Perhaps predictably, none of Chikusa's old clothes are suitable for going out into the general public.
This is according to Ken, who blows a raspberry at every single one that gets laid out. "They're not right," he says, crossing his arms as they sit in the third floor room where the sun filtering through the windows is better light than the ethereal glow of whale oil. "It's all too... nice."
Chikusa glances down at what he's spread out against the floor. None of it actually looks nice by his estimate. Before the flood, servants would painstakingly wash and iron everything, doing their best to make sure it looked nearly as good as new. That hasn't happened for ages now. Actually, he can't even remember the last time they had a bath; he doubts wading through water all the time actually counts. His clothes, thus, have seen the wear of such a life. Some have holes. All of them are dirty. He's pretty sure some of the more expensive material has been ruined forever. Dubiously, he glances back at Ken and arches up an eyebrow.
"Y-You know what I mean!" He doesn't, actually, but it's kind of funny to watch brilliant red rush over Ken's skin as he gets flustered. When he doesn't say anything, Ken puffs out his cheeks and stomps his foot. "You can tell it's supposed to be nice!"
Well, maybe he has something there. Chikusa crouches down by one of the button up shirts and picks at it. Appearance is everything. He knows that as well as anyone. It was why his parents had despaired at his growth spurts and how nothing ever actually stayed tailored to his frame for long. The way he was presented was more a reflection of them than himself. Even at this age, he's picked up on that. People he didn't really know would scrutinize his appearance, looking for any flaws to pick apart. Those kinds of people would notice immediately that these were once nice clothes. They'd have questions.
It hadn't really occurred to him that he'd have to worry about that with anyone else outside his family's acquaintances.
"I guess I get it," he answers at long last, and Ken practically melts with how quickly he eases up. He stops fidgeting in a heartbeat. "We have other clothes, so... We can try those, I guess."
As it turns out, it's not that easy. Going up to the attic and dumping clothes down the ladder is, of course, because anyone can do that. It's just... Chikusa's family had been rich. They lived in a rich neighborhood. So many piles that Chikusa dumps down, some more torn than others when they'd needed the extra cloth on its own, still get rejected by Ken's high- low?- standards. Chikusa is starting to think they'll never find anything decent and never venture back into the rest of Dunwall when Ken calls up to him.
"Hey! This stuff looks okay!"
Hand gripping the edge of the opening, Chikusa squints down. Held up in triumphant fists are some dull brown pants and faded white shirts. They look way too big for him, to say nothing of Ken. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure!" Indignation tinges the edge of Ken's words. "You don't even know not-fancy clothes!"
"Ken, they don't look like they even fit!"
"They'll fit! Stupid Kakipii, I'll show you-"
"Ken, don't..." It's too late. Chikusa shakes his head as clothes start getting tugged off and flung throughout the room, all to the sound of Ken's grumbling. In the time it takes for him to carefully make his way down the ladder, his best friend's clothes are scattered who knows where in the mess they've already made and Ken is draped in a shirt three sizes too big for him. He practically looks like a toddler instead of someone closer to eight. What really makes things hilarious, however, is how his upper lip is curled up in such a fierce pout that it squishes up against his nose.
"Shut up," Ken says sulkily.
"I didn't say anything." While he mopes, Chikusa comes closer to inspect the large shirt. It does seem like it's made out of a different material than the rest of their clothing... And honestly it seems a little more durable too. The problem is the obvious size difference. "Where did we get these?"
"Why do you think I remember?"
Good point, he guesses. Ken doesn't usually remember little details like that and, frankly, Chikusa guesses it's telling that even he can't remember. They can remember how much of a thing a place still has- food or whale oil or broken pieces of wood- but the details are fuzzy. There's only so much time in the day for them to run through buildings, clear them out, and then get back before the sun sets and they're helplessly lost in the darkness. In fact, with the passage of time, their need to rush has only gotten more intense. That storm from months past had left lasting effects, and some buildings even now are still falling apart. You never know when the creaking of a house is natural or the telltale sign of disaster. It's more than enough to make Chikusa worry about how much longer they have in their own home, even if the stone seems to be holding up well.
He plucks at one of the sleeves, frowning. "Do you know how to sew?"
"Only my sisters know how to sew, dummy."
Ugh. Figures. Chikusa's mouth screws up and his nose wrinkles. "If one of us knew how to sew, I bet we could make this fit better..." If it's going to be the two of them taking care of each other, that's going to be one of many other things they have to learn, isn't it? Everything is suddenly overwhelming. All this time, he's only been thinking about food and their home. That's only two things out of so many. Him and Ken are going to keep growing- they'll need new clothes. What if they get hurt? Really badly hurt? The things in his father's office aren't a lot. And there's no way they can stay here forever, not with all the buildings in disrepair, and flooded, and infested-
"Kakipii?" Chikusa blinks out of his thoughts. Ken is staring at him, brows furrowed. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You were..." Before he can explain, Ken shuts himself up and his mouth twists strangely. That's definitely weird. Ken never goes quiet. He just says whatever comes to mind. "It's dumb, nevermind! So what are we gonna do?"
Letting the weird moment go, Chikusa sighs. "I guess we're going to have to roll the sleeves up... Maybe that'll be enough." As it turns out, it's not great, but also not as bad as it could be. At his size, Ken is always going to look like the clothes they've found so far aren't enough and that's he's drowning in them. With a belt secured around his waist, he's 80% folds of cloth. Chikusa himself fairs a little better, but not by much. Ken's laughter rings out through the room as he fumbles to do up the buttons.
"You look dumb!"
"We both look dumb," he grumbles. "Now come on. Put on your regular clothes and put those ones to the side. Let's see if we can find anything today and we'll go into town tomorrow."
Adding to his concerns, they don't really find much before they have to run back home, and Chikusa spends the whole night in the attic counting the things they have left. Ken literally has to drag him to their blankets to sleep. It's not a restful one. Not on Chikusa's end. At one point, he wakes up and opens the panel down into his parents' room, driven by a panic that the sun is already too far up. It's not up at all, and Ken has to drag him back again with success only given when he agrees to leave the panel open. By the time morning is actually there, both of them haven't slept well and Ken is grumpy.
"C'mon, you're the one who was fussing all night!" Ken yells up the ladder as Chikusa stumbles over to it. He squints as he makes his way down, eyeing the way Chikusa has one fist determinedly curled up. "What's that?"
"Nothing." Chikusa grabs him and tugs Ken along. "C'mon. We don't know how long it'll take us to get into Dunwall anymore."
As it turns out, it takes approximately an hour of constant travel to get to parts where the water isn't in their every step. Chikusa can't help but notice how different even a little thing like that is. He's too used, now, to having to slog through water, or muffle his footsteps on carpet and wood. The sound, the feel, of stone beneath his feet is so different. Unlike slowly rotting wood, it won't give out under his feet. It's steady. Adding in the buildings that tower around them, and traversing the streets makes him feel so tiny. He grips Ken's hand tight as they walk together, arms brushing. It's as he's in the middle of staring up at the buildings that Ken jerks his hand. Hurrying over up a set of steps and huddling against a battered door they find there, Chikusa strains his hearing. Distantly, he can hear the sharp click of boots on stone. Ken's back presses up back into his ribs.
Voices. Gruff, matching the authoritative click of heels. "This whole place is still a rotten mess. Months! What're all those fancy nobles doin' about it?"
"What, you think they're going to spend time on this mess of a place when there's actually fixable districts to work on first? Hear about Slaughterhouse Row? They only got it patched up decent-like last month. That's with all of Rothwild's pushin'."
"Yeesh. You hear if they'ved moved stuff out of Holger Square yet?"
"Started doin' it last week. Probably goin' to take the rest of the month before they're done. Still, lucky bastards. Overseers these days don't handle stone like they used to, I guess."
As Chikusa and Ken watch, a pair of City Watch pass by the doorway. Chikusa holds his breath, praying desperately in his head for invisibility. It doesn't work. For one thing, invisibility is impossible. For another, in that moment, one of the guards looks up and surprise coats his face only to be quickly replaced by a firm scowl. "Hey! What are you kids doing!?"
Ken bristles up against him, and Chikusa quickly nudges him sharply in the spine. "Ken, stop!" Reluctantly, the two of them shuffle out of the doorway and into the street. It's almost impossible to walk without tripping over Ken's own feet as the other boy keeps shoving in front of him. Chikusa can easily imagine the scowl on his face when he looks up at the guards. Then again, maybe he can't judge. As they stop in front of the two men, Chikusa is more than sticking to Ken's side. Biting back the urge to fidget, his gaze flickers up at them uncertainly. One of the guards is still scowling, arms crossed over his broad chest. The other, however, only has his hand on his hip. Exasperated, maybe, but not upset or angry.
It shows in his tone when he finally speaks up. "You two haven't playing around in this dump, have you?"
Hastily, Chikusa answers before Ken can open his dumb mouth and pick a fight. "We were just exploring." Not even a lie. They are exploring... outside of the district. Digging his fingers into the back of Ken's shirt, Chikusa glances down at him. Yup, as he feared- he's having a glaring contest with the guard who initially saw them. Chikusa tugs at his shirt to make him stop. "We're... We're not in trouble, are we?"
"We outta drag you by the ears to your parents, show you some trouble-" The horrified look on Chikusa's face must be something, because the second guard sighs and waves his partner's temper down.
"It's just a pair of dumb kids getting into places they shouldn't. It's not half the trouble it'd take to get them to their parents." He looks back down to them. "But kids like you shouldn't be running around here. There's gangs and rats and all that kind of garbage lurking around here. C'mon- let's drag you back out of here before you get yourselves hurt."
Both guards start to herd them along, nudging the pair back down from whence the men had come. It's horrifying. Heart lodged in his throat, Chikusa clings hard to Ken and obeys mutely. Never before has he had to deal with City Watch guards. Never. They'd been distant figures of authority, sharply dressed and standing tall, patrolling the streets with long strides only sometimes as Chikusa watched from the windows of home. Now, here on the ground, they seem strikingly different, and he can't tell if it's because of rosy memories or simple fact. So close, a bitter smell from one of the guards bites through Chikusa's nostrils, and even a worried glance back at the nicer of the two shows that his uniform is all wrinkled. An iron probably hasn't touched it in months. Against all odds, this only makes them scarier. Even when he tries to stop himself, Chikusa can't help looking at the heavy swords that bounce against each hip. Harder, and harder, his heart throbs. This was a mistake. This is a mistake. He never should have suggested coming out. Darkness is prickling at the edges of his vision, nothing feels right, everything is too light-
Warmth wraps around his wrist, callouses scraping against thin skin stretched over bone, and Chikusa blinks. Ken is still sending shady looks to the guard that threatened them, but it's his fingers that are holding onto him. Like that time months ago, something about it drips deep into Chikusa- down to the very bone. He breathes. He's back on solid ground again instead of his mind stuck in the sensation of floating away from his body. From that point on, he tries not to look behind him. All he lets his eyes focus on are Ken's fingers, mooring him to the street.
Soon, however, new distractions start to filter from between the buildings and past the many roofs. First come the smells: the usual ever present salt invaded by smoke that weighs heavy in his lungs, rotting fish ten times the quantity of what he's used to in Rudshore, and the same kind of bitter smell that's coming from one of the guards. It takes a moment for Chikusa to finally recognize that's alcohol. Sound soon joins the smells, chatter and wheels on stone and noise all mixing together. It's overwhelming even before they turn onto a street and find people.
There's no time for him to be caught up in the disorientation of it all. A harsh nudge into his back has him and Ken stumbling forward. "Hey!" Ken shouts indignantly, glaring around Chikusa's lanky frame.
"We better not see stray rats like you running around here again!" snaps the first guard, already twisting away on his heel and grumbling off. His partner stays behind, his eye roll visible beneath the shadows of his helmet.
"Keep out of trouble, alright? Or you'll have to deal with him in a worse mood, and get a hiding from your parents too."
"Yessir," Chikusa says quietly. The level of noise all around him makes it feel like his voice has gotten lost in it, but the guard seems to have heard him. He gives an approving nod before turning away to follow after his partner.
Like the fight starting idiot he's always been, Ken is standing there with his fists balled at his sides and glaring right after the guards. It takes Chikusa, panicking and unable to hide his shaking, to drag him away off to the side. If nothing else, they can be away from the small side street that the guards dragged them through. "Stop that!" he hisses, terrified. So much could have gone wrong there. Fighting some guy breaking into houses was one thing. Going against guards? Chikusa breathing picks up, and Ken stops his snitty looks towards the street to whip a concerned look at him.
"Kakipii-"
"Just... stop it." He stops in the stairs of a nearby building, something that looks a bit like an apartment of some sort. Before them, the street is bustling with activity, and it's dizzying. There's too much. Too much people, too much noise, too much fear. Regret still has him in a chokehold, and Chikusa bows his head as Ken presses closer. He can already feel himself wanting to float away again. Frankly, if he was alone, Chikusa thinks he would have. However, Ken's warmth is still there, and so Chikusa is still there too. He doesn't know how long it takes, but soon enough his breathing goes back to normal. Swallowing thickly, he looks up into those bright eyes again. "Ken... While we're out here... What if someone finds out about everything?" Biting his lip, he glances back into the street and lowers his voice more. "About how we live on our own? Kids aren't supposed to live without their parents. What if they take us to an orphanage?" Something worse occurs to him. Swallowing, Chikusa digs his fingers against Ken's hand. "What if the Overseers take us?"
As though burned, Ken recoils. "I don't wanna!"
"Then promise me. Promise me that we'll act good while we're away from home. Okay?"
While Ken's nod is slow, it isn't reluctant, and Chikusa finds himself relaxing. "I promise." With that said, Ken looks into the street and Chikusa follows his gaze. The lapping of waves against the earth is not too far off, even if neither of them can see it, but they don't need to. For all the chaotic symphony of noises, they're attuned to water now. If Chikusa had to guess, he'd point to the large sprawling building taking up most of the street. A tower rises up from behind it, and the words The Hounds Pit Pub are written above its many windows. As he's looking, Ken shuffles in place. "Hey Kakipii... What are we gonna do now that we're out here?"
It's only taken him long enough to ask. Chikusa glances up and down the street. "Do you know where we are?"
"Oh, yeah! My family used to go through here all the time. It's the Old Port District."
"And, um... Is there a place or something where you can go sell things? Like, little things?"
"What, like, a pawnshop?" Ken quirks his head to the side, quick and sharp. "Why do you wanna go to a place like that? It's not like I brought any stuff to sell... Not that we have anything to sell either way." His tongue swipes across his lips. Chikusa could swear it brushes the bottom of his nose. "All our stuff is kinda junky. I mean, we could go back to get some stuff, but we probably wouldn't get a lot for it. And pawnshops don't accept fish... I think."
"It's not important. Is there one around?"
"I think... Probably? I'm pretty sure there is." Scratching behind his ear, Ken glances around. His gaze looks past all the people filling the street and hurrying out of buildings, focusing on the buildings themselves. "It's been a long time. I'm probably gonna have to look around and stuff." Chikusa doesn't think, just squeezes down. In turn, Ken doesn't say anything, he simply squeezes back before pulling him along. "Well, it's not like we got anything to do anyway! C'mon, Kakipii."
It's a good thing that even after all this time, Ken is still used to the busy city streets. Letting him take the wheel in this venture is for the best because all Chikusa can do is stare. On one hand, the stone buildings of Dunwall don't seem so monstrous when they're offset by streets filled to bursting with people. Even before it had become a ruined mess, Chikusa doesn't think he had ever seen the streets of his home district filled with so many bodies. However, in exchange for all of this, it's suffocating to be in the throng itself. Bodies press in from all sides, chatter and a sea of footsteps deafen him- if not for Ken, he'd be frozen to the spot at it all. Yet his best friend doesn't seem to have a single hint of difficulty. He slips around and inbetween people flawlessly, agile as the hagfish of their flooded home twisting through wreckage. When Chikusa can stop being overwhelmed, he's admiring instead. They've kept up with each other back home, but in this... He feels outclassed, only able to watch and be carried along.
So lost in thought, he misses when Ken comes to a stop and stumbles against him. "Ow, hey!" comes the grumble, although Ken only sounds half upset as they straighten up together. "Anyway, this is it." He points up at the building in front of him. Compared to every other building that's on the street, the pawnshop doesn't particularly stand out to Chikusa's eye. Like a few other businesses he vaguely recalls seeing in his daze, large windows make up the majority of the storefront. Past the grimy glass, a few items have been set up in display: a mannequin trying on a worn suit, a broad woman's sunhat missing some decorations, a variety of lamps that had lost their shine... or maybe that was merely all the dirt and salt which have made the window panes their home.
Everything is still so distant; Chikusa doesn't even realize he's been kneading at Ken's hand until he looks down by coincidence. Maybe Ken can tell that something is wrong, because he moves again until they're right up at the windows where the worst of the human tide can pass them by. Shamelessly, he presses his nose literally up against the glass.
Funny how that is the thing that helps snap Chikusa out of it. "Ken, stop it, that's gross."
"There's so much junk in there!" he exclaims, ignoring Chikusa completely. "There's even more stuff than what we got back home!"
"How can you even tell?" Doing his best not to touch the glass, Chikusa steps closer as well to peer deeper inside. Ken isn't lying, really. Even in the gloom, behind the window displays, there's the feeling of clutter that starts up an itch in the back of his skull. All the details are lost to gloom and window dirt. Nervously, he licks at his lips.
"You can just tell! Stupid Kakipii." Ken's gaze flickers over to him curiously. "...Are we gonna go inside?"
"Yeah."
"They're just gonna kick us out 'cuz we're dirt poor and stuff."
"No they won't." For all his bold words, however, Chikusa doesn't make a move inside. Everything is still too much. So he stands there and tries his best to focus on Ken: the warmth of his hands, the well worn callouses that cover every inch of his palm, a beat he thinks might be either Ken's heart or his own. From there, he moves to his hand. Then up to his wrist, through his arm, his chest and the thud of his heart and the pressure of his lungs... Chikusa remembers his body again. It probably takes a few minutes although he's not keeping track of the time so much as how Ken starts to fidget and twitch impatiently. Taking a breath, Chikusa tugs him along. "Come on. Let's go in."
What meager calm he's gathered doesn't really help him from jolting at the ringing which sounds off above their heads when they open the door. Across the room, a man with a face full of lines (scars or wrinkles, Chikusa can't tell) emerges from some mysterious back room to take up station at the counter. It's hard to say who is carting the more suspicious look: the man who squints as if he can see straight through them so long as he does it hard enough or Ken who has his "authority is dumb and piss on it" expression set in full stubborn glory. If they mess around for too long, he's absolutelygoing to get into a fight with the pawnshop person. Fear of that has Chikusa hurry them up to the counter. All he wants is for this to be over and done with.
"No dallyin' about," the man grumbles, eyeing both of them still with clear distrust.
Ken already has his mouth half open, ready to shoot something out, so Chikusa hastily stutters out, "We have something to sell!" Caught by surprise, Ken goes silent, and that's enough time for Chikusa to pull out a glimmering silver ring out from his pocket.
Blatant suspicion fills every single line of the man's face as he plucks the ring from Chikusa's outstretched hand. So much distrust in a single face- if each line were a soldier, he'd have enough for an army. Anxiously, he watches as the ring is held up to what meager light shines through in careful inspection. Anxiety is swapped out for bewilderment as the man then bites into it. What? Before Chikusa can even think to ask about why- although he's far too quiet to actually do it- the man places the ring down on the counter.
"Ten coin for it."
Chikusa jolts. "What?" comes out of his mouth, soft and unsure, drowned out by Ken's shout of "You're cheatin' us!"
"I ain't cheatin' anybody. I'm just not trustin' a pair of little thieves-"
"Kakipii ain't a thief, you take that back-"
"It's worth more than that!" Chikusa says, hand shaking in Ken's as he's forced to raise his voice. "I know it's worth more than that." In the back of his head, he's thinking it has to be but he doesn't say that. Something about the whole situation has him feel that being too honest would be a mistake.
The outburst doesn't seem to impress the pawnbroker. All he does is cross his arms, gaze piercing through them just like he'd stared at the ring. Besides Chikusa, Ken feels as though the only thing holding him back from leaping over the counter and starting a fight is literally Chikusa's hand in his. It's scary how he can feel the adrenaline making him shake. Finally, the pawnbroker snorts. "Twenty five coin, then, and if you try to start anythin' more over it, I'll get the City Guard in here and I bet they'll figure out if yer thieves or not."
A sabre and the thick scent of alcohol hanging heavy in the air- Chikusa remembers it clear as anything. All the remembered terror strikes straight through him, and he's nodding before Ken can ruin anything. "Okay!" he agrees, voice tight and breaking. It's not okay. Not really. But Chikusa doesn't dare voice that thought. All he can do is wait until the coins have been counted out onto the counter. Without hesitation, he grabs them and runs. As they hurry out of the pawn shop, he can see Ken making faces over their shoulders. The sun is blinding compared to the gloom inside; it leaves Chikusa half blind in his attempts to go back the way they first came.
Behind him, he can hear Ken snarling and grumbling. "If it weren't for the Watch, I bet he wouldn't be half as much of a jerk, I woulda been able to take him, I bet he doesn't even know how to fight, just knows how to steal money out of people, and he calls us thieves! He's a dirty, no good-"
Chikusa is only half paying him mind. All he focuses on is finding a stoop to collapse in, curling in on himself with the coin digging into his palms. Immediately, Ken is down besides him.
Only a minute or two passes before Ken breaks the silence between them, curiosity bubbling over what little restraint he has. "Hey, Kakipii, where didyou get that ring?" How like Ken. He has no idea where it was gotten, but he was still ready to haul himself over a counter to punch an adult because he'd accused Chikusa of theft. Licking his lips as his heart calms down, he finally starts to count the coins in his hand.
"It's from the jewelry box," he mutters, low, but he knows that Ken has heard it because he can see him jerk upright from the corner of his eye.
"Wait- your ma's jewelry box?"
"Yeah." Relieved that they were given the money the man at least said he'd give them, Chikusa tucks them into a pouch and into his pocket. When he looks up at Ken, the other boy seems to be struggling with his words- brow scrunched up and mouth moving noiselessly.
"But... It's your ma's jewelry," he finally manages weakly, clearly not knowing what else to say. "You're always fussing over that for when she'd come back. Always!"
It's not even an exaggeration. More nights than Chikusa has bothered to keep track of have involved him carefully shifting through the glimmering gold and shining silver, making sure not a single ring of necklace is missing. As though anyone would be so subtle as to only steal only one of those out of everything else in their little attic home. Silly, but Chikusa has made it a habit. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Chikusa wraps his arms around them. "If she wanted it back," he mutters into his pants, "then she would have come back for it by now. She would have sent someone. She hasn't. So... It's mine now. I've inherited it. That means I can do whatever I want with it. So if I want to sell stuff from it, I can." Frowning, he burrows his face against his legs. "...Didn't get a lot from it..."
Ken's warmth presses down against his side. "That guy was a cock! Next time, I'll find a different pawnbroker, a nicer one, and we'll get more money!"
Chikusa hopes so. He's not sure how much 25 coin will really get them. Still, he guesses there's one way to find out. Peeking away from his legs, he asks, "How do we get back to where we came from?"
"Oh, that's easy, c'mon." Ken takes his hand again, and off they dive into the waves of people once more. This time, Chikusa tries to focus in on himself and pay attention to the streets. There's still too many people, towering over him and Ken, but occasionally he gets a glimpse of a notable shop front or a street name. Soon- sooner than Chikusa expected- they're back at the little side street leading back home. He tugs Ken to a stop before he can go down it, leading him instead across the street where the pub stands. Ken cranes his head back, squinting at the name emblazoned over the doors. "Why are we comin' here?"
"Why do you think?" He doesn't give Ken a chance to answer, pushing open the door and tentatively stepping inside. Like the pawnshop, the pub is dimly lit, but the difference is in how comforting it feels. Warm glass lets sunlight filter through in relaxing colors, and what seems like a skylight from behind the bar highlights it as well as any beacon. It's nowhere near as full as the streets outside, to Chikusa's surprise. Only a couple of the booths are filled from what he can see at the entranceway, and a handful of burly men are scattered along the bar stools.
As him and Ken stand there, a woman from behind the bar wearing an apron tied tight around her waist takes notice of them. The deep lines on her brow ease up as she comes over, stopping before them and leaning down a bit. "Alright, you two, looking for your pa over at the bar?"
Is that a regular thing? Chikusa wonders on it, even as he shakes his head. "We... we wanted to eat here."
"Well, sorry kid, but we can't serve you on your own without your ma or pa in here with you. Watch doesn't want kids your age anywhere near the booze."
"But-!" He glances to Ken, who can't seem to decide if he wants to frown in confusion at Chikusa or glare defiantly at the woman. All it's doing is making him look mostly constipated. Biting his lip, Chikusa looks up at her again. "What if... we didn't eat in here, but outside, somewhere? Would it be alright then? Please? We have money..."
Straightening up with her hands on her hips, the woman glances down at them and Chikusa can't make heads or tails of her expression. Not knowing is worse then any actual glare. At least with a glare, he can prepare himself. Right now, all he can do is wait, and Chikusa can feel his heart start to freeze up from its place in his chest. She's going to refuse. She's going to say no and he'll feel bad for making Ken do all this dragging him around and- "Ah, fine. I guess it can't hurt. C'mon, you two can sit in the back. Just don't cause any trouble." With that, she turns around, gesturing fluidly with one hand for them to follow after her. Feeling dazed, Chikusa moves along with Ken and barely remembers to look around to see what the menu for this place even is.
To the back of the pub, through a door and down a tiny hall, and they come out to the small stretch of land that makes up the area behind the pub. It's the most open area Chikusa thinks he's ever seen, and there's actual dirt instead of stone or concrete. Right ahead of them is the sea, its connection to the pub taking the form of a tiny little dock. To the right is a large building with a tower and far to the left lies some sort of warehouse. Chikusa thinks he can hear the sound of dogs.
The woman gestures to the dirt right besides the door, and Chikusa drags Ken over to obediently sit down. As Ken sprawls his legs out and leans against the wall, Chikusa tucks his beneath his body and looks up to her as she starts to speak. "So any idea of what you two want to eat, or do you need me to tell you the menu?"
"I know." Chikusa folds his hands together on his lap, forcing himself not to fidget. "There's... grilled whale, right?"
One of her eyebrows quirk up. "Sure is. But that's fifteen coin, you know."
"We have it! And we'll split one." Going through his pockets, he carefully counts out the proper amount with Ken leaning against his shoulder watching. Once he's certain he's got the right amount of coins, he holds it up to her almost pleadingly. Her hand is warm and calloused as she picks the coins out from his palm, counting them out herself before nodding.
"I guess you do," she admits, tucking the coin into a pouch on her apron. "Alright, you two stay right there, got it? I'll bring it out to you in a bit." Leaving the back door open, she disappears back inside, and Chikusa lets out a breath that feels like he's been holding it for years. All he wants to do is sit there, letting feeling reach his brain again, but then Ken is nudging his shoulder with his chin.
"Hey, Kakipii?"
"What?"
Ken's nose scrunches up. "I thought you'd want to save that money and stuff... But that's, what, half of it gone?"
"I thought about it... But, it seems important to spend it soon, especially while the weather is still nice..."
"How come?"
"Ken, don't you know what day it's going to be soon...?" A blank look in response. Chikusa sighs. "It's going to be your birthday."
So close, it's easy to see how Ken's eyes widen and feel the tremor that shakes through his body. He's expecting some sort of wiggle session, but not the way Ken flings himself against his body excitedly. Chikusa warbles out a noise of surprise, throwing his hands out to catch him before he hits the ground. He can barely acknowledge what's happened before Ken pushes away to dash off into the rest of the yard. Befuddled, Chikusa can only stare after him as his best friend goes tearing through dirt and meager sprouts of grass with the occasional kick or punch in the air. He has no idea where he can get so much energy, not with the food they usually eat, and not for... well. He's not sure how long Ken runs around, almost falling off the concrete dock more than once, but it's long enough. A throat clears itself to his right, and Chikusa glances up into the eyes of the server woman from before.
"I thought I said to sit right there?" she says, fortunately looking more amused than annoyed.
"...He's really excited for whale?" Chikusa offers, wondering if he sounds as confused as he feels.
"Well, he should get excited back over here. If the hounds keep hearing him, they're going to excited and one might break out."
Chikusa jolts in place, immediately cupping his hands around his mouth. "KEN! Get back here!"
Thankfully, the lure of food is always the most successful thing in getting Ken's attention. Soon enough, he's back by Chikusa's side watching as he carefully splits the whale meat into two even parts. In the open air, the bustle of people now comforting background noise instead of a tidal wave, it feels... nice to sit there and eat with Ken. They keep exchanging smiles with each other, Ken's full of food at any given time, but Chikusa doesn't mind. He can't get himself to. Even when the plate is cleaned off, all they do is sit there with each other as boats drift by in the distance. Ken rests his head against Chikusa's shoulder at some point, loose and relaxed, and he nuzzles back into that sunshine warmed hair. So nice... Chikusa thinks they could probably stay there forever, so long as they were quiet and didn't bother the server woman. At least, he wants to do that. In the moment, it seems like the perfect thing to do.
But that sort of thing isn't possible. Chikusa knows tht. So, after maybe an hour of staying there quietly, he nudges Ken with his shoulder. "We gotta go home now," he tells him over the sound of Ken's yawn. "If we take too long, it'll get dark."
"Wanted to sleep a little longer..."
"You can sleep when we get home."
Reluctantly, Ken lets himself be pulled up, and the pair of them duck back into the pub. The server woman is still working, and she shoos them away with an idle flap of her hand when Chikusa nods his head politely to her. They stop at the door, peering out, and he can feel Ken perk up at his side. Across the road, a certain familiar pair of uniformed figures have exited their little side street. With bated breath, they watch until the Watch guards disappear into the crowd- far away from their way home. Without wasting anytime, they hurry out and duck around traffic. When they make it down the side street with no one shouting after them, Chikusa lets out a breath.
Now it's a clear way to home.
That's what Chikusa thinks for around ten minutes as the pair of them idly walk down the street, their joined hands swinging. Soon, however, Ken frowns and glances over their shoulders. Immediately, his eyes narrow and his lips curl up past over his teeth, which is all Chikusa needs to look behind them too. There's people a distance away behind them- following them. As him and Ken come to a stop, he realizes that it's their footsteps that Ken must have heard echoing through the street. There's no fearsome blue apparent even from this distance and, as they get closer, Chikusa realizes that they're not adults. They're teenagers, a trio, with an arrogant and unworried swagger in their walk. If not for the alarm bells going off in his mind and the desertion of the abandoned street in comparison to the busting road they were just on not that long ago, Chikusa would almost think they were here by coincidence.
"Who're you!?" Ken snaps out, once they're close enough to hear. He's all tension and barely contained fight; Chikusa can feel the adrenaline thrumming through his hand.
One of the teenagers coolly raises an eyebrow down at them, rolling something in his mouth with such noisy chews that it makes Chikusa twitch. Dirt is smeared along his hands and stains the cuffs of his shirt, something he can see as he watches the teenager inspects his nails that are as grimy as the rest of him. Distantly, he thinks he remembers actions like these. It's the same sort of gestures he'd see some people make in his father's office while talking about important business. The words had always gone over his head, but his father had never seemed particularly impressed. Now that the same gesture is being used against him, Chikusa thinks he can guess why. "Now, that any way ta talk ta yer betters, small fry?"
"I've met hagfish crap that's-"
Chikusa tugs Ken back, his lips drawn thin and his hands shaking. "What do you want?" he asks instead, since he doubts they'll get names out of these guys and, really, does it matter anyway?
"Just wanted to ask a few questions, four eyes."
"Like what?"
"Like where ya got that bit of silver ya sold to that guy at the pawnshop."
Both of them go tense. Ken's nails, always too overgrown, dig into the back of Chikusa's knuckles. "Ain't none of your business," Ken says stubbornly, baring his teeth and sticking his tongue out between them. "So shove off!"
"What'd I say about talkin' ta yer betters? Ya want me ta get yer skinny little friend there and make an example outta him?"
"Don't you threaten him-!" Ken tears out of Chikusa's grip before he can stop him, flinging his whole body straight into the older boy's kneecaps. His heart leaps into his throat as he watches the two of them go slamming into the ground- no one is actually prepared for how much of his body Ken is 100% ready to throw at others. Even the two other teenagers can only gape in shock. However, it doesn't take long before one of them realizes that their leader is yelling and Ken has bitten past the skin. All eyes are off of Chikusa as Ken is torn from trying to tear out someone's throat with his teeth. "Lemme go, I'm going to kill you-!" But they're all empty threats as one of the other teenagers lifts him up off his feet with his arms pinned.
Wiping at his face and scowling, the lead-teenager gets up to his feet. "Ya damn little shit, I'm gonna make ya regret that-"
A palm sized rock sails straight into his right eye.
He stumbles back at clutching at his face and swearing, leaving his friends to stare in shock at the gash which has been cut over his eyebrow. This leaves plenty of time for Chikusa to chuck another rock at the vulnerable head of the person holding up Ken. There's not a lot to do when you live in Rudshore anymore, even with what him and Ken have salvaged. Sometimes, all you have to do to pass the time is throwing things at other things: rocks, wood, bones, fish heads.
Chikusa has gotten really good at it.
His rock hits the older boy's temple dead on.
He stumbles to the side, grip loosening, and it's enough for Ken to swing his leg in a vicious kick back to make him drop him completely. Landing in a crouch, he darts to the side quicker than a hare. The last teenager who tries to lung at him doesn't have a hope. After that, Chikusa can't tell what is going on, only that it's a blur of movement and his ears ache from all the swearing. His fingers are curled uncertainly around another rock, but he doesn't need to worry. From the chaos, Ken bursts out with dirt on his face and what looks like blood smeared on the corner of his mouth. There's no time to ascertain if it's Ken's blood or not; the blond grabs his hand and jerks him away. Swears and threats echo throughout the empty street, but Chikusa doesn't look back. His gaze stays focused to wherever Ken is leading them, and his grip stays locked around Ken's hand.
All too soon, however, the storming of feet behind them makes it known that this isn't just an escape but a chase. What a blessing it is that they've lived here in this ruin of a district for so long. There's no need for them to falter, unsure, at where to go. Even on the dryer parts of land, they've memorized every bit of Rudshore's fallen glory and engraved it onto their hearts. The streets, the routes over water, all of it- Chikusa doesn't have to think about it. Not with Ken at the helm. All he has to do is pump his legs as fast as he can, heart pounding in his ears. When Ken pulls him to a familiar building with a busted window, he doesn't think twice. Automatically, he lets go of Ken's hand so that the other can leap up and haul himself through the window before offering his own hand to help Chikusa up. He tumbles inside at Ken's pull, barely aware of the hand swiping at his pants leg. They're right behind them- scrambling to his feet, Chikusa takes Ken's hand again as they rush through the first floor rooms and up the stairs. The sound of glass breaking follows them.
Up the stairs, twist around, race down the hallway- there, a window with a splintered mess of wood acting as a bridge. Chikusa and Ken nearly fly over it, stopping only to jerk it back onto the floor. He can already tell it's not going to work even as they dash through the building to the opposite side. Their short legs couldn't make that jump, but the longer legs of those other boys, they won't have any problem at all. The thought beats through his mind in time with his frantic heart and the pounding of his feet. Another window, another leap, another building that their frantic feet carry them through. Repeat once, repeat again, again, again, until Ken is hissing at him, "This way!" Chikusa follows, even when Ken leads him down onto the fist floor and water laps at their ankles. In sync, the pair of them splash through the first floor searching, and it's him who tugs Ken into one room in particular. Everything that could be picked up and carried out obviously has been, leaving it a place devoid of most hiding spots... save for the large fireplace whose contents can't be seen from the doorway. They're skinny and small enough to squeeze into the space, heads and knees bumping. Uncomfortable, but safe.
Hopefully.
Somewhere in the distance, weak wood creaks, and Chikusa holds his breath sharply. House settling. It's the house settling. But he doesn't really believe that, and he can tell Ken doesn't either when the other boy curls his fingers by his chest. Now that they're so close, he can see specks of crimson under and along his nails.
Heavy thuds from the floor above steal his mind away from such thoughts, and Chikusa jolts against Ken. Two more heavy thuds follow it. For all that him and Ken stay utterly silent, it's impossible to tell anything other than the general area that the footsteps are coming from. All they can do is sit, silent and still and hoping. For who knows how long, they stay together like that. Muffled words bound off the walls above the ceiling, indistinct. The only thing that becomes clear is when the stairs creak and Chikusa finds his eyes stinging with frustrated, frightened tears.
Why? Why can't they be left alone, why can't those guys leave, why is the sound of footsteps going down the stairs? Chikusa's thoughts race helplessly. They can't have searched each building before this so thoroughly, right? What about this place is different? Did they drop something? In other rooms, water splashes as bodies lumber through and there's indistinct angered muttering that Chikusa is too out of sorts to comprehend. Across from him, Ken is tense and waiting, ready for anything-
"HEY!" They jolt, but the voice isn't from inside the room with them. It's right outside, so far as Chikusa can tell, and its owner continues on. "Are ya with those brats that tore through here?!"
"Mmm~?" A low relaxed voice rolls out and Chikusa exchanges a surprised glance with Ken. Confirming their silent suspicions, the voice keeps going. "Now what makes you think I know anything about that?" With actual words, there's no doubt about it. That's a child's voice, like him or Ken. Not a teenager like the other boys, and definitely not an adult for all the voice's cool confidence.
"What- are ya mocking me ya piece of garbage!? Come here-" Chikusa's heart leaps in his throat at the sound of angered splashes moving past their door, expecting shouts and violence and the guilty thought of at least it's not us-
But the scream that reverberates through the doorway from the hall isn't the one he expects.
More splashes from presumably the other two boys, concerned and enraged shouts, a chaotic clamor of noise, yet past it all Chikusa can still hear that voice hiss, all venom. "Who said you could touch me?"
He's never heard a voice like that, never realized people could sound like that. For all that they're crouching in water, icy coldness sinking past their pants, Chikusa's mouth goes dry. Ken is the same, from what Chikusa can tell, with even his sun-kissed skin having gone pale and his eyes wide. He doesn't shrug off Chikusa when he reaches over to cling to his shirt, pressing close against him as the yelling and the splashing keeps going. Soon, however, the sounds grow distant and soon become the stomping of many feet upstairs. They're still yelling- Chikusa can't quite make out what. Eventually the footsteps are gone completely. Together, they hold their breath, and that lets them hear the only sound left in the empty building: a soft panting and a steady drip down into the water.
After a minute of only those two sounds, the person who's been left behind starts to move. Ken and Chikusa listen as it only goes a short distance before the voice speaks from the doorway. "You're around here, right?" The relaxed lilt is back in full force, no venom and all confidence. "I heard you earlier, before those boys came. It's fine. I don't care about hurting you."
Uncertainty is flickering through Ken's eyes, and Chikusa doesn't doubt that the look on his face is just as bad. Still, what other choice do they have? They can't stay in the fireplace forever. Ken bursts out first, knee banging into Chikusa's legs and his fingers curved into ready claws as he draws himself up. Chikusa is slower, save for the quick look he makes around the fireplace before getting up to his feet. He doesn't know what to do with his hands, so they wait at his side in the form of uncertain fists.
Chikusa was right. It is a boy standing there at the doorway, shoulders loose and a knife held between relaxed but bloody fingers. Pink smears are along one cheek, a half hearted attempt at cleaning the blood, and it's strangely enough not the most striking thing about him. That would be his eyes, one a deep dark blue and the other a surprising brown-ish sort of color. At least, Chikusa thinks it's brown. It's hard to tell in the dim lighting. As they look over him, the boy looks over them too before he reaches up with his free hand to brush black hair away from his face.
"Oh," he says in easy going surprise, "you're the same age as me."
"So what?" Ken snaps, frame quietly vibrating with nervous energy. In contrast, Chikusa shrinks behind him with his gaze constantly flicking down to that blade. As he watches, a drop of blood trembles at the very tip before plopping down into the water.
"Oh, it's nothing, I guess." Completely unconcerned, the other boy crouches down in the water and swishes the knife through it. Ripples of pink leave the blade. "I shouldn't be surprised. Those louts that fled here were talking about a pair of kids. No wonder they thought I was with you. So what did you do?" Straightening up and flicking water off of the blade lazily, he sweeps his eyes over them. His sharp gaze lingers on Ken and a knowing little grin settles on his face. "Bite them?"
Ken jolts straighter; Chikusa doesn't need to see it to know that he's wearing a look of amazement. "How'd you know!?"
Sighing, Chikusa nudges Ken back with his knuckles. "There's still blood on your mouth, Ken..."
While Ken's ears start to turn a brilliant shade of pink, the other boy laughs. It's so carefree and normal. If not for the blood still drying on his skin and the knife in his hand, Chikusa would never think he'd be capable of chasing off three teenagers twice his size. "It was a little telltale." Canting his head to the side, he hums. "Why did you do it?"
Straightening up, Ken squares his shoulders. "They deserved it," is all he says, like that explains anything.
At least the answer seems to please the strange boy because he laughs again. "Definitely," he agrees, despite not knowing anything of the situation. "What are your names?"
Chikusa licks his lips. Should they tell? This is the first time anyone's ever asked. But then, what can it hurt? Before his mind has a chance to decide which way it wants to lean, Ken goes ahead and answers bluntly, "I'm Ken."
Well. That decides that. Chikusa steps forward, still lingering a little bit behind his best friend. "I'm Chikusa."
"Chikusa? That sounds foreign." Chikusa jerks his shoulders up defensively, but the boy is already turning around and shrugs nonchalantly. "Then again, my name is foreign too. I'm Mukuro." There's a certain focus to the way he says the name, pride coating it as he rolls it off his tongue, and he turns to walk away from them down the hall.
They take a split second to look at each other before, without a second thought, they splash into the hall after him. Mukuro is ducking into another room by the time they make it, and they follow with their hands linked again. Chikusa thinks the room they come into might have been an office of some sort at one point in time. Of course, the only reason he thinks that is because of a single desk that's been left behind for who knows how long. A small bag is settled there, and Mukuro joins it as he hops up to sit on the desk regardless of the agonized creak that's dragged out.
"How com you're around here?" Ken asks, not waiting for the other boy to say anything. "Nobody comes into Rudshore anymore. 'Cuz it's messed up."
"Shouldn't I ask you that too?" A laugh bubbles out of him as he puts the knife away in his bag. "You're the ones who ran into the flooded district yourselves! And you didn't stop or seemed confused at all about where you were going."
Mouth scrunched up, Ken ducks his head and glances over at Chikusa from the corner of his eyes. He can tell what's being asked of him, although he doesn't like being put on the spot so suddenly like this. Should they tell anything to him? On one hand... He took a knife to older boys and even chased them off with apparently little difficulty. That's scary. On the other hand.. Chikusa would be lying if he said he's not a little envious or admiring of something like that. Even now, swinging his legs, Mukuro seems confident and at ease. It's nothing like how Chikusa was after he hurt someone. Besides, if he wanted to hurt them by now, he would have done it, right?
After a few seconds of heavy thought, Chikusa finally answers. "We live here. We've always lived here."
"Even though it's all flooded?" At Chikusa's nod, Mukuro hums and kicks his legs through the air some more. "I came here because I heard it was abandoned and I thought it would be good to find a home here."
Well, that's some backwards logic if Chikusa has ever heard any. His brow wrinkles. "Why?"
"My mother said it was time for me to find a place to live on my own." That explains approximately nothing, but neither of them have a chance to press. Balancing his elbows on his knees, Mukuro leans forward and looks over them curiously. "Where do you live? Can I live there too?"
"Uh-" Crap, Ken is looking at him too for an answer. After a moment of inner floundering, Chikusa starts to pull him out of the room. "We have to discuss it." There. That sounds mature and adult like. After he's guided Ken far enough down the hall (he thinks, anyway), Chikusa bites his lip and looks at his best friend. "What do we do?"
Scratching the back of his ear, Ken sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth. "Well, he chased off those jerks from before, so I like him!"
Of course. It'd be too much to ask for that Ken be as worried as he is, or think things through as much as he does. Holding back his sigh, Chikusa frowns. "What if he tries to hurt us? Or steal our things?"
"...Do you think he would?"
"He might. I mean... We don't know him. He could do anything. Right?"
"I guess... But Kakipii, I wouldn't let anybody hurt you!"
"I know," Chikusa says, because that's really the only response one can make after watching Ken fling his whole body at people twice his size, repeatedly, for even voicing a threat. "But... We still need to be careful." Going quiet, he loses himself in his thoughts as his thumb rubs along Ken's clammy skin. At the same time, if the other boy really isn't interested in hurting them... It'd be really handy to have someone so scary around in case anymore bad things happen. Chikusa wants to keep going into Dunwall proper, but that means anything could happen. They could be ganged up at any time. Having one more set of hands, one more pair of eyes... "Maybe... If we kept the door to our room locked, and made him stay in a room far away from it... That'd be okay. And we can figure out if he's alright to be around."
Ken nods and agrees, because of course he does, and Mukuro himself seems quite pleased with the arrangement of having a room chosen for him. It takes the rest of the day to carefully make their way through Rudshore, but that's nothing new to Chikusa and Ken. What is new is having a third person along, and Mukuro isn't exactly quiet. He hums, most of the time, and comments a whole lot on all sorts of things: how run down Rudshore is now, how the different paths through the windows are made, hagfish that flick along the surface. It's only when Ken announces loudly that they're back does he fall quiet. In a way, that's stranger than his talking as they all wade through the water of the second floor and go up to the third. The room furthest from Chikusa and Ken's room is a bathroom, but it works well enough after they drag in a mattress from one of the other rooms. "It'll do fine," Mukuro says glibly, plopping down on it with his bag resting in the sink. "I like it."
"That's good," is the only answer Chikusa can think to give, polite habits still hard pressed to die no matter how long it's been. "I guess we'll see you in the morning, then. Good night." Despite his words, Chikusa still makes sure to cover the keyhole in his parents' room and shoves things under the door crack. He can't be too careful. He has to look out for Ken.
At the end of the night, when the ladder is pulled up carefully and the ceiling door locked, Ken shows him he's not the only one thinking for once. As he reaches for the oil lamp to turn it off, Chikusa pauses at the pressure along him. "What are you doing?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. Ken wiggles his back against Chikusa's side harder.
"Watching!"
"Ken, you need to go to sleep..."
"And I will! But this way if anybody comes up the ladder, I'll know first." Looking back at him, Ken shoots of a wide grin that lights up the dark of the attic more than the oil lamp could ever hope to. He doesn't need to say anything else. Chikusa can read the message in his smile clear as day: I'll always protect you. That, more than anything, is what helps him drift off to sleep so easily. He doesn't know how much their lives will change if at all from the inclusion of another person in their home...
But so long as Ken is with him, Chikusa will be alright. It's not even a question.
