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[NANO 2007][Catfish: Ghost Story]
STILL WORKING ON IT.
Previously: take one | take two | take three | take four | take five | take six
Working from home is nice! On the other hand, getting up at six-thirty is not. :(
This next part is ... the result of a lot of debating and reordering of things; it's still not completely as smooth as I'd like, BUT I've already moved on. Uh. Editing to take place in the future, I'm sorry. _o_ We are ... finally hitting something resembling THE PLOT, which I sort of think has been implied the whole time, but you know. Now we're coming out and saying so! :Db
As always, please let me know what you think! ♥
+++++
Ken awoke to the smell of bacon cooking.
When he emerged from his room, hitching up his sweatpants and adjusting his glasses, he found Roy manning the stove, using a pair of takeout chopsticks for the bacon, and Sen seated at the table, nibbling on a finished piece and cradling a full plate close. She looked up at Ken from her hunched position over the bacon; he half-expected her to stick her tongue out. Instead, she crunched into a new piece and slowly pushed the plate out towards him. Her expression was sullen, but she didn't go as far as to snatch it back when Ken reached for a piece.
He sank carefully into the chair across from her. "... Good morning," he said cautiously.
She wrinkled her nose. "I'll agree it's morning," she said. "But have you looked outside? It's pouring *buckets*, and it's *cold*. Not my definition of good by any stretch."
"Welcome to Seattle," Ken said. What humor he'd tried to inject into the words fell flat as soon as he'd said them. Everything felt tenuously connected, like a single wrong word or gesture could resurrect the previous night's argument as something uglier and deeper. In the gray light, he could see that the black swipe on her cheek was flaking and peeling, thankfully too dark to be blood. She looked at him, and he didn't quite meet her eyes as he bit down on his bacon and began to chew, slowly.
"Yeah," she said at last. "... Sooooo, does this mean you accept that you're an idiot and I'm right?"
Ken kept staring at a point over her head, where the paint was cracked and peeling. "Does this mean you're gonna tell me what you are?"
"I already *did*," she said. "What about you?"
"I don't think I'm wrong," he said. He glanced up briefly when Roy put glasses on the table and a half-full carton of orange juice, then went back to looking at the wall. "I don't think killing something should be the first response." He held up a hand to forestall the argument he could hear swelling in her indrawn breath. "And that's something I learned from Grandfather."
Her mouth opened and closed. She repeated the process twice. It made her look less like a fish and more like a child, unable to decide on the right words. Eventually, though, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, leaving clumps of it pulled from its loose ponytail, before she set her chin on her hand and scowled at him.
"That sounds like him," she admitted. "Daisuke always had a soft spot for the things he studied. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff he'd let them get away with -- more than our kids, even." She pressed the tip of her index finger to the table, drawing lopsided circles. "He used to say things like 'it's not necessary to kill them,' too."
Ken poured himself juice, watching her closely. "Was this something you fought about?"
"Pfft." She wrinkled her nose. "Unlike certain idiot family members, Daisuke knew how to pick his battles."
"Then he just let you kill them?" Ken stared. "Just like that?"
She paused in the act of picking through the bacon. Her expression was opaque when she looked up at him, fingertips resting on the rim of the plate. "No," she said softly. "He didn't. I was--" Her gaze flickered to Roy briefly; when she turned back to Ken, she was as serious as he'd ever seen her. "I was sort of in active retirement at that point. I wasn't looking for them, they weren't looking for me. If something came along, then sometimes I -- well. It worked out."
"Is this what you do now, then?" He made a vague gesture with his cup. "Go and -- kill these things? Seek them out and just ..."
"Oh, hardly." Sen took a piece of bacon, nibbling on the end. "Me'n Roy, we freelance. Do a little of this, a little of that, wherever we're asked." She reached out and snagged the juice from him; he let her. "I don't kill anything unless it gets in my way."
"Even if they're not doing anything else?" Ken looked down at his hands, folded together and very still against the dark wood of his kitchen table. He thought about the green fire that had followed her in a cloud and reflected bright and alien in her eyes. "If all they're doing is being in the wrong place at the wrong time?"
"Trust me," she said dryly, "most of the people who're trying to get in my way aren't the sort you'd want to cry for, if you knew 'em." She clapped once, loud enough to make him look up. His next question -- *but what about the rest of them?* -- died at the broad smirk that spread across her face. "So! Obviously what we need to do is get *you* to a point where you can deal with them on your own. *Then* if you want to have the big moral crisis, you can do it on your own!"
"Sen," Roy said mildly. "He's allowed to have his own ideas."
"Yeah, and I'm allowed to tell him how *stupid* they--"
"Be nice."
"I am *plenty* nice," she said before chugging the rest of Ken's orange juice before slamming the glass onto the table. The expression on her face as she stared down into the dregs appeared to be another fight brewing, and Ken braced himself. When he looked at her hands, he found them overlaid in his mind's eye by flashes from the night before, and the careless ease she'd had with the knife, like she'd been doing that and things similar for years. He glanced at Roy, who was leaning against the counter and nursing his own cup of juice, casual in his skin and large enough to be threatening, even without the knife sheathed in plain sight at his hip. Neither of them looked more alien to him than now, dressed in the same wrinkled clothes from the night before and going through the motions of breakfast.
Both of them, Ken thought, *both* of them were good at their "freelancing" and untroubled by collateral damage. He tried to imagine himself like that, so accustomed to the act that he'd be able to slit a begging girl's throat and then complain about the weather like it was a personal insult.
He felt sick.
The chair across from his scraped across the floor as Sen got to her feet. He looked up at her. Her new position allowed her just enough height to look down her nose at Ken.
"C'mon, kid," she said, and cracked her knuckles. She bared her teeth at him in a fierce grin, and he thought he saw a now-familiar glint in her eyes. "Let's see how fast you learn."
+++
Until he found himself standing in front of the dingy little bookstore again, Ken had wondered if he really would have been able to find this place again. He put one hand on the doorknob and stopped, leaning in to peer through the dirty windows. The overhead light was on, but all he could really see were the dark bulky shapes of the bookshelves within.
"Don't be stupid," he said aloud, and cringed at the sound of his own voice. Squaring his shoulders, he turned the knob and stepped inside. He found the black cat Jibrielle lying in the shadow of the door, tucked into a neat little ball. She opened her eyes long enough to see and dismiss him, then snuggled back down into herself. Ken looked at her, then slowly went down on one knee beside her.
"Um," he said hesitantly. "Hi. I don't know if you remember me -- I'm, well. I'm Sen's grandson. Daisuke's grandson. I don't know if -- can I go in? This is only my second time here, and I'm not really sure how to get to the real store below and god, I am asking a cat for directions." He shook his head. "This is awkward. I'd like to go downstairs, but the last time I was here, Sen took care of it, and I ... uh. Well. I don't know how."
Jibrielle opened one eye slowly. She yawned at him, sharp white teeth and sandpaper tongue, then rose into a languid back-arching stretch. With unhurried casual grace, as though she'd meant to get up all along, she brushed past him, disappearing into one of the narrow gaps between bookshelves. Ken turned to watch her go, then got to his feet, brushing dust from his knees. He walked to the aisle Jibrielle had slipped through -- too narrow for him even if he turned and crabwalked his way through. Jibrielle sat at the far end, as straightbacked and still as a statue. Her eyes gleamed in the dark.
"Wasn't it a different one last time?" he asked. "Something with a little more room, maybe? I can't--" He leaned in and stopped, his shoulder caught on the narrow gap. "I can't really fit here."
The cat wrinkled her nose and didn't move. Underneath Ken's feet, the floor began to rumble and groan as it had before, and the wall behind Jibrielle simply vanished between one heartbeat and the next, revealing the same narrow, dimly-lit stairwell as before. She turned her head and yawned delicately, unimpressed by his inability to reach her. Ken shifted back and set his back against one shelf, pushing at it with both feet scraping against the ground. The wood made a squeal of protest and skidded less than half an inch before it stuck. Ken stuck his arm into the gap and wriggled it helplessly, reaching for the doorway.
"... ah, Ken, isn't it? What are you doing?"
Ken turned. Avery stood behind him, with a large box hitched onto one hip and his head tilted, birdlike. Despite the heavy dust on all the shelves, and atop the box he carried, none of it seemed to stick to his long white shirt or exposed skin. He looked at Ken's face thoughtfully, then broke out into a wide genuine smile, shifting the weight of his box to hold out a hand. "Oh, good, it *is* you! I was hoping you'd come by."
"You did?" Ken straightened, brushing dust from his sleeve before he accepted Avery's handshake. "I mean, I would have called ahead if I'd known a number, but--"
"Oh! No, no, no!" Avery shook his head. "It's all right, it really is! Here, let me, I'll clear a better path for you, Jibrielle is just teasing--" He let go of Ken's hand and hefted the box up in both arms, stepping forward as Ken moved out of the way. He didn't make any sort of obvious gesture, but the bookshelves moved for him, swinging outwards, silent as though moving on greased rails. Jibrielle blinked innocently from her position in front of the doorway, the tip of her tail twitching back and forth. She tipped her head back and meowed piteously at Avery.
"No," he said to her, gently admonishing. "I know he's Sen's, but he's still very new to this. You have to be easier on him."
Jibrielle looked at Ken, and he could have sworn he saw her *wink* before she to her feet, twining briefly around Avery's legs and purring loudly at him. Avery laughed, then very carefully set his ankle against her flank and pushed her aside. She skittered with the pressure, then sat down out of the way of the door, watching him expectantly. Avery turned to Ken and said, "Ah, you'd better let me go first. If you go ahead, well, she might try to run ahead and trip you up. She likes to play the stairs game, doesn't she?" The last he directed at Jibrielle, who turned aside and licked her shoulder.
Ken hesitated, then sighed, shrugging and thrusting his hands into his pockets. "I guess?" he said. "I don't really know why I came here, to be honest. It just seemed like a good idea, but ..."
"It's all right," Avery said firmly. "I told you, I was expecting you." He turned to give Ken another one of those great sunny smiles over his shoulder before he started on the narrow steep stairs.
Ken stared, then ducked his head and followed, gripping the railing with both hands. He stared at his own feet the entire time, picking his steps deliberately -- he could see Avery just ahead, making his way with ease; it almost seemed like his feet were hardly even touching the stairs as he went down.
The door at the end of the hallway opened as easily and quietly -- and without any gesture from Avery himself -- as the bookshelves upstairs. As Ken stepped over the threshold and into the shop, Jibrielle streaked on past, right through his legs and nearly unbalancing him. He caught himself on the wall, but not before his foot collided hard with a barrel that refused to budge at the strike. "Shit!"
Avery paused and turned, giving him an embarrassed look. He'd set the box down already, now standing with his hands clasped together in front of him. "Oh," he said. "Um. If you don't mind? I'd appreciate it if you, uh. Well. Didn't use that sort of language around me?"
"Huh?" Ken leaned one arm against the wall, rubbing his aching toes with his other hand. "What language?"
"Er, well." Avery shrugged, blushing a little. "I know, uh, I know it's rude of me to ask, but -- swearing. I don't like it very much, it's sort of ... I think it sounds very ugly. Of course, you're welcome to continue if you want, but I'd prefer it if, while you're in the store, you could--"
"No," Ken said quickly. "No, it's all right. I can try, at least, I don't mind."
And oddly enough, he didn't -- not even half as much as he would have thought. It should have annoyed him, he thought -- it *would* have annoyed him from anyone else; from Avery, though, the instinct to do as he asked -- and so nicely, even -- came easy as instinct. When Avery favored him with another smile in reward, Ken surprised himself again by smiling back.
"Thank you," said Avery. "Here, come with me in the back -- Vincent, do you want tea?"
Ken jumped, half-turning to see Vincent at the register, leaning against the counter with his eyes fixed directly on Ken. He pushed his glasses up his nose and said, quietly, "No, that's fine. Maybe later."
"Ah, is that so? All right, then." Avery nudged Ken's shoulder with his own, then nodded to their left. "This way, Ken, please follow me."
Ken did, hunching his shoulders against the weight of Vincent's eyes on his back; he could feel it following him, even when they turned behind a display of dried herbs and the register was no longer in sight. It wasn't the same door he'd seen Vincent go through the first time he'd come to this store -- they seemed to be heading for the far back, with Avery keeping up a running commentary the whole time. They made their way around stacked bolts of cloth ("enchanted, we've got a few people who still make their own magic carpets and hiding-cloaks"), a glass case of crystal and silver ("for scrying work, mostly, stuff that needs a more delicate instrument") and rows upon rows of bookshelves ("that's magic theory, those're spellbooks, oh, and cookbooks! That's magic in its own way, you know, and my favorite section"), without any apparent end. Ken followed and hardly looked either way as he did, answering Avery's chatter in monosyllables or silence.
Along the very back wall was a gray curtain that almost -- though not quite -- matched the color and texture of the walls around it. Avery paused at it, pausing to look at Ken and smile. "This way," he said, his voice soothing now, then ducked through. Ken followed, and found himself in what looked very much like an ordinary living room: an overstuffed battered green couch against one wall, facing opposite of a flatscreen TV, a long narrow coffee table of black metal and glass, and an old-fashioned radio standing in one corner, flanked by two full wall-length bookshelves. Several framed photos hung on the free walls. Roughly two steps into the room was the same tile flooring as the shop itself, which then dropped down into plush beige carpeting. Automatically Ken stopped, toeing off both shoes before continuing inside.
Avery's head popped out from a corner. "Don't forget to -- oh, you already did. That's good, thank you." He smiled and disappeared again; things began to clink and clatter together a moment later. "Black or green tea? Vincent isn't such a fan, but me, oh, I like it very much. Or snacks, maybe? I made a ginger cake the other day, it's still good if you're hungry--"
"Uh," said Ken. "No, it's all right. I'm fine." He tucked his hands into his pockets, looking around slowly. "Mister, uh--"
"Oh, no, please, don't use 'mister,'" Avery said. "If anyone is the master here, it's Vincent. Just 'Avery' is fine. In fact, I'd prefer it. Black or green?"
"Green, I guess." Ken wandered to the largest photo to examine it: Vincent with his arm around the shoulders of a young woman, nearly as tall as he was, but bone-thin, with sharp cheekbones and a prominent collar. Her eyes were huge and dark, dark blue with an odd silvery sheen across them both, and though she looked young, her hair, plaited into twin braids, was pure shining white. The long fall of her bangs were clipped back from her thin face by two heavy silver barrettes, each carved with a crescent moon. Both of them were smiling in the photo, though Vincent's expression seemed more strained, the corners of his eyes tight behind his glasses.
"That's his sister, Maya," Avery said quietly. Ken jumped and whirled, heart pounding fast in his chest. Avery stood holding a laden tray -- a steaming teapot and two mugs, as well as two plates of cake -- and looking up at the photo with something like regret on his face. He looked at Ken, then down at their food. "She's ... very weak. Has been since, oh, since she was born, I guess." He motioned towards the table and the couch. "Ah, but that's a long story, and not what you're here for, I'm sure. Why don't have you have a seat?"
"I'm sorry," Ken said. "If I wasn't supposed to see--"
"If that were the case, we wouldn't have that photo up." Avery set the tray down and began to pour tea. "Really, it's all right. Don't hover, come sit. Tell me if my cake is any good."
Slowly, dragging his feet, Ken came. He sat down on the far end of the couch from Avery, reaching out to accept the mug offered to him and then settling it in his lap, balancing the hot porcelain between both hands. He shook his head at the offer of cake, watching Avery settle with his own piece from the corner of one eye.
"You said you were expecting me," he said. "Why?"
Avery cocked his head. "Because if I know Sen, she's probably been doing a lot of back and forth, telling you more than you want to know about one thing, and nothing at all about others. And if you're Daisuke's grandson, you could only take so much of that before looking on your own." He sounded fond. "But also because you're in a very delicate position, and you needed someone to talk to." He straightened a little, and Ken found himself turning his head to look Avery straight in the eye. "And I'm here, so you came."
"What," Ken said, shaking his head. "You thought I'd come just because *you're* here?"
Avery blinked, then blushed, waving his free hand. "Oh, that sounds horrible, doesn't it? I didn't mean to be arrogant! It's just, well, that's what I *do*. It's part of what I am. I listen to problems and I help people feel better, just, well -- when you say it *aloud*, it's kind of awful, isn't it? Oh dear, I'm sorry--"
To his surprise, Ken laughed. He shook his head. "What, like a confessional?" he asked. "Is that what you do?"
"Yes!" Avery perked up. "Just like that, in fact. That's why I came here originally."
"Not just because ..." Ken gestured awkwardly. "You know. You and Vincent--?"
Avery blinked a few times rapidly, then shook his head so hard that his hair fanned out around his face. "No! Oh, no, no, no! I came here because -- well, it's kind of a long story, but he needed someone and I didn't want to -- I just, oh ..." He put the cake plate down, rubbing his hands together. His face was so red it looked outright painful. "No, it wasn't that, not at all, I ..."
"Okay, okay!" Ken leaned back, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me."
"It was *sort* of like that," Avery said earnestly. He looked up, still redfaced. "I mean. I came because of him, but not because of *him*, more that -- I needed help, and I knew *he* needed help, only I didn't *know* I knew and oh, it's all very complicated. I'm sorry. I'm confusing you, aren't I?"
"Um." Ken shrugged, still leaning back against the couch. "A bit."
"Sorry." Avery bit his lip. "No, really, I'm sorry, you came for advice and here I am, gabbing at you." He took a deep breath and scrubbed his face with both hands; when he lowered them, he was still blushing, but he looked more composed. "What's wrong, Ken?"
There was the crux of it, the question laid out bare. Ken sighed, lacing his own hands together and bowing his head over them.
"I don't know about this," he said at last. "I know I agreed, but it's ... weird. It's hard. I had a lot to juggle even before Grandfather died, you know? Then he did, and then Sen came along, and all of this ..." He shrugged. "I really wish he were still here. I wish I could talked to him."
"You miss him," Avery said gently. "No wonder. You weren't given a lot of time to mourn."
"Not even that," Ken said. "It's not even that, I think. I just -- it's hard to believe that she's my *grandmother*. She doesn't look any older than my little sister. There's only one photo of her left, you know, and she just ..." He shrugged again, helplessly. "Looks exactly the same."
"Well," said Avery, still gentle, "if it helps, I can promise that she *is* your grandmother. Without a doubt."
"*That's* the thing," Ken burst out. "It *doesn't* help. What is she? She just -- she looks the same, she uses magic, *real magic* and doesn't even think twice about it. She kills--" His throat closed up.
Avery let out a long whistling sigh. He slid a little closer, enough that Ken could feel the warmth of him without contact. "The shapeshifter," he said.
"What kind of person can do that?" Ken asked softly. "Two months ago, I thought everything was just the stuff my grandfather researched for a living, and none of it was real. But then -- it looked *just like* Yuki, and it sounded like her, and Sen just ... without even caring if it really was her or not ..."
He saw Avery flinch from the corner of one eye. This time the other man did reach out, laying one thin hand against his knee. Ken tolerated for a moment, then shook it off. "You know, I have a knife of my own now? She insisted. Said just because I can't do much with it yet doesn't mean I shouldn't have one. I don't *want* one." He looked up and rubbed his eyes. "I know I said I'd take responsibility, but -- does it really include all of this? Grandfather knew too, didn't he, and he never ..."
"No, he didn't," Avery said. "In all the time I knew him, the only time Daisuke ever picked up a knife was in the kitchen. He never let himself get too involved in any of the things Sen had her hands in."
Ken laughed without humor. "You're saying he knew better, then?"
"I'm saying he had more of a choice," Avery said. "Your circumstances kind of forced things."
Ken shot to his feet and began to pace along the length of the couch, his hands behind his back. "But what are my circumstances?" he asked. "What is it that's making all these freaks come after me, and not my family?" He paused, looking guilty. "Not that I *want* them coming after my family, but ..." He started to pace again, eyes trained on the carpet under his feet.
"Um." Avery rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed again. "It isn't really my business, and I shouldn't be saying this, but ... it's because you're her favorite."
"Huh?" Ken stopped again.
"You're her favorite," Avery repeated. "Sen's, I mean. You look so much like Daisuke, and ..." He flapped a hand, making a face. "You're the only one who really inherited any of her, ah, 'talents.'"
"Me?" Ken pointed to himself. "You're not serious, I've got three uncles, and then Dad--"
"The only one," Avery said solemnly. "Believe me, she tested after each one was born. I think she gave up after your brother -- gave it up as a lost cause." He sighed.
"That's so -- if I'm her favorite," Ken stopped in front of Avery, staring down at him, "then why? How? Why can't she just give me a straight answer when I ask her -- why do I have to go to *other people* just to get how her head works?!"
Avery blinked at him, wide-eyed, then began to laugh, hard enough to make his shoulders shake; even covering his mouth with one hand didn't do much to muffle the sound. Disgruntled, Ken dropped back onto the couch next to him and threw an arm over his eyes.
"That sounded really stupid, didn't it," he said after a moment, rueful.
Avery paused in his laughing to wipe at his eyes. "Only a little," he said. "I can't really answer for Sen in the end, I can just tell you what I know, from knowing her as long as I have." He hiccuped a few times to clear his throat. "And based on that, I can guess she's just really worried for you. Since the rest of your family doesn't have the ability to see things unless forced, they'll fly under the radar of most of the things gunning for Sen."
"Most of?" Ken moved his arm just enough for him to fix an eye on Avery and glare. "What do you mean, 'most of'?"
"Er. Well." Avery spread his hands. "Most of means ... most of. As in, not all."
"Are there that many?"
"Um. As many as you'd expect, from someone as old as she is?" Avery squirmed a bit. "Not *too* many, I guess, but, well, that depends on what you'd mean by 'too many,' and not all of them are *enemies* per se, just--"
Ken held up a hand, cutting off Avery's increasingly nervous speech. "All right, okay," he said. "Just answer me this: you said that most of the people who've got a problem with her will try to go through me, right?"
"Yes?" Avery tilted his head. "That's probably why she's running you so hard--"
"But some of them *might* chose to go after, say, my sister Yuki instead."
Avery deflated. His gaze dropped and his shoulders drew up tight. "They might," he agreed softly. "I wish I could say she'd be completely safe, no matter what, but ..."
"And," Ken held up a finger to cut him off. "Sen's not going to make sure they're all right, is she."
"She already has," Avery said. He gave Ken a rueful smile. "Protections, wards, you name it. She does take her responsibilities seriously, after all -- but if something comes up ..." He shrugged. "They're not going to be her first priority."
Ken leaned forward, setting elbows on his knees and lacing his hands together. He stared blankly into space. "But I can trust her, you're saying."
"Her heart's in the right place," Avery said brightly. He reached forward and picked up the untouched plate from the tea tray and held it out to Ken. "Cake?"
This time, Ken accepted.
Previously: take one | take two | take three | take four | take five | take six
Working from home is nice! On the other hand, getting up at six-thirty is not. :(
This next part is ... the result of a lot of debating and reordering of things; it's still not completely as smooth as I'd like, BUT I've already moved on. Uh. Editing to take place in the future, I'm sorry. _o_ We are ... finally hitting something resembling THE PLOT, which I sort of think has been implied the whole time, but you know. Now we're coming out and saying so! :Db
As always, please let me know what you think! ♥
+++++
Ken awoke to the smell of bacon cooking.
When he emerged from his room, hitching up his sweatpants and adjusting his glasses, he found Roy manning the stove, using a pair of takeout chopsticks for the bacon, and Sen seated at the table, nibbling on a finished piece and cradling a full plate close. She looked up at Ken from her hunched position over the bacon; he half-expected her to stick her tongue out. Instead, she crunched into a new piece and slowly pushed the plate out towards him. Her expression was sullen, but she didn't go as far as to snatch it back when Ken reached for a piece.
He sank carefully into the chair across from her. "... Good morning," he said cautiously.
She wrinkled her nose. "I'll agree it's morning," she said. "But have you looked outside? It's pouring *buckets*, and it's *cold*. Not my definition of good by any stretch."
"Welcome to Seattle," Ken said. What humor he'd tried to inject into the words fell flat as soon as he'd said them. Everything felt tenuously connected, like a single wrong word or gesture could resurrect the previous night's argument as something uglier and deeper. In the gray light, he could see that the black swipe on her cheek was flaking and peeling, thankfully too dark to be blood. She looked at him, and he didn't quite meet her eyes as he bit down on his bacon and began to chew, slowly.
"Yeah," she said at last. "... Sooooo, does this mean you accept that you're an idiot and I'm right?"
Ken kept staring at a point over her head, where the paint was cracked and peeling. "Does this mean you're gonna tell me what you are?"
"I already *did*," she said. "What about you?"
"I don't think I'm wrong," he said. He glanced up briefly when Roy put glasses on the table and a half-full carton of orange juice, then went back to looking at the wall. "I don't think killing something should be the first response." He held up a hand to forestall the argument he could hear swelling in her indrawn breath. "And that's something I learned from Grandfather."
Her mouth opened and closed. She repeated the process twice. It made her look less like a fish and more like a child, unable to decide on the right words. Eventually, though, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, leaving clumps of it pulled from its loose ponytail, before she set her chin on her hand and scowled at him.
"That sounds like him," she admitted. "Daisuke always had a soft spot for the things he studied. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff he'd let them get away with -- more than our kids, even." She pressed the tip of her index finger to the table, drawing lopsided circles. "He used to say things like 'it's not necessary to kill them,' too."
Ken poured himself juice, watching her closely. "Was this something you fought about?"
"Pfft." She wrinkled her nose. "Unlike certain idiot family members, Daisuke knew how to pick his battles."
"Then he just let you kill them?" Ken stared. "Just like that?"
She paused in the act of picking through the bacon. Her expression was opaque when she looked up at him, fingertips resting on the rim of the plate. "No," she said softly. "He didn't. I was--" Her gaze flickered to Roy briefly; when she turned back to Ken, she was as serious as he'd ever seen her. "I was sort of in active retirement at that point. I wasn't looking for them, they weren't looking for me. If something came along, then sometimes I -- well. It worked out."
"Is this what you do now, then?" He made a vague gesture with his cup. "Go and -- kill these things? Seek them out and just ..."
"Oh, hardly." Sen took a piece of bacon, nibbling on the end. "Me'n Roy, we freelance. Do a little of this, a little of that, wherever we're asked." She reached out and snagged the juice from him; he let her. "I don't kill anything unless it gets in my way."
"Even if they're not doing anything else?" Ken looked down at his hands, folded together and very still against the dark wood of his kitchen table. He thought about the green fire that had followed her in a cloud and reflected bright and alien in her eyes. "If all they're doing is being in the wrong place at the wrong time?"
"Trust me," she said dryly, "most of the people who're trying to get in my way aren't the sort you'd want to cry for, if you knew 'em." She clapped once, loud enough to make him look up. His next question -- *but what about the rest of them?* -- died at the broad smirk that spread across her face. "So! Obviously what we need to do is get *you* to a point where you can deal with them on your own. *Then* if you want to have the big moral crisis, you can do it on your own!"
"Sen," Roy said mildly. "He's allowed to have his own ideas."
"Yeah, and I'm allowed to tell him how *stupid* they--"
"Be nice."
"I am *plenty* nice," she said before chugging the rest of Ken's orange juice before slamming the glass onto the table. The expression on her face as she stared down into the dregs appeared to be another fight brewing, and Ken braced himself. When he looked at her hands, he found them overlaid in his mind's eye by flashes from the night before, and the careless ease she'd had with the knife, like she'd been doing that and things similar for years. He glanced at Roy, who was leaning against the counter and nursing his own cup of juice, casual in his skin and large enough to be threatening, even without the knife sheathed in plain sight at his hip. Neither of them looked more alien to him than now, dressed in the same wrinkled clothes from the night before and going through the motions of breakfast.
Both of them, Ken thought, *both* of them were good at their "freelancing" and untroubled by collateral damage. He tried to imagine himself like that, so accustomed to the act that he'd be able to slit a begging girl's throat and then complain about the weather like it was a personal insult.
He felt sick.
The chair across from his scraped across the floor as Sen got to her feet. He looked up at her. Her new position allowed her just enough height to look down her nose at Ken.
"C'mon, kid," she said, and cracked her knuckles. She bared her teeth at him in a fierce grin, and he thought he saw a now-familiar glint in her eyes. "Let's see how fast you learn."
+++
Until he found himself standing in front of the dingy little bookstore again, Ken had wondered if he really would have been able to find this place again. He put one hand on the doorknob and stopped, leaning in to peer through the dirty windows. The overhead light was on, but all he could really see were the dark bulky shapes of the bookshelves within.
"Don't be stupid," he said aloud, and cringed at the sound of his own voice. Squaring his shoulders, he turned the knob and stepped inside. He found the black cat Jibrielle lying in the shadow of the door, tucked into a neat little ball. She opened her eyes long enough to see and dismiss him, then snuggled back down into herself. Ken looked at her, then slowly went down on one knee beside her.
"Um," he said hesitantly. "Hi. I don't know if you remember me -- I'm, well. I'm Sen's grandson. Daisuke's grandson. I don't know if -- can I go in? This is only my second time here, and I'm not really sure how to get to the real store below and god, I am asking a cat for directions." He shook his head. "This is awkward. I'd like to go downstairs, but the last time I was here, Sen took care of it, and I ... uh. Well. I don't know how."
Jibrielle opened one eye slowly. She yawned at him, sharp white teeth and sandpaper tongue, then rose into a languid back-arching stretch. With unhurried casual grace, as though she'd meant to get up all along, she brushed past him, disappearing into one of the narrow gaps between bookshelves. Ken turned to watch her go, then got to his feet, brushing dust from his knees. He walked to the aisle Jibrielle had slipped through -- too narrow for him even if he turned and crabwalked his way through. Jibrielle sat at the far end, as straightbacked and still as a statue. Her eyes gleamed in the dark.
"Wasn't it a different one last time?" he asked. "Something with a little more room, maybe? I can't--" He leaned in and stopped, his shoulder caught on the narrow gap. "I can't really fit here."
The cat wrinkled her nose and didn't move. Underneath Ken's feet, the floor began to rumble and groan as it had before, and the wall behind Jibrielle simply vanished between one heartbeat and the next, revealing the same narrow, dimly-lit stairwell as before. She turned her head and yawned delicately, unimpressed by his inability to reach her. Ken shifted back and set his back against one shelf, pushing at it with both feet scraping against the ground. The wood made a squeal of protest and skidded less than half an inch before it stuck. Ken stuck his arm into the gap and wriggled it helplessly, reaching for the doorway.
"... ah, Ken, isn't it? What are you doing?"
Ken turned. Avery stood behind him, with a large box hitched onto one hip and his head tilted, birdlike. Despite the heavy dust on all the shelves, and atop the box he carried, none of it seemed to stick to his long white shirt or exposed skin. He looked at Ken's face thoughtfully, then broke out into a wide genuine smile, shifting the weight of his box to hold out a hand. "Oh, good, it *is* you! I was hoping you'd come by."
"You did?" Ken straightened, brushing dust from his sleeve before he accepted Avery's handshake. "I mean, I would have called ahead if I'd known a number, but--"
"Oh! No, no, no!" Avery shook his head. "It's all right, it really is! Here, let me, I'll clear a better path for you, Jibrielle is just teasing--" He let go of Ken's hand and hefted the box up in both arms, stepping forward as Ken moved out of the way. He didn't make any sort of obvious gesture, but the bookshelves moved for him, swinging outwards, silent as though moving on greased rails. Jibrielle blinked innocently from her position in front of the doorway, the tip of her tail twitching back and forth. She tipped her head back and meowed piteously at Avery.
"No," he said to her, gently admonishing. "I know he's Sen's, but he's still very new to this. You have to be easier on him."
Jibrielle looked at Ken, and he could have sworn he saw her *wink* before she to her feet, twining briefly around Avery's legs and purring loudly at him. Avery laughed, then very carefully set his ankle against her flank and pushed her aside. She skittered with the pressure, then sat down out of the way of the door, watching him expectantly. Avery turned to Ken and said, "Ah, you'd better let me go first. If you go ahead, well, she might try to run ahead and trip you up. She likes to play the stairs game, doesn't she?" The last he directed at Jibrielle, who turned aside and licked her shoulder.
Ken hesitated, then sighed, shrugging and thrusting his hands into his pockets. "I guess?" he said. "I don't really know why I came here, to be honest. It just seemed like a good idea, but ..."
"It's all right," Avery said firmly. "I told you, I was expecting you." He turned to give Ken another one of those great sunny smiles over his shoulder before he started on the narrow steep stairs.
Ken stared, then ducked his head and followed, gripping the railing with both hands. He stared at his own feet the entire time, picking his steps deliberately -- he could see Avery just ahead, making his way with ease; it almost seemed like his feet were hardly even touching the stairs as he went down.
The door at the end of the hallway opened as easily and quietly -- and without any gesture from Avery himself -- as the bookshelves upstairs. As Ken stepped over the threshold and into the shop, Jibrielle streaked on past, right through his legs and nearly unbalancing him. He caught himself on the wall, but not before his foot collided hard with a barrel that refused to budge at the strike. "Shit!"
Avery paused and turned, giving him an embarrassed look. He'd set the box down already, now standing with his hands clasped together in front of him. "Oh," he said. "Um. If you don't mind? I'd appreciate it if you, uh. Well. Didn't use that sort of language around me?"
"Huh?" Ken leaned one arm against the wall, rubbing his aching toes with his other hand. "What language?"
"Er, well." Avery shrugged, blushing a little. "I know, uh, I know it's rude of me to ask, but -- swearing. I don't like it very much, it's sort of ... I think it sounds very ugly. Of course, you're welcome to continue if you want, but I'd prefer it if, while you're in the store, you could--"
"No," Ken said quickly. "No, it's all right. I can try, at least, I don't mind."
And oddly enough, he didn't -- not even half as much as he would have thought. It should have annoyed him, he thought -- it *would* have annoyed him from anyone else; from Avery, though, the instinct to do as he asked -- and so nicely, even -- came easy as instinct. When Avery favored him with another smile in reward, Ken surprised himself again by smiling back.
"Thank you," said Avery. "Here, come with me in the back -- Vincent, do you want tea?"
Ken jumped, half-turning to see Vincent at the register, leaning against the counter with his eyes fixed directly on Ken. He pushed his glasses up his nose and said, quietly, "No, that's fine. Maybe later."
"Ah, is that so? All right, then." Avery nudged Ken's shoulder with his own, then nodded to their left. "This way, Ken, please follow me."
Ken did, hunching his shoulders against the weight of Vincent's eyes on his back; he could feel it following him, even when they turned behind a display of dried herbs and the register was no longer in sight. It wasn't the same door he'd seen Vincent go through the first time he'd come to this store -- they seemed to be heading for the far back, with Avery keeping up a running commentary the whole time. They made their way around stacked bolts of cloth ("enchanted, we've got a few people who still make their own magic carpets and hiding-cloaks"), a glass case of crystal and silver ("for scrying work, mostly, stuff that needs a more delicate instrument") and rows upon rows of bookshelves ("that's magic theory, those're spellbooks, oh, and cookbooks! That's magic in its own way, you know, and my favorite section"), without any apparent end. Ken followed and hardly looked either way as he did, answering Avery's chatter in monosyllables or silence.
Along the very back wall was a gray curtain that almost -- though not quite -- matched the color and texture of the walls around it. Avery paused at it, pausing to look at Ken and smile. "This way," he said, his voice soothing now, then ducked through. Ken followed, and found himself in what looked very much like an ordinary living room: an overstuffed battered green couch against one wall, facing opposite of a flatscreen TV, a long narrow coffee table of black metal and glass, and an old-fashioned radio standing in one corner, flanked by two full wall-length bookshelves. Several framed photos hung on the free walls. Roughly two steps into the room was the same tile flooring as the shop itself, which then dropped down into plush beige carpeting. Automatically Ken stopped, toeing off both shoes before continuing inside.
Avery's head popped out from a corner. "Don't forget to -- oh, you already did. That's good, thank you." He smiled and disappeared again; things began to clink and clatter together a moment later. "Black or green tea? Vincent isn't such a fan, but me, oh, I like it very much. Or snacks, maybe? I made a ginger cake the other day, it's still good if you're hungry--"
"Uh," said Ken. "No, it's all right. I'm fine." He tucked his hands into his pockets, looking around slowly. "Mister, uh--"
"Oh, no, please, don't use 'mister,'" Avery said. "If anyone is the master here, it's Vincent. Just 'Avery' is fine. In fact, I'd prefer it. Black or green?"
"Green, I guess." Ken wandered to the largest photo to examine it: Vincent with his arm around the shoulders of a young woman, nearly as tall as he was, but bone-thin, with sharp cheekbones and a prominent collar. Her eyes were huge and dark, dark blue with an odd silvery sheen across them both, and though she looked young, her hair, plaited into twin braids, was pure shining white. The long fall of her bangs were clipped back from her thin face by two heavy silver barrettes, each carved with a crescent moon. Both of them were smiling in the photo, though Vincent's expression seemed more strained, the corners of his eyes tight behind his glasses.
"That's his sister, Maya," Avery said quietly. Ken jumped and whirled, heart pounding fast in his chest. Avery stood holding a laden tray -- a steaming teapot and two mugs, as well as two plates of cake -- and looking up at the photo with something like regret on his face. He looked at Ken, then down at their food. "She's ... very weak. Has been since, oh, since she was born, I guess." He motioned towards the table and the couch. "Ah, but that's a long story, and not what you're here for, I'm sure. Why don't have you have a seat?"
"I'm sorry," Ken said. "If I wasn't supposed to see--"
"If that were the case, we wouldn't have that photo up." Avery set the tray down and began to pour tea. "Really, it's all right. Don't hover, come sit. Tell me if my cake is any good."
Slowly, dragging his feet, Ken came. He sat down on the far end of the couch from Avery, reaching out to accept the mug offered to him and then settling it in his lap, balancing the hot porcelain between both hands. He shook his head at the offer of cake, watching Avery settle with his own piece from the corner of one eye.
"You said you were expecting me," he said. "Why?"
Avery cocked his head. "Because if I know Sen, she's probably been doing a lot of back and forth, telling you more than you want to know about one thing, and nothing at all about others. And if you're Daisuke's grandson, you could only take so much of that before looking on your own." He sounded fond. "But also because you're in a very delicate position, and you needed someone to talk to." He straightened a little, and Ken found himself turning his head to look Avery straight in the eye. "And I'm here, so you came."
"What," Ken said, shaking his head. "You thought I'd come just because *you're* here?"
Avery blinked, then blushed, waving his free hand. "Oh, that sounds horrible, doesn't it? I didn't mean to be arrogant! It's just, well, that's what I *do*. It's part of what I am. I listen to problems and I help people feel better, just, well -- when you say it *aloud*, it's kind of awful, isn't it? Oh dear, I'm sorry--"
To his surprise, Ken laughed. He shook his head. "What, like a confessional?" he asked. "Is that what you do?"
"Yes!" Avery perked up. "Just like that, in fact. That's why I came here originally."
"Not just because ..." Ken gestured awkwardly. "You know. You and Vincent--?"
Avery blinked a few times rapidly, then shook his head so hard that his hair fanned out around his face. "No! Oh, no, no, no! I came here because -- well, it's kind of a long story, but he needed someone and I didn't want to -- I just, oh ..." He put the cake plate down, rubbing his hands together. His face was so red it looked outright painful. "No, it wasn't that, not at all, I ..."
"Okay, okay!" Ken leaned back, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me."
"It was *sort* of like that," Avery said earnestly. He looked up, still redfaced. "I mean. I came because of him, but not because of *him*, more that -- I needed help, and I knew *he* needed help, only I didn't *know* I knew and oh, it's all very complicated. I'm sorry. I'm confusing you, aren't I?"
"Um." Ken shrugged, still leaning back against the couch. "A bit."
"Sorry." Avery bit his lip. "No, really, I'm sorry, you came for advice and here I am, gabbing at you." He took a deep breath and scrubbed his face with both hands; when he lowered them, he was still blushing, but he looked more composed. "What's wrong, Ken?"
There was the crux of it, the question laid out bare. Ken sighed, lacing his own hands together and bowing his head over them.
"I don't know about this," he said at last. "I know I agreed, but it's ... weird. It's hard. I had a lot to juggle even before Grandfather died, you know? Then he did, and then Sen came along, and all of this ..." He shrugged. "I really wish he were still here. I wish I could talked to him."
"You miss him," Avery said gently. "No wonder. You weren't given a lot of time to mourn."
"Not even that," Ken said. "It's not even that, I think. I just -- it's hard to believe that she's my *grandmother*. She doesn't look any older than my little sister. There's only one photo of her left, you know, and she just ..." He shrugged again, helplessly. "Looks exactly the same."
"Well," said Avery, still gentle, "if it helps, I can promise that she *is* your grandmother. Without a doubt."
"*That's* the thing," Ken burst out. "It *doesn't* help. What is she? She just -- she looks the same, she uses magic, *real magic* and doesn't even think twice about it. She kills--" His throat closed up.
Avery let out a long whistling sigh. He slid a little closer, enough that Ken could feel the warmth of him without contact. "The shapeshifter," he said.
"What kind of person can do that?" Ken asked softly. "Two months ago, I thought everything was just the stuff my grandfather researched for a living, and none of it was real. But then -- it looked *just like* Yuki, and it sounded like her, and Sen just ... without even caring if it really was her or not ..."
He saw Avery flinch from the corner of one eye. This time the other man did reach out, laying one thin hand against his knee. Ken tolerated for a moment, then shook it off. "You know, I have a knife of my own now? She insisted. Said just because I can't do much with it yet doesn't mean I shouldn't have one. I don't *want* one." He looked up and rubbed his eyes. "I know I said I'd take responsibility, but -- does it really include all of this? Grandfather knew too, didn't he, and he never ..."
"No, he didn't," Avery said. "In all the time I knew him, the only time Daisuke ever picked up a knife was in the kitchen. He never let himself get too involved in any of the things Sen had her hands in."
Ken laughed without humor. "You're saying he knew better, then?"
"I'm saying he had more of a choice," Avery said. "Your circumstances kind of forced things."
Ken shot to his feet and began to pace along the length of the couch, his hands behind his back. "But what are my circumstances?" he asked. "What is it that's making all these freaks come after me, and not my family?" He paused, looking guilty. "Not that I *want* them coming after my family, but ..." He started to pace again, eyes trained on the carpet under his feet.
"Um." Avery rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed again. "It isn't really my business, and I shouldn't be saying this, but ... it's because you're her favorite."
"Huh?" Ken stopped again.
"You're her favorite," Avery repeated. "Sen's, I mean. You look so much like Daisuke, and ..." He flapped a hand, making a face. "You're the only one who really inherited any of her, ah, 'talents.'"
"Me?" Ken pointed to himself. "You're not serious, I've got three uncles, and then Dad--"
"The only one," Avery said solemnly. "Believe me, she tested after each one was born. I think she gave up after your brother -- gave it up as a lost cause." He sighed.
"That's so -- if I'm her favorite," Ken stopped in front of Avery, staring down at him, "then why? How? Why can't she just give me a straight answer when I ask her -- why do I have to go to *other people* just to get how her head works?!"
Avery blinked at him, wide-eyed, then began to laugh, hard enough to make his shoulders shake; even covering his mouth with one hand didn't do much to muffle the sound. Disgruntled, Ken dropped back onto the couch next to him and threw an arm over his eyes.
"That sounded really stupid, didn't it," he said after a moment, rueful.
Avery paused in his laughing to wipe at his eyes. "Only a little," he said. "I can't really answer for Sen in the end, I can just tell you what I know, from knowing her as long as I have." He hiccuped a few times to clear his throat. "And based on that, I can guess she's just really worried for you. Since the rest of your family doesn't have the ability to see things unless forced, they'll fly under the radar of most of the things gunning for Sen."
"Most of?" Ken moved his arm just enough for him to fix an eye on Avery and glare. "What do you mean, 'most of'?"
"Er. Well." Avery spread his hands. "Most of means ... most of. As in, not all."
"Are there that many?"
"Um. As many as you'd expect, from someone as old as she is?" Avery squirmed a bit. "Not *too* many, I guess, but, well, that depends on what you'd mean by 'too many,' and not all of them are *enemies* per se, just--"
Ken held up a hand, cutting off Avery's increasingly nervous speech. "All right, okay," he said. "Just answer me this: you said that most of the people who've got a problem with her will try to go through me, right?"
"Yes?" Avery tilted his head. "That's probably why she's running you so hard--"
"But some of them *might* chose to go after, say, my sister Yuki instead."
Avery deflated. His gaze dropped and his shoulders drew up tight. "They might," he agreed softly. "I wish I could say she'd be completely safe, no matter what, but ..."
"And," Ken held up a finger to cut him off. "Sen's not going to make sure they're all right, is she."
"She already has," Avery said. He gave Ken a rueful smile. "Protections, wards, you name it. She does take her responsibilities seriously, after all -- but if something comes up ..." He shrugged. "They're not going to be her first priority."
Ken leaned forward, setting elbows on his knees and lacing his hands together. He stared blankly into space. "But I can trust her, you're saying."
"Her heart's in the right place," Avery said brightly. He reached forward and picked up the untouched plate from the tea tray and held it out to Ken. "Cake?"
This time, Ken accepted.
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...Getting up at THREE A.M. sucks hairy donkey balls.
If I were to have a Christmas party would you come visit me? XD XD XD Nice "strange lady" will give you candy! And maybe peppermint schnapps...
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Getting up at six just kind of sucks. XD
I WOULD COME VISIT YOU IF YOU HAD A CHRISTMAS PARTY provided that it's not, uh, at the same time that the other Christmas party I said I'd go to is. Which I doubt, since it's like ... next week. XD
Also I like candy, but not schnapps, would I be able to have one and not the other? 8D
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*is so going to glomp Avery, scary boyfriend be darned!I want cake and tea now...XD
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♥♥♥
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I like Ken, I like Roy, I love Avery and Vincent (because omg, scary werewolf boyfriend XD), but I think Sen's "not explaining things" frustrates me as much as it does Ken, so I'm more iffy on her.
Totally randomly, my main character in my now-abandoned Nano project? Also had the last name Suzuki. XD Lol.
I will now faithfully read the rest of the chapters you post, because I do want to know what the heck Sen is, and I hope Ken gets things cleared up. Also, that he gets the girl. XD
(Btw, was the "taKen" thing intentional in the first chapter? I noticed it twice, so...)
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Aww, that's too bad -- honestly, Sen is my favorite character, but one of her biggest flaws is that she's overly-fond of appearing cool and dramatic; it sort of makes sense, given what she is, but I'm also not surprised it can be a problem. I hope with the next few parts, she'll be more enjoyable. :D
Ken totally gets the girl. I have decided this, because I liked Elizabeth way too much to just let her go. ;)
And yes! Someone did mention it; I've edited it in the actual file itself, though not so much in the NaNo post itself. XD; But thank you for pointing it out, I will make sure to reread the first part carefully to make sure I didn't leave any of those typos out♥
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Actually, I got nothing. XD
(taKen looked like it could have some sort of MEANING to it, or something, given that "Ken" is the main chara's name... But I've been taught to over-interpret things during the course of my high school education.)
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--wait, wait, got nothing on what? Don't mess with my heeeead, it's late and I'm tired. XD
I waaaaaas actually toying with the idea of changing Ken's name -- mostly because there's a ridiculous amount of rhyming I realized belatedly (Sen came first, there's a character named Jen who will appear later -- and then. You know. Ken), but I forgot that, er, my search-and-replace will go through ALL instances. It was kind fo embarrassing. XD
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It's late? What time is it over there? It's 5pm here in JAPAN. (Which makes it 3am in the east coast, so, 12am in the west coast?)
Hahha, yeah, that search&replace can be tricky. XD It doesn't seem to realize you want only that specific word changed, not those letters. :)
And dammit internet, don't break now! XO
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It's about 12:15 AM here (midnight-fifteen!), which is ... pretty close to my bedtime during the week-proper. It's the weekend, so I'm trying to stay up a bit later. XD
Seriously! There's no big important message in the typos -- Iiiii try not to be that sort of writer. If I'm going to do stuff with the writing, it'll be in the language/wordchoice, not in how the words are set up. e.e.cummings I am not. XD
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Hahah, I know what you mean about bedtimes. ;) During the week, I try to be in bed by 10pm (the sun wakes me at 6am, EVERY MORNING), but I just bought new manga yesterday, and it's the weekend, and well... I ended up staying up until 4am. :X (But, you know, all that manga isn't gonna read itself!)
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Yeah, I normally go to bed around, oh, midnight-thirty, midnight-forty, and then get up around 7:30 in the morning so I can dash out and catch my bus to work. XD And man, I need new manga to read soon-ish -- right now, I'm watching Heat Guy J, but I can't do that so well in bed, when I'm trying to get myself to fall asleep. XD
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German fiction is very strange. (Don't get me started on "Woyzeck" or "Brother of Sleep"...)
Ummmmmm..... new and interesting manga that makes you fall asleep? XD I don't know. However, you should check out "Deep Black" by Mamahara Ellie, it's hilarious. Gay batman! (I think one chapter has been scanlated by a group somewhere...)
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Wellllll, more that I like to read before I go to bed, and manga at least I can take to bed with me. XD I could take my laptop and watch stuff, but watching things tends to wake me up more.
Gay Batman, huh?
You mean he isn't gay already? :pI'll keep an eye out -- d'you know who publishes it?no subject
The publisher is Chara comics. It's only one volume, and since it's Chara there's furigana ♥. I laughed so hard when I saw the main character's costume the first time -- he's got a batman cowl, and a utility belt, and a very skin-tight suit. The author admitted she basically wrote about Batman at the end though XD
If you want a full series, read Junjou Romantica? OMG I gush about this series so hard, but I just love it. And it's got an anime coming out next year, maybe? OMG. ;_; But even in Japanese, the fandom is basically non-existent. BAH.
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Oho, if it's Chara, I totally know where they're located at the local Kinos, too. XD I'll skim the section next time I go (which could be soon, since if I catch my preferred bus on the way home from work, I go right by there), and see if I can find it. XD
I HAVE read Junjou Romantica, though it was a loo~ooo~ooong time ago, and don't remember much of the details. XD
(and I mayyyy be going to bed soon, I keep drooping over even with the loud rock music all around me. just fyi XD)
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Plus if you read it a while ago, then you haven't read the latest really thrilling chapters :P (Bah, okay, so there hasn't been enough of my favorite couple and this new couple got introduced that sucks, but... still awesome.)
OKAY, I should probably do homework anyway. Or, alternatively, read JR fanfiction in Japanese. *found a fansite, hurray!*
[/annoying fangirling]
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Avery is a sweetie. I like him.
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I'm SO glad you like him! Seriously, Sen is my favorite, but Avery's kinda my baby. XD Thank you for reading!
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Ken has already matured so much in the story...or at least he's terribly good at rolling with the punches XDXD. I'm finding him to be the surprise hit of the story. He's not flashy like Sen, not cool like Roy or Vincent and not sweet like Avery, but there's something very likable about him, so good job with that XDXD.
It's weird, but there's something a little awkward about the final bit of conversation between Avery and Ken. It works, but it somehow isn't as satisfying as the rest of the chapter (of course the bit right before it with Avery trying to explain him and Vincent is just priceless XDXD).
I realize that's a terrible crit, as I haven't even identified an actual problem, but you told me to be hard on you, so I'm pointing out every little thing that I notice, even if I'd normally not care ;P. Anyway, all in all, this is a solid installation, if only because it's good to see Vincent and Avery more ^o^.
Oh, poor boy. He tries so hard to be optimistic XDXD.