yuugure sketch #1, part 2
(originally posted in 2020)
a lil omake for this. shigeaki runs into tsugutora on the town a week later and tries to do a nice thing. there was a second half to this scene but it kinda fizzled out, please enjoy 2000 words of shigeaki shade
It was a week before Shigeaki even saw the new recruit again. Not that he spent a lot of time looking; once he’d finished convalescing, there were a few local courier jobs on his docket, and he only saw Oetsu and Tatsunaga in passing. It was one of those weeks when their schedules just didn’t line up, and with nothing better to do on a restless night, he found himself wandering around one of Yuugure’s shopping districts. It was a nice night for a stroll, the still summer heat melting away now that the sun had set. There was a soothing breeze sailing overhead, carrying with it the mingled scents of the food stalls scattered here and there along the street. Shigeaki, who still had not managed to accomplish grocery shopping in the week he’d been home, stopped to buy a few chicken skewers from a familiar stall and meandered over to the walkway overlooking the river that ran through the city. The water was black under the night sky, but a series of floating bonfires dotted the length of the river, casting a warm, flickering light around them. That’d explain the crowds; the waterfires were a weekly event this time of year, attracting townsfolk and street performers. It was like a miniature festival every weekend, one that gave an extra breath of life into the city in the summer.
But watching bonfires was only entertaining for so long, and once he’d finished eating, he pushed himself away from the walkway railing and walked back in the direction of the lantern-lit street. Shigeaki was chewing on the last skewer to suck out whatever remained of the savory-sweet sauce when he spotted the new recruit. He was easy to miss in a crowd, small as he was, and there was nothing in particular about him that stood out. But Shigeaki recognized the hooded jacket he’d been wearing in the cafeteria, and he weaved through the crowd.
“Well hey, if it isn’t Tsugutora Sen.”
Tsugutora pivoted on his heel. He looked surprised to see Shigeaki — then his expression shifted into something wary, but with all the edge of a butter knife. Well, that was only fair, Shigeaki conceded.
“Shigeaki-san.” Tsugutora ducked his head. “How are you?”
Despite the guarded look, the kid was unfailingly polite. Shigeaki pulled the skewer from his mouth and offered him a lopsided grin.
“No need to be so formal, kid.” He waved a hand. “I’m surprised to see you out and about. Haven’t seen you all week.”
He sounded casual enough, but he hadn’t seen Tsugutora in the cafeteria once since their first encounter. Had he scared the new recruit away with his sleep-deprived stunt? Tsugutora didn’t seem quite that weak-willed, but when Shigeaki remembered to ask, no one seemed to have seen him. Tsugutora only shrugged, his gaze directed about six inches to the left of Shigeaki’s face.
“I just needed some fresh air, is all. And there’s a malassada stand here that I really like...”
That last trailed off into a mumble, and Shigeaki realized he was seeing Tsugutora embarrassed for the first time. Well, maybe the kid wasn’t so impenetrable after all. Shigeaki twirled the skewer in his fingers and winked at Tsugutora.
“Well, as it so happens, there’s a noodle stand here I really like. How about it? I’ll treat you.”
Tsugutora looked up at him without a change in expression. “No thank you.”
Shigeaki, who had already started to turn in the direction of the noodle stand, brought himself up short, nearly losing his balance. “What?”
Tsugutora shrugged again, his fingers closed around the lapels of his jacket. “I already ate dinner. And the last time I met you while I was eating, you threw a sharp object at me.”
Shigeaki closed his teeth in a tight smile. So the kid held a grudge after all. “Yeah, I remember. That’s why I’m taking you out for food. It was a pretty dick move, I’ll admit, and I’d like to make it up to you. Water under the bridge and all that.”
The corners of Tsugutora’s mouth turned down in a tiny frown. All of his expressions seemed to be so small. “No thank you. I’m good.”
“Oh, come on.” He gave Tsugutora an exasperated look that bordered on a glare. “I’m trying to offer an olive branch here. Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Now you just sound like a little kid,” Shigeaki said with a scoff, and Tsugutora’s expression sharpened into an actual glower. The intensity of it was a little unsettling.
“Tsugu-chan! How nice to see you here.”
Oyori emerged from the bustling crowd, dressed in a violet yukata with a brightly colored floral pattern. Her long black hair was tied back loosely at the nape of her neck and draped over one shoulder, and it caught the occasional flickering light from the bonfires as she moved. She smiled her serene smile at Tsugutora, but when she saw the expression on his face, her gaze shifted to Shigeaki, and her smile went so frigid he actually shivered.
“And Shigeaki-kun.” She made his name sound like a curse. “I see you’ve finally met our newest comrade.”
“We’ve already met once,” Tsugutora informed her just as Shigeaki opened his mouth to speak. “In the cafeteria, last week. He’s trying to make up for his first impression right now by offering to treat me to noodles.”
“Is that so.” Oyori’s eyes went just imperceptibly wider as she smiled at Shigeaki, who was beginning to regret not accepting Tsugutora's immediate refusal. “And what first impression was that?”
“He threw a dart at me while I was eating breakfast,” Tsugutora said. Shigeaki nearly choked on his tongue. Oyori’s smile became fixed.
“I wonder why he’d do a thing like that.”
“I caught it,” Tsugutora added. Shigeaki couldn’t tell if he’d noticed that the temperature around Oyori had dropped by about 15 degrees or if he was just obliviously feeding into it.
“I threw the dart at the wall,” Shigeaki said. “I wasn’t aiming for you.”
“Then why did you throw it?”
Shigeaki considered that question and concluded that there was no way to answer it that would make him look any better in Oyori’s eyes, so he deliberately avoided them. “I was extremely sleep deprived and I wanted to see if you lived up to the hype.”
“So you knew I’d catch it?”
“Uh...sure,” Shigeaki said. Tsugutora’s brow furrowed.
“But then you said, ‘you don’t look like much to me’. Was I not supposed to catch it?”
“Okay, I don’t think we need to reenact the entire conversation,” Shigeaki said hastily, flapping a hand. “Like I said, I hadn’t slept and it was a dick move, which is why I am trying to make it up to you.”
Tsugutora looked dubious and now, just a little confused. Oyori put a hand on Tsugutora’s shoulder and gave Shigeaki a smile so brilliant it stung.
“Since he’s insisting on it, why don’t we take him up on the offer?” She patted his shoulder encouragingly. Shigeaki glared at her.
“I wasn’t inviting you,” he hissed at her, just loud enough for her to hear. She smiled back unfazed.
“I think it’s the least you can do.” She raised her voice. “Noodles, you said? Did you have a place in mind, Shigeaki-kun?”
Shigeaki threw up his hands in disgust, turned, and started walking in the direction of the noodle stand. Oyori let out a little laugh and followed, Tsugutora trailing behind.
“Oyori-san, I already turned him down,” he whispered, casting a furtive look at Shigeaki’s back. Oyori touched a finger to her lips.
“He insisted, didn’t he? Besides, it’s more polite to accept. He may be a tactless idiot with questionable taste, but you might have to work with him someday. It’s better to be on good terms if you can. No sense in making enemies at home, hm?”
“Are you on good terms with Shigeaki-san?”
Oyori smiled serenely. “Oh, we get along just fine.”
Tsugutora wound up between the two of them at the noodle stand. Its owner was a bustling, bright-faced young woman who greeted them all cheerfully, and Shigeaki by name. She took all of their orders with a hearty “you got it!” and Tsugutora watched with quiet amazement at the sheer energy she seemed to bring to every task. She even shook the noodles rather vigorously. Before long, there were three steaming bowls in front of them, a drifting tangle of tempting aromas. Tsugutora seemed to settle in a little more comfortably as he breathed in the fragrant steam.
“Thanks for the food, coz,” Shigeaki chimed, snapping apart his chopsticks. The noodle girl threw him a wink.
“You’re related?” Oyori said, looking genuinely surprised. There was a certain measure of family resemblance — the same jawline, the same particular shade of brown hair so dark it almost looked black — although they wouldn’t be mistaken for siblings.
“Yeah, on my mom’s side, twice removed or something. Yu-chan and I’ve been friends since we were kids.”
“Oh, really? It’s so nice to have family you can talk to.”
Her expression and tone were perfectly pleasant, but there was a slight jab concealed beneath it. Although Tsugutora appeared more or less oblivious, he seemed to sense some kind of tension and looked just a shade more uncomfortable. Then again, the kid looked like he might spook at small talk about the weather just now, so there was no telling if that was a useful metric or not.
“Yeah, well, it’s a pretty big family,” Shigeaki said expansively, and then, in perhaps his wisest move of the evening, occupied his mouth with some noodles. Tsugutora watched him for just a moment before breaking apart his own chopsticks and digging in himself. Worried it was poisoned, or just being polite? Shigeaki really wasn’t sure how much of his reputation the kid had learned about in the week since they first met.
Shigeaki heard a quiet little happy noise next to him, and he glanced over to see an actual smile on Tsugutora’s face. It was kind of a pathetic smile, tiny and drawn in like the rest of him, and it was gone in the next moment as he slurped up another bite of noodles.
Oyori let out an exclaim of delight at her food, and she waved a bangled hand at the noodle girl. “Do you make your own beef stock?”
Yu was already back to boiling noodles for the next customer. “Sure do!”
“What do you put in it? I don’t think I’ve had anything quite like it before. There’s something about the aroma that’s absolutely enchanting. Almost sweet.”
Yu grinned at Oyori and flashed her another wink. “Clove.”
Oyori clapped her hands with a little chime of her bangles. “Clove! That’s it! I don’t suppose I could convince you to tell me your recipe.”
The noodle girl threw back her head and laughed. “Not a chance! That’s a family secret. But I’ll serve it to you anytime you like, miss.” Dipping her strainer into the water to scoop out the noodles, she nodded at Shigeaki. “Work friends of yours, Shige?”
Shige shrugged in lieu of a response. Calling either one of them a friend was a charitable stretch. Curiously, hesitantly, Tsugutora asked, “How did you know?”
“Shige doesn’t have any other friends.”
“Hey!” Shigeaki hurled one of his chopsticks at her like a dart, but she batted it out of the air, bouncing it down to the ivory and navy cobblestones, and carried on the conversation cheerfully.
“Hope he doesn’t make too much trouble for you over there. But you look pretty young for that kind of work, huh?”
Tsugutora realized she was talking to him and ducked his head, looking embarrassed. But before he could answer, Shigeaki drawled, “Newbie.”
“He’s the youngest agent to be recruited,” Oyori said primly, though her smile was edged. Tsugutora ducked his head so low that he was in danger of submerging his face in his soup. Shigeaki plucked a new pair of chopsticks from the cup and opened his mouth for a comeback, but then remembered that he was supposed to be treating Tsugutora as an apology for being an asshole. If he kept this up, he’d be buying the kid dinner until retirement.
“Ooh, that’s pretty impressive! Don’t take my dummy of a cousin too seriously, though, you’ll only give yourself white hairs.”
Shigeaki was already preparing to throw another chopstick in her direction, but he stayed his hand and just glared instead. Tsugutora gave him an owlish look, his brow knit.
“Do you always throw things at people when you’re mad?”
Yu snickered, and Oyori covered a smile with the sleeve of her yukata. Shigeaki felt his ears redden and scowled at her, stabbing his chopsticks into his noodles with more force than strictly necessary. He was beginning to regret offering to treat Tsugutora. The kid was terrible dinner conversation anyway.