Orange-mango-passion juice: the first chapter of how was Kuroi Bara born
Ruki hadn't counted, but it was surely over ten Vodka Stingers, two or three Green Eyes and a few Mint Hazes later when he was nursing a Summer Fruit Sparkler in the corner of a bar attached to a Pachinko place somewhere in Tokyo. His mind was rather hazy, and surely enough the painkillers he had taken before going out had mixed into the alcohol dangerously enough. He could have called it quite a suicide-aiming trip, but somehow every time he gave it a go all he did was wake up from a hotel or his home which he often mistook to be a hotel - and not with a girl, but a huge headache and every time a worse hangover.
Depression makes as much miracles as anything else affecting lives, and Ruki could have been called a living example of it. It had been three and a half years now, three and a half simple depression, lazy work and warnings about absences from the boss, unpaid rents and loans. The old woman who let the male stay upstairs was happy to have company though and didn't demand the payment exactly on date, but if he had been sober Ruki could have mentioned a few times when she had asked would the young man really pay five rents at once.
A figure stopped next to him, and Ruki could somehow tell glasses were moved. "Yo... Mocha Choca Lata Yaya."
"Yes, and the queen of Africa."
"...Wha...?"
He lifted his gaze into a familiar - well, somewhat familiar - figure. "May I sit down?"
"...Yea", he answered, reconizing the voice as a male's. "I'd more prefer prettier company but..."
"In your condition I doubt you'd get any. Takanori, what are you doing here?"
So, the person knew him. Ruki wasn't entirely sure who was he talking to, if he was talking to anyone really, and when looking back now he still isn't all sure who was the man - but nevertheless, the guy knew him by given name, so they must have been quite close. Yes, close - there was no suffix either. As if Ruki would have noticed it back then...
"Takanori, Takanori, ya stop callin me Takanori."
A sigh, cigarette smoke blown to his face, but Ruki didn't give a shit about anything anymore. The more dangerous the better. "母と父.... They're worried."
"He..." He burst into a chuckle. "Mom and dad, worrying of me?"
"Yeah. You should stop drifting and come home. And stop drinking too."
"Nay."
He held the cocktail and took a sip trying to look like he was fine, but it was obvious he wasn't.
"I'll take you home with me", the person in front of him said. "And when you're not drunk I'll re-introduce you to a person who might help you to get up."
"Y? I'm not gettin up..." But it was harder to remain seated than be pulled up by this Whoever-he-knew. Thus Ruki was dragged out into the late night, or possibly early morning - he wasn't sure. It was gloomy nevertheless, cold nevertheless, and he was lonely nevertheless.
xxxx
This time Ruki didn't wake up from his home nor a hotel. The room looked awfully familiar, though; but his ability to make sense had been burnt away by vodka cocktails and shots, cigarettes and loneliness, and the nausea. Somehow able to get up and totter to the door Ruki followed his instinct, finding the nearby toilet in a mere minute and slumping to his knees on the floor.
Oh, he wasn't surprised for finding himself throw up into the toilet bowl. It wasn't the first time in his life - the first time had been ages ago. Feeling the burning in his throat as he got rid of his insides again Ruki's mind jammed.
Finishing the first not-so-pretty part of the hangover the male attempted getting up, almost failing, but got his hands against the wall in time. This was the only part he disliked in his drinking habits: powerful drinks rapidly taken, shots all on one go, and if that wasn't enough he'd take the yuckiest possible strawberry drinks he hated normally but when he was drunk he didn't taste the difference. In the morning he would eventually find out had he chosen strawberries - the longer the puke, the more strawberries in his drinks.
"You're awake, sort of", a woman's voice said from the corridor. "Takanori?"
"Mmmh", he managed, falling back to his knees and inserting some more insides into the bowl, holding his stomach. Why it had to come up, why couldn't it go down like eaten things normally?
"I thought you'd like a bath, Takanori, I prepared one downstairs."
"O-oh, thanks."
Wondering who was the woman - he hadn't had the chance to see yet - Ruki couched, flushing the toilet, and washed his face with as cold water as possible. This was when he realized someone had changed his stylish punk rock clothes into an old black Nirvana Tshirt and loose shorts. Alongside that he realized the house was awfully familiar: he knew exactly where the stairs and the bathroom were.
When passing the small kitchen it came to him: this was his parent's home, his childhood home. The woman in the kitchen was his mother - who, as realizing the young man had arrived downstairs rushed to take him to the bath before the water would get cold. His father was probably at work - hadn't he often been?
The Matsumoto family was always classified as a very regular family. The parents had grown up together; the father worked long hours every day of the week and seldom visited home while the mother had become a housewife when the oldest son was born. Nine years afterwards the second son was delivered to the house, and the parents thanked gods for two healthy sons. Everything was fine and life shone its brightest.
Ruki had - or since it was in the past we might speak of Takanori instead - always thought it was like that. That they were, indeed, a normal family. But when he went to school his father once came home injured, and that was when he discovered the truth: they might have been a normal family, but the father's work was dangerous and bad, wrong even, and that way the Matsumoto family had lots and lots of enemies.
The young Takanori didn't care, but as he grew up he learned it was true - their life was dangerous. It was as if the whole family had been paranoid about things happening and thus they did - culprits for destroying cars, bikes, burning their old garage and shooting the father's leg almost unusable were never discovered. For a long time the only people who stood by Takanori were his old friends from the school's soccer team. And then, Yutaka.
But that's off the plot already.
Having almost fallen asleep in the warm water Ruki was shook up by the voice of a car being parked. There was chatter and laughing, and soon he heard the door open and close - they clearly had visitors. Only after a while his mother knocked on the door. "Takanori?"
"Yeah...?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
The woman peeked in. "I'll leave you a towel and clothes here." She put a pile of fabrics down onto a stool standing next to the door. "Please hurry up."
"Thanks... I will."
He did as his mother asked, and washed himself quickly, not touching the rather clean hair this time though. The dreadlocks covered most of his head, and didn't look dirty even when his natural hair - mostly the bangs - would. Drying himself, getting dressed and leaving the still warm water into the tub Ruki left the bathroom, following the voices of speaking to the kitchen.
"Breakfast", the mother nodded towards the table. "Takanori, you do remember your old friend Asada-kun?"
Ruki's eyes turned to the little older boy, taller and slimmer as well, who was dressed up, looking like he was wearing a fine uniform, but this was a casual tuxedo-type of wear. "Makoto", Ruki nodded; how could he forget this person? They had been friends before their teens, and then the Asada family had moved further away. Ruki could remember Makoto being a bit jealous due to Ruki's sociality and friends... The dark-and-pale boy had never been too good with people.
"Takanori", the other nodded back. The face was as expressionless as always, but Ruki had seen that in this case it simply reflected the utter wiseness within. He had never been jealous of it, though - Ruki didn't care about grades and numbers. He wanted to live.
"Asada-sans came to visit today, you see", the mother continued, smiling at Makoto's mother. "It's a nice coincidence that Takanori was home at the same time, isn't it?"
She and Makoto's mother continued their chatter and Ruki sat down in front of Makoto, preparing a toast and pouring some orange-mango-passion juice into his glass. Not the best breakfast to drive away hangover, but it seemed to be the only possibility.
Makoto eyed him for a while as if the other one had been measuring him.
"I might have some use for a friend like you at the moment, Takanori", he said finally, speaking not too loudly, leaning a bit forwards. "What do you say...?"
"About what?"
"I'd prefer your help. You see - I heard you haven't been too well, it might help you to get better too."
"Yeah, but for what?"
Ruki was used to Makoto's way of either going to the point too fast or not going to the point at all. He drank some juice. It tasted bitter, but not bad.
"You're such a people person... What do you say, if you help me to open a bar-restaurant?"
"That's boring, what use would you have for me? Play some guitar and mix easy drinks?"
"No... Listen." Makoto leaned close, looking at their mothers engaged in a conversation about children growing up. "That's not all there would be... But also a big, big secret only for the special people..."
xx to be continued xx
(As an afternote to all you who actually spent time reading it, cherii would like to remind that linking people to the boss's past is alright. Of course all you Gazette fans can easily tell from the soccer team thing that we're possibly talking about Takashima Kouyou and Suzuki Akira, I write surnames first a.k.a. Uruha and Reita. As long as your plan for past-intertwining doesn't mix with Yutaka's killer's identity, fine. Good. Actually, great. Mixing makes it interesting.)
Depression makes as much miracles as anything else affecting lives, and Ruki could have been called a living example of it. It had been three and a half years now, three and a half simple depression, lazy work and warnings about absences from the boss, unpaid rents and loans. The old woman who let the male stay upstairs was happy to have company though and didn't demand the payment exactly on date, but if he had been sober Ruki could have mentioned a few times when she had asked would the young man really pay five rents at once.
A figure stopped next to him, and Ruki could somehow tell glasses were moved. "Yo... Mocha Choca Lata Yaya."
"Yes, and the queen of Africa."
"...Wha...?"
He lifted his gaze into a familiar - well, somewhat familiar - figure. "May I sit down?"
"...Yea", he answered, reconizing the voice as a male's. "I'd more prefer prettier company but..."
"In your condition I doubt you'd get any. Takanori, what are you doing here?"
So, the person knew him. Ruki wasn't entirely sure who was he talking to, if he was talking to anyone really, and when looking back now he still isn't all sure who was the man - but nevertheless, the guy knew him by given name, so they must have been quite close. Yes, close - there was no suffix either. As if Ruki would have noticed it back then...
"Takanori, Takanori, ya stop callin me Takanori."
A sigh, cigarette smoke blown to his face, but Ruki didn't give a shit about anything anymore. The more dangerous the better. "母と父.... They're worried."
"He..." He burst into a chuckle. "Mom and dad, worrying of me?"
"Yeah. You should stop drifting and come home. And stop drinking too."
"Nay."
He held the cocktail and took a sip trying to look like he was fine, but it was obvious he wasn't.
"I'll take you home with me", the person in front of him said. "And when you're not drunk I'll re-introduce you to a person who might help you to get up."
"Y? I'm not gettin up..." But it was harder to remain seated than be pulled up by this Whoever-he-knew. Thus Ruki was dragged out into the late night, or possibly early morning - he wasn't sure. It was gloomy nevertheless, cold nevertheless, and he was lonely nevertheless.
xxxx
This time Ruki didn't wake up from his home nor a hotel. The room looked awfully familiar, though; but his ability to make sense had been burnt away by vodka cocktails and shots, cigarettes and loneliness, and the nausea. Somehow able to get up and totter to the door Ruki followed his instinct, finding the nearby toilet in a mere minute and slumping to his knees on the floor.
Oh, he wasn't surprised for finding himself throw up into the toilet bowl. It wasn't the first time in his life - the first time had been ages ago. Feeling the burning in his throat as he got rid of his insides again Ruki's mind jammed.
Finishing the first not-so-pretty part of the hangover the male attempted getting up, almost failing, but got his hands against the wall in time. This was the only part he disliked in his drinking habits: powerful drinks rapidly taken, shots all on one go, and if that wasn't enough he'd take the yuckiest possible strawberry drinks he hated normally but when he was drunk he didn't taste the difference. In the morning he would eventually find out had he chosen strawberries - the longer the puke, the more strawberries in his drinks.
"You're awake, sort of", a woman's voice said from the corridor. "Takanori?"
"Mmmh", he managed, falling back to his knees and inserting some more insides into the bowl, holding his stomach. Why it had to come up, why couldn't it go down like eaten things normally?
"I thought you'd like a bath, Takanori, I prepared one downstairs."
"O-oh, thanks."
Wondering who was the woman - he hadn't had the chance to see yet - Ruki couched, flushing the toilet, and washed his face with as cold water as possible. This was when he realized someone had changed his stylish punk rock clothes into an old black Nirvana Tshirt and loose shorts. Alongside that he realized the house was awfully familiar: he knew exactly where the stairs and the bathroom were.
When passing the small kitchen it came to him: this was his parent's home, his childhood home. The woman in the kitchen was his mother - who, as realizing the young man had arrived downstairs rushed to take him to the bath before the water would get cold. His father was probably at work - hadn't he often been?
The Matsumoto family was always classified as a very regular family. The parents had grown up together; the father worked long hours every day of the week and seldom visited home while the mother had become a housewife when the oldest son was born. Nine years afterwards the second son was delivered to the house, and the parents thanked gods for two healthy sons. Everything was fine and life shone its brightest.
Ruki had - or since it was in the past we might speak of Takanori instead - always thought it was like that. That they were, indeed, a normal family. But when he went to school his father once came home injured, and that was when he discovered the truth: they might have been a normal family, but the father's work was dangerous and bad, wrong even, and that way the Matsumoto family had lots and lots of enemies.
The young Takanori didn't care, but as he grew up he learned it was true - their life was dangerous. It was as if the whole family had been paranoid about things happening and thus they did - culprits for destroying cars, bikes, burning their old garage and shooting the father's leg almost unusable were never discovered. For a long time the only people who stood by Takanori were his old friends from the school's soccer team. And then, Yutaka.
But that's off the plot already.
Having almost fallen asleep in the warm water Ruki was shook up by the voice of a car being parked. There was chatter and laughing, and soon he heard the door open and close - they clearly had visitors. Only after a while his mother knocked on the door. "Takanori?"
"Yeah...?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
The woman peeked in. "I'll leave you a towel and clothes here." She put a pile of fabrics down onto a stool standing next to the door. "Please hurry up."
"Thanks... I will."
He did as his mother asked, and washed himself quickly, not touching the rather clean hair this time though. The dreadlocks covered most of his head, and didn't look dirty even when his natural hair - mostly the bangs - would. Drying himself, getting dressed and leaving the still warm water into the tub Ruki left the bathroom, following the voices of speaking to the kitchen.
"Breakfast", the mother nodded towards the table. "Takanori, you do remember your old friend Asada-kun?"
Ruki's eyes turned to the little older boy, taller and slimmer as well, who was dressed up, looking like he was wearing a fine uniform, but this was a casual tuxedo-type of wear. "Makoto", Ruki nodded; how could he forget this person? They had been friends before their teens, and then the Asada family had moved further away. Ruki could remember Makoto being a bit jealous due to Ruki's sociality and friends... The dark-and-pale boy had never been too good with people.
"Takanori", the other nodded back. The face was as expressionless as always, but Ruki had seen that in this case it simply reflected the utter wiseness within. He had never been jealous of it, though - Ruki didn't care about grades and numbers. He wanted to live.
"Asada-sans came to visit today, you see", the mother continued, smiling at Makoto's mother. "It's a nice coincidence that Takanori was home at the same time, isn't it?"
She and Makoto's mother continued their chatter and Ruki sat down in front of Makoto, preparing a toast and pouring some orange-mango-passion juice into his glass. Not the best breakfast to drive away hangover, but it seemed to be the only possibility.
Makoto eyed him for a while as if the other one had been measuring him.
"I might have some use for a friend like you at the moment, Takanori", he said finally, speaking not too loudly, leaning a bit forwards. "What do you say...?"
"About what?"
"I'd prefer your help. You see - I heard you haven't been too well, it might help you to get better too."
"Yeah, but for what?"
Ruki was used to Makoto's way of either going to the point too fast or not going to the point at all. He drank some juice. It tasted bitter, but not bad.
"You're such a people person... What do you say, if you help me to open a bar-restaurant?"
"That's boring, what use would you have for me? Play some guitar and mix easy drinks?"
"No... Listen." Makoto leaned close, looking at their mothers engaged in a conversation about children growing up. "That's not all there would be... But also a big, big secret only for the special people..."
xx to be continued xx
(As an afternote to all you who actually spent time reading it, cherii would like to remind that linking people to the boss's past is alright. Of course all you Gazette fans can easily tell from the soccer team thing that we're possibly talking about Takashima Kouyou and Suzuki Akira, I write surnames first a.k.a. Uruha and Reita. As long as your plan for past-intertwining doesn't mix with Yutaka's killer's identity, fine. Good. Actually, great. Mixing makes it interesting.)