| [Feb. 22nd, 2012|04:56 am] |
“I could do with one or two in mine,” Ryouma put in. “It’ll keep her from tryin’ to sneak bites.”
“I object to that,” Katsuko said, twisting half-around to glare at him. “I steal your food because we are friends. Accept this.”
Wakahisa snorted, ruffled her hair, and released her. “Get out of my kitchen, and I’ll see about getting you some food. You’ll want beef noodle?” He was already moving back to the chopping block, as if her answer didn’t matter; clearly he already knew her favorite. He did cut a dark-eyed glance back to Ryouma, in silent question.
“Beef noodle for me, too,” Ryouma said. “And shrimp spring rolls. You can leave the pepper out of those.”
“Yes,” Katsuko said, a little muffled. “Beef noodle. Good.” Ryouma wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him or to the old chef; maybe both. Maybe it didn’t matter. Her eyes were glassy, cheeks still flushed red. She grabbed Ryouma’s arm as soon as Wakahisa turned back to his pots, and towed him back to their table. “You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered, low.
“I did,” Ryouma said. He caught her hand as it fell away from his arm, gripped her tight. “For six months, I spent nearly every conscious moment thinkin’ of the things I wish I’d said. Swore to myself, if I ever got back, I’d say ‘em. Maybe that still doesn’t give me a right to say your things for you, but-- You’ve got to talk, Katsuko. I didn’t, and it’s sheer luck I got a second chance.”
Katsuko pulled her hand away, but she didn’t bolt. Instead she slumped down in her chair, loose-limbed as a puppet when its strings were cut. “Talk,” she said. She laughed a little, quiet, rueful. “Talk.” She lifted a hand, rubbed her face. “I talk. I just say things people don’t want to hear.”
Ryouma’d done that, too, and some of them had driven a wedge between him and Kakashi so deep that only his capture and assumed death had cleared it. But they’d come out stronger on the other side, hadn’t they? Even with such uncertain ground to start from.
Kakashi had tried talking--and reaching--too. Maybe that was what made the difference.
He dropped into his chair again across from her. “Why don’t they want to hear it?” |
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