FIC: Soul Searching (2/5) [Badou/Naoto]
Title: Soul Searching (2 out of 5)
Author: Cella [stereotype_vamp]
Fandom: DOGS
Ship: Badou/Naoto
Rating: R in later parts
Summary: Naoto's journey in finding another home, and herself in the process. BADOU. NAOTO. And the person she becomes.
Spoilers: Up to chapter 38
A/N: On Easter Sundays, Orthodox Christians usually gather up in their churches, and help each other light up their candles, passing the candlelight from one hand to another, like a chain of people, and unity. This chapter represents Naoto’s first baby steps towards growth, and Badou being a stupid idiot. The song belongs to Frou Frou.
Soul Searching:
Candlelight
Washing my hands, of the
Many years untold
For now I am banned, my
Future is to unfold
It was Easter Sunday, and Bishop’s church was full of people who wanted to believe in someone up there that could help them or someone to blame for all the injustice in the world. Naoto observed the ceremony with practiced detachment, a skill she’d acquired when under Fuyumine’s wing. Women might appear fragile creatures, and so no-one paid them any attention-and for that reason, they made excellent observers.
The congregation gathered up in the church’s backyard at midnight, when Saturday bled into Sunday, and listened carefully to the melodic sound of the Bishop’s voice as he filled their heads and hearts with what they needed to hear. They were celebrating, theoretically, the rebirth of Jesus Christ; Naoto thought that they were celebrating hope. Most of the people there didn’t even know what Christianity stood up for, but they still went to church because Bishop’s way of taking forward the word of God was befitting of their world-he allowed them to believe in whatever God suited them best, and preached that which all religions had in common. Respect, love, and peace.
Naoto thought it was very beautiful from her standpoint, leaning against the wall in a corner of the church, watching them as they passed the light and fire from one candle to another. Hope. Nill’s tiny fingers wrapped around Naoto’s wrist, and the older girl looked down, a soft and almost imperceptible smile already on her lips.
“You want a candle, too?” she asked the girl, grabbing her tiny hand softly and leading her with tiny steps towards the stand where candles were being given out. Nill’s smile grew, and when they reached the stand, she held out two fingers towards the attendant, gracefully taking both candles in her nimble hands.
Naoto observed this, but there was no detachment, because Nill had always managed to make her feel involved, whether it be through of her smiles, or the need to protect her. She watched over the little girl as she skipped towards a church-goer, and held out her candle to be lit. She watched as the stranger smiled, and Nill smiled, and the exchange was made and Nill’s candle was lit. Hope.
Then she watched as Nill walked back to her, until they were standing in front of each other, and offered her the unlit candle. “For me?” Naoto asked, and blushed slightly under Nill’s innocent smile. If the girl knew all she had done before meeting her, maybe she wouldn’t smile so willingly at her. “But I don’t…” she started, because she didn’t actually believe in any god. She didn’t need it-she already knew who to blame for all her unfair life. Nill’s expression made her change her mind, and she took the candle. It was strange, almost slippery, almost sticky, sweaty from where Nill’s hands had grabbed it too tightly. It was white, translucent and simple.
Nill held out her candle, passing her candlelight to Naoto’s candle, and for a second, Naoto forgot how to breathe. An angel was giving her hope. And for a second, Naoto remembered she was just a lost soul.
--
Sunday at lunch, Buon Viaggio opened only for a select few. The people in their town, even the mobsters and gangsters, all respected the tradition of eating with their respective families. At Buon Viaggio, Naoto stood in Kiri’s kitchen, looking down at the array of trays on the table that were waiting to be carried off to the table.
“They’re not going to break in your hands, you know?” said a girl, short and pretty, who was looking at Naoto as if she was the strangest creature alive. And she probably was. “Have you ever waited before?”
Naoto shook her head, then remembered that because Kiri had so gracefully extended an invitation to a ‘family Easter lunch’ to her, the least she could do was be civil. Which in other words, meant talk: “No, only newspaper delivery,” she replied, her voice but a hush amongst the noise of food cooking in the kitchen.
“Well,” said the girl, grabbing Naoto’s forearm and smiling mischievously, “As long as you don’t throw them at anyone’s head, you should do just fine!”
Naoto offered her a smile, and picked up a tray with meat. She wasn’t sure what sort of meat it was, but it did smell good. It beat all the spaghetti she could’ve eaten in a year, even though Kiri’s chefs made good spaghetti too.
“I’m Mimi,” the girl said, tilting her head and looking up at Naoto and Naoto’s tray as though she was trying hard not to laugh at how strange and domestic it looked.
“Naoto,” answered Naoto, and opened the door with her shoulder, stepping into the restaurant. She carried the tray to the table, setting it down somewhere in the middle.
“Holy shit, tranny. You almost made me do a double-take there, what are you wearing?” Of course, ‘family Easter lunch’ involved also Badou. “You look like a girl.”
As she glared at him, somewhere at the end of the table, Heine snickered under the attentive and a bit reproachful gaze of Nill. He controlled himself quickly, and looked away from the little angel as if she was a mother scolding a naughty child.
Meanwhile, Naoto paused in her thoughts to look down at her attire-another one of grandma Liza’s creations-a soft, blue skirt, a white button-up shirt with embroidery, and knit stockings. She looked like a shepherdess, she thought, but reserved that opinion to herself.
“Badou,” she said in a monotonous voice, “You almost made me do a double-take there, you actually managed to look like a man,” she finished; stood up straight, turned around, and left with her head held high and a smirk on her face, mostly because she liked the sound of Mimi’s laughter at Badou’s indignation.
As she entered the kitchen again, she came face to face with Kiri. Although she’d known the woman since she’d been a child under Fuyumine’s care, her beauty and elegance never ceased to amaze Naoto. She was aware that she was a graceful person, but Kiri managed to make Naoto’s gracefulness look average. The woman smiled at Naoto, and put a large plate full of mashed potatoes in her hands.
“Take this to the table,” she instructed, and Naoto nodded, ready to go. “Naoto?” Kiri stopped her, then hesitated herself before saying, softly, “You’ve changed since back then…I almost didn’t think you were able to speak more than three words at the time.”
Naoto blushed under that critique, and gripped the plate tighter in her hands. Of course, it was true. “It’s a nice change,” Kiri continued, her melodious voice reaching into Naoto’s soul and wrapping up around her heart. “Keep it up.”
After offering her a nod, they both split ways, and as Naoto walked towards the dining table, she realised why:
Bishop was regaling Mihai with fake stories of his youth, and preaching against foul language to an attentive Mimi who kept giving an uninterested Badou pointed looks. Nill and Heine were hunched over a plate, Nill watching closely as Heine cut a slice of meat into tiny bite-size bits with a knife and a fork; then Heine passed the knife and the fork to Nill, watching closely as the girl hesitated and then imitated his moves, and smirking a smirk that was actually a smile when she managed to cut it at last. Badou kept smoking and talking above Bishop, telling Mimi about his latest successful mission, and shouting “It was about damn time, tranny, some of us were getting hungry here!” at Naoto when she was in his peripheral vision. Then all eyes were on her, and she set the food on the table before taking a seat between Mimi and Badou, and breathed in the atmosphere.
This. This was a family.
--
In the following hours, Naoto enjoyed her first family lunch-that-turned-into-dinner, and experienced the real warmth of a home, of people who care about her. Even if the home was a restaurant, and even if the people who cared about her did it either because she’d saved their lives, or was helpful in some tasks; Naoto didn’t care about their motives. For one day, she put motives behind her, and forgot about why Fuyumine helped her, why he tried to shape her into something he wanted; she forgot about the past, willingly, and found it within her to forgive.
She forgave the only father she’d ever known, for having lied to her, for having tried to turn her into something of his own convenience, for having turned her into it successfully. She forgave, and thanked him. Thanked him for telling her to not give up, never give up, always fight back, even when it hurts, because that was what life was about.
In the following hours, Naoto remained mostly silent and watched with barely disguised interest as Mihai, Bishop, Heine and Badou got drunk on hot, spicy wine, and enjoyed the sound of Mimi and Kiri’s scolding them. When dinner was over, and everyone had found a room to sleep in-conveniently, Kiri offered them the empty rooms above her restaurant as shelter for the night-Naoto found herself alone in the restaurant, unable to sleep.
Her bed had been too soft, and Nill’s silent breathing had disconcerted her. It had reminded her of the time that Badou had been brought into her warehouse until he’d healed, and of how hard it had been for her to move past the longing to catch the scent of tobacco again. Or maybe the scent of tobacco and foul language and eye patches and red hair.
In the silence that ruled over the restaurant, Naoto picked up a broom and started to sweep the floor. She listened to her own breathing, and the swish, swish of the broom against the floor, and forgot that she was down here because she couldn’t sleep. For a minute, she imagined herself to be a tiny pixie that came in the middle of the night and cleaned the house, leaving it ready for its owners in the morning, in gratitude for the food they left at her small, tiny door. Once the floor was clean, Naoto left the broom against a wall, and went into the kitchen to get a garbage bag.
She found him there, smoking.
The first thing she noticed as she stepped into the kitchen was the scent of tobacco enveloping her, and-she knew this by listening to him exhale as she entered-the scent of red hair, and foul language, and eye patches were soon to follow.
“You shouldn’t smoke in the kitchen,” she warned him in a silent whisper, brushing past his form-leaning casually against the counter-to grab what she was there for.
“Stop bossing me around,” he grumbled, silent and a bit too tame for Badou. She looked at him over her shoulder, a bit of worry slipping into her frown. “What?” he snapped, taking a drag of the cigarette.
“Nothing,” she answered after a while, after he’d blown the smoke in her direction unconsciously, and she’d inhaled it, unconsciously as well. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Heine snores,” he answered, “And so do Mihai, and the Bishop.” Of course, Kiri had made all the men sleep in the same room-but different bunks.
Naoto smirked, taking the roll of garbage bags and ripping off one. “So sensible, Badou,” she teased him, maybe the aftermath of that glass of warm wine she’d drank. Four hours ago. (Or maybe the way he managed to make her feel awkward and comfortable at the same time.)
“Shut up, tranny, I bet you snore like a fucking truck driver,” he barked at her, snubbing out the cigarette into an ashtray nearby.
“You never complained before,” she reminded him, and slipped past him again and back into the restaurant. He followed, maybe eager for some bickering, or…something.
“That’s because you put drugs into that soup, admit it.”
She gave him a look. “Yes, to keep you quiet,” she answered, dumping the remains of a plate into the bag. “It worked poorly.”
Badou looked at her for a while, and Naoto ignored his attention for a while, busying herself with cleaning the mess they’d all made. “You’re downright fucking creepy when you make jokes, you know?” he said after a few minutes, sitting down on the edge of the table she was cleaning with a napkin.
She was silent, sweeping the bread crumbs off the table in perfect, geometrical, circular movements. When her hand brushed the side of his hip, she looked up into his eye, and said: “Who said I was joking?”
Of course, she was joking even then, but he didn’t need to know that she had a sense of humour. In an odd, sadistic way, she enjoyed watching him squirm with the uncertainty of whether she was serious or not. His expression was priceless; Naoto let out a small noise that could have been a laugh, her lips forming a smile.
“Tranny…” he called to her, silent; his hand had moved, now wrapped around Naoto’s bare arm, demanding attention. “Stop being a confusing bitch,” he said, glaring at her, and confusing her just like he claimed she was confusing him.
“What did I do?” she asked, curiosity and innocence finally showing their heads in her personality.
He never answered her that night, and Naoto would continue not to know the answer. It was a pity, because if she had known, maybe she would’ve been able to affront the events that were to follow more easily. But because she didn’t, when Badou pulled her closer and pressed his mouth against her, Naoto could only do what she did best: her mind drew a blank.
He insisted, maybe because he knew that she had no idea what was happening, and held their mouths like that-touching in a parody of a kiss-until Naoto relaxed enough for her lips to stop being anything but a firm line. And then, just as her eyelids were closing, and she was starting to draw in a deep breath through her nose, he pulled away, leaving her empty and unfulfilled.
“There was mistletoe,” he blurted out, and pushed himself off the table; it took him three seconds to disappear from the restaurant.
Naoto remained frozen in time and space; her lips tasted like wine and cigarette smoke, she observed when she licked them experimentally. Confused, unprepared and awkward, she pushed the experience into a corner of her mind and returned to cleaning the table.
Then, about an hour later, as she laid in bed waiting to sleep, she murmured to nobody in particular: “But it’s Easter…”
Author: Cella [stereotype_vamp]
Fandom: DOGS
Ship: Badou/Naoto
Rating: R in later parts
Summary: Naoto's journey in finding another home, and herself in the process. BADOU. NAOTO. And the person she becomes.
Spoilers: Up to chapter 38
A/N: On Easter Sundays, Orthodox Christians usually gather up in their churches, and help each other light up their candles, passing the candlelight from one hand to another, like a chain of people, and unity. This chapter represents Naoto’s first baby steps towards growth, and Badou being a stupid idiot. The song belongs to Frou Frou.
Soul Searching:
Candlelight
Washing my hands, of the
Many years untold
For now I am banned, my
Future is to unfold
It was Easter Sunday, and Bishop’s church was full of people who wanted to believe in someone up there that could help them or someone to blame for all the injustice in the world. Naoto observed the ceremony with practiced detachment, a skill she’d acquired when under Fuyumine’s wing. Women might appear fragile creatures, and so no-one paid them any attention-and for that reason, they made excellent observers.
The congregation gathered up in the church’s backyard at midnight, when Saturday bled into Sunday, and listened carefully to the melodic sound of the Bishop’s voice as he filled their heads and hearts with what they needed to hear. They were celebrating, theoretically, the rebirth of Jesus Christ; Naoto thought that they were celebrating hope. Most of the people there didn’t even know what Christianity stood up for, but they still went to church because Bishop’s way of taking forward the word of God was befitting of their world-he allowed them to believe in whatever God suited them best, and preached that which all religions had in common. Respect, love, and peace.
Naoto thought it was very beautiful from her standpoint, leaning against the wall in a corner of the church, watching them as they passed the light and fire from one candle to another. Hope. Nill’s tiny fingers wrapped around Naoto’s wrist, and the older girl looked down, a soft and almost imperceptible smile already on her lips.
“You want a candle, too?” she asked the girl, grabbing her tiny hand softly and leading her with tiny steps towards the stand where candles were being given out. Nill’s smile grew, and when they reached the stand, she held out two fingers towards the attendant, gracefully taking both candles in her nimble hands.
Naoto observed this, but there was no detachment, because Nill had always managed to make her feel involved, whether it be through of her smiles, or the need to protect her. She watched over the little girl as she skipped towards a church-goer, and held out her candle to be lit. She watched as the stranger smiled, and Nill smiled, and the exchange was made and Nill’s candle was lit. Hope.
Then she watched as Nill walked back to her, until they were standing in front of each other, and offered her the unlit candle. “For me?” Naoto asked, and blushed slightly under Nill’s innocent smile. If the girl knew all she had done before meeting her, maybe she wouldn’t smile so willingly at her. “But I don’t…” she started, because she didn’t actually believe in any god. She didn’t need it-she already knew who to blame for all her unfair life. Nill’s expression made her change her mind, and she took the candle. It was strange, almost slippery, almost sticky, sweaty from where Nill’s hands had grabbed it too tightly. It was white, translucent and simple.
Nill held out her candle, passing her candlelight to Naoto’s candle, and for a second, Naoto forgot how to breathe. An angel was giving her hope. And for a second, Naoto remembered she was just a lost soul.
--
Sunday at lunch, Buon Viaggio opened only for a select few. The people in their town, even the mobsters and gangsters, all respected the tradition of eating with their respective families. At Buon Viaggio, Naoto stood in Kiri’s kitchen, looking down at the array of trays on the table that were waiting to be carried off to the table.
“They’re not going to break in your hands, you know?” said a girl, short and pretty, who was looking at Naoto as if she was the strangest creature alive. And she probably was. “Have you ever waited before?”
Naoto shook her head, then remembered that because Kiri had so gracefully extended an invitation to a ‘family Easter lunch’ to her, the least she could do was be civil. Which in other words, meant talk: “No, only newspaper delivery,” she replied, her voice but a hush amongst the noise of food cooking in the kitchen.
“Well,” said the girl, grabbing Naoto’s forearm and smiling mischievously, “As long as you don’t throw them at anyone’s head, you should do just fine!”
Naoto offered her a smile, and picked up a tray with meat. She wasn’t sure what sort of meat it was, but it did smell good. It beat all the spaghetti she could’ve eaten in a year, even though Kiri’s chefs made good spaghetti too.
“I’m Mimi,” the girl said, tilting her head and looking up at Naoto and Naoto’s tray as though she was trying hard not to laugh at how strange and domestic it looked.
“Naoto,” answered Naoto, and opened the door with her shoulder, stepping into the restaurant. She carried the tray to the table, setting it down somewhere in the middle.
“Holy shit, tranny. You almost made me do a double-take there, what are you wearing?” Of course, ‘family Easter lunch’ involved also Badou. “You look like a girl.”
As she glared at him, somewhere at the end of the table, Heine snickered under the attentive and a bit reproachful gaze of Nill. He controlled himself quickly, and looked away from the little angel as if she was a mother scolding a naughty child.
Meanwhile, Naoto paused in her thoughts to look down at her attire-another one of grandma Liza’s creations-a soft, blue skirt, a white button-up shirt with embroidery, and knit stockings. She looked like a shepherdess, she thought, but reserved that opinion to herself.
“Badou,” she said in a monotonous voice, “You almost made me do a double-take there, you actually managed to look like a man,” she finished; stood up straight, turned around, and left with her head held high and a smirk on her face, mostly because she liked the sound of Mimi’s laughter at Badou’s indignation.
As she entered the kitchen again, she came face to face with Kiri. Although she’d known the woman since she’d been a child under Fuyumine’s care, her beauty and elegance never ceased to amaze Naoto. She was aware that she was a graceful person, but Kiri managed to make Naoto’s gracefulness look average. The woman smiled at Naoto, and put a large plate full of mashed potatoes in her hands.
“Take this to the table,” she instructed, and Naoto nodded, ready to go. “Naoto?” Kiri stopped her, then hesitated herself before saying, softly, “You’ve changed since back then…I almost didn’t think you were able to speak more than three words at the time.”
Naoto blushed under that critique, and gripped the plate tighter in her hands. Of course, it was true. “It’s a nice change,” Kiri continued, her melodious voice reaching into Naoto’s soul and wrapping up around her heart. “Keep it up.”
After offering her a nod, they both split ways, and as Naoto walked towards the dining table, she realised why:
Bishop was regaling Mihai with fake stories of his youth, and preaching against foul language to an attentive Mimi who kept giving an uninterested Badou pointed looks. Nill and Heine were hunched over a plate, Nill watching closely as Heine cut a slice of meat into tiny bite-size bits with a knife and a fork; then Heine passed the knife and the fork to Nill, watching closely as the girl hesitated and then imitated his moves, and smirking a smirk that was actually a smile when she managed to cut it at last. Badou kept smoking and talking above Bishop, telling Mimi about his latest successful mission, and shouting “It was about damn time, tranny, some of us were getting hungry here!” at Naoto when she was in his peripheral vision. Then all eyes were on her, and she set the food on the table before taking a seat between Mimi and Badou, and breathed in the atmosphere.
This. This was a family.
--
In the following hours, Naoto enjoyed her first family lunch-that-turned-into-dinner, and experienced the real warmth of a home, of people who care about her. Even if the home was a restaurant, and even if the people who cared about her did it either because she’d saved their lives, or was helpful in some tasks; Naoto didn’t care about their motives. For one day, she put motives behind her, and forgot about why Fuyumine helped her, why he tried to shape her into something he wanted; she forgot about the past, willingly, and found it within her to forgive.
She forgave the only father she’d ever known, for having lied to her, for having tried to turn her into something of his own convenience, for having turned her into it successfully. She forgave, and thanked him. Thanked him for telling her to not give up, never give up, always fight back, even when it hurts, because that was what life was about.
In the following hours, Naoto remained mostly silent and watched with barely disguised interest as Mihai, Bishop, Heine and Badou got drunk on hot, spicy wine, and enjoyed the sound of Mimi and Kiri’s scolding them. When dinner was over, and everyone had found a room to sleep in-conveniently, Kiri offered them the empty rooms above her restaurant as shelter for the night-Naoto found herself alone in the restaurant, unable to sleep.
Her bed had been too soft, and Nill’s silent breathing had disconcerted her. It had reminded her of the time that Badou had been brought into her warehouse until he’d healed, and of how hard it had been for her to move past the longing to catch the scent of tobacco again. Or maybe the scent of tobacco and foul language and eye patches and red hair.
In the silence that ruled over the restaurant, Naoto picked up a broom and started to sweep the floor. She listened to her own breathing, and the swish, swish of the broom against the floor, and forgot that she was down here because she couldn’t sleep. For a minute, she imagined herself to be a tiny pixie that came in the middle of the night and cleaned the house, leaving it ready for its owners in the morning, in gratitude for the food they left at her small, tiny door. Once the floor was clean, Naoto left the broom against a wall, and went into the kitchen to get a garbage bag.
She found him there, smoking.
The first thing she noticed as she stepped into the kitchen was the scent of tobacco enveloping her, and-she knew this by listening to him exhale as she entered-the scent of red hair, and foul language, and eye patches were soon to follow.
“You shouldn’t smoke in the kitchen,” she warned him in a silent whisper, brushing past his form-leaning casually against the counter-to grab what she was there for.
“Stop bossing me around,” he grumbled, silent and a bit too tame for Badou. She looked at him over her shoulder, a bit of worry slipping into her frown. “What?” he snapped, taking a drag of the cigarette.
“Nothing,” she answered after a while, after he’d blown the smoke in her direction unconsciously, and she’d inhaled it, unconsciously as well. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Heine snores,” he answered, “And so do Mihai, and the Bishop.” Of course, Kiri had made all the men sleep in the same room-but different bunks.
Naoto smirked, taking the roll of garbage bags and ripping off one. “So sensible, Badou,” she teased him, maybe the aftermath of that glass of warm wine she’d drank. Four hours ago. (Or maybe the way he managed to make her feel awkward and comfortable at the same time.)
“Shut up, tranny, I bet you snore like a fucking truck driver,” he barked at her, snubbing out the cigarette into an ashtray nearby.
“You never complained before,” she reminded him, and slipped past him again and back into the restaurant. He followed, maybe eager for some bickering, or…something.
“That’s because you put drugs into that soup, admit it.”
She gave him a look. “Yes, to keep you quiet,” she answered, dumping the remains of a plate into the bag. “It worked poorly.”
Badou looked at her for a while, and Naoto ignored his attention for a while, busying herself with cleaning the mess they’d all made. “You’re downright fucking creepy when you make jokes, you know?” he said after a few minutes, sitting down on the edge of the table she was cleaning with a napkin.
She was silent, sweeping the bread crumbs off the table in perfect, geometrical, circular movements. When her hand brushed the side of his hip, she looked up into his eye, and said: “Who said I was joking?”
Of course, she was joking even then, but he didn’t need to know that she had a sense of humour. In an odd, sadistic way, she enjoyed watching him squirm with the uncertainty of whether she was serious or not. His expression was priceless; Naoto let out a small noise that could have been a laugh, her lips forming a smile.
“Tranny…” he called to her, silent; his hand had moved, now wrapped around Naoto’s bare arm, demanding attention. “Stop being a confusing bitch,” he said, glaring at her, and confusing her just like he claimed she was confusing him.
“What did I do?” she asked, curiosity and innocence finally showing their heads in her personality.
He never answered her that night, and Naoto would continue not to know the answer. It was a pity, because if she had known, maybe she would’ve been able to affront the events that were to follow more easily. But because she didn’t, when Badou pulled her closer and pressed his mouth against her, Naoto could only do what she did best: her mind drew a blank.
He insisted, maybe because he knew that she had no idea what was happening, and held their mouths like that-touching in a parody of a kiss-until Naoto relaxed enough for her lips to stop being anything but a firm line. And then, just as her eyelids were closing, and she was starting to draw in a deep breath through her nose, he pulled away, leaving her empty and unfulfilled.
“There was mistletoe,” he blurted out, and pushed himself off the table; it took him three seconds to disappear from the restaurant.
Naoto remained frozen in time and space; her lips tasted like wine and cigarette smoke, she observed when she licked them experimentally. Confused, unprepared and awkward, she pushed the experience into a corner of her mind and returned to cleaning the table.
Then, about an hour later, as she laid in bed waiting to sleep, she murmured to nobody in particular: “But it’s Easter…”