Chapter 2: Day 2: Nostalgia; SakazukiBorsalino
Summary: You can long for the bad things too.
Loneliness wasn't an emotion Sakazuki would define. The act of missing others, of missing their sounds, their faces, being in the same space. He had never cared for crowds. Too damn noisy, too damn chaotic, too damn vivid. Other people were messy.
Snow tumbled down outside his office, flakes of it blowing into the open window only to turn to water once they passed the threshold. Sakazuki knew he could close the window, could allow the room to return to a temperature that didn't have the papers on his desk crinkling, or the wood of his desk gently steaming.
But he liked the sound of the wind outside under the moonlight. It reminded him of freezing nights in the north blue, of before he had his powers, when he and Borsalino sailed from island to island, the idiot practically a ice cube stuck to his side in their tiny dinghy.
He had utterly fucking despised every moment of those days. Hated the pirates and bandits they hunted down with their stupid boasts and uncontrolled violence. Nothing like his own call towards blood letting, his desire to punish the wicked simple and clean. Borsalino had used to wiggle under his skin, snide remarks poking and prodding him towards lending his power to something larger, greater.
Obnoxious.
Sakazuki huffed, lighting a smouldering cigar. The kanji for Justice wavered through the heat mirage on the wall before him. He blew out smoke, eyes flickering to the open window, for a moment, just a moment, allowing himself to long for a familiar lanky form to appear, cloaked in moonlight.
But the smoke cleared, and the snow kept coming.
Notes:
It has been a while since I wrote Sakazuki. His emotional constipation is fun.