[ all these guys thinking they can be homewreckers...... the audacity. the ego. they don't have a chance.
At any rate, the bike revs back to life and it nyooms from part to a frankly startling speed in no time at all. And, though she doesn't. technically. probably. break any laws, the speed at which she goes, and how smoothly she weaves between and passes other cars on the road, often without even seeming to look... might be a little nerve-wracking when Tadashi remembers she's blind on one side.
It turns out: if you can always sense when you are in danger, you're more able to take risks.
Eventually the ride slows and they pull into a neat stop in front of the ever-popular Rice Rice Baby. The engine idles, and stills. ]
He's so used to always being the driver that riding is odd. Almost relaxing and exciting in its own way - he has no control over what the bike does or where they go or how they turn, so he's just in for the ride. He isn't scared a bit. He trusts Ruka with his afterlife and knows she wouldn't hurt them. She cares too much about this bike to do that.
When they stop, he gets his helmet off and just holds it.]
Phew. Never doubted you a second, but great driving.
[ The lack of concern at her back is appreciated, but she doesn't acknowledge it during the ride itself. There's really no way to do it, is there? Hey, thanks for not freaking out, or even like, pretending you're not freaking out. Little too invasive. Still... it's nice to be trusted.
(But, okay, nobody tell Tadashi about the time she sabotaged her own bike for attention.) ]
Thanks. [ She finally pops off her helmet, hanging it off a handlebar. She grabs one of her pigtails and starts wrapping it back up into a bun — something she didn't even bother doing when arriving at his place. ] Lots of practice.
[ She does up her second bun while he gets off the bike, and when finished she hangs up his helmet and dismounts as well. ]
Fewer people on the road get nervous, when they can't see who the driver is.
[ Her head cants toward the restaurant entrance. ]
[Tadashi does have some manners and holds the door open for her before following. They're shown to a couple seats on the longer side of the belt, brought waters to start and left alone.]
I really don't like how easy it is for you guys to find my new address. [It's not like he could ask Khaji not to do it either.]
Hey, you could have told me yourself, [ she bats back, tone a lot lighter than the subject probably deserves. ] I did ask. And even if Jaime didn't tell me, I could have found you on my own. It just would have taken longer, is all.
[ Her nose scrunches when she says it, and it's... somewhere between a tease and a threat. She's a friend! This is a friendship thing! She's just a scary friend to have!! These are the decisions Tadashi now has to live with. ]
In my defense, it's hard to tell sometimes if you're just coming by to kidnap me for dinner or to come kill me, so.
[It's still teasing! They're friends! She is though. A very scary friend to have, he's just glad he's known her as long as he has, otherwise he'd be terrified all the time.
If I know ahead of time, I'll warn you. [ :3 ] Besides, I think if I didn't have a very good excuse, Jaime'd put me on the couch for a month if I hurt you.
[ In practice, it would probably not be a full four weeks, but it would feel like a decade. She punctuates it with a shrug, taking a simple plate to start. ]
Things are okay. Winter was pretty rough for both of us, so we've just been trying to keep it steady for right now.
[ Winter was rough is a light way of putting it. The almost-apocalypse in November, the dimensional shift in January; both were difficult for everyone that had to endure them, even at the periphery. As for Ruka... ]
Spent the anniversary at home. Stuff like that. My projects are still pretty regular, though, so it's easy to keep busy.
[ Maybe the months of distance have made it easier to deal with, or maybe it's too many things too large to talk about over the first plate, but she doesn't elaborate either way. ]
What about you? I know the move must have eaten a lot of your time.
[ There's a little hum of acknowledgment. It's... nice, to be thought about, even if the reason causing it isn't nice at all. It's a hard thing to express, and a harder thing to talk about — it's too much to tell anyone. Even Jaime only has bits and pieces. Easier to let it go. ]
I'm kinda the same way, actually. I always wind up moving around a lot. Between that and yo-yoing, most of the time I never finish unpacking. I still don't know what I'm gonna do with any of Rua's stuff, either. [ That's a name he's never heard before — but she shrugs, tugging another plate off the conveyor, pressing on. ] It can get hard to trust that things will be stable this time. Yeah?
[He'll just put a pin in that name and figure it out later.]
It can be. I also just... Had a lot of stuff I found in storage. From after Hiro left and I was gone. I never even got the chance to unpack it so.
[Yeah it's... A lot. All their research, notes, prototypes. Everything. And then there's just the stuff he needs for every day life he hasn't quite gotten unpacked yet either.
[ She nods, picking at her roll. When she speaks, her voice is a little quieter, but not necessarily gentle. Not coddling, or pitying, or anything so soft as that. ]
It's... not something your heart knows how to get used to, is it?
[ It's the answer she expects. Why would it be anything different? There's no earthly reason Tadashi would cut Hiro from his life for months at a time. Even if they'd lived distant from one another, she can't imagine them going more than a week between phone calls. It wouldn't be like either of them.
It had been hard, watching Hiro try to adjust to a life without his brother; it's no different to see the same for Tadashi. ]
It doesn't really get any easier. [ It's not the kind thing to say, but it's a true thing. ] When someone is your whole world, being without them is like... you spend a long time drifting.
It takes a lot of work, to anchor yourself to anything else.
[Tadashi is quiet. He focuses on his plate for a few minutes, takes a sip of his water. It really is the longest he's ever gone without Hiro - six months now, almost seven. While he knows his friends and Aunt Cass are keeping eyes on him and looking after him, he still instinctively worries. He wants to believe Hiro's doing well.]
Especially when you had to practically raise them.
[He'd acted as brother, mentor, and father figure all in one for him. And now he's... Just Tadashi. He'd spent almost his whole life wrapped up in looking after Hiro that now that he gets to be himself, he doesn't really know who that is.]
We talked about it. He was always kinda worried about you, about that.
[ Years ago, years and years, back before any of them were slipping in and out of the darkness. When they were all younger, and their hurts different, vital and fresh. ]
Said you were always sharing everything you had with him. Your hobbies. Your passions. Your friends. That you never kept anything for just you.
[He runs one hand down his face, remembering that conversation - and what a far off dream it feels like now - before going back to his water.]
So many of my hobbies were born out of wanting to help people, and then helping Hiro from there... [He doesn't really know what else to do. Not when he really sits down and thinks about. He still likes robotics and engineering, but to what end if he isn't helping anyone?]
[ She tries not to watch him when he makes physical the toll of the conversation, turns her attention to the conveyor and takes another plate to keep from intruding too far. It doesn't make much of a difference to her — not when she can feel the roil of grief, of low confusion, the fatigue of treading water without knowing how deep the bottom is or how far away the shore. Even when people know she feels it all, they forget; at times like this, it's kindness to let them forget. ]
... But you're even less used, to having nothing to do. No commitments. Nothing depending on you, whether you've chosen it or not. [ Her expression is a little soft, a little wry. ] Does that sound right?
It is really uncanny how you can do that sometimes. [He means it in a positive way! He's also not used to being read that well.]
No, I'm.. really not used to any of that. It's still weird trying to adjust to it. [He rests his cheek on one hand, elbow on the counter just watching her for a moment. She's come a long way from the girl who holed herself up in her apartment that he had to bring food to for weeks.]
[ The confession is quiet, but the meaning is clear. It is often a rare and special thing, to be so well-seen and understood, but for her, they can seem as bright and clear as the light of the noonday sun. Even beyond empathy, she is good at understanding people, at recognizing hurt and the places it's buried. The true rare thing is feeling trust enough to say anything. To feel strength enough to try. ]
But... that is a dangerous way of thinking of it. "Eventually." That's a passive approach. If you treat it like that, you'll acclimate to whatever comes easiest, and easy is always more of the same. Sadness builds its own house, whether you're looking at it or not. Hurt feeds hurt. A boat that's gone adrift will stay adrift, until it sinks.
[It genuinely really is. And while yes of course Tadashi listens to everyone and considers what he's told, Ruka's words always hold a little more weight to them for Tadashi. He does look a little reprimanded, settling both hands around his glass.]
You're not wrong. I guess I just get afraid of setting some kind of date or 'when' I should be used it, then failing. Which is ridiculous because failing is part of every process and it's how we learn and improve, but - you get me.
Then don't make it a 'when.' Time isn't really the constant here it would be anywhere else.
[ Between losing it to zipping out-and-back, exports and alternate dimensions, the loops and the rewinds and the jumps forward — and even excluding all that, it's hard to make commitments like that. It's hard to plan a future like that, when chaos and upheaval are more common than peace. Hell, she and Jaime don't even have a date set yet, and that's something they're looking forward to. ]
... It's harder, because nothing's really permanent. The lives we lived before we got here, we can't change those — but nothing about our future is cast in stone. There's no promise that any one person will ever come back, but, there's no real way of saying they won't, either. I mean... I was gone, for a long time. So were you. That friend of yours, that just came back. People I was sure I could never see again, but...
... [ Even in her own head, she doesn't know how to finish that thought. There are too many people she means. Too many people that, because of her choices, her mistakes, no longer fit in her life the way they're supposed to. Too many people she's failed, and no way to make amends. ]
... ... If your brother came back next week, what would you want to tell him?
[It depends on so many factors - which version of his brother is it? Does he remember this place? How much of this place does he remember? If he doesn't remember, is he from before or after the fire? Before or after he knew Callaghan did it?]
...I guess ultimately I'd want to tell him how proud I am of him. I know what he's doing back home and...I mean it, I'm proud of him.
That's a good start, [ she says, a wry little smile on her face as she takes another plate off the belt, ] though that's really best for when you want both of you crying, and him to not ask you any questions.
[ Well. At least she's honest. ]
What I meant, was... if he comes back and finds out you've been here for, six months, nine months, a year without him... two years. Four years. He'd want to know what you've been doing. The things you've focused on. The things that have mattered to you, here.
Because... even if you don't know, yet, what you really want to do... at least you'll have something to say.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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At any rate, the bike revs back to life and it nyooms from part to a frankly startling speed in no time at all. And, though she doesn't. technically. probably. break any laws, the speed at which she goes, and how smoothly she weaves between and passes other cars on the road, often without even seeming to look... might be a little nerve-wracking when Tadashi remembers she's blind on one side.
It turns out: if you can always sense when you are in danger, you're more able to take risks.
Eventually the ride slows and they pull into a neat stop in front of the ever-popular Rice Rice Baby. The engine idles, and stills. ]
See? Still in one piece.
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He's so used to always being the driver that riding is odd. Almost relaxing and exciting in its own way - he has no control over what the bike does or where they go or how they turn, so he's just in for the ride. He isn't scared a bit. He trusts Ruka with his afterlife and knows she wouldn't hurt them. She cares too much about this bike to do that.
When they stop, he gets his helmet off and just holds it.]
Phew. Never doubted you a second, but great driving.
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(But, okay, nobody tell Tadashi about the time she sabotaged her own bike for attention.) ]
Thanks. [ She finally pops off her helmet, hanging it off a handlebar. She grabs one of her pigtails and starts wrapping it back up into a bun — something she didn't even bother doing when arriving at his place. ] Lots of practice.
[ She does up her second bun while he gets off the bike, and when finished she hangs up his helmet and dismounts as well. ]
Fewer people on the road get nervous, when they can't see who the driver is.
[ Her head cants toward the restaurant entrance. ]
Shall we?
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[Tadashi does have some manners and holds the door open for her before following. They're shown to a couple seats on the longer side of the belt, brought waters to start and left alone.]
I really don't like how easy it is for you guys to find my new address. [It's not like he could ask Khaji not to do it either.]
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[ Her nose scrunches when she says it, and it's... somewhere between a tease and a threat. She's a friend! This is a friendship thing! She's just a scary friend to have!! These are the decisions Tadashi now has to live with. ]
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[It's still teasing! They're friends! She is though. A very scary friend to have, he's just glad he's known her as long as he has, otherwise he'd be terrified all the time.
He reaches for a plate to pull to himself.]
How've things been?
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[ In practice, it would probably not be a full four weeks, but it would feel like a decade. She punctuates it with a shrug, taking a simple plate to start. ]
Things are okay. Winter was pretty rough for both of us, so we've just been trying to keep it steady for right now.
[ Winter was rough is a light way of putting it. The almost-apocalypse in November, the dimensional shift in January; both were difficult for everyone that had to endure them, even at the periphery. As for Ruka... ]
Spent the anniversary at home. Stuff like that. My projects are still pretty regular, though, so it's easy to keep busy.
[ Maybe the months of distance have made it easier to deal with, or maybe it's too many things too large to talk about over the first plate, but she doesn't elaborate either way. ]
What about you? I know the move must have eaten a lot of your time.
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I'm glad you're all right. You were on my mind when all... that happened. ['That' being that... weird city. Stuff. Things.]
Not as much time as you'd think? A lot of my stuff was still in boxes already so it was just. Getting a truck and driving it over.
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I'm kinda the same way, actually. I always wind up moving around a lot. Between that and yo-yoing, most of the time I never finish unpacking. I still don't know what I'm gonna do with any of Rua's stuff, either. [ That's a name he's never heard before — but she shrugs, tugging another plate off the conveyor, pressing on. ] It can get hard to trust that things will be stable this time. Yeah?
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It can be. I also just... Had a lot of stuff I found in storage. From after Hiro left and I was gone. I never even got the chance to unpack it so.
[Yeah it's... A lot. All their research, notes, prototypes. Everything. And then there's just the stuff he needs for every day life he hasn't quite gotten unpacked yet either.
He grabs a second plate.]
At least I've got a little more space now.
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[ She hums again a little, thoughtful. She glances at Tadashi — the set of his jaw, the way he holds his shoulders, his chopsticks. Measuring. ]
... Was he still here, when you exPorted?
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It's... not something your heart knows how to get used to, is it?
[ Stating the obvious. Just... quietly. ]
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This is the longest I've ever been separated from him.
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It had been hard, watching Hiro try to adjust to a life without his brother; it's no different to see the same for Tadashi. ]
It doesn't really get any easier. [ It's not the kind thing to say, but it's a true thing. ] When someone is your whole world, being without them is like... you spend a long time drifting.
It takes a lot of work, to anchor yourself to anything else.
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Especially when you had to practically raise them.
[He'd acted as brother, mentor, and father figure all in one for him. And now he's... Just Tadashi. He'd spent almost his whole life wrapped up in looking after Hiro that now that he gets to be himself, he doesn't really know who that is.]
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[ Years ago, years and years, back before any of them were slipping in and out of the darkness. When they were all younger, and their hurts different, vital and fresh. ]
Said you were always sharing everything you had with him. Your hobbies. Your passions. Your friends. That you never kept anything for just you.
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[He runs one hand down his face, remembering that conversation - and what a far off dream it feels like now - before going back to his water.]
So many of my hobbies were born out of wanting to help people, and then helping Hiro from there... [He doesn't really know what else to do. Not when he really sits down and thinks about. He still likes robotics and engineering, but to what end if he isn't helping anyone?]
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[ She tries not to watch him when he makes physical the toll of the conversation, turns her attention to the conveyor and takes another plate to keep from intruding too far. It doesn't make much of a difference to her — not when she can feel the roil of grief, of low confusion, the fatigue of treading water without knowing how deep the bottom is or how far away the shore. Even when people know she feels it all, they forget; at times like this, it's kindness to let them forget. ]
... But you're even less used, to having nothing to do. No commitments. Nothing depending on you, whether you've chosen it or not. [ Her expression is a little soft, a little wry. ] Does that sound right?
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No, I'm.. really not used to any of that. It's still weird trying to adjust to it. [He rests his cheek on one hand, elbow on the counter just watching her for a moment. She's come a long way from the girl who holed herself up in her apartment that he had to bring food to for weeks.]
I'm.. sure I'll get used to it. Eventually.
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[ The confession is quiet, but the meaning is clear. It is often a rare and special thing, to be so well-seen and understood, but for her, they can seem as bright and clear as the light of the noonday sun. Even beyond empathy, she is good at understanding people, at recognizing hurt and the places it's buried. The true rare thing is feeling trust enough to say anything. To feel strength enough to try. ]
But... that is a dangerous way of thinking of it. "Eventually." That's a passive approach. If you treat it like that, you'll acclimate to whatever comes easiest, and easy is always more of the same. Sadness builds its own house, whether you're looking at it or not. Hurt feeds hurt. A boat that's gone adrift will stay adrift, until it sinks.
[ Great pep-talk. ]
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You're not wrong. I guess I just get afraid of setting some kind of date or 'when' I should be used it, then failing. Which is ridiculous because failing is part of every process and it's how we learn and improve, but - you get me.
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[ Between losing it to zipping out-and-back, exports and alternate dimensions, the loops and the rewinds and the jumps forward — and even excluding all that, it's hard to make commitments like that. It's hard to plan a future like that, when chaos and upheaval are more common than peace. Hell, she and Jaime don't even have a date set yet, and that's something they're looking forward to. ]
... It's harder, because nothing's really permanent. The lives we lived before we got here, we can't change those — but nothing about our future is cast in stone. There's no promise that any one person will ever come back, but, there's no real way of saying they won't, either. I mean... I was gone, for a long time. So were you. That friend of yours, that just came back. People I was sure I could never see again, but...
... [ Even in her own head, she doesn't know how to finish that thought. There are too many people she means. Too many people that, because of her choices, her mistakes, no longer fit in her life the way they're supposed to. Too many people she's failed, and no way to make amends. ]
... ... If your brother came back next week, what would you want to tell him?
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I don't know.
[It depends on so many factors - which version of his brother is it? Does he remember this place? How much of this place does he remember? If he doesn't remember, is he from before or after the fire? Before or after he knew Callaghan did it?]
...I guess ultimately I'd want to tell him how proud I am of him. I know what he's doing back home and...I mean it, I'm proud of him.
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[ Well. At least she's honest. ]
What I meant, was... if he comes back and finds out you've been here for, six months, nine months, a year without him... two years. Four years. He'd want to know what you've been doing. The things you've focused on. The things that have mattered to you, here.
Because... even if you don't know, yet, what you really want to do... at least you'll have something to say.
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