Would it be enough to go by? [closed, finished, backdated, AIM log, could this get any longer?]
Characters: Harlequin and Ichigo
Content: Puppet's not dealing with things quite as well as he'd like, and....honestly, at this rate, the crew's going to have to book alone time in the crow's nest.
Setting: Up in the crow's nest
Time: Backdated to a day or two before the qualifiers, midafternoon
Warnings: Standard Ichigo language warning. That's....pretty much it.
The qualifying races were only a day or so away, and Ichigo had spent every spare moment up until now getting a feel for the upgrades and other changes that had been made to his plane. It was sheer joy to fly the craft now -- not that it hadn't been great before, but nothing compared to the speed, the sound of wind rushing past over the engine's roar -- quieter than the old one, but potent, somehow, like a coiled spring.
But before he waxed too poetic about Zangetsu, Ichigo pushed all thoughts of the race out of his mind, leaving them behind as he climbed the mast, headed for the crow's nest. The pressure was on, and mostly, Ichigo didn't have a problem with it. It'd push him to do his best. But that didn't mean he couldn't use a break. So with every step he climbed, the more he relaxed, until he was a good thirty feet above the world.
He liked heights. He liked being in the sky, being just a little removed from everyone else, but still watching over it all. The crow's nest was a favorite haunt of his, especially when he needed breaks like this.
It had been . . . a day now? - at least that. Maybe two . . . since Mr. Dimo had brought him here and he had spoken with Mr. Hughes. Hours. That was all he knew. Hours openly exploring . . . his new home. Getting to know his new family. Okay, so maybe he shouldn't think of them that way - no doubt they didn't think of him as such, maybe never would - but . . . he couldn't help it. He had been longing - aching! - for a place to belong and people around him again for so long that......he'd almost forgotten what anything else felt like. He was weak like that, he knew it . . . but he had never known any differently before......that. H-he couldn't even bring himself to think the words, not when he was alone. They brought too much grief and horror. Alone, he couldn't bear it.
He . . . he was thankful for this ship and her people - extremely! . . . but they couldn't fill the hole in his heart. He'd always known it, just didn't want to admit it. And even now, he thought maybe he just hadn't giving things - given people - enough time....but.......
He'd wandered until he found himself trying to get high up, as high as he could climb, as if by doing so he could escape his thoughts and the heartbreaking images - the memories - they brought. And somehow - he didn't fully remember how - he found himself up in a.......a basket, s-sort of, way on top of the highest pole. It seemed like people were supposed to come up here, though why he couldn't fathom. But he found a stool to clamber up onto so that he could see over the low wall and . . . the view had been breath-taking! As close as he had ever gotten to his dream of flying. (The trip here from Melior, stowed away hidden in an airship's landing gear, didn't count). He could see so amazingly far, in all directions! He'd felt like he was on top of the world!
....it had been a lonely place to be, actually....
Before he knew it, the waves of memories, thoughts, and emotions he'd tried to leave behind on the deck far below suddenly had spiraled up the pole and overwhelmed him. He knew no one would see him, find him, up here, but he still found himself instinctively retreating into a little hiding spot where he could succumb to his heartbreak for a moment - just a moment! - without worrying about being a bother to anyone.........
Ichigo swung a leg over the side of the crow’s nest, climbing in. For a moment, he didn’t notice the presence of the puppet; he wasn’t expecting anyone to be up here, and certainly wasn't looking. But -- wait, had he heard something? It almost sounded like a choke. He looked around, blinking. "Hello?" he said. "Anyone here?"
Harlequin had both little wooden hands pressed over his face, peeking over his fingertip as he tried to scoot further undercover . . . not that there was really anywhere to go. Hopefully, the guy wouldn't look too hard, and Harlequin had gotten really well practiced at holding very still and very silent for long periods of time.........
But it was the movement that caught Ichigo's eye. Had an animal gotten up here or something? He crouched down to take a closer look, and his eyes widened in surprise. "What're you doing down there?" he asked. It was difficult to say if he expected a response or not. He couldn't get a really good look, but it looked.....humanoid, if a little small, and the eyes behind the....hands? looked human. He didn't reach out for it, wary of it biting, but he also didn't want to scare it. What was it, and what was it doing in his haunt?
Harlequin shied further back, eyes widening at the tone and words. "I-I'm s-sorry!" he squeaked. "A-am I...n-not supposed to be up here, sir? I-I'll leave...." Much as he tried to keep it steady, his voice shook with the sobs he'd suddenly repressed as well as with fear. H-he really didn't want to be in trouble! Not ever . . . and especially not right now.........
Whoa, something was seriously wrong with this....guy? Kid? Was it a child? That was the closest thing Ichigo could guess, and it softened him towards the puppet. "No, it's okay," he said, the usual rough edge of his voice softened. "It's a free ship. You can go wherever you want." Except maybe the kitchen, he added mentally. "I just didn't see you up here." He took another look, leaning down and a little closer. Was it even a kid? He couldn't tell under the hat. "Hey, you okay?" Ichigo asked after a moment. He couldn't walk away and leave a kid curled up under a bench, obviously upset.
"Y-yes . . . yes, sir, I-I'm fine, t-thank you....." Harlequin was far from "fine" at the moment, but he knew he'd get past it again soon enough, or at least get it worked back down, and would be his chipper self again, living for himself and his siblings like he's promised. Curling so he could dry his face on his sleeve - his hands and wrists, and part of his neck, were already aching from the swelling of damp wood - he straightened a moment or so later to face the young man with what he hoped was a grin.
Ichigo pulled a face, eyeing the puppet with disbelief. Even in the dim light, it was obvious to the him that the kid had been crying. He didn’t know how much he wanted to pry into it -- was it any of his business, really? And what if the kid didn’t want to talk? But Ichigo couldn’t walk away. “Yeah, sure you are,” he replied, obviously not thinking Harlequin was fine at all. “You gonna stay under there all day? And no more of this ‘sir’ stuff, okay?” he muttered, as an afterthought. Jeez, the kid made him feel old, calling him “sir.” It was almost as bad as “Mr. Kurosaki.” “Mr. Kurosaki” was Ichigo’s father.
Harlequin flinched, then shook his head. "N-no, si-!......ah, n-no, I..I wasn't planning to stay....here....." He swallowd and pulled a breath, getting a final hold on himself before crawling out. He looked up at the young man. Goodness, another who didn't want to be called "sir" - so strange! And, the puppet supposed, he wouldn't want to be called Mr...... Actually, that did bring up another point: he didn't know the young man's name. Hiding behind a bit of showmanship, he swept off his hat for a bow, though he couldn't hide the grimace of pain at making his tear-swelled hand work. "I think we've not met before. I am Harlequin, at your service."
Ichigo stared openly at the thing. What -- what was it? It looked like it was made of wood! It....was made of wood, Ichigo realized, upon a second glance. "H-harlequin. Right," Ichigo replied, when he realized a response was expected. It was sort of appropriate, he thought. Having grown up in Melior, Ichigo knew a little bit about theater, although it'd been a while, and he was far from an expert on the subject. "Sorry, but, uh....what are you?" It was rude, yes, but Ichigo would get back on the subject of what was upsetting Harlequin as soon as he figured out what exactly Harlequin was.
Harlequin straightened with a sigh. Once more, he'd not rated the usual courtesy of a name in return . . . and the young man didn't want to be called "sir." Well . . . oh, well, he'd think of something. He pulled a breath and grinned up at the stranger. "It's all right. I get that a lot. I am a Living Marionette."
Well, yeah, Ichigo'd figured out that much -- the thing was some sort of living puppet. He guessed that he wouldn't get any better explanation, though, so he decided to move on. "So, uh...'Harlequin'....what were you doing hiding up here?" Ichigo sat back on his heels, staying low to talk to the puppet face-to-face. His tone was far from accusatory -- it was curiosity, not an accusation of troublemaking, and what Ichigo was really trying to ask was, why Harlequin had been up here crying. But he wasn't sure he wanted to ask that directly. Ichigo didn't make a habit of prying into others' business, not if they didn't want to talk.
Harlequin hesitated. He'd...not been hiding.......w-well, no, he guessed in a sense he had been. "I-I, ah . . . didn't . . . want to trouble anyone." He managed to swallow back the "sir" before it escaped. "I, ah . . . w-well, just like anyone, I've....h-had some trials. I..." His shoulders slumped. "I guess I'm just not dealing with them as well as....as I'd like."
Oh, so it was a problem. Ichigo regarded the childlike puppet with a gaze that was difficult to read. The question was, what should he do now? If it had been Ichigo, he knew he would want to be left alone, to deal with it without anyone seeing. But that stemmed from pride. Ichigo didn't think it was pride that motivated the puppet to keep this to himself. Hadn't Harlequin said that he hadn't wanted to bother people?
But that didn't tell Ichigo what he was going to do. He scowled for a moment, thinking, then stood up and sat down on the bench. He didn't know how long Harlequin had been on the ship (not long -- even Ichigo, who had a notoriously terrible memory for names and faces, would have remembered this guy) or even if he intended to stay. "You're on the Winding Way," Ichigo said after a moment, looking away at the sky, away from the puppet. "Chances are, no one here'd mind being troubled." He knew this from ten months' experience on the ship. Besides, he....wanted to help the kid, if he could, even if it wasn't a real kid. "Wanna talk?" If Harlequin didn’t, that was fine, too.
Harlequin regarded him for a moment, then looked out at the sky as well. "Y-you . . . you think so?" He looked down. "I . . . maybe not. Everyone has been very nice so far, a-almost.......a-almost l-like a....a f-family............." He swallowed before the tears could start again.
A family, huh? Ichigo wasn't quite sure he'd call his crewmates family. And yet.....they were close, sometimes incredibly irritating, but he'd go to the ends of the earth for a lot of them. (How close this sounded to family completely escaped Ichigo.) "Something like that," he replied. "It's a weird ship." He didn't mean to upset the kid -- he couldn't help but think of it as a kid -- but kids weren't supposed to shoulder their own burdens, not yet.
Harlequin sighed softly. No, of course, not - he was letting himself get his hopes up, and he knew better. Besides, who would take in property in quite that sort of way. "Y-yes . . . something like that. Not really a family, I guess, but . . . but still, it's . . . it's a home. It's something. And everyone has been very nice so far. Heh..." He looked up at the young man. "No one even wants to be called 'mister' or 'miss'. It's . . . kind of strange. Weird..." He nodded. "Yes, a weird ship." But . . . but his ship, his home now . . . for however long they were willing to keep him.
"It's a good place," Ichigo replied. One of the best places he'd been, to be honest. The ship had grown on him in the past year, more than he would have thought possible. "If you're looking for a family, it's probably the closest thing to it that you'll find in the skies." He decided not to press any further into what had upset Harlequin. Ichigo wasn’t very good at reading people, but it might have something to do with family, maybe. “And ‘mister’ makes me feel old,” Ichigo told him, resting his chin on his hand, and leaning over with his elbow on his knee. “Maybe that’s it. Why, you used to titles or something?”
Harlequin climbed up onto the bench next to the young man, debating whether or not to ask him his name. He stood leaning back on the wall of the crow's nest and nodded. "Master taught us...all too well...how to address our betters."
That caught Ichigo's attention. "'Master'?" he repeated, not liking the sound of that at all. "What're you talking about?" He wasn't threatening, just....very, very serious. Who had this kid been dealing with....?
Harlequin blinked up at him, taken aback somewhat, and found himself shrinking away just a little before he caught himself. "Ah . . . Master. Master Fire-eater, the one who carved us, me and my siblings." He...saw that he was going to have to explain, although it made sense to him. Not that he minded explaining, of course. "Have . . . have you ever been to Melior, si-!" NOT "sir" . . . and still didn't what to call him. "Melior? Or heard of the Great Marionette Theater?"
"Yeah, I know Melior," Ichigo replied, still studying the puppet. "Never heard of the Marionette Theater, though. I haven't lived there in years." Although he wasn't quite sure where this was going, Ichigo decided to be quiet and let the puppet explain.
Harlequin offered a small, sad smile. "That's all right. Master wanted us to be a really big sensation, but with so many other theaters of all kinds, we . . . didn't bring in the draw that he was hoping for." He shrugged. "We were a Commedia dell'Arte troupe. Master carved us all from the limbs of a mana-affected oak tree. We were . . . constructs, essentially....I-I guess. Master's puppets. Not being flesh people but more.....like property, Master made sure we knew how to address anyone we might meet outside of the theater."
Commedia del--what? It sounded...familiar, although Ichigo couldn’t recall the exact details. It’d probably been covered once or twice in school, years ago, and though Ichigo wasn’t a huge fan of the theater (besides Avon‘s stuff, but that was out of respect for the playwright as much as liking his work) he’d heard of it in passing. But it wasn’t that that attracted his attention, it was the talk of...property. Not that Ichigo knew anything about the situation, not really, but he sure as hell didn’t like someone giving himself airs over something that could think, walk, and talk.
“Okay, first of all? You’re no one’s ‘property’ here, so I don’t want to hear any of that. I dunno what this ‘Master’ guy might have told you, but the way I see it, no one here’s any more or less important than anyone else. Not on this ship, anyway.” Ichigo already didn’t like the sound of this guy. If he showed up around this -- but then, Ichigo paused. “Say -- where is this Master guy, anyways?”
Harlequin shrank back, nodding agreement on reflex even as a good part of him wanted to argue that. Of course, he was property! He was just marionette after all, a puppet - a thing, not a flesh person. But he decided it best not to bring up that point. This young man looked like someone not to upset, and Harlequin had already somehow managed to put himself a goodly way along that path as it was. He was just starting to let his eyes fall away when the last question made all the color drain from his face. "A-ah.....w-well......" He swallowed nervously, and now he did look away. "I-I'm not...entirely sure. I mean....I know he made it out of the fire, b-but......."
“Wait, what’s this about a fire?” Ichigo’s attention was caught immediately by this detail. It didn’t even occur to him now that Harlequin might not want to talk about it -- he was caught up in the middle of a conversation. “What fire?” Had there been a fire in Melior?
Harlequin hesitated a moment, gaze locked on the bench in front of his feet, voice soft. "The fire that burned down our theater......"
There. That was the heart of the matter. Ichigo felt a twinge of guilt for pushing so hard, but....the kid hadn’t tried to keep it a secret, not really....
Agh, it didn’t matter now. “I--I see,” he said. Had it just been the theater that had burned down? Was that what had Harlequin so upset? Ichigo’s gut said no. Losing a home was sad, but....he was reminded of something earlier in the conversation. We were his puppets....
Something very, very unsettling took shape in Ichigo’s mind as he began to guess at what had happened. “You don’t mean....” He trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.
Harlequin continued staring at the bench. "Don't mean...?" He shrugged. "I'm . . . guessing he's all right. He looked too angry to have likely been too badly hurt, and only the end of his beard was singed before he managed to get it out. I-I . . . I didn't . . . s-stay around long enough t-to really find out.............." Now he was hugging himself, new tears beginning to blur his vision. His throat was already waterlogged and stiff from swelling - h-he really...really didn't want to cry anymore.
....Ichigo had to ask. He had to. “But there were other people who didn’t get out.” His eyes were somber. This....hit a little too close to home, actually. His ship had been a victim of the Lunasa bombings, less than a year ago. While he’d gotten a handful of people to safety, there had been others -- friends, companions, comrades-in-arms -- who hadn’t made it. So he felt he understood the kid’s grief, a little.
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t pity. It was sympathy. It was hard enough to lose people, but at Harlequin’s age? ...dammit, he had to stop thinking about the thing like a kid. Human age probably didn’t even apply to Harlequin.
"I-I . . . I don't think so. Ah, d-didn't....get out, I mean." He pulled a deep, steadying breath and started into the story he'd only put to words two or three times now, but lived every night in his dreams. "I . . . Master had sent me out on an errand. We didn't have a performance that day, so I wasn't in any great hurry to get back. I-in fact, I . . . I got sidetracked a few times. I was going to be late by the time I realized just how much time I'd dallied, and I hurried back. B-but....e-even from partway across town I...I could see the smoke. Thick and black a-and terrible. A-and by the time I got to our street, t-there.....was no mistaking......w-where the smoke was c-coming from." He slid down, sinking into a crouch with his arms clasped around his legs, face tucking behind his knees. "I-I....I don't know if any of my brothers or sisters escaped. I-I....I was frozen. I couldn't...couldn't b-believe what I was seeing. Fire! Terrible, horrible fire . . . a-and then Master came out of the flames, a-and he......he looked so........so furious. And he spotted me, a-and I thought..........I-I was so frightened, I-I.......I ran." The last came out a soft, strained whisper, and he curled up in a tight ball sitting on the bench.
Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn. Now he’d gone and made the kid upset again. Ichigo ran a hand nervously through his hair, wondering how he was going to fix this. He paused for a moment, and then put a hand out, resting it on the puppet’s back. The wood felt strange under his fingertips, but that was a minor detail, one that barely registered in his mind. “Losing a home is tough,” Ichigo said. He looked away, out into the sky, but kept his hand on the kid’s shoulders. “But it’s losing people that hurts the most. But this is a good ship. If you want....you’ll find a home here.” The pilot thought for a moment, considering telling the kid. It’s not like it was a secret, after all -- what did he have to hide? “Last Lunasa...my ship was bombed. Only a couple of us got out alive. I lost some good friends when that ship went down.” He pulled a breath. “I was stranded in Garrettstown, looking for any job I could get when the Way picked me up.”
Harlequin flinched a bit at the touch to his back but didn't pull away. He was listening - no doubt - though his mind was half caught in the past for a moment. But then the young man started to talk about-... He looked up, the grief in his eyes shifting to include that of the man next to him. "I-I'm sorry..." he said softly, extending back the same empathy from a moment ago. He was pretty sure the fire that had taken his home and family had been an accident . . . but to lose loved ones to something so horrifically purposeful as a bombing...... He couldn't even begin to imagine.
Ichigo took his hand away -- he felt that flinch. Oops. But he’d go on. He looked sideways, down at Harlequin. “Don’t be. They wouldn’t want their deaths to make a puppet sad,” he said, a wry half-grin pulling at his lips. “Nah, the best thing to do is to remember them, and keep moving forward. Whoever you lost --” and Ichigo didn’t need to know specifics, not if it would just bring up painful memories and more tears, there would be time for that later when this wasn’t so fresh -- “if they mattered to you, then they’d want to see you happy, wouldn’t they?” He shrugged, looking away, up at the sky again. “This is a good place to find more people who matter to you. That’s why I’m here, actually, instead of trying to get revenge on the people who bombed my ship. Grief for the dead is all well and good, but it’s the living who need you. The past’s the past, but it’s the present you have to live in, and the future you can change.”
Harlequin's eyes fell to the bench again and he nodded quietly. "Well . . . heh, I...d-don't have anyone who needs me . . . b-but I did kind of promise my siblings that I would continue living, for all of us. And that I'd always remember them." He looked up. "I'm glad I've found this ship. For your sake, I'm glad you did too......"
Ichigo was sure Harlequin would find his niche here. Maybe Harlequin needed the ship more right now. (Ichigo didn't realize that he shared this trait with the puppet, and felt that it was just the opposite -- he felt that the ship needed him.) Wait, what was that about....siblings? Was he talking about the other puppets? Ichigo's mouth tightened for a moment, but he approved of Harlequn's words. "Don't you forget that promise," he said. Even if you were focused on the future, you couldn't forget the ones you'd lost. But the words of resolve set Ichigo's mind at ease a little bit. He hadn't been too sure about the little guy's mental state -- he'd come across Harlequin curled up and in tears, after all -- but it looked like the kid had the right idea.
"I know it's a little late, but..." Ichigo held out a hand to the puppet, one corner of his mouth pulling in a smile. "Welcome to the Winding Way."
Harlequin nodded solemnly - he had every intention of keeping that promise, no matter how painful it sometimes got - then grinned quietly but easily. "Never too late, I think." He stood to properly face and greet the young man, taking - well, two fingers - between both of his wooden, much-smaller hands. "Thank you very much." And...perhaps, he could go ahead and dare to venture.....? "By the way, I...d-don't think I've caught your name, sir......"
"Oh, right." How had he forgotten to introduce himself? Oh, well. "Name's Ichigo Kurosaki," he said, shaking the wooden hand. Damn, but that felt weird. "Radio op, and unofficial pilot. Nice t'meet you."
Harlequin's grin widened and he relaxed a little more. "The pleasure's mine, Mr. Kurosaki."
Ichigo gave a flat stare. "Mr. Kurosaki is my father," he deadpanned. "Call me Ichigo." He wasn't angry, really -- this was just default Ichigo. He looked angry most of the time, thanks to the permanent scowl on his face.
Harlequin flinched with a soft hitch of breath, eyes dropping instantly. "S-sorry, sir. Yes . . . M-mr. Ichigo, then....." H-he'd offended the young man, apparently, without meaning to. Of course, "without meaning to" had never negated the "he'd offended someone" part before. There . . . was a reason he was touch-shy of his back, especially if not expecting it...
Ichigo raised an eyebrow. H-had he said something wrong? "C-c'mon, don't apologize." He was just confused now. "Just Ichigo's fine." This was awkward. What had he done? Had he scared Harlequin somehow? Ichigo'd have to be careful around the kid. "Take it easy. I'm not mad."
Harlequin peeked up, shoulders a bit hunched. "Y-you're not. S-sorry, I....thought maybe I'd.....o-offended you or......something........"
Ichigo shook his head. "It's okay. Don't worry about it." He glanced around. "So, you going to spend the whole afternoon up here?" he asked casually.
Harlequin relaxed again, his tone turning sheepish. "Heh . . . n-no. I-I just . . . well, I try to stay positive and looking forward, b-but . . . it gets . . . hard sometimes. I-I mean . . . it's healthy to break down once in a while, right? After all, that's...part of the grieving process...I think..." He wasn't sure if he were trying to convince Mr. Ichigo or himself. He pulled a breath and continued. "A-anyway, I just . . . came up here to . . . t-take a little while to deal, hidden where I wouldn't bother or worry anyone." He gave Ichigo a grin. "I'm...I'm doing better though, now. Thank you."
“Yeah,” Ichigo said, looking strangely thoughtful. “Yeah, it’s okay to…to cry, sometimes.” The words sounded strange to him. It was something he’d forgotten, over the years, since he hadn’t cried, not really, not since… Mentally, he shook his head, and looked at Harlequin again, and matched his grin with a crooked half-one. “That’s good. So, uh…want me to let you be up here, or, well…you been shown around the ship yet?”
Harlequin perked at that. "No, not yet. I-I'd . . . I'd like to, though . . . if you wouldn't mind..."
Ichigo stood up and headed to the edge of the crow's nest, holding out a hand. He gave Harlequin a smile -- a real one, something that had been rare, and still was to a degree, but he found himself doing it more and more lately -- and called, "Well, what're you waiting for? Come on!"
Harlequin laughed in delight. How rarely had he had a hand extended to him (well, that wasn't in an arc to hit him, anyway). "Coming!" he cried as he jumped down from the bench and bolted to his new friend's side.
Whoa, this kid was weird. The slightest thing would freak him out, but it looked like that went for good things, too. But Ichigo had promised a tour of the ship, and he'd give it. He'd show Harlequin around. He didn't mind -- it was a diversion from all this race craziness, and an afternoon off was what he'd been planning, anyway.
Content: Puppet's not dealing with things quite as well as he'd like, and....honestly, at this rate, the crew's going to have to book alone time in the crow's nest.
Setting: Up in the crow's nest
Time: Backdated to a day or two before the qualifiers, midafternoon
Warnings: Standard Ichigo language warning. That's....pretty much it.
The qualifying races were only a day or so away, and Ichigo had spent every spare moment up until now getting a feel for the upgrades and other changes that had been made to his plane. It was sheer joy to fly the craft now -- not that it hadn't been great before, but nothing compared to the speed, the sound of wind rushing past over the engine's roar -- quieter than the old one, but potent, somehow, like a coiled spring.
But before he waxed too poetic about Zangetsu, Ichigo pushed all thoughts of the race out of his mind, leaving them behind as he climbed the mast, headed for the crow's nest. The pressure was on, and mostly, Ichigo didn't have a problem with it. It'd push him to do his best. But that didn't mean he couldn't use a break. So with every step he climbed, the more he relaxed, until he was a good thirty feet above the world.
He liked heights. He liked being in the sky, being just a little removed from everyone else, but still watching over it all. The crow's nest was a favorite haunt of his, especially when he needed breaks like this.
It had been . . . a day now? - at least that. Maybe two . . . since Mr. Dimo had brought him here and he had spoken with Mr. Hughes. Hours. That was all he knew. Hours openly exploring . . . his new home. Getting to know his new family. Okay, so maybe he shouldn't think of them that way - no doubt they didn't think of him as such, maybe never would - but . . . he couldn't help it. He had been longing - aching! - for a place to belong and people around him again for so long that......he'd almost forgotten what anything else felt like. He was weak like that, he knew it . . . but he had never known any differently before......that. H-he couldn't even bring himself to think the words, not when he was alone. They brought too much grief and horror. Alone, he couldn't bear it.
He . . . he was thankful for this ship and her people - extremely! . . . but they couldn't fill the hole in his heart. He'd always known it, just didn't want to admit it. And even now, he thought maybe he just hadn't giving things - given people - enough time....but.......
He'd wandered until he found himself trying to get high up, as high as he could climb, as if by doing so he could escape his thoughts and the heartbreaking images - the memories - they brought. And somehow - he didn't fully remember how - he found himself up in a.......a basket, s-sort of, way on top of the highest pole. It seemed like people were supposed to come up here, though why he couldn't fathom. But he found a stool to clamber up onto so that he could see over the low wall and . . . the view had been breath-taking! As close as he had ever gotten to his dream of flying. (The trip here from Melior, stowed away hidden in an airship's landing gear, didn't count). He could see so amazingly far, in all directions! He'd felt like he was on top of the world!
....it had been a lonely place to be, actually....
Before he knew it, the waves of memories, thoughts, and emotions he'd tried to leave behind on the deck far below suddenly had spiraled up the pole and overwhelmed him. He knew no one would see him, find him, up here, but he still found himself instinctively retreating into a little hiding spot where he could succumb to his heartbreak for a moment - just a moment! - without worrying about being a bother to anyone.........
Ichigo swung a leg over the side of the crow’s nest, climbing in. For a moment, he didn’t notice the presence of the puppet; he wasn’t expecting anyone to be up here, and certainly wasn't looking. But -- wait, had he heard something? It almost sounded like a choke. He looked around, blinking. "Hello?" he said. "Anyone here?"
Harlequin had both little wooden hands pressed over his face, peeking over his fingertip as he tried to scoot further undercover . . . not that there was really anywhere to go. Hopefully, the guy wouldn't look too hard, and Harlequin had gotten really well practiced at holding very still and very silent for long periods of time.........
But it was the movement that caught Ichigo's eye. Had an animal gotten up here or something? He crouched down to take a closer look, and his eyes widened in surprise. "What're you doing down there?" he asked. It was difficult to say if he expected a response or not. He couldn't get a really good look, but it looked.....humanoid, if a little small, and the eyes behind the....hands? looked human. He didn't reach out for it, wary of it biting, but he also didn't want to scare it. What was it, and what was it doing in his haunt?
Harlequin shied further back, eyes widening at the tone and words. "I-I'm s-sorry!" he squeaked. "A-am I...n-not supposed to be up here, sir? I-I'll leave...." Much as he tried to keep it steady, his voice shook with the sobs he'd suddenly repressed as well as with fear. H-he really didn't want to be in trouble! Not ever . . . and especially not right now.........
Whoa, something was seriously wrong with this....guy? Kid? Was it a child? That was the closest thing Ichigo could guess, and it softened him towards the puppet. "No, it's okay," he said, the usual rough edge of his voice softened. "It's a free ship. You can go wherever you want." Except maybe the kitchen, he added mentally. "I just didn't see you up here." He took another look, leaning down and a little closer. Was it even a kid? He couldn't tell under the hat. "Hey, you okay?" Ichigo asked after a moment. He couldn't walk away and leave a kid curled up under a bench, obviously upset.
"Y-yes . . . yes, sir, I-I'm fine, t-thank you....." Harlequin was far from "fine" at the moment, but he knew he'd get past it again soon enough, or at least get it worked back down, and would be his chipper self again, living for himself and his siblings like he's promised. Curling so he could dry his face on his sleeve - his hands and wrists, and part of his neck, were already aching from the swelling of damp wood - he straightened a moment or so later to face the young man with what he hoped was a grin.
Ichigo pulled a face, eyeing the puppet with disbelief. Even in the dim light, it was obvious to the him that the kid had been crying. He didn’t know how much he wanted to pry into it -- was it any of his business, really? And what if the kid didn’t want to talk? But Ichigo couldn’t walk away. “Yeah, sure you are,” he replied, obviously not thinking Harlequin was fine at all. “You gonna stay under there all day? And no more of this ‘sir’ stuff, okay?” he muttered, as an afterthought. Jeez, the kid made him feel old, calling him “sir.” It was almost as bad as “Mr. Kurosaki.” “Mr. Kurosaki” was Ichigo’s father.
Harlequin flinched, then shook his head. "N-no, si-!......ah, n-no, I..I wasn't planning to stay....here....." He swallowd and pulled a breath, getting a final hold on himself before crawling out. He looked up at the young man. Goodness, another who didn't want to be called "sir" - so strange! And, the puppet supposed, he wouldn't want to be called Mr...... Actually, that did bring up another point: he didn't know the young man's name. Hiding behind a bit of showmanship, he swept off his hat for a bow, though he couldn't hide the grimace of pain at making his tear-swelled hand work. "I think we've not met before. I am Harlequin, at your service."
Ichigo stared openly at the thing. What -- what was it? It looked like it was made of wood! It....was made of wood, Ichigo realized, upon a second glance. "H-harlequin. Right," Ichigo replied, when he realized a response was expected. It was sort of appropriate, he thought. Having grown up in Melior, Ichigo knew a little bit about theater, although it'd been a while, and he was far from an expert on the subject. "Sorry, but, uh....what are you?" It was rude, yes, but Ichigo would get back on the subject of what was upsetting Harlequin as soon as he figured out what exactly Harlequin was.
Harlequin straightened with a sigh. Once more, he'd not rated the usual courtesy of a name in return . . . and the young man didn't want to be called "sir." Well . . . oh, well, he'd think of something. He pulled a breath and grinned up at the stranger. "It's all right. I get that a lot. I am a Living Marionette."
Well, yeah, Ichigo'd figured out that much -- the thing was some sort of living puppet. He guessed that he wouldn't get any better explanation, though, so he decided to move on. "So, uh...'Harlequin'....what were you doing hiding up here?" Ichigo sat back on his heels, staying low to talk to the puppet face-to-face. His tone was far from accusatory -- it was curiosity, not an accusation of troublemaking, and what Ichigo was really trying to ask was, why Harlequin had been up here crying. But he wasn't sure he wanted to ask that directly. Ichigo didn't make a habit of prying into others' business, not if they didn't want to talk.
Harlequin hesitated. He'd...not been hiding.......w-well, no, he guessed in a sense he had been. "I-I, ah . . . didn't . . . want to trouble anyone." He managed to swallow back the "sir" before it escaped. "I, ah . . . w-well, just like anyone, I've....h-had some trials. I..." His shoulders slumped. "I guess I'm just not dealing with them as well as....as I'd like."
Oh, so it was a problem. Ichigo regarded the childlike puppet with a gaze that was difficult to read. The question was, what should he do now? If it had been Ichigo, he knew he would want to be left alone, to deal with it without anyone seeing. But that stemmed from pride. Ichigo didn't think it was pride that motivated the puppet to keep this to himself. Hadn't Harlequin said that he hadn't wanted to bother people?
But that didn't tell Ichigo what he was going to do. He scowled for a moment, thinking, then stood up and sat down on the bench. He didn't know how long Harlequin had been on the ship (not long -- even Ichigo, who had a notoriously terrible memory for names and faces, would have remembered this guy) or even if he intended to stay. "You're on the Winding Way," Ichigo said after a moment, looking away at the sky, away from the puppet. "Chances are, no one here'd mind being troubled." He knew this from ten months' experience on the ship. Besides, he....wanted to help the kid, if he could, even if it wasn't a real kid. "Wanna talk?" If Harlequin didn’t, that was fine, too.
Harlequin regarded him for a moment, then looked out at the sky as well. "Y-you . . . you think so?" He looked down. "I . . . maybe not. Everyone has been very nice so far, a-almost.......a-almost l-like a....a f-family............." He swallowed before the tears could start again.
A family, huh? Ichigo wasn't quite sure he'd call his crewmates family. And yet.....they were close, sometimes incredibly irritating, but he'd go to the ends of the earth for a lot of them. (How close this sounded to family completely escaped Ichigo.) "Something like that," he replied. "It's a weird ship." He didn't mean to upset the kid -- he couldn't help but think of it as a kid -- but kids weren't supposed to shoulder their own burdens, not yet.
Harlequin sighed softly. No, of course, not - he was letting himself get his hopes up, and he knew better. Besides, who would take in property in quite that sort of way. "Y-yes . . . something like that. Not really a family, I guess, but . . . but still, it's . . . it's a home. It's something. And everyone has been very nice so far. Heh..." He looked up at the young man. "No one even wants to be called 'mister' or 'miss'. It's . . . kind of strange. Weird..." He nodded. "Yes, a weird ship." But . . . but his ship, his home now . . . for however long they were willing to keep him.
"It's a good place," Ichigo replied. One of the best places he'd been, to be honest. The ship had grown on him in the past year, more than he would have thought possible. "If you're looking for a family, it's probably the closest thing to it that you'll find in the skies." He decided not to press any further into what had upset Harlequin. Ichigo wasn’t very good at reading people, but it might have something to do with family, maybe. “And ‘mister’ makes me feel old,” Ichigo told him, resting his chin on his hand, and leaning over with his elbow on his knee. “Maybe that’s it. Why, you used to titles or something?”
Harlequin climbed up onto the bench next to the young man, debating whether or not to ask him his name. He stood leaning back on the wall of the crow's nest and nodded. "Master taught us...all too well...how to address our betters."
That caught Ichigo's attention. "'Master'?" he repeated, not liking the sound of that at all. "What're you talking about?" He wasn't threatening, just....very, very serious. Who had this kid been dealing with....?
Harlequin blinked up at him, taken aback somewhat, and found himself shrinking away just a little before he caught himself. "Ah . . . Master. Master Fire-eater, the one who carved us, me and my siblings." He...saw that he was going to have to explain, although it made sense to him. Not that he minded explaining, of course. "Have . . . have you ever been to Melior, si-!" NOT "sir" . . . and still didn't what to call him. "Melior? Or heard of the Great Marionette Theater?"
"Yeah, I know Melior," Ichigo replied, still studying the puppet. "Never heard of the Marionette Theater, though. I haven't lived there in years." Although he wasn't quite sure where this was going, Ichigo decided to be quiet and let the puppet explain.
Harlequin offered a small, sad smile. "That's all right. Master wanted us to be a really big sensation, but with so many other theaters of all kinds, we . . . didn't bring in the draw that he was hoping for." He shrugged. "We were a Commedia dell'Arte troupe. Master carved us all from the limbs of a mana-affected oak tree. We were . . . constructs, essentially....I-I guess. Master's puppets. Not being flesh people but more.....like property, Master made sure we knew how to address anyone we might meet outside of the theater."
Commedia del--what? It sounded...familiar, although Ichigo couldn’t recall the exact details. It’d probably been covered once or twice in school, years ago, and though Ichigo wasn’t a huge fan of the theater (besides Avon‘s stuff, but that was out of respect for the playwright as much as liking his work) he’d heard of it in passing. But it wasn’t that that attracted his attention, it was the talk of...property. Not that Ichigo knew anything about the situation, not really, but he sure as hell didn’t like someone giving himself airs over something that could think, walk, and talk.
“Okay, first of all? You’re no one’s ‘property’ here, so I don’t want to hear any of that. I dunno what this ‘Master’ guy might have told you, but the way I see it, no one here’s any more or less important than anyone else. Not on this ship, anyway.” Ichigo already didn’t like the sound of this guy. If he showed up around this -- but then, Ichigo paused. “Say -- where is this Master guy, anyways?”
Harlequin shrank back, nodding agreement on reflex even as a good part of him wanted to argue that. Of course, he was property! He was just marionette after all, a puppet - a thing, not a flesh person. But he decided it best not to bring up that point. This young man looked like someone not to upset, and Harlequin had already somehow managed to put himself a goodly way along that path as it was. He was just starting to let his eyes fall away when the last question made all the color drain from his face. "A-ah.....w-well......" He swallowed nervously, and now he did look away. "I-I'm not...entirely sure. I mean....I know he made it out of the fire, b-but......."
“Wait, what’s this about a fire?” Ichigo’s attention was caught immediately by this detail. It didn’t even occur to him now that Harlequin might not want to talk about it -- he was caught up in the middle of a conversation. “What fire?” Had there been a fire in Melior?
Harlequin hesitated a moment, gaze locked on the bench in front of his feet, voice soft. "The fire that burned down our theater......"
There. That was the heart of the matter. Ichigo felt a twinge of guilt for pushing so hard, but....the kid hadn’t tried to keep it a secret, not really....
Agh, it didn’t matter now. “I--I see,” he said. Had it just been the theater that had burned down? Was that what had Harlequin so upset? Ichigo’s gut said no. Losing a home was sad, but....he was reminded of something earlier in the conversation. We were his puppets....
Something very, very unsettling took shape in Ichigo’s mind as he began to guess at what had happened. “You don’t mean....” He trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.
Harlequin continued staring at the bench. "Don't mean...?" He shrugged. "I'm . . . guessing he's all right. He looked too angry to have likely been too badly hurt, and only the end of his beard was singed before he managed to get it out. I-I . . . I didn't . . . s-stay around long enough t-to really find out.............." Now he was hugging himself, new tears beginning to blur his vision. His throat was already waterlogged and stiff from swelling - h-he really...really didn't want to cry anymore.
....Ichigo had to ask. He had to. “But there were other people who didn’t get out.” His eyes were somber. This....hit a little too close to home, actually. His ship had been a victim of the Lunasa bombings, less than a year ago. While he’d gotten a handful of people to safety, there had been others -- friends, companions, comrades-in-arms -- who hadn’t made it. So he felt he understood the kid’s grief, a little.
“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t pity. It was sympathy. It was hard enough to lose people, but at Harlequin’s age? ...dammit, he had to stop thinking about the thing like a kid. Human age probably didn’t even apply to Harlequin.
"I-I . . . I don't think so. Ah, d-didn't....get out, I mean." He pulled a deep, steadying breath and started into the story he'd only put to words two or three times now, but lived every night in his dreams. "I . . . Master had sent me out on an errand. We didn't have a performance that day, so I wasn't in any great hurry to get back. I-in fact, I . . . I got sidetracked a few times. I was going to be late by the time I realized just how much time I'd dallied, and I hurried back. B-but....e-even from partway across town I...I could see the smoke. Thick and black a-and terrible. A-and by the time I got to our street, t-there.....was no mistaking......w-where the smoke was c-coming from." He slid down, sinking into a crouch with his arms clasped around his legs, face tucking behind his knees. "I-I....I don't know if any of my brothers or sisters escaped. I-I....I was frozen. I couldn't...couldn't b-believe what I was seeing. Fire! Terrible, horrible fire . . . a-and then Master came out of the flames, a-and he......he looked so........so furious. And he spotted me, a-and I thought..........I-I was so frightened, I-I.......I ran." The last came out a soft, strained whisper, and he curled up in a tight ball sitting on the bench.
Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn. Now he’d gone and made the kid upset again. Ichigo ran a hand nervously through his hair, wondering how he was going to fix this. He paused for a moment, and then put a hand out, resting it on the puppet’s back. The wood felt strange under his fingertips, but that was a minor detail, one that barely registered in his mind. “Losing a home is tough,” Ichigo said. He looked away, out into the sky, but kept his hand on the kid’s shoulders. “But it’s losing people that hurts the most. But this is a good ship. If you want....you’ll find a home here.” The pilot thought for a moment, considering telling the kid. It’s not like it was a secret, after all -- what did he have to hide? “Last Lunasa...my ship was bombed. Only a couple of us got out alive. I lost some good friends when that ship went down.” He pulled a breath. “I was stranded in Garrettstown, looking for any job I could get when the Way picked me up.”
Harlequin flinched a bit at the touch to his back but didn't pull away. He was listening - no doubt - though his mind was half caught in the past for a moment. But then the young man started to talk about-... He looked up, the grief in his eyes shifting to include that of the man next to him. "I-I'm sorry..." he said softly, extending back the same empathy from a moment ago. He was pretty sure the fire that had taken his home and family had been an accident . . . but to lose loved ones to something so horrifically purposeful as a bombing...... He couldn't even begin to imagine.
Ichigo took his hand away -- he felt that flinch. Oops. But he’d go on. He looked sideways, down at Harlequin. “Don’t be. They wouldn’t want their deaths to make a puppet sad,” he said, a wry half-grin pulling at his lips. “Nah, the best thing to do is to remember them, and keep moving forward. Whoever you lost --” and Ichigo didn’t need to know specifics, not if it would just bring up painful memories and more tears, there would be time for that later when this wasn’t so fresh -- “if they mattered to you, then they’d want to see you happy, wouldn’t they?” He shrugged, looking away, up at the sky again. “This is a good place to find more people who matter to you. That’s why I’m here, actually, instead of trying to get revenge on the people who bombed my ship. Grief for the dead is all well and good, but it’s the living who need you. The past’s the past, but it’s the present you have to live in, and the future you can change.”
Harlequin's eyes fell to the bench again and he nodded quietly. "Well . . . heh, I...d-don't have anyone who needs me . . . b-but I did kind of promise my siblings that I would continue living, for all of us. And that I'd always remember them." He looked up. "I'm glad I've found this ship. For your sake, I'm glad you did too......"
Ichigo was sure Harlequin would find his niche here. Maybe Harlequin needed the ship more right now. (Ichigo didn't realize that he shared this trait with the puppet, and felt that it was just the opposite -- he felt that the ship needed him.) Wait, what was that about....siblings? Was he talking about the other puppets? Ichigo's mouth tightened for a moment, but he approved of Harlequn's words. "Don't you forget that promise," he said. Even if you were focused on the future, you couldn't forget the ones you'd lost. But the words of resolve set Ichigo's mind at ease a little bit. He hadn't been too sure about the little guy's mental state -- he'd come across Harlequin curled up and in tears, after all -- but it looked like the kid had the right idea.
"I know it's a little late, but..." Ichigo held out a hand to the puppet, one corner of his mouth pulling in a smile. "Welcome to the Winding Way."
Harlequin nodded solemnly - he had every intention of keeping that promise, no matter how painful it sometimes got - then grinned quietly but easily. "Never too late, I think." He stood to properly face and greet the young man, taking - well, two fingers - between both of his wooden, much-smaller hands. "Thank you very much." And...perhaps, he could go ahead and dare to venture.....? "By the way, I...d-don't think I've caught your name, sir......"
"Oh, right." How had he forgotten to introduce himself? Oh, well. "Name's Ichigo Kurosaki," he said, shaking the wooden hand. Damn, but that felt weird. "Radio op, and unofficial pilot. Nice t'meet you."
Harlequin's grin widened and he relaxed a little more. "The pleasure's mine, Mr. Kurosaki."
Ichigo gave a flat stare. "Mr. Kurosaki is my father," he deadpanned. "Call me Ichigo." He wasn't angry, really -- this was just default Ichigo. He looked angry most of the time, thanks to the permanent scowl on his face.
Harlequin flinched with a soft hitch of breath, eyes dropping instantly. "S-sorry, sir. Yes . . . M-mr. Ichigo, then....." H-he'd offended the young man, apparently, without meaning to. Of course, "without meaning to" had never negated the "he'd offended someone" part before. There . . . was a reason he was touch-shy of his back, especially if not expecting it...
Ichigo raised an eyebrow. H-had he said something wrong? "C-c'mon, don't apologize." He was just confused now. "Just Ichigo's fine." This was awkward. What had he done? Had he scared Harlequin somehow? Ichigo'd have to be careful around the kid. "Take it easy. I'm not mad."
Harlequin peeked up, shoulders a bit hunched. "Y-you're not. S-sorry, I....thought maybe I'd.....o-offended you or......something........"
Ichigo shook his head. "It's okay. Don't worry about it." He glanced around. "So, you going to spend the whole afternoon up here?" he asked casually.
Harlequin relaxed again, his tone turning sheepish. "Heh . . . n-no. I-I just . . . well, I try to stay positive and looking forward, b-but . . . it gets . . . hard sometimes. I-I mean . . . it's healthy to break down once in a while, right? After all, that's...part of the grieving process...I think..." He wasn't sure if he were trying to convince Mr. Ichigo or himself. He pulled a breath and continued. "A-anyway, I just . . . came up here to . . . t-take a little while to deal, hidden where I wouldn't bother or worry anyone." He gave Ichigo a grin. "I'm...I'm doing better though, now. Thank you."
“Yeah,” Ichigo said, looking strangely thoughtful. “Yeah, it’s okay to…to cry, sometimes.” The words sounded strange to him. It was something he’d forgotten, over the years, since he hadn’t cried, not really, not since… Mentally, he shook his head, and looked at Harlequin again, and matched his grin with a crooked half-one. “That’s good. So, uh…want me to let you be up here, or, well…you been shown around the ship yet?”
Harlequin perked at that. "No, not yet. I-I'd . . . I'd like to, though . . . if you wouldn't mind..."
Ichigo stood up and headed to the edge of the crow's nest, holding out a hand. He gave Harlequin a smile -- a real one, something that had been rare, and still was to a degree, but he found himself doing it more and more lately -- and called, "Well, what're you waiting for? Come on!"
Harlequin laughed in delight. How rarely had he had a hand extended to him (well, that wasn't in an arc to hit him, anyway). "Coming!" he cried as he jumped down from the bench and bolted to his new friend's side.
Whoa, this kid was weird. The slightest thing would freak him out, but it looked like that went for good things, too. But Ichigo had promised a tour of the ship, and he'd give it. He'd show Harlequin around. He didn't mind -- it was a diversion from all this race craziness, and an afternoon off was what he'd been planning, anyway.