us, back then, doing this?" He went back to stirring. "Makes me think back."
"Not me." Makoto replied. He scooped up the pile of pork and walked over to him.
"Why not? We've done this before." Kasai moved his hand as Makoto dropped the meat into the mixing bowl.
"No." Makoto looked down at the bowl and then to Kasai. Kasai returned his gaze, and in that moment, saw again how much his nephew had changed.
"This was never our old times, Kasai-san. This was never us." He turned back to the counter and began to clean it.
Kasai stared back into the bowl, stirring the meat into the mix until it was completely covered. Yeah, he thought. Who am I kidding? This was never our old times. This was never us…
Our kitchen was never this warm, and the food never smelled like this. And we never had the ease that a family should have when they're in the kitchen, talking and cooking, laughing, and just…being together.
He felt so old then and his stirring slowed. So much had gone wrong. So much could have been different. He didn't know where or how he could have changed it, but the heaviness of Makoto's truth weighed on him. Lost in thought, he looked down at the mixing bowl in his hands, and couldn't remember why it was there. And then it slowly dawned on him. Why he ran down those building steps, why he had rummaged in his cabinets to find food to feed more than one, and why he had taken out the kotatsu, piece by piece.
"Maybe," he murmured, his words coming out as slow as his stir. "Maybe…this is what old times are supposed to be like. Right now, I mean." He turned to Makoto. "You know? Maybe this is how it's…supposed to be."
Makoto looked back at him from where he stood. Kasai could only describe his expression as "blank". It wasn't its usual easy-going smile, nor was it anything close to the seriousness he knew was possible. Instead, he was looking at the same Makoto that he looked at countless times across the mahjong table. The memory was so clear, the air between them seemed to grow even smokier, and instead of bits of cabbage scattered across the counter, it was the all-too familiar tiles. Times when they played like this, it was easy to forget about the others playing with them. It was just him against Makoto's nobody-ness, and most times, it was the blank that won. Why, he never could figure out, but now, as he stood facing this calm, blank boy, he was starting to get a clearer picture.
Before he always looked for something in Makoto, anything- a sign of what his tiles were, a sign of what strategy he was planning, a sign of life inside him. And always, he found nothing, and always he lost to that nothing. It made him think that maybe Makoto was so good at "staying inside", that not even he, an experienced detective whose job it was to find clues from nothing at all, could figure him out.
But then something happened, or rather, someone happened- happened right on him, and that blank that Makoto always kept on his face shifted into something else. When he smiled, it was fuller, and his eyes took on this softer tone, and he did things, like reach out to gently rub a shoulder, that he'd never do before. It was so strange to Kasai, this shift, this change. He'd catch himself staring at both Makoto and Tokitoh, just wondering what the hell happened.
But standing in the kitchen, holding a mixing bowl in his arms, and looking back at Makoto's blank face, he realized he had been wrong. It wasn't that Makoto had changed so much. It was the fact that his nephew, from somewhere in his past, probably as far back as when he lived with the family that had dissolved his very existence, had learned not to cover up his emotions, but reflect others. When you looked at Makoto, it wasn't about what he was hiding from you, it was what he was showing you, and he was good at showing you yourself. Across the table, whether it was for dinner or for mahjong, Makoto's face revealed all the nothing that was in Kasai's own. And when he's with Tokitoh, walking with him, sitting with him, laughing with him, his face showed the life that was pouring out of the other boy's.
Why did it take so long to see this? That with Makoto, you get what you show. You show him a killer, you get a killer and more. You show him nothing, you get nothing and more. The only thing you don't get is a connection. You never connect with him, because he's only giving you yourself back, never him.
A memory, a voice, ghosted the back of his mind. He could still hear the footsteps trudging down the hall, walking away. It's not a family that I want.
No, Kasai thought. Why would you want a family, when family has given you nothing to want in the first place?
His gaze left Makoto's and moved towards the living room.
Except, maybe…if you're Makoto, and you meet someone who has nothing, but wants something, wants something more than anything, like Toki-boy, and suddenly you find someone looking at you with that nothing-but-wanting face, and all you can do is reflect it back-
His stirring hand stilled as it slowly clicked together.
Maybe…after all this nothing that's he's been shown…he just wants someone to look at him, like the way Toki-boy does…and just show him what something from nothing looks like so he can do it too.
"…Kasai-san?" Makoto's voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you alright?"
Kasai turned his gaze from the living room to him and saw Makoto, eyebrows raised, looking expectantly back at him.
I know how you play, Makoto. Kasai put the bowl on the counter. You play off others' moves, and here, I thought I was playing this entire time when in reality, I've never played a move against you. I've given you nothing to play against. Nothing. And I know now that if I want something from you- for you, for me- that I gotta make the first move.
He picked up his beer. "…So, if this ain't like old times, I guess that means," he said, holding the can in the airs towards Makoto, "here's to the new old times then."
He waited, his hand in the air. He tried to keep his arm still. He tried to keep his eyes on Makoto's and not turn away. If this was his very first move, his first real move, he wasn't going to get scared and fuck it up. And then he remembered that he hadn't given everything yet. Still looking at Makoto, he smiled, not crooked, but full and wide. He knew it probably looked more sad than happy, but maybe that's what all his smiles look like.
This is all I have, kid. He raised the beer up higher. Now, show me what you got.
Like back in the parlors, he waited for his move. He watched as Makoto turned and with his right hand, the hand he always used to place his tiles, he picked up his beer can. Slowly, he raised it up, and Kasai watched in quiet wonder as Makoto's smile went from half to full, just like his.
He tapped Kasai's can with his own. "To the new old times then."
He didn't know who'd won this game, and suddenly, he didn't care. They brought the cans to their lips and drank, and Kasai, inside, drank to everything- to all that they had failed, and to all that they had found. Maybe now, maybe now they could restart, make it a whole new game. He licked his lips. "Better late than never, right?"
Before Makoto could reply, another voice broke in. "What's late?"
They both turned to see Tokitoh enter the kitchen, rubbing one eye with his gloved hand. "Hey, I wanna beer too."
Makoto held up his can. "You can have some of mine."
"Nah, I want my own." Tokitoh reached for the fridge, but Makoto took his hand first and placed the can against his palm until the other boy accepted it.
"This way tastes better." He winked.
"Huh? Is that true?" Tokitoh looked over to Kasai as if seeking confirmation. Kasai's hand was at his face, covering his mouth. Shit, Makoto, he thought. What the hell do you teach this kid?
"I'll tell you what will make it taste better," he said, turning away from his smirking nephew. "Some food to go with it. Come here, Toki-boy. I'll show you how to make these." He waved him over to the stove and started to warm up the skillet. "Not everyone can make these as good as me. But if you watch closely, maybe you'll figure it out."
Tokitoh's attention was intent on the stove. "Hey, Kubo-chan, you got to watch too."
"Why do I have to watch now?" Makoto asked, sidling up next to him.
"'Cause if you watch, you'll know how to make it, and then you'll stop making that curry shit all the time."
"Now, now, Curry's not all bad," Kasai said, adding some of the batter onto the skillet.
"See?" Makoto patted Tokitoh's head. "Listen to the elderly. They know what's right."
"You're getting whatever burns for that one, smart-ass." Kasai waved the spatula at him.
Makoto picked up a pot lid to shield himself, and Tokitoh fell back, laughing at them both. With his hands full at the stove, Kasai couldn't hide the smile spreading on his face.
As he began to flip the first cake over, he shook his head, still laughing.
To the new old times, huh…I guess this is what they're supposed to feel like. Warm, and loud, and…
He turned his head, and watched as the two boys began to sword fight with spoons.
…and something so strange, you can only call it…family.
---
He woke up slowly. It took a minute to register that the dark he was in was not a dream, but simply his clean living room. He lifted his head up and looked down at the surface of the kotatsu where he had fallen asleep. It was mostly clear except for a scattering of cookie crumbs still on the table, the ones they had brought out after dinner while they all watched TV.
He massaged his cheek with his hand and wiped the line of drool that had slipped down his chin. It didn't take him long to realize he was alone again. The apartment was quiet and dark, even the TV was off. He got up from the table, grimacing as the cold from the room attacked his warmed legs. He ambled over to the kitchen and flicked on the light. He squinted, adjusting to the change. As he was blinking away the dark, he noticed something new taped to the fridge. He grabbed the piece of paper and looked down at it.
"Thanks, Pops, for dinner," he read aloud. "It was really good. I'll make Kubo-chan make it next time."
And beneath that, in a different but also familiar scrawl, it read: Thanks, Kasai-san, for showing him something new. Now I'll never hear the end of it. Next time, make curry, like the good old days.
"Smartass," he shook his head, smiling. "Always got to be a fucking smartass." He went to toss the note in the trash, but then thought better of it, and taped it back up. After that, he opened the fridge, his hand already inside before he realized that what he wanted was gone.
"Fucking kids drank all my beer." He swore, but the anger never really came. The smile on his face couldn't be wiped off that easily, even if his beer was gone. He looked at the kitchen. It was still a mess from dinner, but he shrugged. He'd worry about that tomorrow. One messy night won't be the end of the world.
Going back into the living room, he looked down at the kotatsu. It felt so strange to look at now, with no one to crowd around it and drop crumbs all over it. He laughed quietly, remembering. Or sleep underneath it like a cat. He bent down and reached to lift the table top off. Something like this was too strange for an old man to keep out. It was so out-of-place from the dust and the magazines that normally crowded his living room.
As he lifted the top, he felt a rush of hot air rise out, and he remembered that he had left it on. He put the top back down and turned toward the wall where it was plugged in. He started to pull on the cord, when a thought stopped him.
Is it really that strange…to have it out?
Yeah, he answered himself. It's just me here, and I'm hardly here anyways, and this place ain't that big to begin with, let alone have some table crowd it up.
But a voice, someone that sounded just like him, replied back. But ain't this a part of it, old man? Ain't this a part of your new old times too? Or was that bullshit you were serving back then with dinner? Are you just gonna put this back in the closet with everything else that you don't wanna deal with? Bury it away, just like she did?
He sighed, letting go of the cord. He really was going nutty if he was arguing with himself and losing.
"Hell, it's winter anyways." That was a fine reason to leave it out. Even if it was just him here, and even if it took up the whole fucking living room. It still would keep his feet from freezing off.
He sat back down on the floor and placed his legs under the blanket again. He knew he should get up and go to bed, but a little while longer won't be bad, he reasoned, while it's out and all. And besides, he thought as he laid his head back down on his arms. Might as well use it now. He closed his eyes, and let the warmth slowly work its way up from his feet to his legs to his middle-
After all, it wasn't just him anymore. He had a couple more reasons to keep it out.
^^