2025-11-30: Broth Gets Everywhere, Huh?
- Log: Broth Gets Everywhere, Huh?
- Cast: Tsubasa Seki, Hyousuke Suzuki
- Where: Kameya Alley, Hirasaka
- OOC Date: 2025-11-30
- IC Date: Sat, Aug 18 2012
- Summary: Hyousuke debriefs with Tsubasa after they drop their evidence off with Tamaki... and gets to hear about how bad they feel over running away from a helpful adult AGAIN. If only they were less of a teenager.
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
The izakaya - at that particular point in time, at least - was fairly busy. The noise alone proved that much. The clattering of dishes and the clinking of glasses provided an uneven beat for the cacophony of conversations, themselves the product of student and salaryman alike. The noise from the kitchen rang out in the background too, whether it was orders being called out, knives being levelled against chopping boards, or the exclamation of someone being spat at by a pot brought to the boil. Nevertheless, Hyousuke found it to be somewhere that he could relax, even if only for a while.
Nobody asked him questions, and nobody expected him to ask anything of them. The food was good, the drinks were affordable, and - perhaps most crucial of all - it was close enough to the dorms that he never had to go out of his way to pay the place a visit. Truly, it was a haven amidst the chaos and confusion that was city life. With everything that he and his friends had been facing thus far as well, taking a moment to focus on nothing more than the menu and whether seconds were warranted was a pleasant change of pace.
However, in spite of the fact that he wanted to dig into a bowl of ramen (one that wasn't so spicy that it threatened to melt his insides), Hyousuke had held off. To begin eating without Tsubasa was impoliteness even he could not abide. They would have to forgive him for indulging in a mug of green tea, however.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Ma'am is legit. Tsubasa likes hanging at Ma'am's. They don't always have the cash for it, but... lately, they've been able to get a hold of more loose change than they were before.
(Thanks, Mementos!)
They kinda slouch in, though that's not necessarily a bad sign, they're usually slouching. Neon blue hair, today, and a checkered tanktop -- no dog, Lance is still out in Iwatodai. Tsubasa's on a day trip today!
"Yo," they say, as they sit down.
They don't look... all that celebratory, but maybe they just have resting jerk face.
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
Hyousuke tried not to look too disappointed by the absence of Lance. Hyousuke managed to hide the most obvious signs of it. Hyousuke did not manage to hide the quick glance cast downwards at the spot where Lance had been the last time they'd eaten at the izakaya like this. Before he could comment (or decide against commenting) however, he looked to Tsubasa, and noted an expression that was noticeably less than pleased. He paused for a moment to consider the causes, but in the end, decided that it would probably be best to just ask.
"Everything go alright?" Hyousuke said, his head tilting to the side a little. He delivered the question softly - cautiously, even. "With the... You know, the thing?"
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Oh, uh... yeah," Tsubasa says, having brought their own bowl of ramen to the table. (It is also not spicy.) "Like, she said she'd look into it, figure out how to help an' shit, guess she'll be goin' at it on multiple fronts..."
Tsubasa scowls. "Jus'. Y'know. I was an ass. But whatever."
They heap up some noodles onto their chopsticks, and CHOMP.
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
Hyousuke's noodle-consuming method was only polite by comparison. He all but shovelled it into his mouth as he tried to analyse the situation, hoping the silence did not stretch on long enough to become awkward. When it threatened to anyway, he spoke up, hoping to get Tsubasa talking about what had happened. Partly because he wanted to help if possible, partly because he was curious about what could have gone so badly.
"What do you mean, you were an ass?" He let the question linger for however long it took him to eat another mouthful, before quickly adding an addendum. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Uh," Tsubasa mutters, around a mouthful of noodles. Okay, no, that's not working. Chomp, chomp, swallow -- "Man, she thought the fuckin' Phantom Thieves could help, and I just fuckin' lost it. Like -- those fuckin' brainwashin' bastards -- they gotta be the ones what made me end up like this, an' now jus' cuz they brainwashed a piece a shit they the good guys?! Pisses me off!"
A stormcloud rages over Tsubasa's head, as they take a breath and another chomp of noodles.
"... fuck, man," they breathe out, when that's all down the hatch. "You see what I mean? I lose my shit, like... so easy... I weren't even mad at her, I was jus'... she was jus' tryin' to help, man," Tsubasa scowls, down at their bowl.
"Even sent me this text askin' if I were okay, an' I jus'... man, fuck do I say? Sorry I'm a piece a work? I ain't... ugh, fuckin'... don't ask me, man."
Chomp.
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
Hyousuke was no psychiatrist. He held neither the training nor the wisdom to be one, and doubted he ever would. Even so, his gut told him that there was a lot to unpack there - things that his limited knowledge of the Phantom Thieves, Tsubasa's past, and healthy approaches to complex issues prevented him from doing so safely. So, electing not to attempt to anyway, Hyousuke sat and listened, chopsticks set gently down while Tsubasa spoke. No distractions, no sign of his attention slipping, not even a sip of his still-steaming tea.
He took a second to consider his response, then delivered it with the same softness he'd asked the initial question.
"She's worried about you." Hyousuke wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to say, even after thinking on it a little, and hoped that laying the fact out plainly would help kickstart his train of thought. "I *guess* apologising's the polite thing to do, but it doesn't sound like *she* thinks you're a piece of work. I think she just wants to make sure you're doing alright and to patch things up."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Arrrrrghhhh I knoooooooooow," Tsubasa groans, sagging forward into the table. Chomp, chomp, they shovel some more ramen into their mouth. "... but what am I supposed to tell her, anyway? Ain't like Akechi-san's dug up nothin' solid... an' Uchida-san's all 'bout them details, y'know? Not havin' nothins' jus'... embarrassin'..."
Chomp. Maybe if they eat the ramen they will forget what their fucking foot tastes like.
"'Least she gon' take th' info seriously... she believed me when I said th' cops were in on it. Uh, she even pulled up this Rumour from, like, Dark Side a Sumaru, y'know, that message board? Had a way to get in, like, sayin' some weird English dialect shit... 'cept..." Tsubasa scowls down at their ramen bowl.
"... they was sayin' it was part a th' conspiracy 'round 'ere, too," they add, their voice lowering. "An'... like... I believe it, man. Cops are in on it, ain't no one done shit..."
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
More names he didn't recognise. Akechi, he vaguely recalled having heard mentioned on the radio, but the rest had him drawing blanks. He made a note to ask about them at a more opportune time - he supposed Tsubasa or Ichika would be willing to get him caught up, but for the time being, addressing Tsubasa's concerns was his top priority.
"Of course they're fucking in on it." He spoke with no real surprise, but so much bitterness that he could taste it on the ramen he heaped into his mouth a second later. "Why would they?"
Hyousuke's response hadn't been idle agreement. The venom in his words had been real - the kind that left a lingering, acidic, taste in his mouth. It was enough to give him pause before he spoke again, but even then, it took a little while before he achieved any sense of outward calm.
"I'm not smart enough to know how all this investigating stuff works. But you getting that out to them... It's gonna save lives. You didn't just give them nothing, you gave 'em something they can act on, even if it's not... yanno, actually legal."
He'd watched a police procedural or two, he knew how this 'evidence' thing worked. Mostly.
"It's a hell of a thing. More than those pieces of pigshit'd ever do."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Fuckin' cops... you know, they took Ichika in when I went to ground after that Aoba Park thing?" The arson, Tsubasa means. "'Pparently the shit what stopped 'em questionin' her any harder was realisin' she were connected to that shithead Eiji... they told her to fuckin', say hi him or whatever an' jus' let her go, like..."
Tsubasa stabs at their ramen with their chopsticks, scowling. "Yeah," they say, glowering down at it. "Uchida-san's smart. She'll figure out some way to pin 'em legally... make 'em pay. Get those girls out, too..."
It probably says something about Tsubasa that they thought of revenge, then rescue. It's fine. Don't worry about it.
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
Hyousuke restrained himself, keeping from displaying the worst of his anger, but there was no hiding it in its entirety. Fingers clenching tight around the chopsticks, a harsher glare, a slight tremble to his hands as he moved to take another bite... Just hearing that Ichika had been questioned was enough to inspire all of those. But to hear Eiji mentioned in such a way as well? It was a miracle he didn't break something in that moment. Instead, he let out a long, low, breath, trying to calm himself down just enough to converse coherently. it was a quiet and subtle thing, barely detectable unless anyone was looking for it specifically, but it was there nonetheless.
The subtleties of Tsubasa's followup might have eluded Hyousuke, were it not for the tone with which it was said, or the jabbing of their chopsticks. He paused, letting his own rest against the bowl, before looking up at Tsubasa.
"Tsubasa..." he said, his tone unusually gentle. There was little hint of the bold and reckless brawler that he normally was - that display of anger seemed to have forced that mask to take a back seat. That much was only reinforced by the look he wore. It was one of concern, unrestrained and unfiltered. "...Are you alright?"
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa gets it, Hyousuke. They were pissed, too. So they don't call too much attention to his trembling restraint; they take a few moments to eat in silence, instead.
When Hyousuke checks in with them, though, their chopsticks still at the side of their bowl. "..." is the first thing they say, the notable absence of anything as their lips part and nothing comes out.
"I'm... a bit fucked up 'bout it," they manage, finally. "When Ichika first, like... told me what he was threatenin', like... I laughed, y'know? Said there was no way anyone'd pay for my ugly mug 'less they wanted to have fun killin' a guy or somethin'... but, like... that's..."
Tsubasa trails off to silence, for a long moment.
The torture they saw in the backrooms... well, it wasn't subtle.
"Uh," they start again.
"Jus' feel a bit pathetic sayin' he were anglin' for me an' how me folks wouldn't give a shit if he did. Y'know. It's whatever."
It's completely not whatever.
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
Hyousuke sat. He listened. He remained still, save for the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath that thin t-shirt, and the faint twitching of his fingers whenever he heard something he didn't quite agree with. His expression never wavered, remaining warm and attentive throughout. Only when he was sure that Tsubasa had finished did he speak, and even then, he allowed a moment longer than he normally would in case there was anything left for Tsubasa to add.
"There're people who'd give a shit if something happened to you. A hell of a lot of 'em."
He let the statement hang in the air. His gaze grew firm, his expression more solid. He would not be denied, he would not be interrupted, and he would *not* sit there and listen to his friend speak that way.
"I... don't know what the situation with your folks is. And I don't want to assume anything." His own was complicated enough, after all. A tangled mess that he wasn't sure he would ever manage to unravel. He, with what little wisdom he'd accrued, thought it was best not to presume anything regarding someone's feelings on the matter, regardless of how plain it might have seemed. "But I don't think it's something you should feel pathetic about. You're, fuck, I don't know..."
Whatever momentum he'd had began to run out, and he let out a long, heavy, sigh.
"You're better than them, and you deserve better than all this shit." He waited, unsure of whether he'd said the right thing or not. He wasn't even sure he'd managed to get his feelings out properly - words had never been his strong suit, and in a charged situation, even less so. "...Sorry. I'm not good at this kinda thing."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"I know," Tsubasa sighs, poking at their ramen with their chopsticks. "I got... a lot a people. Jus'..."
They shake their head, their voice going quieter. "It's cool, man. Uh. I appreciate it. Ain't... no good at this shit neither. Like... I know you're right, like... it's jus'... I don't really feel like that. Y'know? I don't -- feel like I deserve better'n -- nothin'."
Tsubasa blinks, a touch rapidly, and maybe their eyes are watering because of the steam from the ramen? Yeah, that's the ticket. "My father were -- like -- everythin' were built around him... thermostat's how he liked it, TV's on his channel, ate dinner when he got home... y'know. An' like -- mostly -- mostly he used to like me? Was mad I choked on English, but I were doin' enough to justify bein' unplanned... I was gonna get into politics, man. I had great hair." They relate it quite miserably, even though their hair, by some estimates, still looks pretty good now.
It's easy for it to look cool when it was manufactured that way, though.
"But when I set that fire... I ruined his life, an' he never forgave me for that. Not even when he bounced back stronger 'n before... fuck, man, he been promoted all th' way to executive vice president after some fuck noticed how he acted durin' the trial or whatever." Tsubasa has no proof; they're convinced, anyway. "Now he hates me so bad... even me mom tried to kill me," via the Joker Killer, "and it had to be to make him happy. I ain't talked to none a 'em since I told me father I weren't stayin' in th' shitbox he rented out for me no more..."
Tsubasa trails off, for a moment. "... I know there's lots a people what give a shit," they say, again. "But me folks -- don't. An' that's -- it ain't -- they're me folks, man."
Being rejected by their family can't be fixed so easily with the acceptance of other adults or their friends, huh? It's not so easy to outrun your blood.
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
The trembling started again. That damned trembling. The kind that sent his muscles twitching beyond his control, that clattered his chopsticks against the bowl until he pried his fingers apart enough to let them go, that shook him so deeply to his core that he felt tremors in his very soul. Anger was a part of it. Just hearing what Tsubasa had to say of their parents infuriated him beyond belief. But there was more to it than blind, seething, rage. There was understanding - something that reminded him of his own past, and struck him like a dagger to the heart.
"...It never stops hurting, does it?" For all the anger he felt, Hyousuke could summon none of it. His voice, despite the fire that burnt in the depths of his soul at the thought of someone doing that to their own child - to someone as good as Tsubasa - was soft and quiet. he wanted to so badly to cry alongside them, whether out of rage or sadness or something he could not give a name to, but he blinked them back and held fast. He had to be strong. He had to keep being strong. Any less was unacceptable.
"It hurts less sometimes, and there's days where you forget that it's supposed to hurt at all, but it never really stops." He couldn't offer comfort. After all those years, he didn't even know how to comfort himself. But at the very least, he could offer understanding.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"... yeah," Tsubasa says, quietly.
They're probably sniffing the aroma of the ramen instead of sniffling. Don't worry about it. They're not going to cry in public; they're too tough for that.
"It never stops... yeah... you get it."
Tsubasa's quiet, for a time, as they look down at their bowl. They swallow, again, though they haven't eaten anything. Then they down the broth of the ramen, tilting the bowl up to guzzle it down, only to go -- "Damnit, got that shit on my face, hate when that happens."
Tsubasa grabs a napkin, and at least tries to make it look like they're cleaning their face instead of anything else they might be doing with a tissue at this moment.
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
Hyousuke nodded slowly. He got it. More than Tsubasa might have thought - but, at the same time, perhaps not enough for him to speak much more on the matter. It was something he resolved to think on later, or - as was so often the case - push the matter to the back of his mind and refuse to confront it. For the time being, Tsubasa took precedence. Ruminating on whether he could truly claim to understand his friends could wait until a quiet, lonely, moment.
"Yeah. Broth's a real pain to deal with if you're not." 'Broth' was emphasised. Hyousuke wasn't a smart man, but he wasn't so oblivious that he couldn't at least intuit what was happening.
He slid a clean one over. He hardly had need of multiple - just the one to wipe his face would be enough. Through practice and sheer force of will, he'd managed to keep the worst of the 'broth' from showing.
"Just do me a favour, and let me know if you need anything. We're all here for you."
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
Tsubasa takes the napkin, quietly. They swallow, again, as they crinkle them up, damp with what they'll insist to the cops is broth.
"Thanks, man." For the napkin, clearly.
(It's not about the napkin.)
They nod, taking another breath. "Yeah," they nod. "I will, Hyousuke-kun. An', uh... you, too. Yeah?" Well, maybe it's important they express they're there for him if their father was such a narcissistic black hole.
They don't want to be like him, after all.
"Right now, I better... I dunno, take a walk, get me head straight," Tsubasa shrugs, a touch awkward. "Gotta... say somethin' to Uchida-san, so..."
<Pose Tracker> Hyousuke Suzuki has posed.
"Alright. I'll keep it in mind." A weak smile to show his appreciation, and a slow, slight, nod. Perhaps that would be enough to convince Tsubasa he would inconvenience them with his doubtlessly petty problems. Perhaps not. He never gave them a chance to figure it out before he continued speaking. "And, uh, take care. With everything. I know you gotta get some alone time sometimes, but if you want someone with you, I've got nothing but time." He spoke as if he wouldn't drop everything to help a friend, but he'd already hit his limit for sappy things said to friends. Anything more, and he risked spontaneously combusting.
<Pose Tracker> Tsubasa Seki has posed.
"Thanks, Hyousuke-kun," Tsubasa says, and even manages to smile to him, briefly. For a moment. It happened! "I'll catch you later, yeah?"
With that, they amble out of the izakaya...
... and go off to convince an abandoned office block to let them in so they can get some privacy to figure out how to reply to Tamaki's concerned texts.
She'll get a reply at some point.