"… fucking arrogant, conceited, psychopathic fucking BASTARD! Plus, I can' believe …"
Katsu and Sano were slowly walking along the streets of Tokyo, supposedly because Katsu didn't get out enough, but most likely because Sano needed someone to bitch to. After all, there was no way Sano would be able to whine like this to either Kamiya-dono or the little kid … Yahiko, that was his name. And Sano had already confided in Katsu that whining at Himura left him feeling about three years old, with Himura as a kindly mursemaid.
Katsu thought Sano sounded like a three-year-old when he was whining no matter what, but kept that to himself. Besides, he did need to get out more, and Sano was bitching about anything Katsu hadn't heard thirty times before.
"… and I don't know if that's worse …"
If Katsu had actually been paying any attention to Sano, he probably would have been more than a little annoyed with his friend by now. He had just spent the last hour fuming over the fact that he had ran into that policeman he hated so much earlier, and showed no signs of slowing down.
Oh, come on, Sano. Just fuck the man already! It was beyond Katsu's comprehension why Sano couldn't see why he spent so much time obsessing over the cop when it was perfectly obvious to him. Or maybe he was just more likely to notice things like these. Ah, well. You know the saying – lust is stupid. And yes, he was aware that that's not the original quote – use what fits, okay? Sano'd come to eventually.
Probably.
Maybe.
With a little help.
… Make that a lot of help.
And lots of sake.
Wait … Katsu sniffed once. They were near his neighborhood now, and he knew exactly how much smoke was normal for here. What he smelled was to that like Sano's snores were to a kitten purring.
This couldn't be good.
At all.
Katsu broke into a run, hardly even noticing Sano's surprised exclamation. It was far too soon when he stopped.
The place looked … devastated. Like the war had come back again, just for these few houses. And in the center of all the carnage were the gutted ruins of where Katsu's house had once stood.
The blaze was obviously long since under control, and only a few houses to either side of his had been burned, but that didn't register. Wood smoke and tar irritated his nose, but he took no notice of that except to note, in a very offhand way, that it seemed no one had actually been killed in this fire, or else the air would have been polluted with the sickly sweet smell of burned meat. Katsu was glad, in a way – that was a scent he had experience far too often as a child, and he didn't need any reminders to something already burned irrevocably into his memory.
Sano came running up behind him, not even panting slightly.
"Hey man, what's your prob-" he cut short whatever he was going to say and starred around with horrified eyes. Not that Katsu noticed. "Shit."
It was a very small sound from the normally exuberant Sano, and later Katsu would wonder on that. Not now. This was not a time for thinking.
It was funny … he'd spent the last ten years nearly entirely within those four walls, and he'd hated them. Then Sano had come, and he had not though about them at all, except to occasionally remark that yes, they were about as impermeable as a loosely woven fishnet, and it probably would be a good idea to find some form of insulation within the nest millennia or so. There was … had been … nothing in that room he would rather have than not. A single futon, thin and lumpy; one summer blanket and one winter, both threadbare and past their better days. A few prints salvaged and carefully repaired from gutters, acquired when he was still young enough to care about such things. One oil lamp, barely used; inks, newspaper clippings; blank paper, a typewriter and a closet full of unmarked maps.
Of all those things, the maps and the typewriter were probably the only things he valued, and the typewriter being the only thing actually moderately difficult to attain. Idly, he thought that it was a very good thing that this had happened now, and not some time earlier – rather have a closet full of maps catch fire than a closet full of bombs.
So it was established that he didn't care about the place – he called it "home," but only because it was a place to sleep. So why was he standing here, unthinking and immobile, like he had just lost his best friend? He should be moving, asking someone if they knew what had caused this and why, searching the ruins to see if he could find anything … he would. Any second, he would shake out of this atypical stupor and start doing something constructive.
Any moment now.
Just …
One minute …
And then …
And then he'd …
He'd …
Do … something …
In a minute.
Any minute now, for sure.
Sano was saying something, but Katsu didn't hear, no more than he felt it when his friend took his elbow and gently led him away from the smoldering skeleton of the ten worst years of his life.
***************
Katsu's house go bye-bye. *sniff* Oh dear, where will he live now, and on such short notice, too? Any guesses? 'Cause I can think of a few … convenient ones. ^_^
Kuroiyousei: And I'm happy that you're happy that I'm happy …
And your word's good enough for me. His name's Tsukoika. And there's no way I would agree so easily if Tsukoika hadn't actually been what I originally thought his name was, until I saw it being spelled/said Tsukoida and thought, "whoops, well maybe that's it then." Kind ironic now that you think about it. Eh, well what'cha gonna do?
Is it okay if I reply to your reviews on FF the next time I get a couple'a chapters out? That one, I tend to update extremely sporadically, where alluva sudden I'll get super-inspired and write about ten pages worth of story in one week, and then go back to being muse-ically impaired. This one's different … these chapter kinda like … just flow, ya know? And I honestly don't think I'd be able to get out a semi-decent "chapter" a day if I didn't have (what I think is) a fairly good grasp on each character and what makes him/her tick. It's not like that in PotC with anyone but Jack. (But it's still one of my favorite movies!)