A/N - Something random inspired by my visit to London, Cirque du Soleil's 'Quidam' and a film with Morgan Freeman which I saw this Sunday. You know those kind of conversations you sometime have with people on trains or in hospitals, people you know you'll never meet again? That's what this is. It might turn out to be crap. I just liked the idea.

Rating for all the swearing - you can't have Kousuke without the swearing, of course.

Consider this as taking place sometime between Alive and Suiri no Kizuna.

And as for disclaimers, no, I don't own anything, not Spiral nor its characters, not Kafka, not the London underground, not even the silly Korean guy and his gigantic headphones. Wish I did, though.

Right. Enjoy!

- Adina.

Conversation on the Piccadilly Line

'Stand clear off the doors, please. The next station is Hatton Cross. This is a Piccadilly Line Service to Cockfosters.'

Cockfosters. What a stupid name for a station.

The train quickly fills up with busy people carrying trunks and rucksacks, suitcases and briefcases of all possible shapes and colours, scurrying to get to a seat.

A young man wearing glasses pushes through the small flock of confused foreigners and makes his way towards the last empty seat left. He reaches it and sits down only seconds before an old, plump woman with short hair tries to do the same, leaving her with an annoyed expression which consists of furrowing her brows and pressing her already-much-too-thin lips into a tight grimace. The man simply shrugs his shoulders in an uncaring manner and heaves down his rucksack. He then proceeds to pull out a pair of small earphones which he puts into his ears, turns his music on rather loudly and looks around at the other people whom he shares the car with. Upon closer inspection, one can notice that he is not actually what one would call a young man; rather, a boy in his late teens; an adolescent, aged somewhere between fifteen and seventeen. He's got Asian features, with a finely chiselled chin and shrewd eyes. His hair is a very vivid red, most probably dyed, and shaped into thick spikes that contrast violently with his lean figure clad in brightly coloured synthetic fabrics. He holds a hand in his pocket, clutching, unknowingly to anyone, the handle of a knife, while his other hand is resting on top of his rucksack as he surveys the people around him.

To his right, a short Indian with a crooked nose and a briefcase in his lap is reading a newspaper in a language he doesn't recognise. In front of him there's the old woman, still wearing a disapproving look and snorting now and then, balancing forwards and backwards everytime the train slows down or speeds up. She hasn't even got heavy luggage with her, just a small handbag at which she's clutching nervously, therefore he doesn't feel any shame at all for not having offered her his seat. Kousuke - because that is the boy's name, Kousuke Asazuki - is not what most people would classify as an exemplary gentleman, but he knows very well when the situation calls for politeness and when it does not. For example, the couple sitting to his left, snogging quite loudly as he can tell from the occasional sounds he hears over the music in his ears; now that is indeed impolite. Although, admittedly, the girl looks pretty enough to deserve the effort. Then again, the boy too. Heck, they're both cute. Anyone in their place would agree it's worth resisting the disgusted glances thrown by other people. Or interested and amused glances. Like the ones thrown by the two guys leaning against the pole from the right. One of them has got a big mohawk dyed in an ambiguous colour and the other is full of facial piercings. From the way their mouths move when they are speaking and not snickering, Kousuke can tell they are of some Slavic origin. He is too lazy to take off his earphones and check, but he's sure he got it right. In any case. He moves his gaze to the other row.

Just opposite from him sits a man in dark clothes, legs and arms crossed and there is not the least distinguishing characteristic about him; that kind of person whose face you forget immediately. A few seats to the left sits a woman with bleached blonde hair and lips painted in the ugliest shade of hot pink, similar to the colour of her round plastic earrings and of her tight mini skirt; she keeps blowing bubbles from her chewing gum and popping them in a manner that gets on your nerves, but her overly curvaceous body really makes up for everything else, especially when she puts down one of her legs and crosses them the other way around, giving Kousuke a very generous view of her undies for a few seconds. What was it? Pulp Fiction?... No... Basic Instinct? Yeah, that sounds more like it... He shrugs his shoulders once again. He has never been very good at remembering movies. Next to the blonde, a black girl with a gigantic trunk at her feet is sending her glares full of contempt which go unnoticed. She is wearing a pair of dark blue jeans that fit her perfectly in spite of their simplicity. Her nose is small, round and pointed upwards, which altogether with her round mouth and dark, glinting eyes circled with black remind you of a raccoon. Two small children of very pale complexion are playing more to the left and a skinny young man with red hair who appears to be their father is struggling to keep all the luggage in one place. The children start running around and knock off one of the trunks to their father's despair, but an old man who sat on the other side hurries to help him. The thin guy smiles meekly and the elder man smiles back and nods his head, making his white beard bounce.

London. A veritable Tower of Babel. Certainly the best place to examine people, Kousuke muses.

The train stops and the doors open. People hurry outside, amongst them being the old irritated woman - well, just look at that, she gets off at the first fucking station, but she wanted my seat! - while a few others get on the train.

'Please mind the gap.'

Kousuke can't hear the ever-so-annoying voice making the announcement for the eleventh time because of his earphones, but he can very well read the line on the screen right in front of him, just above the dark man's head. He knows he's heard it enough times to last him centuries from now on, but what can one do when in London?

'The next station is Hounslow West. This is a Piccadilly Line Service to Cockfosters.'

Cockfosters. Kousuke snickers to himself again and accidentally hits the Indian with his elbow. He apologizes in English and checks his wrist-watch only to sigh in knowing that more than an hour and a half will have passed before the train reaches Southgate. Great. And now the wondrous underground shall go overground, for reasons which Kousuke has never really understood. The gloomy weather outside and the brick houses catch the two little children's eyes and they climb up on their father's knees to stare out the window. The couple to his left also stop their snogging and gaze in awe at the clouded summer sky - first time they've been here, that's for sure.

Hounslow Central... Hounslow East... Osterley... Boston Manor... Northfields... South Ealing... and so on. He has gone to and fro from Heathrow Airport to Southgate too many times to count for the past three years and knows all stations on the Piccadilly Line by heart already. Suddenly the underground seems to remember it is an underground and so descends back into the dark tunnels. People leave the train, people get on the train. It's always the same. The Indian has finished reading his newspaper and is now waiting for the next station, standing next to the doors and next to a tall excessively tanned person of undetermined gender.

'Gloucester Road. Change here for District and Circle.'

It's a fun thing to do, trying to guess where each person is heading to and where they are coming from. Kousuke thinks he could do this for a whole day. He also thinks that right now he looks like an innocent kid, a teenager who has come to visit London for the summer holiday or maybe to study abroad. He likes to think this way; he likes to feel innocent. That is, as innocent as any normal teenager can be. But see, this is exactly the problem: he isn't a normal teenager. And it fuckin' sucks, y'know? I mean, it's not like I wouldn't want to be like all these other little shitbags who've got not a single god-damn worry in this whole fucking world, except for missing some shitty concert or having forgotten about their girlfriends' anniversary. Fuck this.

Right now, Kousuke thinks he hates every person he might lay his eyes on, such as the severly underweight redhaired man and his two children who are getting off the train right at this moment or the Korean-looking boy with long hair and gigantic headphones who gets on the train the next moment and is mouthing along the lyrics of the song he is listening to. He hates everyone.

By the time the train is about to reach Russell Square, however, he has cooled down completely. The air has also cooled down a bit, since there are only four people left in the wagon: the man in dark clothes who sits opposite from him, the Korean guy and his headphones, him and a girl with black hair cut at a sharp angle, long trenchcoat and combat boots. She has got big, round eyes that betray her very young age in spite of the wardrobe she has chosen, while her lips are full and pouting and she has got a small silver ring in her nostril that complements her long face. She's actually quite a pretty lady for her age. Out of the blue, she snaps her head and looks at the dark man, then at Kousuke and her eyes widen a bit more, but Kousuke doesn't really care to know why the kid seems suddenly so interested in him or in the anonymous guy.

'This is Russell Square.'

The Korean guy starts briskly and takes off his earphones, gawks at the name of the station written on the wall and clearly visible from inside the train, then at the map of the stations right over his head, lets out a yelp, gets up and hurries out the door. Kousuke has seen hundreds of people mistaking the trains or the stations by now, and yet they seem funnier and funnier each time. The girl with black hair looks after the Korean wearily, then steps out of the train herself, not before throwing one last look at Kousuke and the man in dark clothes inside.

'Stand clear of the doors, please.'

The train finally leaves, but only a few moments after having re-entered the cold, dark and tight tunnels again, it halts. Kousuke takes off his earphones just in time to hear a voice making the announcement that the train will be held here until all the other three trains before it will have passed. We are sorry for the inconvinience. Yeah. Right. Sure. Every time something like this has to happen.

'It seems we're stuck in the middle of nowhere.', Kousuke hears another voice, one actually coming from inside the train. It is the man in black clothes and with the anonymous face, who smiles at him. He nods his head in agreement, not too interested. 'Next station is King's Cross, isn't it? Of course. Everybody's roads intersect at King's Cross. Do you reckon we will have to wait a long time?'

Kousuke just shrugs in reply. Probably up to ten minutes, but he is too lazy to open his mouth and answer.

'At least the weather outside isn't making us regret it, heh?'

The fucker just doesn't want to give up. Kousuke rolls his eyes and mumbles a 'mhm' as an answer, hoping the man will take the hint and shut up. He glances at his watch; it's still early. And ten minutes go by so slowly when you are waiting. Oh, God.

He looks at the man's face for a second and remains with the same impression; that is, no impression. Nothing special about him. He could be anyone. He could be no one. It would make no difference. Ah, but there is a small detail, which Kousuke grasps fleetingly: a bruise-like mark on the left side of the man's neck, like the ones made by violins. Good, now he knows something; the guy plays a fuckin' violin. What else? Black clothes, white shirt, black tie... A serious man? But Kousuke has already found out that the man is anything but serious. Maybe he just likes being classy.

'You're examining me, aren't you?'

Kousuke starts, but the man just smiles back. 'It's okay, I tend to do that too on many occasions.'

'You really like to talk, don't you?' Kousuke asks sneering.

'Mm, that too,' the man acknowledges.

Crap. As if he hasn't had enough people of this type to last him a lifetime.

'What are the ten things you couldn't live without?' the dark man asks after a few seconds of silence.

Kousuke blinks twice. 'Excuse me?'

'You know... Say, tomorrow the war began and you would have to run. Or say you moved to another country and would have to start a new life. What are the ten things you couldn't be able to leave behind, in no particular order?'

A few more moments of silence pass.

'And why in the fuck's name would I tell you such a thing?' Kousuke suddenly explodes, acidly stressing the word 'you', but the man smiles back and simply replies:

'Because we will never meet again anyway, so there's no harm to be done.'

Kousuke frowns; he is used to himself being the one to examine people, not the other way around. And yet, he can almost swear the man is not a Hunter, nor some psycho, nor any kind of threat at all.

'Come on. Give it a go.'

God, is he insistent! He looks at his watch again; only a aingle lousy minute has passed. Hell. Why not? Might as well spend the time somehow.

'Um...'

He looks around the car while thinking about it and then begins in an unsecure voice:

'My... glasses?'

'Ok; good.' The man nods and raises a finger. 'Carry on.'

He's thinking. He's thinking about it quite hard. Fuck it, it's a game. To pass the time. A game.

'Games, definitely. Especially playing cards.'

The man nods again encouragingly and raises a second finger.

'What else... Can I say anything at all?'

'Yeah, sure.'

'Alright, then...' He looks at the floor of the car, then at his hands. 'The feeling of fresh blood on my hands.'

Without raising his look, he waits for the man to react. But when this does not happen, Kousuke doesn't know why, but he can't say he is entirely surprised. And he is starting to enjoy this.

The sound of another train rushing by echoes loudly.

'That must be the Metropolitan,' Kousuke says.

'Or Circle or Hammersmith & City,' the man replies with a smile.

Kousuke gives him a dry look from the corner of his eye, but does not say anything. He could very well be right; in any case, there are only two more trains left.

'People's stupidity.'

'Hm?'

'You said I can say anything at all. This is the fourth thing I wouldn't be able to live without: people's stupidity.' He lets out a short laugh. 'I mean, it's just so fucking amusing to fool the people around you and to mislead them. And I swear life would be a helluva bore if it weren't this way; so, yeah... And um, piano music.'

At this, the dark man bursts into chuckles, which makes Kousuke grin.

'I don't seem the type, do I?'

'Not in the least!' the man agrees still chuckling.

'Yeah, well...' Kousuke looks at his hands again. 'I'm surprised as hell too, anyway, but... I guess... I guess I've somehow fuckin' grown to love it.' He pauses for a moment. 'And add some mewling kittens in the background to it.'

The dark man smiles again. 'You really don't seem the type, and yet people of all kinds pass through here. I've heard much weirder things from much weirder people. So what's next on your list?'

'Well...' Kousuke looks out the windows in front; all he can see is the black wall of the underground tunnel. Somewhere in the distance they can hear another train passing by. He begins snickering and says: 'All the girls in the world, that's for fuckin' sure...'

'That's not exactly one single choice!' the man says laughing, but still raises another finger, and Kousuke shrugs his shoulders with a grin on his lips.

'Well, yeah, but...' He stares upwards and his grin shifts into a gentle one. 'The smile on one of my friends' face whenever she receives her favourite type of melon... And... The glistening and freakishly beautiful eyes on the angry face of another one of my friends whenever I argue with her... Actually - can I say a person?'

'Well, technically, that's not an "object" anymore, but I guess we've long since passed that barrier. However, you've already said you'd take, and I quote, "all the girls in the world, that's for fuckin' sure", haven't you?'

'I know, I know, but... this is something special. She is something special, even more than the other female friend of mine... She's...'

The dark man smiles all-knowkingly, which makes Kousuke blush furiously.

'I mean she's like my sister! Fuck, she is my sister!'

'Take it easy, I'm not judging you. Is there anything else?'

'No,' Kousuke says in a definitive manner as he regains his cool.

'Are you sure?' The man raises both eyebrows and shows him his hands with eight fingers raised. 'You've still got two left.'

'I know. But I don't need that much to be happy.'

He smiles. Again. 'That's good.'

'What about you?'

'Oh, the usual...' He waves a hand nonchalantly. 'Clothes, food, a medical first-aid kit...'

'Hey!'

'Just joking.' He lifts his hands in defense and laughs. 'No, what I think I couldn't be able to live without is my family. My violin, Franz Kafka's books and a Bloody Mary are somewhere along the line too, but my family most of all.'

'Family? Are you married?'

He raises his left hand for the third time and only now does Kousuke notice the thin, golden line around the man's ring finger.

'For three years now and with two kids. And I thank heavens every day for how lucky I am to have them.'

For the tiniest of seconds, Kousuke feels something similar to disappointment and envy, but he shakes it off very quickly. He think about his own little "family". About the other four fuckers. He would definitely take them with him wherever he would have to go, each and every single one of them, and he has said it already, even if indirectly apart from one of them and by having combined two into one. He has never really given it too much thought, has he?

Suddenly the train starts running, much to Kousuke's surprise.

'The next station is King's Cross.'

'We're finally moving again.', the dark man says pleased.

'But the third train hasn't passed yet!'

'Oh, but yes, it did pass. Just moments earlier. You probably didn't notice.' He smiles and gets up, heads for the nearest doors and rests one hand on a pole.

'You getting off here?' Kousuke asks even more surprised.

'As I said, everybody's roads intersect at King's Cross.' He smiles, Kousuke has lost count of all the times he has done it already, and rearranges his tie. Then he looks back. 'It's been nice talking to you.'

Kousuke nods as if to say 'same here' and takes out his MP3-player from his rucksack again, when the man suddenly exclaims:

'Oh, by the way! You never answered my first question.'

'What first question?', Kousuke asks just as the train slows down and stops.

'You had your earphones on and couldn't hear me,' the man says as the doors open, 'but what I-'

'This is King's Cross.'

'-wanted to ask you is-'

'Change here for Circle and Hammersmith & City and Northern and Metropolitan and Victoria line.'

Kousuke can catch a glimpse of the dark man saying something from behind the large crowd of people that walk in chatting in all possible languages and pushing more and more inside the train, but he can't hear him over all the noise.

'Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.'

It's useless. The doors close and the train starts moving; the dark man is now standing on the platform gazing at the train and Kousuke gets one last look at him out the window over a few people's heads before he completely disappears from view.

'The next station is Caledonian Road. This is a Piccadilly Line service to Cockfosters.'

Ten more stations left. To his right, a very talkative French middle-aged couple argue passionately about what Kousuke thinks is a museum. The woman especially seems to be quite annoyed and her cheeks sparkle in a cherry red colour that makes her look prettier than she probably is and it matches her red shoes with low heels. To his left, a small boy with brown hair is singing loudly in what sounds like Portuguese until his mother admonishes him by sharply calling 'Paolo!' and right in front of him, a group of teenagers talk about a concert very enthusiastically. He hears one of them, a boy with wavy black hair, complain about the fact that he missed that certain concert and a girl from the same group, with blonde and black dyed hair pulled up in a short ponytail and grey vest that accentuates her ribcage nicely, complains that while she did go to the concert, she forgot all about her girfriend's anniversary that took place the same day and now her lover is pissed off with her and she doesn't know what to do.

Too much god-damn noise. He likes examining people's actions, not their discussions, therefore he turns on his music again. He thinks about the conversation he has just had with the dark man. What the fuck was that all about? He shakes his head and tries to think about the guy, but realizes he can't remember his face. Sure, there were those black clothes, and there was the gold ring, and there was the mark on his neck, and there was that idiotic innocent-looking smile he would put on every fucking second, and the general weirdness, but apart from this, there was nothing distinguishing about the fucker. He could be anyone. He could be no one. Good God.

Kousuke sighs and tilts his head backwards. Kanone and Kiyotaka would have fuckin' fallen in love with the little shit, he mumbles to himself annoyed and turns his music even louder.