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Entry tags:
children's voices tangle
Title: children's voices tangle
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Kenji, Chuuya
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 560
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Child death
Summary: On the anniversary of Chuuya’s elder son’s birthday, Chuuya drinks. Kenji can’t help but be concerned.
Notes: Someday I'm going to get translations for everyone by begging.
It’s hard to tell if Chuuya is drinking for a specific reason or if Chuuya is drinking because he’s Chuuya. But if Chuuya’s drinking alone in his room, it’s usually for a reason, and it might be because of it being a certain day in October.
Kenji can’t help but poke his head inside. “Chuuya…?”
“What do you-” Chuuya’s glare disappears, fading into a morose expression instead. “-oh, it’s you, Kenji. Need something?”
Kenji’s lucky that he’s one of the few poets Chuuya truly respects. He might have had the bottle Chuuya’s holding thrown at him if he wasn’t. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Do you want company?”
Chuuya considers this for a few seconds, then nods. “Yeah. It’d be nice.”
Chuuya’s an angry drunk and Kenji is even smaller than him, but even so Kenji doesn’t feel too worried for himself when he sits next to Chuuya on his bed. He’s too busy being worried about Chuuya.
“‘A child who, in the cold wind, took a sparrow in his hand and petted it, in the night, suddenly died.’” Chuuya quotes one of his own poems without looking at Kenji.
Kenji tries to judge how much alcohol Chuuya has had so far. Not more than three cups’ worth, it looks like.
“...It’s 2016, right?” When Kenji nods, Chuuya says, “So Fumiya would be… eighty-two, if he hadn’t died young. He’d probably still be alive. Yoshimasa too. I could call them up and see how my sons were doing.”
“I think they’d find that very strange,” says Kenji. “Being called on the phone by their dead father.”
“They would, wouldn’t they? Or maybe they wouldn’t. People change a lot between two and eighty-two - even I don’t know what kind of adults they’d have turned out to be.” Chuuya sighs. “That’s the problem with the world. If we all stayed as innocent as kids forever, it’d be a better place.”
“I think that there are good parts to being an adult too,” says Kenji. “People respect you more.”
“Heh. You must be feeling that pretty strongly now, huh?” Chuuya asks, taking a sip of his drink.
Kenji shrugs. It’s true that going from the age of thirty-seven at the time of his death to being a child has been strange in parts, but it’s not worth complaining about, especially not today and not to Chuuya.
“Well, I guess you’re right about that. Lots of people don’t treat children with enough respect, not like you do.” Chuuya is quiet for a few moments more. “Hey, Kenji.”
“Yeah?” Kenji replies.
“Do you think I’d have been a good father, if I’d had more time with them?” It’s the most vulnerable Kenji’s ever heard him sound.
That’s not a question Kenji has to think about the answer to for very long. “Of course you would’ve. You loved them so much.”
Chuuya smiles faintly. “...Good to hear.”
Kenji never had children of his own, but he was a teacher, and he was blessed enough to meet many children in his short lifetime. Any of them would have been fortunate to have as devoted a father as Chuuya was.
“Please don’t drink until you pass out again,” he says.
“I’ll try not to,” says Chuuya. “But only since it’s you asking, and since we’re...” He looks unsure.
“Friends?” Kenji supplies.
“Yeah. We’re friends.”
Fandom: Bungou to Alchemist
Character(s): Kenji, Chuuya
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 560
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Child death
Summary: On the anniversary of Chuuya’s elder son’s birthday, Chuuya drinks. Kenji can’t help but be concerned.
Notes: Someday I'm going to get translations for everyone by begging.
It’s hard to tell if Chuuya is drinking for a specific reason or if Chuuya is drinking because he’s Chuuya. But if Chuuya’s drinking alone in his room, it’s usually for a reason, and it might be because of it being a certain day in October.
Kenji can’t help but poke his head inside. “Chuuya…?”
“What do you-” Chuuya’s glare disappears, fading into a morose expression instead. “-oh, it’s you, Kenji. Need something?”
Kenji’s lucky that he’s one of the few poets Chuuya truly respects. He might have had the bottle Chuuya’s holding thrown at him if he wasn’t. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Do you want company?”
Chuuya considers this for a few seconds, then nods. “Yeah. It’d be nice.”
Chuuya’s an angry drunk and Kenji is even smaller than him, but even so Kenji doesn’t feel too worried for himself when he sits next to Chuuya on his bed. He’s too busy being worried about Chuuya.
“‘A child who, in the cold wind, took a sparrow in his hand and petted it, in the night, suddenly died.’” Chuuya quotes one of his own poems without looking at Kenji.
Kenji tries to judge how much alcohol Chuuya has had so far. Not more than three cups’ worth, it looks like.
“...It’s 2016, right?” When Kenji nods, Chuuya says, “So Fumiya would be… eighty-two, if he hadn’t died young. He’d probably still be alive. Yoshimasa too. I could call them up and see how my sons were doing.”
“I think they’d find that very strange,” says Kenji. “Being called on the phone by their dead father.”
“They would, wouldn’t they? Or maybe they wouldn’t. People change a lot between two and eighty-two - even I don’t know what kind of adults they’d have turned out to be.” Chuuya sighs. “That’s the problem with the world. If we all stayed as innocent as kids forever, it’d be a better place.”
“I think that there are good parts to being an adult too,” says Kenji. “People respect you more.”
“Heh. You must be feeling that pretty strongly now, huh?” Chuuya asks, taking a sip of his drink.
Kenji shrugs. It’s true that going from the age of thirty-seven at the time of his death to being a child has been strange in parts, but it’s not worth complaining about, especially not today and not to Chuuya.
“Well, I guess you’re right about that. Lots of people don’t treat children with enough respect, not like you do.” Chuuya is quiet for a few moments more. “Hey, Kenji.”
“Yeah?” Kenji replies.
“Do you think I’d have been a good father, if I’d had more time with them?” It’s the most vulnerable Kenji’s ever heard him sound.
That’s not a question Kenji has to think about the answer to for very long. “Of course you would’ve. You loved them so much.”
Chuuya smiles faintly. “...Good to hear.”
Kenji never had children of his own, but he was a teacher, and he was blessed enough to meet many children in his short lifetime. Any of them would have been fortunate to have as devoted a father as Chuuya was.
“Please don’t drink until you pass out again,” he says.
“I’ll try not to,” says Chuuya. “But only since it’s you asking, and since we’re...” He looks unsure.
“Friends?” Kenji supplies.
“Yeah. We’re friends.”