A/N: I'm totally on a roll here! Alright, chapter two is up. The entire story will be five chapters, so three more to go. Merry Christmas guys (and gals)! In the author's note at the end I explain some writing choices and structures in the story, so if any of you are confused, you can read that!
Act II: Discovery
He hates Italian.
No, not people from Italy, that would be Italians with an 's'. He hates their food; and not because it tastes bad, just because of two things; One, it's expensive, and two, Atobe likes it. Ryoma's eyes are glossing over the menu, checking the price of everything and anything. He hasn't even ordered yet, and it already feels like his wallet is getting lighter and lighter.
"I'll just have a soup," he grumbles finally, setting the menu down.
Atobe raises an eyebrow. "Ahn? A mere soup? Those are for appetizers, although ore-sama doubts a commoner like yourself would understand such a concept."
Ryoma scowls. "I just got out of a car accident, lay off."
"The accident was four days ago," Atobe sniggers.
Ryoma glares, but then stops. "Wait, how did you know the accident was four days ago? Is everyone in your family a stalker?"
Atobe turns up his nose and sniffs with disdain at his statement. "A stalker? Please, refrain from referring to ore-sama with such plebian terms. No, ore-sama merely enjoys getting to know who he hires. And if he had figured out your rotten personality, he certainly would have pushed harder for father to hire somebody else."
At this, Ryoma hesitates inwardly. He doesn't know how much Atobe knows. From what he hears, Atobe doesn't know about the… ability yet. Playing dumb is probably the best option here. He scoffs. "I don't know why your father had to hire me either. Probably his weird- I mean, dignified tastes, hm?"
Atobe is about to say something back when the waitress stops at their table. "What can I get for you young men here today?" She smiles at Atobe cheerily.
"Ore-sama will have the Fettuccine al Burro. Please bring a bottle of sparkling water, and make sure the cup contains a slice of lime. For dessert he will have the rose panna cotta."
"Excellent, and for you, sir?" She turns to Ryoma expectantly. He re-opens the menu.
"I'll just have your… Pasta e Fagioli…a la Chez Ivano," he finishes awkwardly. The waitress waits awkwardly to see if there's more. "Oh yeah, and a normal water. No gas," he stresses.
"…Sir, the Pasta e Fagioli is a soup, not a pasta," the waitress hesitantly explains.
"I know, that's why I ordered it," he snaps.
The waitress jumps. "I-is that all, then? No dessert?"
"I lack a sweet tooth," Ryoma grumbles, snapping the menu shut and holding it out expectantly. "That's all."
The waitress hastily takes Atobe's menus, insisting on leaving the drink menu behind, before she makes a much overdue departure.
"Ore-sama sees that you, brat, are rude to everyone you meet."
Ryoma shrugs and idly twiddles his fingers, not particularly in the mood to make any more digs at the other boy. The week has definitely been long. Then he realizes that he has never showed up to Seigaku Café for quite awhile. He wonders if he'll still receive a pay check. Not that he needs it, considering the Atobes are basically just taking care of his living expenses, but still.
"Alright, ore-sama believes it is time for introductions." Atobe sits up a bit straighter in his seat, and then gestures for Ryoma to do the same. Smiling sweetly, Ryoma slouches even further, drawing a long sigh from the boy facing him. "Must you behave so rudimentarily?"
Ryoma sits up a bit, solely for the sake of not arguing. He's tired.
Atobe reaches out a pale, thin hand expectantly. "I am Atobe Keigo, it is a pleasure to meet you."
Ryoma stares at the hand in confusion. What is he supposed to do with it? But then he realizes this is probably some high class introductory ritual, so he reaches out his hand parallel (un-touching) to Atobe's and says, "I am Echizen Ryoma, it's a horror to meet you."
Atobe stares at him for a moment, looking somewhat shocked. Ryoma just stares back, wondering if something is supposed to happen.
Finally… "Dear lord, have you really not conducted a handshake before?"
Ryoma stares. And with a start, he realizes that Atobe is half-right; he hasn't met anyone for so long that he's literally forgotten the mechanics of shaking hands. Slowly and hesitantly, he reaches out and grips Atobe's hand firmly before pumping it up and down awkwardly a few times. "I have."
Atobe genuinely looks shocked.
/
/
Ryoma takes back everything he said about disliking Italian cuisine. The taste is delicious. Not that he'll ever admit it. He finishes his soup slowly, still thinking about whether he's going to qualify for his pay check this month. How many days has he missed work? Absentmindedly, he starts counting on the fingers of his right hand while his left reaches for the glass.
"You're left-handed?" A voice startles him. He turns around and nods. "How odd. Ore-sama believes we should get to know each other better, considering ore-sama will be spending a good deal of his life around you."
Ryoma stares. Is Atobe actually being nice? "Fine. Yeah. Sure," he declares, not wanting to back down. "It's on."
Atobe wrinkles his nose. "It's not a challenge, brat." But he leans back a bit and smiles languidly, somewhat contemptuously. "Alright, fire away then. Anything you wish to know about the ever magnificent ore-sama?"
Ryoma blinks, and tilts his head, thinking. On one hand, he could just ask a generic question, but that would be like losing, and he just doesn't lose. Especially not to someone who calls themselves 'ore-sama'. "Did you really just call yourself magnificent? And no, that wasn't my question, don't answer it, thank you. Ok so… What do you think the biggest problem would be if pigs were to fly?" He asks.
Atobe stares a bit before attempting to cover up his shock with a quick and elegant cough. "Well, ore-sama believes that allowing pigs to fly would have three major issues- sanitation, traffic, and health. To begin-" Ryoma holds his hands up. "I don't actually want to know, I just wanted to see your reaction, Monkey King." Atobe scowls. Then, he smirks. "Ore-sama's turn. What is your plebian interpretation of death?"
Ryoma freezes. He's been caught off guard too much lately for his liking. And no matter how hard he tries to push them away, images slide into his mind without invitation. Pale fingers gripping his wrist, growing cold against his skin. Eyes. Red. Everything is red.
And then he's back. Looking around, he finds himself relaxing at the slight buzz of the restaurant, the warm aroma of pizza and sauces wafting through the air. He breathes in slowly. "Death… is a terrible yet inevitable thing."
Atobe stares and tries to ignore the way Ryoma's fingers are clenching tightly at the white table cloth.
/
/
The bill comes, and Ryoma prepares to take his wallet out, but Atobe grabs it, signs, and the waitress leaves. He stares. "Wait, but-"
Atobe rolls his eyes. "The entire bill has already been put on my father's account, of course."
Ryoma feels his stomach scream in indignation. "Fucking hell, if I knew I would have eaten more!" He groans, tossing his head back. Atobe chuckles evilly.
The rest of the meal finishes in peace. When they're exiting the restaurant, Ryoma swears he can see something above him in his reflection on the dim glass of the door, but Atobe brushes past him, and it's gone. He ignores it.
Atobe drives home- well, to his home. And when Ryoma enters his room to find Michael with a list of debriefings, he wants to collapse on the bed and faint. He brushes his teeth slowly, contemplating once again his pay check. Will Tezuka be nice enough to pay him anyways? He splashes his face with warm water before drying it with a fluffy beige towel that now hangs on a silver hook to the side.
He looks at himself in the mirror.
"Well, at least you're finally doing something," he says out loud to his reflection, his gaze tracing over every single imperfect detail. "What am I doing," he sighs. Maybe he's really going mad. Just as he is about to turn off the lights, Ryoma swears he sees something move in the mirror, but just as he tries to focus on it, it's gone. He shrugs.
The first part of his sleep is dreamless, like he's stuck in an endless lull. But in the middle of the night, he wakes up and feels weird. Floaty. Like he can fly away. It's probably the drowsiness, he decides, before collapsing back on the feather pillows and being overtaken by sleep once again.
His dreams are terrible for the rest of the night. He dreams of Ryoga- his brother, young and carefree, tosses him an orange and laughs when he drops it. Yes, he remembers that happening a few years ago.
"Oho, look, the little boy brought his brother!" Why is that voice so damn familiar? It arrives accompanied by despair. So much despair.
And then he dreams of his parents laughing at him while he cries. When was that? No, it's just a dream.
"Should we teach them both a lesson? I brought the gun." The voice again… And then it hits him. He heard the voice six months ago. Six months ago, what happened six months ago… Ryoga. Ryoga happened. Wait. He clings tightly to the one happy memory of his brother smiling. Is it even real? Ryoga Ryoga Ryoga. And Ryoma suddenly can't tell if Ryoga is dead, alive, or somewhere in between- has everything until now been a mere dream?
The lines between memories and hypotheticals blur together, twisting and blurring his mental world until all he can focus on is the look in Ryoga's eyes. He slips deeper into sleep with the image of emptiness searing against his eyelids.
When he wakes, Ryoma finds his legs tangled hopelessly in the soft down covers and his fingers clenched in his pillow case. It hasn't been that bad for weeks.
He tosses on some clean clothes laid out by Michael (that butler is honestly a control freak, Ryoma can testify) and cleans himself up before walking out to breakfast. He finds Atobe sitting in the parlor, looking lofty and upset. "Do you know what time it is, brat?"
"Huh?" Looking down, Ryoma checks his wrist only to remember that he lost his watch six months ago when… no. He shakes his head, clearing the moments from his mind. No flashbacks. "No, I lost my watch."
Atobe scoffs. "9 A.M. You slept until nine. That is unacceptable. Be grateful today is a holiday and ore-sama does not have to go to university."
Ryoma just blinks. "Today is a holiday?" He echoes dumbly.
Atobe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's almost Christmas. Or have you already forgotten? I hope the car accident didn't damage your mind that much."
Ryoma is too surprised to even scowl at the insult, much less snark back. It's almost Christmas. That means it's almost is birthday. He looks up. "So… what are we doing today?"
Atobe stands up smugly and raises his arm. "Ore-sama has decided that he will go shopping. Of course, you will follow behind and carry the bags."
Ok, this makes Ryoma scowl. "Why am I carrying the bags?"
Atobe scoffs. "It's not as if you have money to buy anything." Ryoma narrows his eyes, now royally pissed off. Except then he deflates, because Atobe Keigo is a jerk, an ass, and a pompous little shit… but he is also undeniably right. Echizen Ryoma is poor.
"Where are we going?" Ryoma doesn't ask about having breakfast- he's pretty sure Atobe is purposely taking away his meal privileges as punishment for being late.
"The mall, of course. This is ore-sama's first time visiting such a plebian place, but father thinks it will help you adjust."
Ryoma rolls his eyes; after last night, he's learned to just roll with it. They climb into the car (which Atobe declares he will drive to show off his 'magnificent' steering abilities) and Ryoma finds his gaze drawn to his own reflection in one of the wing view mirrors. He's almost certain he sees something flickering, but then Atobe starts the car and everything blurs out. Must have just been the light.
/
/
Ryoma doesn't really like malls. They're noisy, confusing, and full of people. For the first hour, he dutifully follows Atobe through the streets, trying not to make rude comments. The operative phrase there would, however, be the word 'trying'.
"Ore-sama would like a smaller size for this shirt."
"Are you sure? Monkeys are notorious for growing in size as they age." Ryoma grins and the pointed glare he receives.
Then, they visit a classical vintage store that sells a variety of odd things from books to music discs. Atobe selects three after meticulously listening to each and every note.
Ryoma looks up from the book collection he was examining. "You have Van Gough's ear for music," he declares. His grin grows even wider at he scoffing sound Atobe makes.
And finally, Atobe enters a shoe shop, demanding to see their most expensive selections. "Do these make ore-sama look dashing, brat?" Ryoma looks up from his lap and cocks an eyebrow. "Shocking you're actually asking for my opinion. They look fine." Atobe stares at himself in the mirror for a bit longer before deciding that he doesn't want the shoes. "They make ore-sama's feet look less flattering than they are, especially with their atrocious colors," he decides, gesturing grandly at the shoes.
Ryoma shrugs as he gets up. "There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation can't fix." He ducks to avoid getting socked around the head for his last comment.
As they continue on their journey through the mall, Ryoma is made even more aware of the fact that his stomach is quite literally empty. As in, he's starving. It's weird. He's never felt hungry since the day Ryoga died. Although, admittedly, he did only have soup last night, and he didn't eat breakfast.
It feels like hours, but finally Ryoma's stomach growls so loudly that everyone in the vicinity turns to stare.
Do not blush do not blush do not blush- it's a mantra floating through his head.
"Are you hungry?" Atobe raises an eyebrow disparagingly. "It's only eleven thirty. Why don't we eat in an hour?"
Shoving away the protests of his stomach, Ryoma shrugs and nods. "Sure." They visit a few more stores, although Atobe doesn't purchase anything from any of them. "Can you not drag me into stores if you're not going to buy anything?" Ryoma complains.
Atobe sniffs. "Ore-sama might buy something. He just needs to see if there is anything worth purchasing."
"…Which is why you have to try on three lime shirts despite the fact that even I know you don't wear green?" Atobe doesn't respond directly, merely sighs and mumbles a half-hearted tidbit about how Ryoma doesn't understand Atobe fashion. And in his mind, Ryoma screams, "What fashion?" As they walk, the monster inside of his stomach grows bigger, gnawing away at his insides.
The more he ponders over his hunger, the more dazed and woozy he feels. Suddenly, he's light headed and the entire world is shaking around him. Ahead, he can make out Atobe's tall figure, walking rather briskly. Ryoma hurries to catch up, until the entire world flips like its just a carpet someone pulls out form under his feet, and he finds himself sprawled on the ground.
"Oi, brat, what in the lord's name was that?" Atobe demands, turning around and looking surprised.
Ryoma picks himself up. "I just tripped," he snapped. "It's not like you don't trip." Slowly he stands up and waits a bit before walking again.
"Are you ok?" Atobe demands, giving him a skeptical look. "You look drunk."
Ryoma opens his mouth to respond, but ends up closing it again for the fear that he might hurl (puke) straight onto Atobe's expensive blazer. If he isn't so afraid of losing his job (he now realizes he probably won't get his pay check from the café), he might even laugh. He just nods, and continues.
He tips off center, sideways.
The world is entirely black around him before he knows it.
/
/
He wakes up in his bed at the Atobe mansion.
This is ridiculous. At least he's not hungry anymore.
Ignoring the pounding in his head, he reaches over and grabs his phone, dialing the first number he has in mind- Tezuka. It rings twice before it's picked up.
"Hello?"
"Buchou?"
Tezuka sighs, and it comes across mixed with a bit of static. "Ryoma, you don't have to keep calling me that. I'm not your captain anymore."
"You used to be my boss."
There's a silence at the other end before, slowly, he hears Tezuka say, "So I suppose you're quitting Seigaku café then?"
"Not by my choice, rest assured," Ryoma grumbles.
"Did your mother finally hunt you down and force you to attend university?"
"No. Who would want to attend Uni?"
"Echizen, you should be in your second year of university already. I don't know why you didn't go to one even after you were accepted-"
"They accepted me for a fucking tennis scholarship. That's an athletic recruit. When is everyone going to understand that I don't want to play tennis anymore?" Ryoma growled.
Tezuka is silent. Ryoma hangs up.
Three seconds after he does, Atobe slides open the door and walks in. "You seem to be fine now."
"…Yeah. So how'd you get me here?"
Atobe scoffs. "Ore-sama carried you, of course. This is entirely your fault, you know. If you were hungry, you should have said something, brat."
Ryoma glares and sits up a bit straighter. "Excuse me? My fault? You should have realized that your companion didn't have anything but soup for dinner, and didn't eat a single bite of breakfast," he snaps.
"Your pride gets in the way so often, ore-sama is surprised that it still manages to remain intact."
"Yeah? You're a self-centered king that needs to get a grip on his fucking surroundings because you don't pay attention to anyone other than yourself."
"Was the exchange between second and third person truly necessary?"
"Oh damn, that's low. Targeting grammar because you have no better arguments, huh?"
Just as Atobe is about to sneer back a respond, the door opens, and Michael enters. "Atobe-sama, it's time for dinner. Echizen-san, I'm sure you are feeling well enough by now to join?" Ryoma nods sulkily. "Excellent. Food will be served in fifteen minutes, please be down in ten." The door closes with a gentle click as the butler exits.
"So I see that everyone in your family is very punctual," Ryoma remarks scornfully.
"Michael is not ore-sama's family, he's merely a butler."
"One hell of a butler at that," Ryoma comments with a smirk (A/N: Thumbs up and kudos to you if you know what this allusion refers to).
"And furthermore, ore-sama can clearly see that everyone in your bratty family has just the same punctuality, or lack thereof, as you."
Ryoma grins, a ghost of a bittersweet smile gracing his lips. "Yeah, my late brother would agree."
The conversation ends in Atobe delicately leaving the room in an awkward silence after Ryoma's morbid sense of humor. Apparently death jokes aren't appreciated by everyone.
/
/
Ryoma slides into his bed after the dinner thoroughly thirsty and worn out by the two Atobes. Where the hell is the lady of the house anyways? Moms are generally the kind ones. As his head sinks back into his pillow, he recalls the horrid dreams- nightmares- from the previous night.
Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. He falls asleep with the mantra in his head.
"Oi, Chibisuke. Come on, catch. Here, grab it. I can do it one-handed!"
"Hey Chibisuke, want to head over to the park? My friends are meeting up there too!"
"Ne Chibisuke, let's go to the cinema; a new movie just came out the other day! It's PG-13, but mum and dad won't ever know!"
Chibisuke, Chibisuke, Chibisuke.
The voice echoes half terribly, half soothingly, ringing and bouncing off of metaphorical walls in his barred head; it's a prison of sound and emptiness. And suddenly, the ground beneath his numbing feet swirls and he's sinking deeper into the water of a new dream.
He's surrounded by white flowers. They float through the air around him, like pale silk petals drifting through water. Without realizing it, his fingers stretch out towards them, until suddenly the water-like air shifts. Something sticky is wrapping around his thumb, reaching out towards his pinky- his hand is stuck…
In a spider's web.
He wakes up again with a gasp. It's not even funny anymore how absolutely drenched his shirt is in cold sweat. At least this time his hands aren't stuck in their own makeshift knot tied from the sheets. He untangles his limbs with minimal effort, and sits up.
Chibisuke.
Ryoga's voice sounds in his mind like a mocking echo of his despair. Shaking out his hair, Ryoma grabs a set of clothes before trudging into the cold tile bathroom and wiping his face down. Hesitantly, he steps into the shower. As the hot water streams down his back and over his hands, all he can remember is the voice. Chibisuke. He doesn't dare shut his eyes, because then it won't just me auditory rememberance- it'll turn graphic, and visual, and tactile. It'll turn into everything he despises. Looking down, he realizes that his hands are already raw and red from the water's pure heat.
Damn.
Wrapping a towel around his waste, he steps carefully out of the shower, wiping his feet on the fluffy rug. He might even like it, if it can just change its color from a sickly lavender to… well, anything else, really. Changing hastily into his clothes laid out the night before, The mirror is foggy, and he has the sudden urge to see his reflection. Not that he hasn't memorized most of his features in the two decades or so of his existence. His eyes are probably dark and baggy from lack of quality sleep, his cheekbones prominent and gaunt from stress; reaching out with the towel, he wipes the mirror. He barely gives himself a glance, just to take in his presentability, before turning to grab a comb. It's just as expected; heavy eyes, haggard face, frowning lips, bright hair-
Wait. Bright hair?
Whipping back, Ryoma stares. He reaches out with his hand and wipes a bit more of the mirror off. The water vapor in the air makes his vision a bit foggy. The water droplets dripping down the mirror's reflective surface distort and interrupt the image a bit.
But it's clear enough for him to see.
For him to see the dancing numbers counting down above his own head.
/
/
A/N: Aaaaand that's a wrap on chapter- I mean, act- two! If you have time or are bored, you can take a moment to read the rest of this A/N which basically addresses some personal choices I made while writing this story (as well as sheds some light on what to expect in the future three chapters).
Alright so here, I'd like to take a few moments and review some of the writing choices I made in this chapter. Yes, you get to see two 'dream' scenes; this is mainly because I forgot to put one of them in the first chapter :D
Stylistically, the entire tragedy is formatted in Acts. For example, the first chapter is Act I: Genesis, and this chapter (the second chapter) is Act II: Discovery. Likewise, each act follows a period that Ryoma's emotions go through- a segment of his emotional rollarcoaster (sorry for the cliché metaphor). I'm going back to edit it, but each act in the future will include a few basic elements in addition to their respective details: a dream, a flashback, and a foreshadowing (of course, the dream and flashback will be much more obvious than the foreshadowing, but some of you will probably be able to catch the latter). Sometimes the foreshadowing will be resolved in the chapter (like in this one), but other times it will drag on, leading up to a mini-climax for the next chapter (or, in certain cases, the final chapter).
In general, I hope the story is a good mix between implication and blunt, straight up saying something. So yeah. The next three chapters are going to be the most emotionally and developmentally heavy chapters, so I'm looking forward to how those will turn out xD
Anyways, I just wanted to clarify the format the story is going to be written in, sort of just for the heck of it? Anyways, feel free to comment any questions you have, or any points you need clarified. I've been told that my writing can be confusing :D