damned_institute | Day 35: Bus 1

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Day 35: Bus 1

Sanji woke up groggily to find his nurse already in his room. He gave a sleepy and half-hearted "Buh?" before realizing that nurse meant dayshift, and he'd fallen asleep after dinner.

"Shit!" He sat up abruptly, which gave his nurse a start. "Nami-swan!" How had he allowed himself to sleep through an entire night? What if she'd tried to return to the basement? What if she'd been waiting for him to appear and protect her? He'd let her down!

"There, there. Calm down." His nurse set a familiar flannel shirt down on the bed and Sanji eyed it with confusion. The last time he'd worn that had been... "Sorry I didn't knock or anything, but I was so excited~!" A pair of jeans followed the shirt. "Today is the field trip into town! Aren't you looking forward to it?"

The chef had to admit, the town had been an interesting enough place the last time he'd been. If he could find Nami early on he might even be able to lead her around... So he didn't complain too much as he changed into the other outfit (which he really wished they'd let him keep - anything was better than the regular gray) and was led out to the first of the buses.

He took a seat near the front, hopefully easily visible to any of his crew - especially to a certain member of his crew.

[for Usopp!]

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Keman smiled and took off his cap, turning it over in his hands. This boy seemed very timid (which was kind of ironic, given the too-big dragon costume he was currently hiding in), but generally friendly. "That's good," he said kindly. "They gave me something that looked like that last time we went on one of these trips. It was gray, though, and it didn't have the spinal crests. Or the tail."

Fire and Rain, he missed his tail.

"I'm Keman, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Oh, um. I'm Yamada Hanatarou." The healer gave a sort of half-bow as best as he could while sitting like he was, then paused and reached up to touch the yellow spikes attached to the hood of his jacket. A 'spinal crest'? And that was supposed to be a tail? He'd thought they were just odd decorations.

But something else Keman had said had caught his attention as well. "Th-this is a regular thing, then?" Hanatarou made a vague sort of gesture that encompassed the bus they were in. "I haven't been here for very long..."

Yamada Hanatarou? That kind of sounded like the other Japanese names Keman had heard, but he wanted to make sure, just in case. "I'm sorry," he laughed sheepishly, "but I'm not very good with these names. Is your given name before or after your family name? And...ah...what should I call you?" He didn't want to be too familiar and come off as being rude. That would just be...rude.

"Yes, they do this once a week. This is my second time...I've been here a lot longer than I wanted to be. What about you?"

"It's, u-um, well. Hanatarou is my given name but I don't mind if you use that." The shinigami gave a self-conscious laugh, waving one hand a little in front of himself. "It's not like I'm anyone important or anything, Keman-san."

Hanatarou ducked his head shyly, and when his gaze fell he was reminded of the bag still sitting on his lap. He fished around inside and came up with a granola bar, and turned it over in his hands curiously. "I've only been here since yesterday," he replied, then held the thing up for the other to see. "Do they often provide strange foods like this?"

"Of course you're important. Why wouldn't you be?" Suddenly, Keman wondered if Hanatarou was some sort of slave. Why else would he be so convinced that he didn't matter? Unless he was just...extremely modest all the time.

The dragon just settled on giving the boy a reassuring smile. If he had been a slave before he came here, maybe Landel's could actually help him, in some very perverse way. He didn't show any signs of traditional conditioning, so he still kept some degree of individuality. Maybe if he was around the other patients--who were all free in at least some sense of the word--he'd gain more confidence himself.

Or maybe Keman's assumption was completely wrong. Either way, he was more than happy to help in whatever way he could.

Starting with the food.

"Well, they only come in the paper bags when we're going to the town. Normally, we get hot meals in the cafeteria. But yes, the food does always look this strange. It takes some getting used to."

Hanatarou blinked once, mildly baffled by the question; he was 4th Division, wasn't he? Not really all that special or interesting. But then, Keman-san was clearly not from Soul Society, and judging from the reactions of the people he'd spoken to yesterday, probably wouldn't know what he was talking about. So instead of trying to explain and likely ending up confusing his new friend even more, Hanatarou just smiled a little and shrugged off the question.

He examined the granola bar for a moment longer, then decided to see what else he had in lieu of attempting to figure out how to extricate the thing from its shiny wrapper. When he spotted the orange juice, Hanatarou smiled with sudden delight and pulled it out, reading the label carefully. "Oh! This is a juice box, isn't it? Rukia-san told me about juice boxes. She said they're very difficult."

Keman discreetly tore the wrapper of his own granola bar, too polite to call attention to it but hoping that Hanatarou would imitate the action at the same time. Hopefully. Learning by imitation was always good, right?

He brightened at the mention of juice boxes and shared acquaintances. "Oh, you know Rukia? I've spoken with her here a few times. She's very nice. And yes, they are pretty difficult. You insert the pointed end of the clear thing in this little metallic hole and--ack!" The dragon squeezed the juice box at precisely the wrong time and squirted the hapless Shinigami right in the eye. "I'm so sorry!"

The method of extricating the granola bar was noted by the grateful Hanatarou, but he was far too absorbed in the mystery of the juice box to try it for the time being. "Oh, yes, I know Rukia-san, we're from the same place, after--" He was watching with great interest as Keman showed him how the juice container worked, which meant he was just in the right spot to get hit when it sprayed him in the face.

Hanatarou scrubbed at his eye with one sleeve, giving a sheepish little laugh as he did. "She was right. They really are difficult." He couldn't help but feel a bit impressed that she'd managed to master them without getting juice everywhere, too. "It's okay, Keman-san, I usually spill stuff on myself anyway."

"But I got it all over you, and it's my fault. Here." Keman handed Hanatarou his napkin, still apologizing furiously. "Maybe we can get a nurse to get us some more of these little paper things?"

He wished he'd squirted himself in the eye! He was certain that Hanataoru was going to hate him after this.

"N-no, no, really..." Hanatarou took the offered napkin and mopped up the spill with a practiced air. He had to clean up his own messes regularly enough, after all, even when he wasn't on cleaning duty, and this was really nothing. "It's not that bad, Keman-san."

Of course, with the other getting flustered over it, Hanatarou was only going to do the same. "It's, um, p-partially my fault, too, I mean...I had to ask you to show me, and...." He waved the damp napkin a little in a vague gesture that probably meant something, but what was entirely unclear.

"...Well, if you say so," Keman replied reluctantly. He rooted around in his bag for another one of those napkin things, but came up short. Damn.

Then Hanatarou started to flail around and blame himself, and suddenly it all struck him as very funny. So much angst and travail over apple juice. "Let's just agree that it was both our faults, all right?" he laughed. "Next time, one of us might poke an eye out or something."

Hanatarou paused when Keman began to laugh, then finally offered an uncertain smile of his own. "Umm. Well." With his luck, it was fortunate the shinigami hadn't poked out an eye or lost a limb or something equally terrible. Of course, he was part of the 4th Division, so the mishaps thus far had been easily tidied up. "I-it is just juice."

After a second's consideration, Hanatarou removed the rest of the food from his bag and shoved the damp napkin inside, then carefully took up his own juice box. With the tip of his tongue sticking out as he concentrated, the healer very carefully imitated Keman's earlier demonstration, though without spraying juice all over. He regarded the successful straw implantation for a moment, startled that he had actually succeeded, then curiously turned the container around in his hands. "Why do they have to make this so hard?"

Oh, there was a smile. Keman grinned at his slightly soggy new friend. "You're a lot better at it than I am, at least?" He took a sip from his now mostly-empty juice box. There was barely a mouthful of juice left. "I think it's got to be some sort of test," he joked, "in which case I failed it miserably."

Well, there were other things he could've really failed at. At least it was just juice.

"Oh," he said after a minute, "I think you mentioned that Rukia's from the same place as you? Does that mean you're also a...Shiny...no, that's no it...Shinigami?" He'd mangled the pronunciation somewhat, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

At least the juice tasted pretty good, Hanatarou noted, when he was drinking it and not getting it all over himself. Maybe that was the point of the "juice box" - once you'd figured out the puzzle of opening it, the sense of accomplishment made the contents taste better?

When Keman asked his question, though, Hanatarou was startled enough that his hands tightened on the box he was holding - fortunately, enough of the juice was gone that it didn't have the same effect as earlier, but for a second he thought that it might and almost dropped the thing. "Y-yes, um." The shinigami nodded, quickly shoving the juice box into the bag with the discarded napkin lest he fumble with it some more. "I'm...but I'm not, er. R-Rukia-san is much stronger than I am."

"Is she?" Keman shrugged and gestured vaguely at a point somewhere just below his shoulder. "My little sister is about this tall and weighs a great deal less than I do, and is about twice as powerful as I am. Maybe even more than that. I'm the absolute weakest of our little group, and I still get by." He smiled. "I hate cliches, but power and strength aren't everything, right?"

"Well, I-I guess...?" Hanatarou smiled again, a little less hesitantly this time. It was very nice of Keman-san to try to be reassuring and all, though the shinigami wasn't terribly concerned about the fact that he was smaller and weaker. It might be nice to be special and powerful, but he wasn't and that was just how things were.

Hanatarou carefully removed the wrapper from the granola bar like he'd seen Keman do earlier, glad that this couldn't make a mess all over. "I'm just 4th Division. Um. A healer. N-nothing special."

Keman clapped the other boy on the shoulder. "Being a healer is special, especially here. People get hurt all the time, and you'll be able to to help them. What do you mean by '4th Division,' though? And...ah..." He blushed slightly. "Do you know Orihime Inoue, by chance? Since you're from the same place and you're both healers, and...yes."

Hanatarou looked momentarily startled at the gesture. "Ah, th-the 4th Division is the medical and supply division of the Gotei 13. Um. I, I don't know how much help I would be, b-but if I can help, I'd like to." He gave an embarrassed little half-shrug and shook his head once. "When I was out last night I just got in the way."

He perked up a little at mention of Orihime's name, though, blinking up at Keman curiously. "Orihime-san? Um, yes, I...I've met her. She and her friends were in Soul Society for a while, a-and before I came here I was supposed to be with a group going to find her."

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Day 35: Bus 1

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