Songs for Daddy- Chapter 26: Picking Up Pieces
Author: bar_ohki
Title: Songs for Daddy
Rating: This chapter is rated T.
Summary: After receiving a phone call, Hiruma abandons his job, his football team, and his friends, disappearing into nothing. After several years pass, Mamori finds a strange girl in her Kindergarten class, a girl strange enough to have the only remaining connection to the missing quarterback….
Notes: Picking Up Pieces is by Blue October, I do not own it.
Links: To song on youtube: Video
To lyrics of song: Lyrics
To a list of chapter links: Links
To chapter 25: Part 1 Part 2
Songs for Daddy
Chapter 26: Picking Up Pieces
A loud clatter and the puzzle was on the floor, scattering pieces across the floor and all over Chizue. Anezaki gasped slightly, having been the one to knock over the puzzle. Emiko frowned, got out of her chair and got down off her chair.
“Chizue, move now.” Emiko told the dog. The dog blinked once, shook off the pieces and moved out of the way. Carefully, Emiko began to put the puzzle back in the box.
“Emiko-chan?” Anezaki asked. Emiko hadn’t wanted to go to the park when Anezaki offered to take her. Instead they had been doing a puzzle with Chizue underfoot. The fact that Emiko had refused made Anezaki wonder exactly what was bothering the girl.
The sound of pieces hitting the box was her answer.
“Is something wrong?” Anezaki asked.
Emiko shook her head. Nothing was wrong, yet. Everything would go back to being wrong when she got back to Grandma’s house today. But until then, it wasn’t wrong.
Chizue picked up a piece and handed it to Emiko. The little girl looked at the dog and frowned.
“…Don’t bite that.” Emiko told Chizue and took the piece from her. “And don’t be mean to Anezaki-sensei, she’s going to be my Mama someday.”
Chizue and Anezaki only stared at the girl as she continued to put the puzzle away.
-With Hiruma-
Hiruma left the building and sat down his car and put his face in his hands and shook with unshed tears. He was starting to crumble under all of this pressure. The damage Chieko had done to him and the damage he had done to himself were keeping him from getting help. His mind was of course, in agony, thinking up horrible thoughts about what had just happened and how fucked up a future he was going to be looking at soon. Maybe that fucking God was using this as a punishment for all the shit he’d done in his life.
“Aye!” Hiruma jumped slightly, his phone having just started ringing and startling him pretty good. With a shake of his head, Hiruma got a grip on what was hopefully reality and answered the phone.
“Hello.” Hiruma greeted the other person, wishing he had checked the caller ID.
“Hiruma-san,” Maruko greeted him on the other end, “I’m about to initiate the abuse investigation-” Hiruma cut Maruko off.
“I fucked it up.” Hiruma announced. Maruko, for the better or worse, had been one of the few people that he had been close to these last six years. One of the few people he trusted despite the damage.
“-…Hiruma-san?” Maruko asked, concerned.
In response, Hiruma recounted his morning. He did not say outright that he had been seeing Chizue’s ghost all morning, but he hinted at it. Maruko, being the sharp man he was, understood well enough.
“…I can fix this. Stay where you are.” Maruko told Hiruma firmly and hung up before the man could say anything. Maruko decided to call a different number.
“What the fuck do you want trash!?” Kongo demanded on the other side.
“I need you to go to a certain address and traumatize an old, fat man till the point he’s hallucinating.” Maruko told Kongo simply. “And I have another favor of you once you’re done with that.”
“…So these are your trash favors?” Kongo asked.
“Only two of the four hundred.” Maruko chuckled. “Now the second favor is at another address. There’s an old woman, her bedridden husband, and their granddaughter living there. I want you to take your brother and see if there’s any abuse happening there.”
“You want me to spy on a fucking old hag?” Kongo was unamused. “After fucking up an old man’s head!?”
“The old man happens to be the CEO of Bookkeepers INC.” Maruko pointed out as he examined his nails. “And I don’t think anyone will care if you raid his wallet.”
“And why should I fucking care about the hag?” Kongo demanded.
“The granddaughter’s name is Hiruma Emiko.” Maruko decided to drop that bomb.
Kongo dropped the phone in shock. There was some frantic shuffling.
“That fucking trash has a daughter?” Kongo asked, sounding unconvinced.
“I’ll send you a picture.” Maruko pulled out his e-mail and sent Kongo the picture of Emiko on her passport. She was grinning with all of her white teeth and pointy ears.
“What the hell?” Kongo gasped, completely amazed by the truth of it.
“You might learn something about what Hiruma-san has been up to these last couple of years if you observe his daughter.” Maruko pointed out.
“Give me the addresses.” Kongo demanded. And Maruko did and listened to Kongo hang up. With a pause Maruko called Hiruma back.
“I know someone that owes me a favor, he’s going to make your old boss insane,” Maruko told Hiruma, “so your ass is covered for now.”
“…Okay.” Hiruma sounded exhausted.
“You should go get a drink to unwind. I personally recommend going to ‘Lapin’.” Maruko advised him. “You’re going to need something after hallucinating like that.’
“It’s not like-” Hiruma cut himself off when he realized how he was sounding, “-fine.”
“Drive safely, there’s a yakuza heading into the neighborhood.” Maruko warned Hiruma.
“Alright.” Hiruma muttered and hung up. Maruko sighed and rubbed his temples and decided to make three more phone calls. Two people were busy at work and one wasn’t at home. Frowning, Maruko made a fourth call and got an answer.
“Sir, I need you to help someone I know….” Maruko began.
-Later, at the Bar Lapin-
Hiruma entered the bar and wasn’t surprised. It was a typical bar, lit just enough to not be called ‘dim’ but not enough to be called ‘well-lit’. There were three bartenders, all dressed nicely and greeting him with a ‘welcome’. Nodding his head once, Hiruma walked over to the counter and took a seat on the end. He didn’t say anything to any of the bartenders.
One of the bartenders shut his eyes in a polite understanding and started to prepare Hiruma a drink. With a somewhat numb look, Hiruma watched as the man cracked an egg, dashed in splashes of various things, and ultimately pour in rum then shake the concoction. When it was all done he poured the drink into a rounded glass and pushed it towards Hiruma.
Normally, when Hiruma appeared at a bar, he’d order his drinks straight. Cocktails weren’t his thing but judging from the look on the bartender’s face, he had made the cocktail Hiruma had needed. Looking carefully at the drink, it was a sunny, almost orange yellow. Not surprising considering the man had put an egg yoke in it. Shaking his head Hiruma took a sip and his eyes popped open.
“What the hell?” Hiruma muttered, the drink having caught his attention with the sweetness of it.
“An ‘Eye Opener’, sir.” The bartender bowed. “It’s a known revival drink.”
“…I see.” Hiruma muttered and drank some more.
“It might help you talked about it.” One of the other bartenders suggested shyly.
“And to what end?” Hiruma asked. “My life gets shattered into fucking pieces every time I manage to put it back to-fucking-gether. God fucking hates me.”
“…Is that why Devils never ask Gods for favors?” A low, gruff voice asked from behind Hiruma.
Hiruma knew that voice anywhere; he slowly turned around and laid eyes on the scruffy-looking Musyanokoji Shien, more commonly known as ‘Kid’. He still dressed like he was in some old western movie, this time as a gentleman as opposed to a gunman. Without any prompting, Musyanokoji took a seat next to Hiruma.
“Whiskey.” Musyanokoji ordered.
“…Fucking eyelashes told you to show up.” Hiruma observed.
“Actually I visit this bar at around this time everyday.” Musyanokoji corrected casually.
“Kid-sama has been a very loyal customer.” The eldest of the bartenders remarked as he poured the whiskey.
“It’s not that I didn’t get a call from Marco-sama,” Musyanokoji added thoughtfully, “but I was still going to come here whether or not I was going to encounter someone I used to know.”
“Tch.” Hiruma clicked his tongue and had another sip.
“Now your little announcement earlier got me all curious; how did you manage to shatter your life multiple times?” Musyanokoji asked. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to have life shattering problems, ‘cause you’re so clever.”
“…My mother got hit buy a fucking drunk right after she had a fight with the fucking bastard.” Hiruma swirled his drink a little. “If that’s not life shattering, your fucking definition is broken.”
“No, no, that is life shattering, especially if you were little.” Musyanokoji held up his hands in surrender since Hiruma had sounded irritated.
“Then I got fucking married.” Hiruma muttered, fingering his ring a little self-consciously.
“…There a reason I wasn’t invited?” Musyanokoji frowned. He had thought that Hiruma had been enough a friend to have given him an invitation, if not a position as a best man.
“Didn’t invite anyone,” Hiruma took another drink, “fucking arranged marriage. Me and fucking Chizue were just using one another.”
“Ah.” Musyanokoji nodded. Though, he was curious how Hiruma landed himself into an arranged marriage in the first place.
“Fucking Chizue was mental.” Hiruma added. “Then she managed to get pregnant with a fucking 0.72 percent chance of conception.”
“Not too surprising,” Musyanokoji remarked, “you win football games by smaller margins regularly.”
“Tch.” Hiruma didn’t need to be reminded of that.
“How’d the wife die?” Musyanokoji decided he should ask that question.
“Childbirth.” Hiruma answered.
“And when did you choose to disappear in all this?” Musyanokoji wondered as he looked at Hiruma. The man looked tired, more tired than someone his age should look.
“When Emiko was born,” Hiruma looked at his drink with a regretful expression, “Chizue didn’t want Emiko caught up in all my shit, so I hid her away.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy.” Musyanokoji frowned.
“Wasn’t.” Hiruma added. “And my fucking mother-in-law decided to take Emiko from me and I just fucked up my shot at getting her back.”
“…Would you like another drink sir?” The first bartender asked.
“No.” Hiruma frowned. “Being drunk never fucking helps like it should.”
“If you say so sir.” The bartender retreated.
“It’s not like you to be so defeated like this.” Musyanokoji was sad, seeing how destroyed Hiruma was.
“Well I fucking changed!” Hiruma snapped. “I fucking changed and am paying for it…!”
“But how much have you really changed?” Musyanokoji asked. “You still hate losing, you still are fiercely protective of those you love, and you still never do anything in moderation.”
“Fuck you.” Hiruma glared, not wanting to hear those words.
“I’m not going to leave just because you’re here to yell at me.” Musyanokoji pointed out as he took another sip. “Bartender, get him something that’ll re-inspire him.”
“I’m not going to have another fucking drink!” Hiruma growled.
“Then I will make one without alcohol.” The bartender assured Hiruma, shutting him up. Hiruma and Musyanokoji watched as the bartender pulled out lemon juice, orange juice, and pineapple juice. He poured them into a shaker and shook the juices up.
“Juice?” Musyanokoji asked as the bartender pushed the finished glass towards Hiruma.
“No, a Cinderella,” the bartender corrected, “it sounded like the old Devil Magician could use a little transformation magic.”
Hiruma snorted but took the drink anyways.
“W-wait, you’re the Hiruma Youichi!?” The other two bartenders gasped.
“And why do you fucking care?” Hiruma asked them back. “It’s not like I fucking play anymore.”
“Then why is your right hand still calloused?” The first bartender asked. With an inaudible, startled gasp, Hiruma looked at his right hand carefully. Emiko adored playing catch with him, so he still practiced his spirals. For her.
“…My daughter loves to play with me,” Hiruma admitted as he ran his left hand over the calluses, “we pass it back and forth for hours at the park…. Not real football, but still….”
“Here.” Musyanokoji pulled out a football from his bag. “Toss me one.”
Hiruma looked at the ball for a long moment and recalled all of his memories surrounding footballs. There were some painful memories, yes, but most of them he enjoyed. Especially the ones with Emiko’s smiling face.
“Fuck.” Hiruma muttered, looking away from the ball and taking a sip of his drink. “Just- fuck. Fuck it all.”
“You know,” Musyanokoji began, “I think it’s okay to be picking up pieces of your life sometimes.”
“…The hell?” Hiruma muttered.
“Because when you put things back together, you can mix them up the way you’ve always wanted to and make everything better.” Musyanokoji pointed out. “Not that picking up your life again is easy but….”
“‘That’s what comrades are for.’” Hiruma quoted himself. Something he had said several years back, when shit was going down in Musyanokoji’s life and he had helped out.
“…Yes.” Musyanokoji nodded. “That’s what we are for.”
Hiruma didn’t say anything, he just stared at his glass, frowning. Even if you had help, sometimes the damage was just beyond repair. That was something watching Takekura’s father fade away in a hospital bed reminded Hiruma all too well.
Wait father?
Takekura’s father wasting away in a hospital bed, that itself had almost destroyed Takekura’s life. He dropped out of school, out of football, worked his ass off for that ill man’s sake. How Takekura couldn’t really go to college properly like the rest of them because of the burdens his father left behind….
And here Hiruma was proposing to put the same kind of sad, heavy burdens on Emiko…. Surely he was a stronger man than this!
“…Here.” Hiruma handed the bartender the money for the drinks.
“…Where are you going?” Musyanokoji asked, frowning.
“To get some help.” Hiruma answered cryptically and left the bar.
“We did it,” Musyanokoji told the bartender, “we managed to restore that sparkle in his eyes.”
“No, the spirits did.” The bartender corrected Musyanokoji.
“…Get me another whiskey.”
_=_=_=_=_
Bars are places in which lost souls seek comfort and light, no surprise Hiruma found himself again in one. Tell me what you think.
Title: Songs for Daddy
Rating: This chapter is rated T.
Summary: After receiving a phone call, Hiruma abandons his job, his football team, and his friends, disappearing into nothing. After several years pass, Mamori finds a strange girl in her Kindergarten class, a girl strange enough to have the only remaining connection to the missing quarterback….
Notes: Picking Up Pieces is by Blue October, I do not own it.
Links: To song on youtube: Video
To lyrics of song: Lyrics
To a list of chapter links: Links
To chapter 25: Part 1 Part 2
Songs for Daddy
Chapter 26: Picking Up Pieces
A loud clatter and the puzzle was on the floor, scattering pieces across the floor and all over Chizue. Anezaki gasped slightly, having been the one to knock over the puzzle. Emiko frowned, got out of her chair and got down off her chair.
“Chizue, move now.” Emiko told the dog. The dog blinked once, shook off the pieces and moved out of the way. Carefully, Emiko began to put the puzzle back in the box.
“Emiko-chan?” Anezaki asked. Emiko hadn’t wanted to go to the park when Anezaki offered to take her. Instead they had been doing a puzzle with Chizue underfoot. The fact that Emiko had refused made Anezaki wonder exactly what was bothering the girl.
The sound of pieces hitting the box was her answer.
“Is something wrong?” Anezaki asked.
Emiko shook her head. Nothing was wrong, yet. Everything would go back to being wrong when she got back to Grandma’s house today. But until then, it wasn’t wrong.
Chizue picked up a piece and handed it to Emiko. The little girl looked at the dog and frowned.
“…Don’t bite that.” Emiko told Chizue and took the piece from her. “And don’t be mean to Anezaki-sensei, she’s going to be my Mama someday.”
Chizue and Anezaki only stared at the girl as she continued to put the puzzle away.
-With Hiruma-
Hiruma left the building and sat down his car and put his face in his hands and shook with unshed tears. He was starting to crumble under all of this pressure. The damage Chieko had done to him and the damage he had done to himself were keeping him from getting help. His mind was of course, in agony, thinking up horrible thoughts about what had just happened and how fucked up a future he was going to be looking at soon. Maybe that fucking God was using this as a punishment for all the shit he’d done in his life.
“Aye!” Hiruma jumped slightly, his phone having just started ringing and startling him pretty good. With a shake of his head, Hiruma got a grip on what was hopefully reality and answered the phone.
“Hello.” Hiruma greeted the other person, wishing he had checked the caller ID.
“Hiruma-san,” Maruko greeted him on the other end, “I’m about to initiate the abuse investigation-” Hiruma cut Maruko off.
“I fucked it up.” Hiruma announced. Maruko, for the better or worse, had been one of the few people that he had been close to these last six years. One of the few people he trusted despite the damage.
“-…Hiruma-san?” Maruko asked, concerned.
In response, Hiruma recounted his morning. He did not say outright that he had been seeing Chizue’s ghost all morning, but he hinted at it. Maruko, being the sharp man he was, understood well enough.
“…I can fix this. Stay where you are.” Maruko told Hiruma firmly and hung up before the man could say anything. Maruko decided to call a different number.
“What the fuck do you want trash!?” Kongo demanded on the other side.
“I need you to go to a certain address and traumatize an old, fat man till the point he’s hallucinating.” Maruko told Kongo simply. “And I have another favor of you once you’re done with that.”
“…So these are your trash favors?” Kongo asked.
“Only two of the four hundred.” Maruko chuckled. “Now the second favor is at another address. There’s an old woman, her bedridden husband, and their granddaughter living there. I want you to take your brother and see if there’s any abuse happening there.”
“You want me to spy on a fucking old hag?” Kongo was unamused. “After fucking up an old man’s head!?”
“The old man happens to be the CEO of Bookkeepers INC.” Maruko pointed out as he examined his nails. “And I don’t think anyone will care if you raid his wallet.”
“And why should I fucking care about the hag?” Kongo demanded.
“The granddaughter’s name is Hiruma Emiko.” Maruko decided to drop that bomb.
Kongo dropped the phone in shock. There was some frantic shuffling.
“That fucking trash has a daughter?” Kongo asked, sounding unconvinced.
“I’ll send you a picture.” Maruko pulled out his e-mail and sent Kongo the picture of Emiko on her passport. She was grinning with all of her white teeth and pointy ears.
“What the hell?” Kongo gasped, completely amazed by the truth of it.
“You might learn something about what Hiruma-san has been up to these last couple of years if you observe his daughter.” Maruko pointed out.
“Give me the addresses.” Kongo demanded. And Maruko did and listened to Kongo hang up. With a pause Maruko called Hiruma back.
“I know someone that owes me a favor, he’s going to make your old boss insane,” Maruko told Hiruma, “so your ass is covered for now.”
“…Okay.” Hiruma sounded exhausted.
“You should go get a drink to unwind. I personally recommend going to ‘Lapin’.” Maruko advised him. “You’re going to need something after hallucinating like that.’
“It’s not like-” Hiruma cut himself off when he realized how he was sounding, “-fine.”
“Drive safely, there’s a yakuza heading into the neighborhood.” Maruko warned Hiruma.
“Alright.” Hiruma muttered and hung up. Maruko sighed and rubbed his temples and decided to make three more phone calls. Two people were busy at work and one wasn’t at home. Frowning, Maruko made a fourth call and got an answer.
“Sir, I need you to help someone I know….” Maruko began.
-Later, at the Bar Lapin-
Hiruma entered the bar and wasn’t surprised. It was a typical bar, lit just enough to not be called ‘dim’ but not enough to be called ‘well-lit’. There were three bartenders, all dressed nicely and greeting him with a ‘welcome’. Nodding his head once, Hiruma walked over to the counter and took a seat on the end. He didn’t say anything to any of the bartenders.
One of the bartenders shut his eyes in a polite understanding and started to prepare Hiruma a drink. With a somewhat numb look, Hiruma watched as the man cracked an egg, dashed in splashes of various things, and ultimately pour in rum then shake the concoction. When it was all done he poured the drink into a rounded glass and pushed it towards Hiruma.
Normally, when Hiruma appeared at a bar, he’d order his drinks straight. Cocktails weren’t his thing but judging from the look on the bartender’s face, he had made the cocktail Hiruma had needed. Looking carefully at the drink, it was a sunny, almost orange yellow. Not surprising considering the man had put an egg yoke in it. Shaking his head Hiruma took a sip and his eyes popped open.
“What the hell?” Hiruma muttered, the drink having caught his attention with the sweetness of it.
“An ‘Eye Opener’, sir.” The bartender bowed. “It’s a known revival drink.”
“…I see.” Hiruma muttered and drank some more.
“It might help you talked about it.” One of the other bartenders suggested shyly.
“And to what end?” Hiruma asked. “My life gets shattered into fucking pieces every time I manage to put it back to-fucking-gether. God fucking hates me.”
“…Is that why Devils never ask Gods for favors?” A low, gruff voice asked from behind Hiruma.
Hiruma knew that voice anywhere; he slowly turned around and laid eyes on the scruffy-looking Musyanokoji Shien, more commonly known as ‘Kid’. He still dressed like he was in some old western movie, this time as a gentleman as opposed to a gunman. Without any prompting, Musyanokoji took a seat next to Hiruma.
“Whiskey.” Musyanokoji ordered.
“…Fucking eyelashes told you to show up.” Hiruma observed.
“Actually I visit this bar at around this time everyday.” Musyanokoji corrected casually.
“Kid-sama has been a very loyal customer.” The eldest of the bartenders remarked as he poured the whiskey.
“It’s not that I didn’t get a call from Marco-sama,” Musyanokoji added thoughtfully, “but I was still going to come here whether or not I was going to encounter someone I used to know.”
“Tch.” Hiruma clicked his tongue and had another sip.
“Now your little announcement earlier got me all curious; how did you manage to shatter your life multiple times?” Musyanokoji asked. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to have life shattering problems, ‘cause you’re so clever.”
“…My mother got hit buy a fucking drunk right after she had a fight with the fucking bastard.” Hiruma swirled his drink a little. “If that’s not life shattering, your fucking definition is broken.”
“No, no, that is life shattering, especially if you were little.” Musyanokoji held up his hands in surrender since Hiruma had sounded irritated.
“Then I got fucking married.” Hiruma muttered, fingering his ring a little self-consciously.
“…There a reason I wasn’t invited?” Musyanokoji frowned. He had thought that Hiruma had been enough a friend to have given him an invitation, if not a position as a best man.
“Didn’t invite anyone,” Hiruma took another drink, “fucking arranged marriage. Me and fucking Chizue were just using one another.”
“Ah.” Musyanokoji nodded. Though, he was curious how Hiruma landed himself into an arranged marriage in the first place.
“Fucking Chizue was mental.” Hiruma added. “Then she managed to get pregnant with a fucking 0.72 percent chance of conception.”
“Not too surprising,” Musyanokoji remarked, “you win football games by smaller margins regularly.”
“Tch.” Hiruma didn’t need to be reminded of that.
“How’d the wife die?” Musyanokoji decided he should ask that question.
“Childbirth.” Hiruma answered.
“And when did you choose to disappear in all this?” Musyanokoji wondered as he looked at Hiruma. The man looked tired, more tired than someone his age should look.
“When Emiko was born,” Hiruma looked at his drink with a regretful expression, “Chizue didn’t want Emiko caught up in all my shit, so I hid her away.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy.” Musyanokoji frowned.
“Wasn’t.” Hiruma added. “And my fucking mother-in-law decided to take Emiko from me and I just fucked up my shot at getting her back.”
“…Would you like another drink sir?” The first bartender asked.
“No.” Hiruma frowned. “Being drunk never fucking helps like it should.”
“If you say so sir.” The bartender retreated.
“It’s not like you to be so defeated like this.” Musyanokoji was sad, seeing how destroyed Hiruma was.
“Well I fucking changed!” Hiruma snapped. “I fucking changed and am paying for it…!”
“But how much have you really changed?” Musyanokoji asked. “You still hate losing, you still are fiercely protective of those you love, and you still never do anything in moderation.”
“Fuck you.” Hiruma glared, not wanting to hear those words.
“I’m not going to leave just because you’re here to yell at me.” Musyanokoji pointed out as he took another sip. “Bartender, get him something that’ll re-inspire him.”
“I’m not going to have another fucking drink!” Hiruma growled.
“Then I will make one without alcohol.” The bartender assured Hiruma, shutting him up. Hiruma and Musyanokoji watched as the bartender pulled out lemon juice, orange juice, and pineapple juice. He poured them into a shaker and shook the juices up.
“Juice?” Musyanokoji asked as the bartender pushed the finished glass towards Hiruma.
“No, a Cinderella,” the bartender corrected, “it sounded like the old Devil Magician could use a little transformation magic.”
Hiruma snorted but took the drink anyways.
“W-wait, you’re the Hiruma Youichi!?” The other two bartenders gasped.
“And why do you fucking care?” Hiruma asked them back. “It’s not like I fucking play anymore.”
“Then why is your right hand still calloused?” The first bartender asked. With an inaudible, startled gasp, Hiruma looked at his right hand carefully. Emiko adored playing catch with him, so he still practiced his spirals. For her.
“…My daughter loves to play with me,” Hiruma admitted as he ran his left hand over the calluses, “we pass it back and forth for hours at the park…. Not real football, but still….”
“Here.” Musyanokoji pulled out a football from his bag. “Toss me one.”
Hiruma looked at the ball for a long moment and recalled all of his memories surrounding footballs. There were some painful memories, yes, but most of them he enjoyed. Especially the ones with Emiko’s smiling face.
“Fuck.” Hiruma muttered, looking away from the ball and taking a sip of his drink. “Just- fuck. Fuck it all.”
“You know,” Musyanokoji began, “I think it’s okay to be picking up pieces of your life sometimes.”
“…The hell?” Hiruma muttered.
“Because when you put things back together, you can mix them up the way you’ve always wanted to and make everything better.” Musyanokoji pointed out. “Not that picking up your life again is easy but….”
“‘That’s what comrades are for.’” Hiruma quoted himself. Something he had said several years back, when shit was going down in Musyanokoji’s life and he had helped out.
“…Yes.” Musyanokoji nodded. “That’s what we are for.”
Hiruma didn’t say anything, he just stared at his glass, frowning. Even if you had help, sometimes the damage was just beyond repair. That was something watching Takekura’s father fade away in a hospital bed reminded Hiruma all too well.
Wait father?
Takekura’s father wasting away in a hospital bed, that itself had almost destroyed Takekura’s life. He dropped out of school, out of football, worked his ass off for that ill man’s sake. How Takekura couldn’t really go to college properly like the rest of them because of the burdens his father left behind….
And here Hiruma was proposing to put the same kind of sad, heavy burdens on Emiko…. Surely he was a stronger man than this!
“…Here.” Hiruma handed the bartender the money for the drinks.
“…Where are you going?” Musyanokoji asked, frowning.
“To get some help.” Hiruma answered cryptically and left the bar.
“We did it,” Musyanokoji told the bartender, “we managed to restore that sparkle in his eyes.”
“No, the spirits did.” The bartender corrected Musyanokoji.
“…Get me another whiskey.”
_=_=_=_=_
Bars are places in which lost souls seek comfort and light, no surprise Hiruma found himself again in one. Tell me what you think.