[ti]private[/ti][001] These Boots Were Made For Beating

Something he said landed. He’s not sure which, but it earns him a tight grip around his jaw, fingers digging into bone, and despite being locked out of talking, Kazuki grins.

Whatever Verai was about to hit him with, whether words or a fist, is stopped by the kitten antics.

He watches the man go, still snickering to himself as he rubs his jaw. 'Fucker's got a grip.' The kittens were busy among themselves, so he follows his metaphorical leash and stalks after Verai, allowing Mom to greet him as he enters the kitchen.

Sprigatito tenses at Litten’s yowling, his small fangs clenching the end of the jingling toy harder. When Litten tugs at it, he reflexively digs his feet into the floor, confusion painting his face. <But the nice lady said to share!> He whines, letting go of the toy entirely. <Ah, Litten!> He gasps.

In the other room, Mom’s dialogue has commenced. “He joins us at last,” the woman teases, gesturing for both men to join her at the table. “Come, both of you, sit! You can’t have a journey without a good meal.”

The table is set with a veritable feast, although Kazuki’s eyes glance over them derisively. They aren’t meals sufficient for his training and they don’t resemble the dishes of his childhood. He sits without an appetite.

Mom notices this. “Now, I know I don’t cook as well as your mother—” Kazuki raises his brows as her smile tightens “—but you must eat. She would be heartbroken if she knew you’re not eating well.”

He picks up one of the sandwiches. Chicken and parmesan, by the look and smell of it, and piping hot. “What do you know of my mom?”

Mom’s smile wavers. She places her hands on the table, one over the other. “She was my neighbor and my friend, Kazuki. You know this. A wonderful woman—so strong. A natural fighter. I couldn’t believe it when I heard how she—” she wrings her hands “—how she died out in the wilds.”

Kazuki makes no attempt to hide his disbelief; his face cracks into a smile, looking at her like she just made a joke. Mom is too preoccupied with her story and her hands to notice.

“But your father is a good man. It can’t be easy, raising a child alone and juggling his research. Please don’t resent him for not being around more.”

When she raises her eyes, Kazuki’s smile has flattened, his brows furrowed at her. “The other children may not have treated you well, but believe me, you will find kind people. A life of crime isn’t the path you’re meant to take, and I’m sure this pokemon journey will teach you that.”

She reaches for him, holding the one hand he has on the table with both of hers in an outpour of compassion. “I wish only good things for your future.”

Marinara sauce drips onto the floor in a red puddle; the sandwich in his hands has been crushed in his fist. He stares as if preparing to chuck it at her.

He doesn’t know how she managed to enrage him. It was amusing at first, how the NPC generated an entirely new backstory for him. It made him wonder what factored into it, if it was wholly up to chance, or if they applied something from real life. He leaned on the former considering its propensity for angst.

But there was a point when the cuteness wore off. By the time she held his hand as if he were some misunderstood child, his body had already begun to move.

A grip stops him.

It snaps him out of it. The marinara dribbles down his wrist to trace across the palm clamped around his pulse. His eyes slide to look at Verai, snarl twitching a moment, before gradually unfurling back to its usual smarmy line.

“Someone’s touchy,” he says, unrolling the tension from his shoulders. He makes no effort to shake his hand out of the grip. “If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked.”

Mom looks up when the topic switches, her own smile genuine. “I’m glad you two are getting along,” she chuckles, quirking a brow. “But you really shouldn’t play with your food!”

“I’ll have another.” Kazuki, now pacified, lets go of the ruined sandwich, dropping it back onto his plate with a splat.

The sound of pattering footsteps alerts the diners to the commotion in the hallway.

Sprigatito huffs, sprinting to catch up to Litten. Adrenaline pumps in his veins, with just a hint of guilt since he had ruined their tug-of-war. He likes playing with Litten. They’re both the same size, but she’s strong and determined, and so full of energy! He has to work twice as hard to keep up.

That would be a lot easier if he could see.

<Wait for me! Wait for m-OW!> he yelps, crashing into the hallway wall. He hears Litten bolt ahead and scrambles to follow, feeling a hundred times heavier but still hellbent on staying with his friend.

“The fuck is going on over there?” Kazuki blinks as Verai’s pest comes barreling through, loud as usual with her cat sounds, and his own is—a curtain.

Sprigatito mewls pitifully, wandering in circles with the Ducklett-patterned curtain still draped over his head. <Litten? Where are you?>

“You’re kind of a prissy bitch, aren’t you?” Kazuki chuckles, seeing how Verai cleans himself up as if trying to wipe away his touch entirely. Insufferable. He’s never going to stop annoying this guy.

“And that’s the second strike. Language!” Mom tuts, heaping more food onto their plates. “One more and you’re out, mister.”

Kazuki can only roll his eyes, shoving a sandwich into his mouth before he can be tempted to rebuke. He wishes he could leave.

<Litten?> Sprigatito asks, jumping a little when he feels something bump him, only to relax when he realizes it’s just his friend. <I want a snack too!> he shakes his body to try and shrug the curtain off him, and even with Litten’s chewy aid, the thing doesn’t come off.

Just as he’s about to resign himself to life as a living curtain, he hears heavy footsteps and is lifted into the air. <Ah, hey! What gives?> he wiggles his stubby legs, unaccustomed to being carried. Whatever complaints he has are gone once he can dunk his head into his food bowl. He begins stuffing his face as if the world is ending.

“Thank you for feeding the kittens, dear,” Mom smiles, giving Kazuki a look as if saying ‘take notes’. She stands. “Now come over here and finish your food! While you’re both eating, I’ll grab your presents.” She sounds positively giddy as she says it, walking from the table down to the hallway and heading into her bedroom.

Kazuki continues chewing, glancing away from the direction she disappeared to. “... This isn’t that bad, actually."

A distant gasp. Mom’s voice echoes throughout the house: “MY ROOM!”

He swallows. “But it needs more salt.”

“Same reason why I’m sticking with you,” Kazuki says, chewing slowly as he stares at Verai with lidded eyes. “For the experience. Sure, it’s a mess and a waste of time.” He snickers. “But I’m still going to eat it anyway.”

Sprigatito pops his head out of his bowl, crumbs of food clinging to his whiskers. He glances to where Litten is eating food off the floor and quietly ninjas his way over to sniff at her bowl. If he’s quick while she isn’t looking—

“Well!” Mom’s voice finally re-emerges. Her hair is sticking out of her side ponytail and her smile is tight as she regards them, holding two shoeboxes in her hands stacked on top of each other. “My house is a mess and my collection of a hundred lovingly-crafted scrapbooks has been completely taken out of order, but I have your presents.”

She puts them on the table and regards both men with her hands on her hips. “They’re running shoes! So you can both stop wandering around bare-footed.”

Kazuki pauses and looks down. He honestly hadn’t noticed. He continues chewing; taking off your shoes indoors is polite anyways. He doesn't deign to think about the dirt they tracked.

“But you are both cleaning up before you go. And my shelf is in chronological order, sorted further into seasons, thank you.”

The smirk Kazuki wears breaks into a full-blown grin after Verai understands what he means. Digusting is almost taken as a compliment. He continues being infuriatingly pleased even after Mom barges in, even after Verai takes the initiative to apologize for them both.

Cleaning up is, of course, a goddamn chore, but it’s probably required to complete this hassle of a tutorial, anyway. And the additional excuse to stick around to poke at his new toy’s nerves is a welcome one in his book.

Sprigatito pauses at the sound of Litten’s protests, ears pricking up, his cheeks puffed with stolen, delicious loot when he raises his head. His friend’s flailing launches him into action, swallowing food and stumbling over to thrash soft paws against Purrai’s pant leg. When the man begins moving to the bedroom, Sprigatito comes along, clinging to his leg like a koala and chewing the fabric with his tiny teeth.

Kazuki gets up, about to follow, until an arm blocks his way.

“Tut tut,” Mom says, and for someone over a head shorter than him, she looks quite confident, head tilted up as she moves her hand to point behind him. “You, table.”

Green eyes slowly narrow, before moving off to the side with a scoff. “Damn it.”