Blending In
4



Tonkeshin's long, tapered fingers arched on the doorknob. He swallowed and slowly pulled the large door inwards.
A rich, alto female voice exploded almost as soon as he had the door open, "This is Blaque LeCouriche of Satan City news. Tonkeshin, is it true that you're entering the World Martial Arts Tournament?"
"Well uh..." Tonk lifted a hand to confirm the microphone's position, "Yes, I'm entering." He was too flustered and unsure of what else to say. "Erm...would you like to come in?"
"Sure!" Blaque replied sunnily.
Tonkeshin stepped aside. Three pairs of feet shuffled past him. One with the tap of high heels. Another set creaked, suggesting someone very thin wearing sneakers, and the third told of someone a little on the heavy side. He might have been wrong. Judging someone by their footsteps was never an exact science.
"Move over," he muttered to Greg. Greg stifled laughter. He happily stood and moved away so the female reporter could seat herself on the couch. Tonk made a mental note to smack Greg later.
Tonkeshin perched himself neatly on the soft cushions. Someone came from nowhere to pin a small microphone to his collar. The same probably happened for Blaque. Then all became quiet. He knew the camera was rolling without asking.
"Are we live?"
Blaque chuckled softly, "No, this will be on the nine o'clock broadcast. It might even be an entire segment."
Tonk nodded to himself. That made him feel better, if something was live they could always edit out stupid mistakes.
"Why are you entering the Tournament?"
"Well," he leaned back and placed an arm over the back of the couch, resting his right ankle across his left knee. "I really don't have any reason other than I want to see what I'm made of. I can fight, one hit isn't going to knock me out or anything."
"Will your being blind make fighting difficult?" Blaque hedged. She seemed to be struggling with the cushions, which where kind of sagging because of Greg's weight re-shaping them.
The question made Tonkeshin smile, showing his fangs, "Fighting isn't hard for me. I just use my other senses to tell where my opponent is."
Blaque rustled some papers, "And how exactly do you do that?"
Good grief, how detailed to they want me to get? He thought silently to himself. But he kept his smile. "Easy. I just listen for sounds like breathing, rustling clothing or rattling jewelry. If they haven't showered, it's easy to smell them once they start sweating heavily. The only one I'd have more trouble explaining is interruptions in the air around them. You could call it a 'sound shadow'. I can only demonstrate this."
"Please do, this is very interesting!"
"Okay. Notice how my voice sounds now. Very clear, right?" Tonkeshin moved a hand up in front of his mouth without completely blocking it off, "Now listen, my voice is a little muffled." He faced the sound of Greg's breathing. "Hey Greg, turn my stereo on and walk past the speaker."
Greg's thick footsteps crossed the room. Rock music exploded into the room, but not too loud. The sound muffled briefly, then cleared as Greg walked back and forth in front of the speaker. "How's this?"
"Perfect," Tonk smiled, turning back to Blaque, "Did you hear the difference?"
"I did! That's amazing," she sounded completely awed. "So you can do that in any situation?"
He frowned, "Not quite. There has to be some kind of sound. It doesn't work in complete silence. That shouldn't be a problem in the arena, there's always people talking, laughing and making enough noise. In a place like that with noise all around, it won't be quite as easy to pinpoint an opponent's position. But it'll be enough that I'll have a general idea of where they are. . ."
The rest of the interview was a blur to Tonkeshin. He remembered demonstrating how he read and wrote in braille, surfed the internet, picked out his clothing and walked around with his cane. By the time it was all over, he was in a sullen mood. Slamming the front door never felt so good.
"Boy, you look like someone took a leak in your cornflakes this morning." Greg commented. He turned the stereo off and approached the couch.
"I don't eat cornflakes," Tonkeshin grumbled. He trailed the wall with a hand until he entered the kitchen. A nice, cold glass of ice water sounded good right about now. "I can't believe that woman! I just know they're going to paint some glorified picture of how brave I am. I'm not trying to prove anything. I just want to see what I can do."
Greg hid a laugh by coughing, "It doesn't sound that way when you talk about it."
Tonk nearly choked on his water. He bared his teeth, a sharp edge entering his otherwise smooth voice, "Oh, come on!"
"Seriously, Tonk, it does. I think you're just trying to show you're not helpless, but you just don't want to admit it to yourself."
"I know full well that I'm not helpless." Tonkeshin drained his glass. The cool water soothed his burning throat. He plunked his glass roughly on the slick countertop. "I'm just sick of people focusing on my being blind. That's all the lady asked about - how I did this, that and everything in between. She didn't ask what I liked or hated!"
He could feel a vein on his forehead starting to pulsate, "In a few hours the whole freaking city is going to know who I am. Tomorrow morning, I'll probably be on the front page of newspapers all over the world! I'll be known as the Brave Blind Guy. Sorry, but I'm entering the Tournament because I want to see how far I can get. If I win, great. If I lose, it'll be because my opponent was a better fighter. It's that blasted simple!"
"Hey, hey, calm down buddy. All you have to do is show them the real you, that's all." Greg's voice was suddenly in the kitchen. A large hand touched Tonkeshin's shoulder, startling him a bit.
"Just be polite to the people who recognize you. They'll probably be wishing you luck. If they stare, just train like you're not aware of them. That will show 'em. So what if that reporter focused on what you can't do. Turn around and let the world see what you can do."
Tonkeshin's anger melted. He never was one to stay mad for long. "You're right. Sorry I blew up."
Tonk found himself in a headlock with a beefy hand mercilessly rubbing his bald head. Greg chuckled, "Bah! What are friends for?"
"Ack, hey!"
"Heh, heh. Listen, it's almost six o'clock. I have to get home. The wife, you know. She probably has dinner ready right now, and my cell will be ringing non-stop if I don't show up soon." Greg let go and Tonkeshin quickly stood up straight.
"No problem. I'm probably going to leave the TV on so I can listen to the story. Let's see how this Blaque LeCouriche woman tears me up."
Both laughed at this. Greg gave Tonkeshin's shoulder another pat and then his footsteps thudded to the door.
Tonkeshin never felt more relieved to finally be left alone.

Just as he and Greg suspected, the news story was more cliché than a cheesy romance novel. It was everything Tonk hoped it wouldn't be and then some. He actually turned the segment off because it irked him. The thunder outside matched the dark mood the story put him into.
"Thanks a lot, Mr. Latte," the Namekseijin grumbled to himself. Putting his head back, he glared up towards the ceiling. "How am I going to go for my warm-up jog tomorrow if people will be yapping at me left and right?"
Fate seemed determined to hand him setbacks.
Tonkeshin didn't realize this until he got up to open his window. He instantly noticed the moist scent and familiar patter of rain falling on the cement five stories down.
He swore under his breath and decided to go read a good book. The thunder grew in volume until a rather violent rumbling made him jump and lose his place on the page. Tonk scanned the braille dots to no avail, his mind hadn't absorbed a single word.
The phone rang.
Startled, Tonk flung his book down and made a dash for it. He didn't smash his knee on anything this time, but he did almost drop the phone. "H-hello?"
"Tonkeshin?" It was Carol's soft alto voice. She sounded terribly upset, her words trembling, "I need your help. Lightning hit the tree above my house and started a fire. Almost everything burned and. . .I have nowhere to sleep. I feel like I can trust you, do you think I could spend one night at your place? The firemen won't even let me in to see what I can salvage until tomorrow."
His face fell. He wiped his antennae back and let them fall back into place like unruly hair. "Yeah, you can stay here with me. My couch folds out into a bed, so there's plenty of room for you to sleep. Do you know how to get to my place?"
A loud sigh broke over the phone. Carol replied, "No, I can't say that I do."
"Okay then. How about the donut shop on Water Street?"
"I know where that is."
Tonkeshin nodded to himself. "All righty then. Just turn left at the corner there and you should see the radio station. Go past the alley and turn left again, my apartment building is right there, across the street from the line of shops on Fourteenth Avenue. I'll stand outside and wait for you."
"Got it." She scraped something in the background, "Thanks, Tonkeshin. I'll see you in a minute."
"Right. See you in a few. Bye."
"Bye."
Tonk settled the phone into its cradle. He heaved a sigh and trudged into his bedroom to change his shirt. Thunderstorms meant wind. Wind meant rain getting under the awning in front of his building. If he was going to get wet, he'd rather not ruin his favorite shirt. Plain old T-shirts were much easier to wash.
A few minutes later found him standing outside in the rain, clutching his cane and the collar of his trench coat. He stayed under the awning hanging over the glass door in front of his building. His legs were already damp from rain blown violently by the wind. The storm reminded Tonk of the nasty weather back on Namek. Now those were storms!
Rain actually gave the world a whole new clarity. Tonkeshin could hear and feel where everything was just by listening to how the rain sounded when it hit certain objects. Clanging like cymbals as it battered the mailbox three feet ahead. Pattering mercilessly on the pavement. Gurgling against the awning above. Ringing like metallic footsteps on the many cars passing in the street. Battering the sides of buildings. It painted an audible picture clear enough for him to walk around without his cane if he really wanted to.
Soft humming from cars on the street and in the air penetrated the perpetual hiss of rain falling. One engine drew closer until Tonkeshin thought he was about to be run over. It cut off a few feet away.
"Hey, it's just me." Carol spoke from a short distance away. Her car door creaked open and whined shut.
"Hi, Carol." Tonkeshin faced her voice and nodded his head, "I'm sorry about your house."
She moved closer to get under the awning, her footsteps splashing in puddles. Cigarette smoke clung heavily to her clothing. Not a pleasant scent, Tonkeshin hated smoke of any kind.
"I think I can save some of my most precious valuables. But pictures, my clothes and important documents. . .oh God! I don't know what I'm going to do!"
Tonkeshin frowned, not knowing what to say. He reached out to touch her shoulder. A gesture meant to comfort as well as give him an idea of where she was standing. She was closer than he expected.
Tonk swept a hand down to the handle and pulled the heavy glass door open. It shrieked on old hinges in dire need of repair. "It's okay. C'mon, let's go inside where it's dry."
"Thank you," Carol's cigarette-leaden scent slipped past. Tonkeshin didn't pick up so much as a whiff of her usual hand cream. Weird, he never imagined her as a smoker.
"We'll have to take the stairs. The elevator is always broken."
A quick trip up five flights wasn't even a workout for Tonkeshin. Carol seemed in good shape as well, save for a slight huffing when they reached his front door. He politely let her in first.
Rustling around, Carol spoke up from near the wall by the door, "Um, Tonkeshin? Where's the light switch? It's pitch black in here. . ."
"Oh!" Tonk felt his face grow hot. He laughed, "Sorry, it's behind the door where I put my cane. Here." He folded his cane into fourths, laid it on the little tray jutting from the wall and raised his hand higher to flip the switch. He knew through Greg that the lamp on his coffee table would provide plenty of light for the living room.
"Ah-ha, that's better." The woman wriggled out of her jacket and hung it up on the doorknob. It practically oozed smoke. At least the rest of her clothing didn't smell. "You have a nice place, Tonkeshin. I can't believe that witch of a reporter interviewed you in here, though."
"Witch?" Tonk hung his house key on the hook near the lightswitch. He wiggled out of his trench coat and shook the excess water off, then carried it into the hall closet. Returning, he continued, "She seemed polite enough, I suppose."
"That black-haired bimbo stole my job! I used to do field reports until she muscled in on me! Pretty soon I got stuck doing the stupid stories nobody cares about. Must have something to do with being blonde," Carol's voice shook with indignation, "I got so tired of it that I came to the radio station to do news reports and write up the playlists for the day. Much less stressful."
Tonkeshin quietly listened to Carol spit fire. He figured she needed a release for all the pent-up emotion. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't know a blonde or a brunette if one or the other danced right in front of my face. Blaque sounded nice to me, and so do you."
Her response? A snort and a cold laugh. "Sure, Tonkeshin. Whatever you say."
He sighed, "How about I make you some tea and unfold the bed for you?"
"Um, no thanks on the tea. Water's fine." The couch creaked as she shifted on the cushions.
Would there ever be a break? Tonkeshin mentally shook his head on his way to the kitchen. He glided his hand over the shelf until he found the spare drinking glass he'd shoved way in the back. It smelled clean, but he ran water through it to be sure. Then he poured her some filtered water from the large water bottle in the fridge.
"Thanks," Carol accepted the cool water and drank it down quickly. She moved off the couch so he could pull the coffee table aside, kick the cushions off and unfold the bed.
"Just a sec, lemme get some blankets and softer pillows." Tonkeshin dashed back into the hall for the extra bed supplies he always kept on hand. All piled up on the closet floor, it was easy to pick out what he wanted.
He could feel Carol's eyes intently watching him make the bed. Sheets first, then the blanket and finally the comforter. He knew the smooth strip on the blanket belonged near the pillows and a tag on the underside of one corner showed him he had the comforter right side up.
Carol approached. She sat down on the edge of the newly made bed, "I find it amazing that you can do so much without being able to see."
Tonk wanted to scream that no, he wasn't anything special. He held it in. "Uh, thanks, I think. I make my own bed every day so setting up another one really doesn't take that much brainpower. I could do this in my sleep."
"I'm sure you could." A soft, rain-chilled hand cupped his cheek. It made Tonk VERY uncomfortable. He didn't know Carol that well and was not fond of being touched so intimately by people he wasn't familiar with.
"Mm, yeah." He stood up to get away from the unsettling contact. "I um. . . .I need to get some sleep so I can get up early tomorrow. Tons of training to do. Will you be okay on your own?"
Carol sounded disappointed at him for breaking off. "I'll be fine."
"Okay. The bathroom is right down the hall on the left if you need it. Feel free to raid snacks from the fridge, they're Greg's, but I can just buy more and he'll never know the difference."
"Right. Thanks a lot." That disappointed tone still edged into her voice. For the life of him, Tonkeshin couldn't figure out why. What possessed her to lay a hand on his cheek in the first place?
Females, he'd never figure them out.
He wasn't sorry to get away from Carol and into the safety of his own bedroom. Stripping to his silk boxers, he left his clothes in a pile on the floor and climbed right into bed.
The room was silent except for rain pelting the window. Tonk didn't really feel sleepy. He stared vacantly at the ceiling with his hands folded behind his head. Carol touching him like that almost irked him. He still remembered the nasty talk he heard around high school - about how girls who acted like that were looking for sexual intercourse or some other romantic adventure.
Romance.
From what he knew it was disgusting.
French kissing.
A good way to spread germs. Just thinking about tasting someone else's spit made him gag.
And sex?
The idea of pressing himself to another sweaty body made his stomach turn over. Then again, he was asexual and didn't need such contact to reproduce. He remembered Greg trying to explain the concept of "orgasms" to him, but like color, it flitted beyond his understanding.
He also had a feeling that Carol pitied him. Just like everyone else who saw the news segment would be doing tomorrow.
Tonkeshin growled and turned onto his side, snarling to himself. He didn't have time for this! Now thanks to the reporter, to Carol and that stupid face-touching thing, his mind was as cloudy as the stormy sky outside.
Good grief. . .what next?

Author's Note: I know, boring chapter huh? laughs Well I'm working on character development right now. Otherwise the story will move too fast and I want to look back at it and say 'for a first fic, that was damn good!', rather than cringing in horror and going 'dear God, what an ugly Marty Stu!'.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite the lack of action. Don't worry, it's coming soon. Thanks to everyone who reviews!