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THU, JULY 21 10 9:53AM
---------------
From: Soubi
---------------
I can’t pick you up after school today.
I have to drop off an art project at the
school, so please feel free to sit with
the Zeros until I get back. I told them
you were coming. Call me if things get
out of hand.
Ritsuka stared down at the small, illuminated screen of his cellphone with furrowed brows, his dark feline ears tipped back atop his head. Vexed, he kept reading the text as he walked in hope that the content of the message would change and Soubi would be swinging by to get him in his air-conditioned car, or that he would be given a follow-up message. It was the hottest day of the summer so far with record highs and virtually n breeze, and everyone was taking pains to stay indoors and out of the heat; children and dogs lay in any available shade with tongues lolling from open mouths, air conditioners and fans blasting in every window space. Yet here he was walking home, the sweat pouring down his back and trickling down his forehead, his shirt stuck to his lithe torso in large, embarrassing, sweat-stained chunks.
The middle-schooler was dressed in a simply designed t-shirt and a pair of shorts that ended above his kneecaps, his black tail swinging behind him in a slow pendulum-like motion behind his legs. Unfortunately, the message remained the same, dooming him to finish the torturous stumble of a walk from his school to the home Soubi shared with the adopted Zeros and occasionally with Kio, who shared with him a primarily one-sided friendship.
When the boy drew to a halt to await a crossing light, he slumped forward and shifted his messenger bag laden with school supplies to the ground and withdrew from it the bulky camera he adored so much. He ignored the irritated grunt of business man standing to his direct right when he heaved the bag back to his shoulder and bumped him. He turned his dark eyes up at man just as the traffic yielded to them, and shot off across the road at a sprint, the camera clutched precariously in one hand. Of course, as luck would have it, a sporty red car screeched to a halt just before the crosswalk, startling the thirteen-year-old into releasing his hold and smashing the camera’s lens on the pavement.
He bit his tongue, collected his precious tool, and ran the rest of the way to Soubi’s house, ignoring the stream of tears that reddened his eyes and how lightheaded the exertion rendered him. He was so dizzy, in fact, that sliding the key the older man had given him into the lock became a task and he was horrorstruck to find that the interior of the house was even stuffier than the front porch, save for the spot on the couch where a single fan was directed. From the looks of things, it appeared that Soubi’s airconditioning was for some reason broken, and he had failed to mention this in his hurried text.
”Greaat,” he groaned in a choked voice, passing the sleeve of his t-shirt over his face to remove the moisture that had accumulated there. He slid the bag from his shoulder and it thudded heavily against the floor of the small foyer. He tilted his head and stared down at the broken camera, and fingering the deep crevice in the small, thick piece of glass with a frown. His voice was little more than a sigh as he spoke again, ”I bet these are expensive to fix.”
Soubi’s home was typical of a single bachelor, simply furnished but comfortable. The walls were littered with pieces of art that mainly consisted of work of butterflies and flowers, adding an oddly feminine touch to the living space. Ritsuka knew that Natsuo and Youji were home, though he couldn’t see them from where he stood. He hesitated, wondering where or not he should alert them of his presence.
He approached the fan sitting on the coffee table, his head still swimming, so when he did call out it was little more than a half-hearted mumble.
”I’m home..”
And with that he collapsed in an exhausted heap on the couch, still wearing shoes, with his arms curled over his head and the broken camera dangling uselessly between his fingers.
---------------
From: Soubi
---------------
I can’t pick you up after school today.
I have to drop off an art project at the
school, so please feel free to sit with
the Zeros until I get back. I told them
you were coming. Call me if things get
out of hand.
Ritsuka stared down at the small, illuminated screen of his cellphone with furrowed brows, his dark feline ears tipped back atop his head. Vexed, he kept reading the text as he walked in hope that the content of the message would change and Soubi would be swinging by to get him in his air-conditioned car, or that he would be given a follow-up message. It was the hottest day of the summer so far with record highs and virtually n breeze, and everyone was taking pains to stay indoors and out of the heat; children and dogs lay in any available shade with tongues lolling from open mouths, air conditioners and fans blasting in every window space. Yet here he was walking home, the sweat pouring down his back and trickling down his forehead, his shirt stuck to his lithe torso in large, embarrassing, sweat-stained chunks.
The middle-schooler was dressed in a simply designed t-shirt and a pair of shorts that ended above his kneecaps, his black tail swinging behind him in a slow pendulum-like motion behind his legs. Unfortunately, the message remained the same, dooming him to finish the torturous stumble of a walk from his school to the home Soubi shared with the adopted Zeros and occasionally with Kio, who shared with him a primarily one-sided friendship.
When the boy drew to a halt to await a crossing light, he slumped forward and shifted his messenger bag laden with school supplies to the ground and withdrew from it the bulky camera he adored so much. He ignored the irritated grunt of business man standing to his direct right when he heaved the bag back to his shoulder and bumped him. He turned his dark eyes up at man just as the traffic yielded to them, and shot off across the road at a sprint, the camera clutched precariously in one hand. Of course, as luck would have it, a sporty red car screeched to a halt just before the crosswalk, startling the thirteen-year-old into releasing his hold and smashing the camera’s lens on the pavement.
He bit his tongue, collected his precious tool, and ran the rest of the way to Soubi’s house, ignoring the stream of tears that reddened his eyes and how lightheaded the exertion rendered him. He was so dizzy, in fact, that sliding the key the older man had given him into the lock became a task and he was horrorstruck to find that the interior of the house was even stuffier than the front porch, save for the spot on the couch where a single fan was directed. From the looks of things, it appeared that Soubi’s airconditioning was for some reason broken, and he had failed to mention this in his hurried text.
”Greaat,” he groaned in a choked voice, passing the sleeve of his t-shirt over his face to remove the moisture that had accumulated there. He slid the bag from his shoulder and it thudded heavily against the floor of the small foyer. He tilted his head and stared down at the broken camera, and fingering the deep crevice in the small, thick piece of glass with a frown. His voice was little more than a sigh as he spoke again, ”I bet these are expensive to fix.”
Soubi’s home was typical of a single bachelor, simply furnished but comfortable. The walls were littered with pieces of art that mainly consisted of work of butterflies and flowers, adding an oddly feminine touch to the living space. Ritsuka knew that Natsuo and Youji were home, though he couldn’t see them from where he stood. He hesitated, wondering where or not he should alert them of his presence.
He approached the fan sitting on the coffee table, his head still swimming, so when he did call out it was little more than a half-hearted mumble.
”I’m home..”
And with that he collapsed in an exhausted heap on the couch, still wearing shoes, with his arms curled over his head and the broken camera dangling uselessly between his fingers.