Fic: "Love is Bigger Than a House" (Katamari Damacy, Lovely Yui/Mr. Fujio)
Title: Love is Bigger Than a House
Author:
kimouski
Fandom: Katamari Damacy
Pairing: Lovely Yui/Mr. Fujio
Rating: PG
Cliché: We die at dawn: it's A and B's last night on earth -- or at least they think it is
AN: Yui and Mr. Fujio are actually the names of people you can collect in the first game. Look 'em up if you don't believe me.
There was a park bench in Mr. Fujio's kidney when he first saw her.
She was running down the street when he saw her, fleeing with the small crowd from the park. Nearly everyone was fleeing from him and the thing he had become a part of. The screaming collection of mammals and objects had been nearly the size of a shed when it picked Mr. Fujio up almost three minutes ago-it had to be the size of a house now.
He could see she was young; he could tell from the crisp blue pleats of her skirt to the sleek helmet of her hair to the soft roundness of innocence still clinging to her cheeks. The red tie around the neck of her school uniform was dark in places with spit and fear-or tears. Maybe tears. Probably tears. Young girls liked to cry a lot, didn't they? When she looked over her shoulder, terror made her eyes bright and doe-like, and Mr. Fujio realized two things: they were bigger than a house now and he was in love. Though how he knew the latter, when he had never been in love before, was beyond him.
What would his girlfriend say? She was always wanting something from him-money, manners, marriage, love, probably. She'd be upset that he had fallen for this plain doughnut of a girl. He'd have to suffer the silent treatment for weeks. She'd expect more than a pair of earrings or a weepy movie to make it up to her. This was love; he wouldn't be getting out of this one so easily. It was just as well he was stuck in a mammoth, rolling circus.
Caught in the shadow of the mammoth, rolling circus, the girl squealed like a, well, school girl, and fell down in a sprawl of blue pleats among a display of misplaced trumpets. She squealed again and crab-scuttled until she was backed up against a balloon shop, wet-eyed and terrified at the looming monstrosity before her.
Any second, thought Mr. Fujio. Any second and he might be three arm lengths away from the Hello Panda! embroidery on the ankle of her sock. Strangely, he was more fascinated by the baby pink of her scuffed shoes than any of the heels the office women attempted to seduce him with. But then Mr. Fujio's famous luck sputtered out. Everything lurched sideways, away from the balloon shop, away from her. A medium-sized brown dog fell onto his head and proceeded to bark in Mr. Fujio's ear. The world turned upside down and topsy turvy, and every five seconds, he caught sight of the growing distance between them to the soundtrack of a dog dissatisfied with life.
When he and the barking dog rolled into the petrol station, Mr. Fujio had worked himself into a state of near-suicidal indifference. Perhaps the screaming menagerie he was trapped in would somehow roll over one of the pumps? Perhaps everything might catch fire and explode like a happy grenade? He'd be fine with that, probably. But the giant mass crashed into the vertical posts supporting the station's canopy and bounced backward with a noise that sounded like a drawer full of wrenches clattering to a garage floor.
The barking dog near his ear yelped once, then fell several feet to the concrete below. A few others-a high school coach, a sparrow, a carton of milk-joined the yelping dog. The dog, coach and sparrow lost no time in making their bids for freedom. The milk merely sat there on its side leaking its contents.
Still trapped, yet free of the dog, Mr. Fujio asked himself what he might've done had he been the dog, coach, sparrow, or milk. He decided he would've done as the milk carton had, probably. A long time ago Mr. Fujio had resigned himself to unhappiness for the rest of his life. It explained his high-stress office job, and certainly his high-maintenance girlfriend. The silver lining of his current, immediate situation was that the rest of his life now had a shorter option.
Then something spectacular happened.
There was a thin, giddy shriek and a thud. The park bench that had previously been making friends with his kidney now had an occupant. With some difficulty, Mr. Fujio managed to wrench his head around enough to look over his shoulder, and what he saw was nothing short of every birthday wish without the awkward post-candle moment. Blue pleats, pink shoes and a round, frightened face peered through the park bench slats at him.
She was unpainted and unglamorous-her haute couture was a uniform-but she was the last girl he'd ever see, probably, so that also made her the most beautiful creature in the world. She might be the death of him, he decided, if the tree that had just been added to the collection didn't crush him first. He fought the park bench and the objects around him so he might talk to her without literally bending backwards to do so. With some difficulty, he worked himself into a position underneath her.
As evidenced by the tree not far from Mr. Fujio's head, the clump they were in was getting larger by the second. It was dim, cramped and noisy inside. Somewhere above them, a cow was lowing, accompanied by a "Bem, bem, bem, bem, bembembem!" Light skipped in through the negative spaces between objects, and there was just enough to see she was even cuter when his view lasted for more than three seconds and wasn't rotating.
"Shh, don't be scared," Mr. Fujio said to the face on the other side of the slats. "There's no need to be scared if you're not alone," His voice sounded suspiciously like the one he used when making suggestions during Monday morning meetings-oily-slick and holding as much truth as a wet coffee filter.
"I'm not scared," she said. "I miss my cat."
"I'm sorry about that," Mr. Fujio said, wishing he could do something helpful, like pat her hand or buy her ice cream. When she sniffled again, her nostrils made him hard. "What's your name?"
"Yui." She ran a finger under her nose. "What's yours?"
"Mr. Fujio," said Mr. Fujio.
"Mr. Fujio," she repeated, lingering on the "mister." He waited for a follow-up "nice to meet you," but Yui only wiped her finger on her red tie.
Finally, "Mr. Fujio?"
"Yes, Yui?"
"You're an adult, aren't you?"
He should have known he wouldn't be able to die without answering this question. He had been avoiding it since turning eighteen. Sometimes, he felt like he wasn't an adult, like he was depositing his April Thirds in a bank somewhere instead of spending them on a house, a wife, and a forward march into middle-agedom. Other times, he felt like he was so old he was nothing but bones and cynicism.
"I don't know," Mr. Fujio finally admitted. "I think so."
"You think so? Don't you know?"
"Okay, I am an adult, probably," he said, firm about it this time. Then it occurred to him she could be expecting something amazingly adultish from him so he added, "But I'm only twenty-five. I, um, really haven't been one that long. Um, why do you ask?"
"Because adults always have the answers and I thought maybe you could tell me if-" Her face crumpled. "If we're going to die."
Oh, shit. He knew it. She was sad and crying and expecting something like an amazing answer from him, Mr. Adult Figure. Well, he already knew the answer to her question, but watching her cry made him rethink his indifference toward life and happiness. So many things he hadn't yet accomplished in this life. How had this girl fared? Had she been kissed? Had she let a boy talk her into going all the way? Would she have been the sparrow or the milk?
"How old are you, Yui?" he asked, then hunched his shoulders in embarrassment and pain. His girlfriend had told him to never ask a woman her age. And something that felt like a bicycle had just rammed itself into the back of his head.
If the question was too personal, she didn't show it. "Seventeen," she answered.
Seventeen-she was older than he had initially thought. That was good. It made him feel less like a hopeless pervert and more like a realistic one. "Seventeen's a good age," he assured her. "I liked being seventeen. Do you?"
"It's okay," she answered, shrugging. "I wish I was older, though. The boys my age are stupid." Yui rolled her eyes.
"Boys usually are," Mr. Fujio agreed. He certainly had been.
"They're mean. I hate them," Yui spat. A portion of her vitriol fell through the slats and landed on Mr. Fujio's nose. "They call me Moonface at school."
"How stupid of them."
Yui's nod was violent. "I know! Mama says I'll grow into my looks when I'm older, but I wish I was older now."
"It's really not all it's cracked up to be," Mr. Fujio muttered, shifting his head so it wasn't caught in the bike chain. "Listen, don't listen to them. You're lovely."
"I am?"
"Yeah. Haven't you ever been told that before?"
"No, Mr. Fujio, you're the first. In fact, you're the first man to notice me. Everyone else sees my sister first, Chie. She's tall and skinny. Lovelier. In fact, they call her Lovely Chie."
The name rang a bell. Mr. Fujio suspected he had dated her a year or so ago. "Well, I think you're lovely, Yui. I will call you Lovely Yui."
"Oh, Mr. Fujio!" Yui giggled.
"Would you like me to say it again? I will, if you want, because it's true. Lovely Yui. I, uh, think I would call you that even if I saw your sister first."
Yui giggled again. "Mr. Fujio, you're making me blush! Oh, please stop! I don't like to blush. Mama says it makes my face blotchy and I don't want you to think I'm blotchy."
Mr. Fujio laughed. "If I could see you, I would think your blotches were lovely, Yui."
Yui smiled and said, "Mr. Fujio, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
Mr. Fujio could believe that, and he was unaccountably sad for her and himself. His girlfriend required diamonds and dinner. All this girl wanted was to be told blotches were lovely.
His moment of introspection was interrupted by the majority of the light going out. The screams around him intensified, which made him realize how large the thing they were in had grown. They were definitely bigger than a house now. They were bigger than the high school too, probably.
"I wish I knew if I passed my math test," Yui said.
"What?" Mr. Fujio wondered if he had heard her correctly.
"I wish I knew if I passed my math test," Yui repeated. "I studied for three weeks. What would you wish for, Mr. Fujio?"
Her softly spoken question brought him uncomfortably close to tears. "More time," he answered.
"More time?" Yui's face wrinkled. "Do you think we're going to die soon, Mr. Fujio?"
"Yes," Mr. Fujio said, without hesitation. For the last five minutes, his legs had been trapped between a stone planter and a dead bear. "But everyone dies, Yui. What matters is if we're happy when we die." He had read that on the Quote-A-Day calendar in the breakroom once. "Are you happy, Yui?"
"No," Yui whispered. "I wish I was, but I'm not."
"Why not?"
"Because Mama lied. I'll never grow into my looks. I'll never get to have the things Chie did. It's not fair."
Actually she could sort of, since he had, in fact, dated her sister. He remembered her now. Chie liked to check for lipstick on her teeth in the backs of spoons. "How about a kiss, Lovely Yui?" It was the best he could do. "Would that make you happy?"
"Oh, Mr. Fujio," she breathed. "No man has ever asked to kiss me."
"Well, come on. It'll have to be through the cracks, and you'll have to keep talking so I can find you."
With effort, he somehow managed to wriggle his back free of the bike. He followed Yui's "I'm here, Mr. Fujio," until he felt her warm breath against his brows. His heart was beating as it never had before. Just a few more inches and he'd be there...
...and then an inch and a half of space would reveal the true meaning of happiness.
Mr. Fujio's neck was cramped and his determination had put rings under his armpits, but it was beautiful-oh, so beautiful. If there was wonder and majesty in a giant, motley ball of scraps, Mr. Fujio had found it.
"Yui," he said. "I think I love you."
There was a bright light.
"Mr. Fujio..." Yui face was beaming like a moon. A new galaxy was born in her smile. "Would you come to my house to meet Mama?"
"Yui, I'd be honored."
And then there was nothing.
Author:
kimouski
Fandom: Katamari Damacy
Pairing: Lovely Yui/Mr. Fujio
Rating: PG
Cliché: We die at dawn: it's A and B's last night on earth -- or at least they think it is
AN: Yui and Mr. Fujio are actually the names of people you can collect in the first game. Look 'em up if you don't believe me.
There was a park bench in Mr. Fujio's kidney when he first saw her.
She was running down the street when he saw her, fleeing with the small crowd from the park. Nearly everyone was fleeing from him and the thing he had become a part of. The screaming collection of mammals and objects had been nearly the size of a shed when it picked Mr. Fujio up almost three minutes ago-it had to be the size of a house now.
He could see she was young; he could tell from the crisp blue pleats of her skirt to the sleek helmet of her hair to the soft roundness of innocence still clinging to her cheeks. The red tie around the neck of her school uniform was dark in places with spit and fear-or tears. Maybe tears. Probably tears. Young girls liked to cry a lot, didn't they? When she looked over her shoulder, terror made her eyes bright and doe-like, and Mr. Fujio realized two things: they were bigger than a house now and he was in love. Though how he knew the latter, when he had never been in love before, was beyond him.
What would his girlfriend say? She was always wanting something from him-money, manners, marriage, love, probably. She'd be upset that he had fallen for this plain doughnut of a girl. He'd have to suffer the silent treatment for weeks. She'd expect more than a pair of earrings or a weepy movie to make it up to her. This was love; he wouldn't be getting out of this one so easily. It was just as well he was stuck in a mammoth, rolling circus.
Caught in the shadow of the mammoth, rolling circus, the girl squealed like a, well, school girl, and fell down in a sprawl of blue pleats among a display of misplaced trumpets. She squealed again and crab-scuttled until she was backed up against a balloon shop, wet-eyed and terrified at the looming monstrosity before her.
Any second, thought Mr. Fujio. Any second and he might be three arm lengths away from the Hello Panda! embroidery on the ankle of her sock. Strangely, he was more fascinated by the baby pink of her scuffed shoes than any of the heels the office women attempted to seduce him with. But then Mr. Fujio's famous luck sputtered out. Everything lurched sideways, away from the balloon shop, away from her. A medium-sized brown dog fell onto his head and proceeded to bark in Mr. Fujio's ear. The world turned upside down and topsy turvy, and every five seconds, he caught sight of the growing distance between them to the soundtrack of a dog dissatisfied with life.
When he and the barking dog rolled into the petrol station, Mr. Fujio had worked himself into a state of near-suicidal indifference. Perhaps the screaming menagerie he was trapped in would somehow roll over one of the pumps? Perhaps everything might catch fire and explode like a happy grenade? He'd be fine with that, probably. But the giant mass crashed into the vertical posts supporting the station's canopy and bounced backward with a noise that sounded like a drawer full of wrenches clattering to a garage floor.
The barking dog near his ear yelped once, then fell several feet to the concrete below. A few others-a high school coach, a sparrow, a carton of milk-joined the yelping dog. The dog, coach and sparrow lost no time in making their bids for freedom. The milk merely sat there on its side leaking its contents.
Still trapped, yet free of the dog, Mr. Fujio asked himself what he might've done had he been the dog, coach, sparrow, or milk. He decided he would've done as the milk carton had, probably. A long time ago Mr. Fujio had resigned himself to unhappiness for the rest of his life. It explained his high-stress office job, and certainly his high-maintenance girlfriend. The silver lining of his current, immediate situation was that the rest of his life now had a shorter option.
Then something spectacular happened.
There was a thin, giddy shriek and a thud. The park bench that had previously been making friends with his kidney now had an occupant. With some difficulty, Mr. Fujio managed to wrench his head around enough to look over his shoulder, and what he saw was nothing short of every birthday wish without the awkward post-candle moment. Blue pleats, pink shoes and a round, frightened face peered through the park bench slats at him.
She was unpainted and unglamorous-her haute couture was a uniform-but she was the last girl he'd ever see, probably, so that also made her the most beautiful creature in the world. She might be the death of him, he decided, if the tree that had just been added to the collection didn't crush him first. He fought the park bench and the objects around him so he might talk to her without literally bending backwards to do so. With some difficulty, he worked himself into a position underneath her.
As evidenced by the tree not far from Mr. Fujio's head, the clump they were in was getting larger by the second. It was dim, cramped and noisy inside. Somewhere above them, a cow was lowing, accompanied by a "Bem, bem, bem, bem, bembembem!" Light skipped in through the negative spaces between objects, and there was just enough to see she was even cuter when his view lasted for more than three seconds and wasn't rotating.
"Shh, don't be scared," Mr. Fujio said to the face on the other side of the slats. "There's no need to be scared if you're not alone," His voice sounded suspiciously like the one he used when making suggestions during Monday morning meetings-oily-slick and holding as much truth as a wet coffee filter.
"I'm not scared," she said. "I miss my cat."
"I'm sorry about that," Mr. Fujio said, wishing he could do something helpful, like pat her hand or buy her ice cream. When she sniffled again, her nostrils made him hard. "What's your name?"
"Yui." She ran a finger under her nose. "What's yours?"
"Mr. Fujio," said Mr. Fujio.
"Mr. Fujio," she repeated, lingering on the "mister." He waited for a follow-up "nice to meet you," but Yui only wiped her finger on her red tie.
Finally, "Mr. Fujio?"
"Yes, Yui?"
"You're an adult, aren't you?"
He should have known he wouldn't be able to die without answering this question. He had been avoiding it since turning eighteen. Sometimes, he felt like he wasn't an adult, like he was depositing his April Thirds in a bank somewhere instead of spending them on a house, a wife, and a forward march into middle-agedom. Other times, he felt like he was so old he was nothing but bones and cynicism.
"I don't know," Mr. Fujio finally admitted. "I think so."
"You think so? Don't you know?"
"Okay, I am an adult, probably," he said, firm about it this time. Then it occurred to him she could be expecting something amazingly adultish from him so he added, "But I'm only twenty-five. I, um, really haven't been one that long. Um, why do you ask?"
"Because adults always have the answers and I thought maybe you could tell me if-" Her face crumpled. "If we're going to die."
Oh, shit. He knew it. She was sad and crying and expecting something like an amazing answer from him, Mr. Adult Figure. Well, he already knew the answer to her question, but watching her cry made him rethink his indifference toward life and happiness. So many things he hadn't yet accomplished in this life. How had this girl fared? Had she been kissed? Had she let a boy talk her into going all the way? Would she have been the sparrow or the milk?
"How old are you, Yui?" he asked, then hunched his shoulders in embarrassment and pain. His girlfriend had told him to never ask a woman her age. And something that felt like a bicycle had just rammed itself into the back of his head.
If the question was too personal, she didn't show it. "Seventeen," she answered.
Seventeen-she was older than he had initially thought. That was good. It made him feel less like a hopeless pervert and more like a realistic one. "Seventeen's a good age," he assured her. "I liked being seventeen. Do you?"
"It's okay," she answered, shrugging. "I wish I was older, though. The boys my age are stupid." Yui rolled her eyes.
"Boys usually are," Mr. Fujio agreed. He certainly had been.
"They're mean. I hate them," Yui spat. A portion of her vitriol fell through the slats and landed on Mr. Fujio's nose. "They call me Moonface at school."
"How stupid of them."
Yui's nod was violent. "I know! Mama says I'll grow into my looks when I'm older, but I wish I was older now."
"It's really not all it's cracked up to be," Mr. Fujio muttered, shifting his head so it wasn't caught in the bike chain. "Listen, don't listen to them. You're lovely."
"I am?"
"Yeah. Haven't you ever been told that before?"
"No, Mr. Fujio, you're the first. In fact, you're the first man to notice me. Everyone else sees my sister first, Chie. She's tall and skinny. Lovelier. In fact, they call her Lovely Chie."
The name rang a bell. Mr. Fujio suspected he had dated her a year or so ago. "Well, I think you're lovely, Yui. I will call you Lovely Yui."
"Oh, Mr. Fujio!" Yui giggled.
"Would you like me to say it again? I will, if you want, because it's true. Lovely Yui. I, uh, think I would call you that even if I saw your sister first."
Yui giggled again. "Mr. Fujio, you're making me blush! Oh, please stop! I don't like to blush. Mama says it makes my face blotchy and I don't want you to think I'm blotchy."
Mr. Fujio laughed. "If I could see you, I would think your blotches were lovely, Yui."
Yui smiled and said, "Mr. Fujio, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
Mr. Fujio could believe that, and he was unaccountably sad for her and himself. His girlfriend required diamonds and dinner. All this girl wanted was to be told blotches were lovely.
His moment of introspection was interrupted by the majority of the light going out. The screams around him intensified, which made him realize how large the thing they were in had grown. They were definitely bigger than a house now. They were bigger than the high school too, probably.
"I wish I knew if I passed my math test," Yui said.
"What?" Mr. Fujio wondered if he had heard her correctly.
"I wish I knew if I passed my math test," Yui repeated. "I studied for three weeks. What would you wish for, Mr. Fujio?"
Her softly spoken question brought him uncomfortably close to tears. "More time," he answered.
"More time?" Yui's face wrinkled. "Do you think we're going to die soon, Mr. Fujio?"
"Yes," Mr. Fujio said, without hesitation. For the last five minutes, his legs had been trapped between a stone planter and a dead bear. "But everyone dies, Yui. What matters is if we're happy when we die." He had read that on the Quote-A-Day calendar in the breakroom once. "Are you happy, Yui?"
"No," Yui whispered. "I wish I was, but I'm not."
"Why not?"
"Because Mama lied. I'll never grow into my looks. I'll never get to have the things Chie did. It's not fair."
Actually she could sort of, since he had, in fact, dated her sister. He remembered her now. Chie liked to check for lipstick on her teeth in the backs of spoons. "How about a kiss, Lovely Yui?" It was the best he could do. "Would that make you happy?"
"Oh, Mr. Fujio," she breathed. "No man has ever asked to kiss me."
"Well, come on. It'll have to be through the cracks, and you'll have to keep talking so I can find you."
With effort, he somehow managed to wriggle his back free of the bike. He followed Yui's "I'm here, Mr. Fujio," until he felt her warm breath against his brows. His heart was beating as it never had before. Just a few more inches and he'd be there...
...and then an inch and a half of space would reveal the true meaning of happiness.
Mr. Fujio's neck was cramped and his determination had put rings under his armpits, but it was beautiful-oh, so beautiful. If there was wonder and majesty in a giant, motley ball of scraps, Mr. Fujio had found it.
"Yui," he said. "I think I love you."
There was a bright light.
"Mr. Fujio..." Yui face was beaming like a moon. A new galaxy was born in her smile. "Would you come to my house to meet Mama?"
"Yui, I'd be honored."
And then there was nothing.