He smelled it before registering what the boy had. Bananas. The baggie rustled softly, and then just quiet crunching. No… Hiko glanced down to see the open baggie in the cup holder. Ah. Banana chips, then. Where had the boy gotten something like that? He didn't think the children were allowed such treats, but what did he know? His unit wasn't confined in the same way the children were.
Rice paddies slipping past the window, the road unwinding in front of them, the steady thumping under the dashboard that was beginning to grate on Hiko's nerves. The humming, however, was what kept Hiko from reaching out and stopping the steadily thumping feet. He recognized that tune. Some television show; he couldn't remember what. Just that the theme had a tendency to worm its way into one's brain, as the kid was currently demonstrating. Hiko resigned himself to the certainty that he, too, would have the song running through his head in the future. Lovely.
The tune changed, and he found himself listening, a little fascinated. The words that slipped out of the kid's mouth, though, had him nearly recoiling. Whatever that song was, it was entirely too appropriate for all of them, but especially the children. It didn't set well with Hiko to hear it directed near him, even if it wasn't even actually directed at him. It felt wrong, comforting words coming from a child. Children were the ones to be comforted. But in their present reality, what difference did it make anyway?
Hiko resolved to ignore the boy next to him with his nostalgic songs and banana chips, but then he was smushing his face up against the glass, and he knew there was going to be a pint-sized face smudge on his window. Last thing he needed was a reminder of this particular assignment. He opened his mouth to kindly suggest the kid remove his face from the window but was beaten to the punch by an ox.
"Day like today, the water would be hot as bathwater, that old lady isn't stooping for her health, and oxen stink." Wait.
"Oi. Shishou?"
Where the hell had the kid found a name like that? He wasn't a teacher, just the transport and guard, he supposed. Ferry the kid to go kill a certain person, collect him when the deed was done. There was nothing even remotely nurturing or educational about their assignment.
On the other hand, the name touched something in Hiko that he wasn't about to explore under such circumstances. He looked down at the boy, dwarfed by the seat, by Hiko's own bulk, and was struck by a sense of protection, familiarity, and all of it was tainted by the wrongness of their situation. Neither one of them should be here, but another time, another place. It didn't make any sense. However, for longer than Hiko cared to contemplate, a lot of things didn't make any sense.
no subject
Rice paddies slipping past the window, the road unwinding in front of them, the steady thumping under the dashboard that was beginning to grate on Hiko's nerves. The humming, however, was what kept Hiko from reaching out and stopping the steadily thumping feet. He recognized that tune. Some television show; he couldn't remember what. Just that the theme had a tendency to worm its way into one's brain, as the kid was currently demonstrating. Hiko resigned himself to the certainty that he, too, would have the song running through his head in the future. Lovely.
The tune changed, and he found himself listening, a little fascinated. The words that slipped out of the kid's mouth, though, had him nearly recoiling. Whatever that song was, it was entirely too appropriate for all of them, but especially the children. It didn't set well with Hiko to hear it directed near him, even if it wasn't even actually directed at him. It felt wrong, comforting words coming from a child. Children were the ones to be comforted. But in their present reality, what difference did it make anyway?
Hiko resolved to ignore the boy next to him with his nostalgic songs and banana chips, but then he was smushing his face up against the glass, and he knew there was going to be a pint-sized face smudge on his window. Last thing he needed was a reminder of this particular assignment. He opened his mouth to kindly suggest the kid remove his face from the window but was beaten to the punch by an ox.
"Day like today, the water would be hot as bathwater, that old lady isn't stooping for her health, and oxen stink." Wait.
"Oi. Shishou?"
Where the hell had the kid found a name like that? He wasn't a teacher, just the transport and guard, he supposed. Ferry the kid to go kill a certain person, collect him when the deed was done. There was nothing even remotely nurturing or educational about their assignment.
On the other hand, the name touched something in Hiko that he wasn't about to explore under such circumstances. He looked down at the boy, dwarfed by the seat, by Hiko's own bulk, and was struck by a sense of protection, familiarity, and all of it was tainted by the wrongness of their situation. Neither one of them should be here, but another time, another place. It didn't make any sense. However, for longer than Hiko cared to contemplate, a lot of things didn't make any sense.