Chapter Text
"I don't need you anymore."
For the first time, the Wildcat was rendered completely speechless.
Ogata shifted unsteadily under its unnerving stare, but he did not allow his returning gaze to falter. "Didn't you hear me? I said I'm done with you."
It took another moment, then the Wildcat began smoothing its hair back in tandem with a signature self-satisfied laugh. "Ha hah, I thought you understood by now. You can't simply be done with me. You need me." Then, it paced forward to Ogata. With each step, it grew larger, more beastly, soon towering over him with its fanged mouth agape like a voracious predator. "I'm the only reason you're still alive. Without me, you would've tried to blow your brains out a long time ago."
"Baiting me into blowing my brains out the other day is a strange way of keeping me alive," Ogata deadpanned, standing his ground. He refused to give that thing even a millimeter.
The Wildcat snarled at that quip, the hair on its back standing out like a threatened animal. "I had no other option! You ruined everything when you destroyed me, and now look what you've become!" It lowered itself to meet him at eye-level, drawing in closer to his face. "I gave you the choice to die while you were still worth something. You admitted it yourself, I'm the only thing about you that matters. Without me, you're nobody. You're nothing."
Nothing. Hollow. Empty.
A familiar fear of those words bubbled up within Ogata, and he foolishly broke eye contact to turn his eyes to the ground. At that very moment, he felt the Wildcat sink its teeth into him, swallowing him up in one dramatic bite.
And on the other side of that lapse of composure, he felt…
Nothing.
"Y'know, that's the funny thing about it. You're right about me. And it isn't quite so frightening anymore."
He looked back up again, and the creature before him wasn't monstrous. It was mundane; An image of the thing he used to be. No more than another pathetic person staring back at him.
Yet, Ogata found a part of himself pitying the thing. He knew intimately the way it thought, and to be told to its own face that it was no longer needed — that all its efforts were wasted, how could such a prideful creature simply stand there and take it? How could it allow itself to die a meaningless death?
But as it stood there before him, lashing out like a bratty child, angrily bargaining for its continued existence, only a stark, naked reality presented itself to Ogata. That this part of him he had placed at the helm of his very being for most of his life, it was so,
So very small.
He spoke with a resigned sigh, "Your threats don't scare me now. Accept that things have changed for me."
The Wildcat leveled its deep, black eyes with the space where his own eyes would be, a trembling fury displayed so visibly in the clenching of its fists. "Have you changed, Ogata Hyakunosuke?"
Ogata almost scoffed at that. The answer was so materially obvious.
Yes.
…Yes?
Something stopped him from saying it out loud. Some imperceptible twinge of pride, shrinking back at the prospect of admitting to its own fickle existence. Of course he's changed. He's blind for goodness sake! The life he knew as a soldier — as a sniper had been upended and shifted into something he never could have predicted. He had to change. He had to adapt.
But no, that wasn't really the question, was it? And he couldn't stop himself from nervously gulping as the true meaning dawned itself upon him. He knew what the answer should be. And he just couldn't bring himself to say it.
After how far he'd come, what else could there possibly be? What was this feeling? This profound anger? This gnawing injustice? Why did it still feel so deeply unfair that he needed to change?
All the while, the Wildcat watched him hesitate; watched him falter in his resolve once again. But this time, it did not pounce the moment it sensed his weakness. It only smiled a knowing smile at him, fangs now dripping with bright red smugness.
When Ogata noticed its reaction, he bristled and exclaimed defensively, "What's changed is that I no longer need you to protect me from that nothingness! You're completely useless to me now!"
But the Wildcat did not flinch. For all intents and purposes, it continued to smile with satisfaction, looking like the cat that got the cream. Until, it stepped back. Not into the shadows, but into the light, dissolving in a gust of wind like a cluster of crimson maple leaves. And with that, it imparted its final, echoing words upon him.
"Very well, then. I won't stop you from making your naïve choices anymore. By all means, discard the only thing standing between you and the monsters you've spent your life outrunning."
"Tch!" Ogata snarked at the now empty space, "I've faced monsters far scarier than you, by now. Do you really think I'm stupid enough to believe there's anything worse than-?"
"Mama?"
Ogata felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He stiffly turned to look over his shoulder, and was met with the sight of a boy. Crouching, hugging his knees to his chest, looking over his shoulder back at Ogata. His eyes were glassy with fresh tears. His face was red with emotion, boiling over into a force he had never experienced before in his life.
The boy slowly stood up and faced him, stepping toward him cautiously, anxiously, as if Ogata were a skittish creature that might flee and abandon him at any second.
"Please, I want her back," the boy said shakily. And Ogata finally took in his full appearance — his funeral attire, his shoulders wetted with cold rain, and the mud caking around the hems of his hakama.
He could remember it now. Charging out the front door of the crematorium, running home through the frigid downpour of autumn, through those maple-red strewn alleys of death and decay. He curled up in a dark corner of his home and fought for his life through a torrent of emotions so intense that it left an imprint of static and numbness in his mind where the memory was supposed to be.
Father didn't come. Not to the wake, not to the ceremony, not to the cremation, none of it. Ogata did something he couldn't take back. And it turned out to be completely and utterly meaningless.
The boy from that day, he continued to shuffle forward toward a petrified adult Ogata, who regained his senses and jumped back before he could be reached. A ringing in his ears, and a pulsing pain in his head, it all continued to grow in intensity as the boy began to close in on him. All the while muttering his desperate pleas for help.
"I really want to see mama again. How do I take it back? Please tell me! How do I get her to come back to me-?!"
Ogata awoke to the immediate sensation of a splitting headache. And the accompanying dry mouth made obvious just how dehydrated he had become. His body felt sluggish and almost crusty as he ran a hand over his face and attempted to sit up from the bed. The movement caught Vasya's attention from somewhere nearby, and he was at the bedside in a matter of seconds.
'Good afternoon, Ogata. You slept for so long, the sun has already passed its apex.'
"Ugh…"
'How are you feeling today?'
"Like shit. Same as before."
He then felt Vasya place a hand on the side of his face and brush his bangs aside. Ogata had half a mind to bat said hand away, but Vasya's normally warm skin felt cool to the touch today. Even moreso when said hand traveled downward and splayed against the side of his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side. He caught himself before he could fully lean into the sensation.
'You're still running hot, but your skin has gained some color back. And your breathing has stabilized.'
Vasya then stood up, retrieved something from the kitchen, and came back to place something in one of Ogata's hands. One of their drinking cups.
'Would you like to try drinking something? You must be thirsty.'
"I've been thirsty for the past two days, jackass," Ogata mumbled under his breath in Japanese, then brought the cup to his lips. He gave the fluid a sniff and took a small, hesitant sip of the contents. It was only plain water. And by some miracle, when he worked up the nerve to drink a full gulp, it didn't immediately make him feel sick. After four additional refilled cups, Ogata's thirst was finally sated.
Sometime later, after a period spent in the kitchen, Vasya returned to him with a bowl of something warm.
'Now you try solid food.'
Ogata's mouth was already watering, and it almost made him chuckle. He could smell how bland and simple the food really was, and an inquiring taste confirmed to him that it was nothing more than overcooked rice slop.
And it was the best slop he'd had in a long time. As he brought the bowl to his lips and gulped down its contents, he knew damn well that he had survived longer bouts of starvation than this during the war. It's amazing the kinds of culinary atrocities one can be convinced to eat when in enough desperation. And the army had no shortage of such meals. In this case, he had come to realize how easily one's body can turn against them and induce its own state of desperation. Being able to eat without instantly feeling sick had become a most hallowed privilege.
When he had slurped up the last of the gruel, he held out the bowl to Vasya.
"More."
Vasya was back momentarily with a refilled bowl, and Ogata made quick work of his second serving. As he finished the last of the slop, he heard Vasya next to him making pleased little hums, no doubt satisfied that Ogata was eating again, let alone eating his cooking so eagerly for once.
He held his bowl out once again. "More."
But this time, Vasya denied his request. "Mm-mm."
'If you eat too much at once, you'll throw up anyway and lose your progress.'
Ogata understood the logic, and even felt his stomach begin to stir with mild discomfort from the amount of food he suddenly put in it. Still, he elected to petulantly thrust his bowl out further, making hard contact with Vasya's torso. "I said, more."
The bowl was snatched away from him. He was not given another serving.
He laid back in bed with a pout on his face, and was promptly ignored by Vasya, who returned to the task he had been at before Ogata awoke. There was a faint, fruity scent in the air as he continued to work, the silence occasionally broken by a moist mashing sound. Probably their next meal of slop for all Ogata knew or cared.
As his body re-settled in the bed, his mind drifted to a place it ought not have gone. The previous night, and all those unbearably sappy things he and Vasya said to each other. All that fluffy talk of walking their paths together or whatever the fuck that was, sharing way too many details about his past wrongs. Not to mention, wanting to hold Vasya's hand early this morning like a damn child.
Emotions were running high and he thought he was going to die, so what? Ugh, he didn't think it was possible to get heartburn from eating a bit of plain rice gruel, but of course this was his life now. He had to live with this now. All of this.
He began to grow fidgety in his discomfort, picking at the already frayed edges of his blanket. He was going to live now. As someone measurably different than he used to be. Everything his identity had once consisted of was up in smoke now. He really was an empty shell of a person. And while the idea of such a thing no longer imbued him with a deep existential terror the way it used to, it wasn't exactly comfortable to sit with.
Ogata, quite simply, had no idea who he truly was anymore.
Someone like Vasya might look at a conundrum such as this and proclaim it to be an opportunity. Such to discover something new about oneself, or some bullshit like that. What a prick that guy was. How dare he just sit over there making slop without a care in the world, as if the tumultuous events of last night had not even happened! It was nothing short of unfair that Vasya got to move on with his life so easily. Over and over again.
How could Vasya live this new life of his so effortlessly? This humble life in the hills outside of Hakodate, filled with art, with tea, and with a belligerent bastard whom needed his constant care and gave him nothing but grief for his troubles. An existence like this practically flew in the face of the man — the expert sniper he used to be. Did he not have moments of regret? Moments of longing for the prestige? Moments of aching for the thrill of all his years of hard work and practice paying off in the firing of a perfect shot?
Did Vasya not have moments where he wished he had simply died on that day at the Karafuto border? So that he wouldn't have to live to feel the consequences of his own ruination? How was he able to do it? Ogata desperately needed to know. How could Vasya just be okay living a simple life doing… whatever the hell he was doing right now?
"Vasya?"
"Mm?"
"How… Wh- why could… What are…"
He couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to ask. In part, thanks to a newly gained appreciation for how completely pointless any answer Vasya could give would really be. He didn't have the answers Ogata really needed.
And then, there was the deeper, older, more humiliating fear. The one that Ogata had almost let himself forget in his time lived out here.
Maybe the reason Ogata felt so stuck, so unable to relate, was the simple fact that he was a defective human being. Perhaps not in the way he once believed — Yuusaku might have been right that he was born blessed by his parents' love — but knowing that truth didn't rewrite the cursed life he had lived until now. Something was still deeply, inextricably abnormal about him, and now he didn't even have a way to explain it.
For as long as they knew each other, Ogata had always recognized that Vasya, even if he wasn't normal by any means, was more of a complete human being compared to himself. Vasya's hobbies, his aspirations, his love — it all united into something complex that Ogata could never even begin to unravel. Because of that, there'd always be an insurmountable distance between them, wouldn't there? Even with Vasya being closer to him than anyone has ever been before, close enough to see each other clearly, there was still a chasm between them that he could never hope to cross; something fundamental he lacked that the other man simply did not. And that realization tasted so very bitter in Ogata's mouth.
With a sigh, he resolved to drop the subject and asked instead, "What are you doing over there, huh?"
Vasya quickly returned to his bedside and placed some kind of utensil in his hand. It was one of the soup spoons, and Ogata shrunk back slightly as he felt Vasya position the other end of it right in front of his face. Clearly, he wanted Ogata to taste whatever was on it. He gave the mystery substance a sniff, confirming it was the same fruity thing he had smelled before, then gave it a tentative little lick. The flavor was sweet and tangy, but with unmistakable floral undertones. It was a familiar flavor, Ogata knew he'd had something similar before…
"Rose hips?"
"Mmph!"
'The ones I picked last week have ripened nicely. I wanted to turn them into a jam before they start to spoil.'
"Huh," Ogata muttered as he licked the remaining fruit mash off his spoon, "Remind me, why make jam of all things?"
'For tea, of course!'
"Of course…"
The Russian penchant for sweetening one's tea with fruit preservatives. Given the fact that things like honey and refined sugar were very expensive, even downright inaccessible in many places, he'd grant that it was a clever alternative. But that wasn't exactly his point of objection. Ogata always found himself struggling to wrap his head around the desire to alter the flavor of tea so much in the first place. How could one possibly appreciate the tea's true essence if it's been tampered with?
Besides, Ogata could think of a far more practical use for a product like this.
Without warning, he dipped his spoon into the bowl and quickly scooped another blob of the stuff into his mouth. Now huffing and puffing, Vasya snatched the spoon away and placed the bowl on the floor.
"What? I told you I'm still hungry," Ogata said with a satisfied grin, wiping the corner of his mouth with the side of his hand. But then, Vasya startled him by grabbing said hand and yanking it forward. As Ogata was about to ask what the hell he thought he was doing, he felt Vasya run a thumb over the back of his hand, against a spot that was far more sensitive than it should've been. He recoiled from the pain, snatching his own hand away. And then, he remembered what caused that pain in the first place.
This was the same hand that struck Vasya in the mouth a few days ago, catching on his teeth and effectively receiving a return strike. It hurt at the time it happened. Vasya must've been hurt quite a lot more, then. Ogata really didn't appreciate the guilt he was starting to feel over it. How do normal people deal with this kind of emotion, huh? By apologizing? What a load of shit. How the hell does saying a bunch of generic, menial platitudes amount to anything? Ogata himself has said sorry a handful of times throughout his life, and he never really meant it. Who does mean it?? Do people actually say things like that earnestly, and not as a convenient shortcut to avoiding the consequences of their actions?!
"I'm… I'm s- s…" Ogata tried, clenching his fists with the effort it took to speak those words. Deep down, he knew it was possible to say such a thing with sincerity. Hell, he wished it was possible to say it to his brother. Just calm down, take a deep breath, and,
"I hope you're not looking for an apology over this," Ogata prattled as he gestured to his mouth, "It's your own damn fault for scaring me like that."
Great job. Absolutely crushed it.
After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat and awkwardly tried speaking again. "Does, uh… it still hurt, by the way?"
Vasya let the question hang precariously in the air for a few moments longer, before responding, 'My lip is still sore. As well as my tooth.'
"Your tooth still hurts? Even though it's been a few days?" Ogata asked with a degree of masked interest. Before he could think better of it, he held both his hands out and gestured for Vasya to come closer. "C'mere."
With palpable reluctance, Vasya slowly leaned in closer until Ogata cupped his hands around the sides of his face. In the next instant, he hooked his thumbs into the corners of Vasya's mouth and pried it open.
"Ah?!" Vasya practically squeaked in alarm as Ogata pressed his thumbs into the undersides of his teeth. Yet he otherwise remained cooperative.
Ogata was certain that it was the upper-left side of Vasya's mouth he had hit. He continued to prod at the area until he felt his impromptu patient flinch in pain. The tooth in question was his canine. No wonder it felt so sharp when Ogata originally clipped it with his hand.
"Hmm, it might be a problem if it still hurts after a few days. Hold still, will you?"
"Nngh!"
He pressed harder against the tooth, testing for any signs it had loosened in the socket with tiny side-to-side movements, but it remained firmly in place. "I think you'll be fine. Unless it still hurts this much a few days from now, you shouldn't have to…"
He froze. It was then that his aforementioned better judgment finally caught up to the situation. Screaming at him, asking him why the fuck he was shoving his hands into Vasya's mouth like an idiot? His senses were becoming fully attuned to the heavy way Vasya was breathing, as well as the tiny noises he was making in the back of his throat. It was far too similar to the incident that happened between them at the Goryokaku, and Ogata remembered all to well how Vasya's body responded to that.
Panicked, he quickly retracted his hands and turned away from Vasya, wordlessly wiping off his drool-covered fingers on his kimono. He didn't know what he could possibly say to alleviate this embarrassing situation. Even if he could, the moment Vasya had been released, he knocked on the floor twice and made a beeline for the door.
Ogata continued listening to Vasya's departure with a grimace on his face. Until now, he had a pretty strong suspicion of what that guy was doing with himself every time he left in a hurry like that. And being cursed with first-hand knowledge that Vasya was a pervert who gets aroused by having his mouth violated, it all but confirmed the hunch. He wasn't exactly being subtle about it.
But that was hardly the most pressing thing on Ogata's mind at the moment. No, the real point of anguish to him was a very simple question: How did he let himself get carried away like that?!
He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands with a groan. Seriously, how creepy was he to geek out over something like that? Childish, more like. He hadn't had any interest in that kind of stuff since he was a child! He cringed at the long-forgotten memory of announcing to his mother and grandparents over dinner that he wanted to be a dentist when he grew up.
Such a gloomy memory with hindsight. It was a time of innocence; the only time in his life when he saw such a mundane, ordinary future for himself. How he loathed that version of himself. Such ignorance, such naïvety, he just couldn't stand it.
Stewing in his frustration with himself, he began absentmindedly massaging at some discomfort in his right thigh. It had been there ever since he woke, steadily growing in its intensity, feeling much like the pins and needles he often got in his right arm…
Wait.
Ogata could do nothing but balk at the revelation. His right leg was beginning to get some feeling back! And just when he was starting to wonder if it would be paralyzed forever. He informed Vasya when he returned several minutes later, who seemed even more excited about it than Ogata himself. Later that day, he administered their physical therapy routine just a little too enthusiastically.
Over the following days, Ogata slowly recovered from his illness. Vasya introduced incrementally heavier foods to his diet, until he was able to drink strong teas and eat tough foods without feeling sick. On occasion, he would prepare them both some tea with rose hip jam already in it as a sweetener, and Ogata had to shut him down for the sake of his own taste buds. He didn't much care for any such additives in his tea, but Vasya seemed to love it, making him wonder if this Russian had a sweet tooth the entire time they'd known each other.
All the while, Ogata's right leg continued to make tiny increments of progress. Only a few days later, Vasya was insisting that he could see some small movements in Ogata's toes, which was a little bit spooky to learn. Mainly on account of the fact that Ogata wasn't actively trying to move his toes. And even if he was, he had no feeling that far down his leg to begin with and couldn't say for himself.
After a week had passed, Ogata was not only back to full health, but able to move himself around the house like he had before. Vasya was indeed impressed by this, but a little apprehensive about it as well. Something about not liking the image of Ogata having to drag himself around on his hands and knees. Well, fuck him! Ogata was going to get himself around the way he damn well pleased! Staying in bed all day was supremely boring, anyway. Besides, it allowed him to get much more familiar with the layout of the house. Having an intrinsic spacial understanding of any given place he was in was another thing he used to take for granted, after all.
And so, there he sat at the chabudai that morning, having just dragged himself there from the bed. As he waited for his freshly brewed cup of peppermint tea to cool, Vasya had taken it upon himself to explain their survival situation to him. In short, they were running low on food, as it had been over a week since Vasya last went to town.
"So, go to town, then," Ogata said flatly before blowing on his tea to cool it.
Vasya made a discontented little whine at that, prompting an irritated frown from Ogata in return.
"What? What's the problem, huh?"
'I'm worried about leaving you alone here.'
The blunt admission made Ogata falter a bit. While he wanted to argue that there was nothing to worry about, he knew it'd be pointless. Even though he had no intention of hurting himself, that didn't rule out the possibility that he might have another episode of insanity. Nor did it rule out the possibility of an accident happening, especially now that he was mobile enough to move around the house. Besides, from Vasya's perspective, there was simply no way to guarantee Ogata's safety while he was gone, let alone rule out the possibility that Ogata might try to kill him again.
Sure, maybe those were all valid points that Ogata had no ammunition to argue against, but safety wasn't the only factor under consideration here. It was also a matter of having some damn variety in their diet.
"Counterpoint: if you make us nothing but plain bread to eat for the fourth day in a row, I will go on hunger strike."
Vasya made a small hum of mock contemplation. 'Point taken. In that case, I will go to town and exhaust our whole budget on ingredients to make you black bread instead.'
"If you do that, I might actually have to kill you," Ogata said with a smirk.
After a bit more deliberation, they finally came to an agreement on the kinds of things they should have to eat. As Vasya got fully dressed to go out, Ogata enjoyed the first few sips of his tea. He had to admit, he had come to like this particular herb over the past week. Its aroma was certainly more pleasant than its taste, but that was the nature of most teas to begin with.
As he continued to drink, he felt Vasya approaching him from the back, crouching down right behind him. His footsteps were noticeably heavier with his overcoat and rucksack weighing him down. Ogata turned around to face him.
"What now? Is there something else you need before you-?"
He wasn't given the chance to finish speaking as he was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. As always, Ogata immediately froze when the felt the overbearing physical contact. Even as it took conscious effort for him to move and breathe on his own, he still found himself stuck between two opposing reactions. He was well aware of the small part of him that instinctively wanted to embrace him in kind, but even as his hands hovered over Vasya's back, he couldn't bring himself to do it. In that moment, all he could think about was that chasm between them. The even bigger part of himself that wanted to violently fight Vasya off; the insurmountable distance between himself and whatever essential human quality he lacked, making him frightfully adverse to something as simple as a hug.
In the end, he did neither option. He cautiously wedged his hands between himself and Vasya before slowly pushing him back. "Calm down, would ya?" he muttered quietly, "You're going to be back later, so don't make a big deal out of it."
And then, he was alone. He listened to Vasya's retreating footsteps until nothing remained but the subtle ambiance of nature surrounding the house. In his eagerness to get Vasya out of there, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be alone with himself for so long. The last time it happened… things did not end so well.
But, this was different. He did not fear the emptiness the same way he used to, nor were things truly empty to begin with. He could move on his own now, familiarizing himself with the dimensions of the house, grounding himself in his material reality. It was slow and taxing on his body, but it got a little bit easier each day. He was no longer alone with those monsters lurking in the uncertain boundaries of reality. No, he could handle this.
He could definitely handle this.
With a tense hold on his tea cup, he took a hesitant sip. He focused on the flavor, the scent, the warm temperature. He honed in on the birds singing outside, and the slow breeze moving through the trees. The sturdiness of the chabudai, the texture of the tatami flooring, the smoothness of his glazed ceramic cup.
Yet, it wasn't enough. There was still uncertainty surrounding him. Something else lurking in those gaps of his confidence.
Should he be… worried about something? About what Vasya might be up to while he's gone?
"If anything, we should be worried about his diet."
Ogata felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. That same fear from before; that same young, naïve voice ringing in his ears. There, sitting across from him at the chabudai, was that boy again. But it wasn't the exact same boy from his dream. This one wore casual attire, his demeanor was calm, and he sipped away at his own cup of tea without a care in the world. This version was clearly more innocent, more curious, and yet to be burdened by the consequences of a terrible choice he couldn't unmake.
"Oh, great, not this again" Ogata muttered sardonically under his breath.
The boy's name was Hyaku-chan. It was the name his grandparents always called him when he was still a young kid, and he preferred it over the way his mother always addressed him by his full given name.
"I hope Vasya-san wasn't serious about making black bread for us," Hyaku-chan spoke, "You remember when we tried black bread back in Vladivostok, right? It was too sweet, and the spices they used tasted too funny. Does Vasya-san actually like that kind of stuff? Sweet things can't be very good for the teeth he has left, right?"
Suddenly, Hyaku-chan was somewhere behind him. Ogata whipped around and perceived that the boy was at the hearth now, poking at the ash and coals with a stick. It was odd, the way he stood in perfect detail against surroundings that were barely formed together. Like an illustration with its subject fully rendered in hyper-realistic detail, while everything else in the frame was made with only sloppy shapes and impressions.
Hyaku-chan then carried on his one-sided conversation as if he hadn't just teleported from one spot to another. "Even if that guy didn't have a sweet tooth, he'll definitely lose more of his teeth when he's an old man, right? Maybe if he still had all his molars, he wouldn't have to wear the others down so much."
Then, he was at the kitchen, examining one of their cooking pots. "You remember the book granny got for us, right? It had a diagram and all the names of the different teeth. What was the one…? Premolars!"
Then, he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "After examining inside Vasya-san's mouth, you noticed he has all four of the premolars on his right side, but only two on his left. Which means he probably relies on the right side of his mouth to chew more-"
"Oi! We're not talking about Vasya's teeth anymore, alright?" Ogata exclaimed as sternly as he could. He was starting to feel whiplash from how fast this kid was moving around.
"I really like this tea," Hyaku-chan said, now standing next to the storage cabinet. Ogata was starting to feel another kind of whiplash from the kid's speedy turns in conversation. "It's called peppermint, right? I hope Vasya-san gets more of it today. He should keep bringing back nice things like this."
"I don't remember being this chatty when I was your age," Ogata monotoned, watching with a confounded expression as the kid set his cup down and began trying to climb on top of the cabinet like a cat, "…And I don't remember being this restless either."
Hyaku-chan stared blankly down at him from his high perch. "You're restless now, aren't you?"
The room fell deathly silent as the question pinged around inside Ogata's mind. The longer Hyaku-chan stared him down, the louder that familiar, awful ringing grew in his ears.
"Anyway," he suddenly said from right behind Ogata, making him jump, "What do you think Vasya-san is going to do while he's out?"
Until now, Ogata failed to notice how hard his heart was racing. He took a deep breath to calm himself and matter-of-factly answered, "He already told us, didn't he? He's buying more food and supplies."
With his tea cup back in his hands, Hyaku-chan finally sat down again, now back-to-back with Ogata. With a musing tone, he asked, "Do you think that's the only thing he's doing? He hasn't been out of the house in a while, so maybe he's looking to do something fun. Mama says that her clients were all men who were looking to have some fun."
For the first moment, Ogata felt a searing panic pulse through his veins. And then, rationality kicked in. The mental image of Vasily fucking what's-his-name Pavlichenko going to brothels in his free time was so ridiculous it made him bark out a single laugh. "Vasya isn't interested in that kind of fun," he said in a tone that bordered on patronizing.
"Are you certain? Mama says that men can sniff out those kinds of places like dogs."
"Yes, I'm absolutely certain." He was, in fact, not absolutely certain. So what, though? Vasya never once expressed interest in that kind of thing, so why would he suddenly start now?
"But mama says that all men have needs like that."
That statement, spoken so confidently, gave Ogata pause. Because he knew it wasn't entirely true. He was living proof of its inaccuracy, after all.
But he was an exception, not the norm. He lacked that thing everyone else on the planet seems to have. The thing that would make a man crave the services of a brothel in the first place. Even Vasya had it, that much was obvious.
Still, just because Vasya was a pervert, it didn't mean he was a lecherous type of person. Not even close! Ogata shook himself off and haughtily said, "Mama doesn't know everything, alright? If she did, she wouldn't have…"
She wouldn't have, what? Gambled her future on Hanazawa Koujirou in the first place? Should she have taken a gamble on some other high-status twat instead? If she did nothing to secure her future at all, she would have been forced to retire as a geisha and become a prostitute. Ogata shuddered as he blocked himself from picturing that scenario.
No, if anyone was to blame for her misery, it was his father. She did everything right, and it was he who failed her.
"She didn't have any choice but to wait for father to return, right?" Hyaku-chan asked solemnly. "Just like we don't have any choice but to stay here and wait for Vasya-san to return?"
Ogata bit the inside of his cheek worryingly. He couldn't bring himself to answer the question. So, Hyaku-chan continued to speak instead.
"Then, I hope he continues to come back to us. Even when he has a wife and child one day."
Said as if it were simply a given.
It made Ogata's blood absolutely boil.
"Get out," he snapped at the child. He could feel the way his counterpart looked back at him with questioning sorrow, wondering what he had done wrong. But he did not argue back. Within moments, the presence behind Ogata had evaporated.
He ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the impending headache, before taking in another deep, grounding breath.
A wife and child?
A fucking wife and child??
Holy shit, that was amazingly stupid.
Ogata's body relaxed once more, and his mouth curled up into a grin. He was just letting himself get worked up over nothing again. Agonizing over whether or not Vasya was the type of person who wanted such things was irrelevant. At the end of the day, absolutely no part of this concerned Ogata. Not in the slightest.
He picked up his tea cup and breathed in its calming aroma. Honestly, what the hell was he doing, acting as if Vasya owed him anything? Let alone a secure place in his future?
So, what if Vasya sees prostitutes? So, what if he gets a girlfriend? So, what if he wants to have a family some day? That's his own life to live, and it's not as if Ogata was ever going to be the one to fulfill those needs in the first place. Even if it was true that Vasya loved him, it didn't change the fact that Ogata, in all his profound emptiness, had nothing to give back. He was defective in every sense of the word. It's normal — understandable, even — for Vasya to want more out of life than… whatever this is. This undesirable life of bad food, scarce money, and living with a high-maintenance basket case of a housemate who can't even reciprocate basic human intimacy.
Living life the "right" way was simply not in the cards for Ogata. Even before he became blind and paralyzed, he knew it to be true. But if Vasya wanted to have that kind of life one day, then…
Well, he couldn't fault a guy for exploring other options. Ogata knew he had no place in a future like that. Vasya simply didn't need him for that kind of thing.
Vasya didn't need him for anything.
…
Crack!
"Shit!!"
Ogata startled as the rim of his mug shattered under the force of his tight grip, spilling warm tea and broken ceramic onto his lap.
Vasily, stood before the entrance of a particular establishment in the bustling streets of Hakodate, looked up at the signage of the building and let out a faint sigh.
"Tрактир Агапов"
He came here for a specific reason, so it was time to get this over with. But as he approached the door, he felt a familiar tingling sensation running up his spine, the feeling he always gets when he senses that someone is watching him. He tilted his head a tiny bit from side to side, discreetly observing his surroundings through the corners of his eyes, but found no clear tells that he was being followed. Maybe it was a false alarm. Wouldn't be the first time.
After taking a moment to settle his nerves, he pushed through the tavern's front entrance.
A myriad of aromas met his nose — a combination of grilled meats, herbs, spices, and tobacco smoke. His eyes then landed on a familiar face across the room. She was standing over a table of wine-drunk aunties, laughing along with their chattering until she finally turned her eyes his direction.
"Ah, it's good to finally see you here, Vasya," Natasha said to him with a perfect customer service smile, "Come on in. Make yourself at home."
With every step forward, Vasily felt more and more pairs of curious eyes on him. May God protect him inside this den of lions.