look at that. her eyes widened. that was unusual, and while watching her, he made note of it. a little detail to remember for later, filed away in the buffy summers folder of his brain. it was getting thicker with each encounter. now then…
he may not be the most attuned to people - emotions often eluded him, as he struggled to barely understand his own - but there were certain… movements that she acted out that caught his attention. the sip of her soda was, oddly enough, the thing he fixated on the most as he listened to her. the nonchalance of her tone ( the casual nature of it, one might say - and yes, he could pick this up, as she was acting the same as always despite how she may have appeared ) was curious to say the least. was this truly the entire story? people rarely did tell him theirs - only if he asked, though the child who had once lived on his floor was prone to telling him stories about his days at school, his parents, and so on so forth… but that was an anomaly. an exception to the rule.
nevertheless, her story is an incomplete daisy chain - the pieces are there, but the holes are ever present. he cannot say how, but it is a feeling he has. it permeates through his entire being. but he is not certain whether it is appropriate to ask or not - in his experience, people withheld information they did not wish to present. if he prodded, they often got agitated, frustrated with him. and, after the mishap in the library earlier, it behooved him not to press the issue. still… he could not deny that scratch scratching in the back of his brain; the insistence that there was something more there than met the eye.
there was the issue of her aura, after all.
“ fewer friends now. but better? ” hyakkimaru says, eyes focused on her like always. what he sees is her, of course - her blonde hair, her eyes, her pastel manner of dress. but her aura is overpowering above all else - silver, hints of red. only somewhat discordant, as if something she was describing had disrupted her sense of harmony. but where could it be? he looks down at his hands folded across the table. closes his eyes. contemplates what she has told him, what he has observed of her behavior. but, of course, can come to no conclusion other than what he has already surmised. he opens his eyes again, blinks. so he can appear at least mildly normal, not vacant ( which he was told he looked like in the past ). “ good. better than… like back then. that would… be bad. ”
she still jokes. like always. by now, he has come to expect it from her. a biography… if only she could tell him more. he wants to hear more. there’s nothing more he wants than that at the moment. he fidgets, trying to prevent himself from asking. prodding was not good. he has learned from his mistakes in the past. but…
“ twists and turns. i want to know… more. i… want to read it. your biography. ” so much for keeping it quiet. but he says it with a smile. he means it, and he chuckles a bit. rare. hopefully she knows that he is, well, attempting to go along with her joke. he is poor at it, but he can at least try. it is the most he can do to prevent himself from talking about, well… himself, like she asked. his turn. what could he say? as he considered it, his smile faded - the stoicism returned. there was far too much to say, twists and turns as she might say, that had led him to this point. every notch on his prosthetics told a story. the burn on his chest was a tale in it of itself. the scars on his back? a whole night’s worth of anecdotes.
“ me… i… ” he trails off, looking away. down at his pizza, in fact, which he is taking the time to savor. one bite at a time. she was certainly not kidding - it was one of the best pizza places in town; in that it was the only pizza place he had gone to while living there. he swipes another bite as he thinks. swallows. it was true that he had told her about jukai, the limbs, their origins… but not how he had ended up in a care center. who his real father was, where his real mother was. why he was in america. there were likely multiple questions she had about him… but then there were the demons who continuously ate away at his flesh; as if there were parasitic millipedes burrowing deep within his skin and chewing their way out on a daily basis. an endless battle it was to fight them off. but he could hardly tell her that, lest she run away screaming in horror at what she had just heard.
he can embellish a bit. keep it short. not mention… anything of his birth. his circumstances.
“ lived in japan. in a care center, ” he starts. he remembers it well, that sterile place, with the fluorescent lights overhead and the kind quiet of jukai tending to hyakkimaru’s every need; the one bit of luck in his life. “ parents left me. but not there. elsewhere. i was found. …no arms. no legs. no body. then… these. ” he gestures to his arms, expression serious. jukai was perhaps the most pleasant memory he had of the care center, although… “ jukai. like family. gave me body. ” he smiles warmly at the memory of jukai’s large hands fitting the prosthetics over hyakkimaru’s shoulder, hooking them in place, making sure they did not slide off.
however, his smile fades as he returns to the present, remembering that day, when the two strangers came into his room. jukai regarding him sadly as he left. an unremarkable goodbye. “ but not for long. then, people came. current family. was told that i would… go with them. to america. …as their son. ”
son. the word feels cold. impersonal. it hurts to say, a stone in his mouth that he cannot remove. his face visibly contorts in momentary disgust - a lapse in his usual stoicism. he tightens his fists on the table, then unclenches.
“ move around a lot, ” he continues finally. “ father is… ambassador. busy. mother… not sure. also busy. so… i am alone. most of the time. ” now he is beginning to return to normal. yes. his day to day was the same old same old, and it certainly gave him time to hunt. of course, omit that from the explanation. it would never be said. “ okay, though. quiet at night. i like that. not so lonely. at night, i make… ramen. easy peasy. ” a playful grunt, echoing her own joking nature - he is trying, after all, to be more casual; whatever casual meant… but still.
then why did his chest feel so hollow half the time? why did it pain him if he stopped moving for even a second in the vacuous, cold spaces that were supposedly his home? of course… he had never gotten the time to get to know them. get a feeling for them. they were always so impersonal, just… places that passed him by, and he passed through them. ah, but right. could he really, truly say he was alone anymore?
“ you are first. that i… get to know, ” he explains, nodding slowly - whether it was to her or to himself he could not discern. “ i like it. that is why… i want to know. about you. thank you… for your story. ”
he takes another bite of pizza. delicious cheese. it melts in his mouth; provolone, mozzarella, feta chunks… a symphony of flavor. how lucky he is to share it with her. for once, he can forget about the demons that lay just beyond the light at the end of the tunnel that he had been traversing ever since he gained a sense of corporeal self ( that he breathed, that he felt, that he thought - he sense that he was, in essence, a being on this planet ). he can forget that he has a quest to fulfill, a destiny, a goal that he is fixated on above all else.
he can forget all of that in this moment, with that taste on his tongue and the pleasure of good company right in his grasp.
“ sunrise here is brighter than anywhere else. …few friends. is best. ”
DRAWING HER PLATE closer, she works on her slice of pizza as she listens intently to his tale. she’s grateful that the focus has shifted off of her. despite regularly lying to certain people in her life, she realizes perhaps she isn’t the best liar ; perhaps those people just don’t pay very close attention. but, when speaking with hyakkimaru about anything--especially subjects of a more sensitive nature--she feels almost as though she’s being studied. the boy doesn’t need her biography when he can already read her like a book.
when he addresses what she’s told him, admits he wants to learn more, she simply smiles politely and avoids eye contact. having known each other a mere couple of weeks, the thought of being so vulnerable with him is frightening. she leans back in her seat, retreating behind her wall, and hones in on each detail he can provide.
he had spoken before about the man who gave him his swords and prosthetic limbs, but she realizes as he elaborates how little she knows of his background. she had no idea he had been abandoned as a young child, or living with adoptive parents now. the crust of her pizza slips gently out of her hand and back onto her plate as she leans forward, face twisting with concern. the way he regards his current family does not compare to the little twinkle in his eye or warmth in his voice when reminiscing on his relationship with jukai. to not even know what his mom does for work...
his reluctance in proceeding, she imagines, has to extend beyond the language barrier at this point ; it’s a feeling she’s experienced too, and for that, decides not to press him for specifics out of respect. briefly, buffy glances down at the checkered table cloth, apparently studying the pattern yet privately wondering how lonely her friend really is. she wonders a lot of things about him. ❝ no, thank you, ❞ she says quietly, unsure how else to respond. meeting his expression with a slightly sad smile, she shrugs. ❝ you do live in sunnydale now, so sun is kind of a given. ❞
for a moment they sit in silence, buffy’s eyes returning to the table cloth and her pizza remaining untouched on her plate. hoping to steer the conversation in a lighter direction and carefully avoid any touchy topics, she pipes up, ❝ y’know, i don’t think i’ve ever had ramen before. maybe sometime you can show me how to make it. ❞
