TACO Run

Chapter 28

Alfyn yawned and stretched mightily, yelping when his knuckles cracked against a table leg. Mister Hiraku and his wife had let him borrow their floor for the night, and even given him a pallet to sleep on like missus Inko had, but their place was a lot smaller than missus Inko's, with just a privy, a small bedroom, and an itty-bitty kitchen/common room area. Alfyn'd ended up sleeping under the kitchen table, just to make sure he wasn't in the way of anyone's late-night trips to the privy.

Mister Hiraku's wife—Alfyn thought her name was Meeky?—she was a sweet little old lady, thin and a bit hunched, with worry-wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth that had eased a little when they showed up at the door. She'd practically burst into tears, hugging mister Hiraku tight and scolding him for worrying her between sobs. Or at least Alfyn was pretty sure that was what she'd been saying, which made him wonder just how long mister Hiraku had been wandering around in the rain before he fell off that bridge.

He'd managed to give mister Hiraku a better looking-over while they'd been drying off—and there weren't any spare clothes that'd fit Alfyn in the house, but they'd let him borrow a bathrobe while his clothes were hung up—and he was relieved to see that other than some pretty severe exhaustion and a bit of a chill, he was still in decent shape. Old, sure—probably around H'aanit's master Z'aanta's age—but he didn't have any injuries, his shakes were pretty much just from the chill, and his eyes and lungs seemed clear.

Alfyn'd still want to check his lungs again today, but he was pretty sure mister Hiraku'd managed to come through the fall and the chill unscathed. Which was pretty impressive, for a guy his age.

Scooting carefully out from under the table, Alfyn took a peek out the window to see what time it was.

Well, the sun was up, but missus Meeky and mister Hiraku weren't, so Alfyn set about making some hot pick-me-up tea.

He was glad that missus Inko had taught him how to use the funny glass-top stove she'd had, or he'd've never figured it out on his own. Heck, he'd barely ever used a stove at all before that—most people in the Riverlands used hearths, still, though stoves were a lot more common the further north you went. The stoves here didn't even have a fire-box though, so he had no clue how they worked. He just knew that twisting one of the funny knob-things would make one of the circles glow red-hot at intervals, heating anything set atop it.

The kettle was just starting to whistle when a shuffling sound said one of the old folks'd gotten up, and Alfyn glanced back over his shoulder to see who it was. "Morning, missus Meeky!" he said cheerfully, as she blinked at him from behind her spectacles and flushed, pulling her shawl closed across her chest. She had on a night-dress, so it wasn't like she was indecent or nothing, but Alfyn figured ladies had more to worry about, modesty-wise.

She murmured what he assumed was a 'good morning' back, peering curiously past him at the kettle and the mugs he'd set up for the tea.

"It's just ginger and honey, ma'am," Alfyn assured her, stepping aside so she could get a better look. "Coulda made menth tea, I guess, but I figured ginger's good for lots of old folks' troubles, so…" A shrug, and a wry smile. "Want a cup?"

Miki blew gently on the hot cup of tea young mister Alfin had made her, wrapping her fingers around the mug to soak in its warmth. She always got so chilly in the mornings, it was nice to have something hot to wake up to.

The ginger tea smelled very nice as well, and the first sip spread warmth through her veins so well it had her sighing in sheer appreciation.

A pleased chuckle from young mister Alfin made her smile a bit, and Miki thanked him as she settled into her chair at the kitchen table. Hiraku would be up soon enough, and then she'd set about making breakfast. For now, though, there was peace, quiet, and tea.

When Hiraku had failed to come home after work two days ago, Miki had been worried at first, wondering what emergency at Onomura Medical Corp. had required him to pull an all-nighter at his age. Usually they asked the younger staff to handle that kind of thing, with the older, more experienced staff taking over in the mornings to go over all of their work and catch any mistakes a sleep-deprived mind might have made. When calling his phone hadn't gotten any answer, and he hadn't even sent her a text message letting her know an approximate time he'd be home, well… that worry had grown. And when calling the front desk of the corporation itself had sent her on an hours-long maze of line transfers and holds, until she'd gotten connected to his direct superior and found that he'd been let go…

Worry had morphed into fear.

Hiraku was a good man, and a good husband, who'd never left her hanging or broken an engagement. He'd passed up at least one promotion to make sure he'd have time for her, even after it became plain that they'd never have children of their own. True, they'd never lived in luxury. Their apartment was small. But it was enough for them, and all of the appliances and fixtures were well-loved and in good repair, and she'd never gotten so used to being home alone all the time that having her husband around for an extended period would wear on her, the way it would on some of her friends whose husbands practically lived at their jobs.

Which she'd told Hiraku, caught somewhere between frantic and furious, as soon as he'd managed to actually call home and let her know he was alive.

Two days. Two days he'd been missing, lost inside his own head from shock and shame at, at unemployment of all things! Had he forgotten how much she'd put aside in savings? True, they'd planned to use the money for a nice, long, expensive vacation once he retired properly in another few years… but it was still there. And he would probably get at least a small severance package from Onomura Medical, when he received his last paycheck. And if nothing else, she was sure that one or both of them could get a part-time job at the marketplace. The florist's shop was always hiring, and there was a lovely little art-dealer's place that could probably use a helping hand, and there were a few family restaurants that could probably use a backup host or hostess.

Well. She might have shouted at him a bit more than was strictly necessary. Especially when he was so obviously tired. But she'd been strung-out from worry, and, well, he'd just apologized and said he'd be coming home soon, and was there any way they could put someone else up for the night? A kind young man had helped him out, after all, and he didn't seem to have any money or anywhere to stay…

Well, Miki hadn't known what to say to that. Hiraku had never been the kind of person to bring strangers home, though more than once he'd asked her to pack him a double-lunch, so he could share with the homeless fellow camping out in the bus terminal he used on his way to work.

Meeting young mister Alfin had been something of a shock, though a pleasant one. She'd expected a filthy, homeless bum, not someone who was obviously a foreigner, and clean, healthy, and polite, if a little rough around the edges. Hiraku had explained that he'd slipped while crossing a bridge, and young mister Alfin had jumped in after him to pull him out. He didn't speak any Japanese, and Hiraku and Miki's limited English didn't seem to get through to him at all, but Hiraku thought he was a medical student from overseas who'd only recently graduated, and celebrated by taking a trip to Japan using his little savings.

Miki wasn't quite sure of that, but young mister Alfin was warm, polite, and simply radiated trustworthiness in such a way that she didn't feel at all worried about letting him spend the night. Other than being a bit embarrassed at not having a proper place for him to sleep. They had a spare futon, for when their mattress needed airing or beating out, and he'd seemed happy enough with that, but she'd been more than a little mortified that he'd felt a need to camp out under the kitchen table to make sure no one tripped on him.

At least he'd had an appetite. Hiraku had mentioned buying them ramen, but Miki wasn't one to just not feed a guest, so while the men had been cleaning up and drying off—sadly, they'd only had an old bathrobe for young mister Alfin to wear—she'd whipped up some decent homemade mapo tofu. Thankfully, she'd remembered not to make it as spicy as Hiraku normally liked, because her dear husband could casually eat fire, and she didn't want to murder the poor young man.

Young mister Alfin had still winced and coughed a bit, and slurped water down, but that had seemed more out of surprise than pain, and he'd eaten everything cheerfully enough, after that.

Now, though, they could sit and sip hot ginger tea together—and it was the best ginger tea she'd ever had—and wait for Hiraku to get up in peace and quiet.

She did wonder if young mister Alfin's clothes were dry yet, though. Because while she was getting up in years, it was still a bit discomforting for a handsome young man in nothing but a half-open bathrobe to be sharing the table with her. It felt… well, almost indecent.

She did hope Hiraku got up soon. She knew he was tired, but she'd feel better if he was awake, and where she could see him.

Hiraku woke up with a snort and a gasp, fumbling around for Miki's hand. She always slept with her hand in his—he couldn't fall asleep without it anymore—and when he found nothing he rolled stiffly over and sat up.

Ow. His whole body was one giant ache, all the way down to his bones, and more than the generalized aches and pains of advancing age. His joints hadn't appreciated the fall, the wet, the cold, or the lack of sleep for the past two days, and they were lodging a strident protest.

But while his body ached, the white-edged fuzz of shock and exhaustion was almost gone, and he found that his thoughts were much more… more organized than they'd been in a while. And he noticed things, things he wouldn't have noticed at all the previous night. The smell of ginger tea, the comfortable coolness of the bedsheets, the soft sounds of someone moving about in the kitchen.

Oh. Right, Miki must be making breakfast.

Slowly easing his way out of bed, Hiraku tucked his feet into the slippers waiting for them and pushed himself gingerly to his feet. Miki had called the police the night before, to let them know he'd made it home and they could close out the missing person's report she'd filed with them. She'd also called her friends and reassured them that he was home and safe, and made an appointment with the family doctor for later this evening, to make sure he hadn't hurt himself or caught a cold or anything.

He was a bit weak and wobbly, but more stiff and sore than anything else. And a little chilled, but ginger tea would help with that.

He hoped young Alfin had slept alright. They'd only had a spare futon, and not really enough space for it. And with only an old bathrobe to wear, he could've gotten chilled far too easily.

Checking on the laundry hung up in the bathroom—the rain outside meant that it couldn't have air-dried on the usual rack—Hiraku was pleasantly surprised to find that it was dry enough, and carefully took down all the pieces young Alfin had peeled out of the previous evening. Good, sturdy clothes, though very well-worn, and obviously mended in a few places. He was sure the young man would appreciate getting to put them back on.

"Dear, are you up?" he heard Miki call from the kitchen.

"Yes, Miki," he called back. "I'll be out in a minute; I'm just fetching young Alfin's clothes for him."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Miki sighed, poking her head into the bathroom. "I don't know about you, but I'll be happy when he's got a shirt on again. He's a lovely young man, but there's only so much I can take."

Hiraku had to laugh at that, and at the puzzled look young Alfin had when he peeked around the corner too. Because Hiraku could understand why Miki was flustered—he apparently hadn't noticed that the bathrobe was open down to his waist, and that was more than a little scandalous no matter how much older he and Miki were.

Hiraku waved the young man into the bathroom. "Here, here," he said, holding out the clean, dry clothes. "Get dressed, and I'll see about helping Miki finish breakfast."

"Not in your pajamas, you won't," she frowned at him, as young Alfin edged around her into the bathroom to take his clothes back. "I'm making omelet rice, since it's simple and filling and young mister Alfin seems to eat like a teenager."

Hiraku had to laugh again, and waved his wife back to the kitchen. Because she was absolutely right.

Alfyn munched his way through breakfast, enjoying the funny egg-wrapped-saucy-grains thing missus Meeky had made for him. There'd been chunks of soft, juicy chicken in there too, and some vegetables he hadn't recognized—other than the peas—and it was one of the most delicious, savory things he'd ever eaten. He was on his second one now, because missus Meeky had looked at the way he'd been inhaling the first one, blinked, and set about making him another right quick.

Alfyn felt a little guilty about eating so much. Just a bit. But missus Meeky didn't seem upset or anything, and mister Hiraku had actually laughed a little, so he didn't feel too bad about it.

It'd taken a little bit of time, once he'd gotten dressed, to get mister Hiraku to understand that he needed to check his lungs for fluids again. It wasn't really an easy thing to pantomime, after all! But he'd gotten it across, and mister Hiraku had let him check his lungs and a few other things, and thankfully there hadn't been even a little rustle-crackle that would've said pneumonia, even if he was still weak and more stiff than even old age would account for. Cold, lack of sleep, and a fall in a river would do that to a body. Hells, Alfyn himself was feeling a little stiff, though the ginger tea had helped a bit, and warmed him up right nice.

The ginger tea seemed to help mister Hiraku a lot, too, because he'd given a big ol' sigh and just kind of… sank into his chair like it was the kind of plush thing rich folks'd put in a manse, instead of a regular wooden one. And then he'd just sat there, contentedly sipping, while missus Meeky cooked the rest of breakfast and sat down with them to eat. And they'd said their little weird prayer-thing before eating—Alfyn'd felt kind of bad for forgetting about that—and dug in, chatting quietly between themselves.

He was really grateful that they'd given him a place to spend the night. Under a bridge'd work, but a pallet in a little bitty apartment was still better. He didn't really have much of a plan for where to go next, but he figured if he could get directions to a bookstore again—hopefully a new one—he could just continue on with his half-assed plan.

Well. Okay, the plan was whole-assed, but his chances of it working were like… a sixteenth of an ass, if that. Still, it was what he had, and he'd have to make do with that.

Was there anywhere besides a bookstore or library he could look and maybe find one of the other guys? Maybe a tavern? He didn't exactly have local money—he'd seen what mister Hiraku paid the soup-seller guy with—so it'd be kind of rude to go in without the ability to buy anything. He was kind of looking forward to trying the local ale and mead, though, considering how good the food around here was, even if it was weird, and he knew Cyrus and Therion at least liked to haunt taverns when they could. Cyrus because he liked a good ale while he was studying in the evenings, and Therion because… well, because people with ale in 'em were more likely to be loose with important stuff. Their coin and their words, both.

…right, then. It was not-bad sketches of all the other guys, and then he'd see about getting directions to the nearest bookstore, and from there to the nearest tavern.

Miki wiped the last of the breakfast dishes dry, watching young mister Alfin scratch at a piece of paper with a charcoal stick. Was he an artist? Hanging her towel up properly, she moved over to get a better look.

Oh. He was an artist. Well, sort of. They were rough sketches, and obviously the work of an amateur, but they were good enough that she could probably recognize the people he'd drawn if she met them.

Mind you, two of them she'd probably only meet at an anime convention, but the third young man looked like someone she might meet on the street. He had the short hair falling half in his face that she'd seen on young men every now and then, which had always made her want to take a brush to them. And he had a disgruntled expression, too.

Hm. Come to think of it, young mister Alfin had done a surprisingly good job of capturing expressions for all three sketches, even if their features were very basic, otherwise. Miki had been terrible at expressions in art class. Actually, she'd been terrible at art class in general, never even sketching a bowl of fruit properly. She'd been much better at math and home economics.

"Miki?" Young mister Alfin looked up at her with that broad, warm smile of his, and said something else, tilting the paper so she could see it better and asking her something she couldn't quite understand.

"They're very nice, yes," she agreed. Especially the rather lovely young man in fantasy cosplay. Goodness, but he must be a handsome one, if even in a rough sketch he seemed charming. Though personally, Miki had always preferred an average face. There was something wonderfully comforting about Hiraku's unassuming features.

Apparently, though, saying she liked his sketches wasn't the answer young mister Alfin was looking for, because he frowned down at the paper and scratched his hair.

He really did need a haircut. Young people were entitled to wear their hair however they liked, she knew, but really.

"Hiraku?" she called out. "Hiraku, dear, could you come here for a moment?"

"Of course." Wandering out of the bedroom again—he'd finally exchanged slippers for socks—Hiraku came over to see what she wanted. "Yes, dear?" He glanced over the paper young mister Alfin was holding. "Oh, these are pretty good—friends of yours?" He glanced up at young mister Alfin, getting an eager nod that said he'd somehow gotten the gist of the question.

"Ah, well, I think I'd remember meeting them if I'd seen them…" a grimace. "Or maybe not. I was somewhat out of it the past couple days…" A sigh, and when Miki gripped his hand he smiled tiredly at her, squeezing back.

Young mister Alfin was smiling wryly, though, which said that if he'd understood what Hiraku meant, he was disappointed with the answer. Regardless, he simply shrugged and pushed himself to his feet, scooping up that messenger bag of his and slinging it over his shoulder.

Oh. It must be time for him to go, then.

Well! Miki knew what to do about that. "Hold on just one minute, young man," she said firmly, gesturing with the flat of her hand for him to wait. Hurrying over to the fridge, she grabbed the appropriate ingredients and quickly made him a ham, cheese, and lettuce sandwich or two. With only a light spreading of mayonnaise, because they were running low. "Here you go," she said, wrapping them in paper towels and hurrying back over to him. "Something for you for the road—and if those are your friends, I hope you find them before they get into trouble."

He looked down at the sandwiches she thrust in his direction, seeming surprised, but then grinned at her so warmly that she almost took a step back, just in case he tried to hug her—foreigners could be so forward!

Thankfully, though, he just grinned and scratched at his hair again, taking them from her gratefully and carefully packing them away in his bag. Then he took out another scrap of paper, and sketched a picture of a… book and a building? Oh! He must be looking for a library or bookstore or some such!

Miki jotted down directions to the local library, drawing a little map for him since she doubted he could read Japanese. Then she and Hiraku escorted him to the door, and waved a warm goodbye, thanking him again for all he'd done for them.

"Care!" he called out—likely the only word he knew in Japanese. And he was using it wrong, since he was the one leaving, but… oh, never mind!

"Do take care!" Miki called out, waving back. Once he was gone, she smiled up at Hiraku. After he'd visited the doctor and been pronounced fit, she'd help him start looking for work again.

A/N: Hiraku's Quirk, Fire Eater, actually just makes him immune to capsaicin, the chemical that makes spicy things 'hot', instead of 'flavorful'. He can still taste it, and even get the endorphin high from consuming it, but without the pain sensation normally associated with spicy food. Miki is Quirkless.