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you cleaned up, found jesus, things are good or so i hear
The soup broth in the pot steams heavily as Rin turns down the temperature before adding the last few ingredients, the noodles that just need cooked through, and the fresh vegetables that just need wilted, more than anything. He gives it a few stirs, before checking the large digital clock magnet stuck to the door of the fridge. It smells perfect, which is just as well. It is, more or less, an offering to appease the other person in Rin's little apartment, though he's far from consciously realizing it.
It's just cold out, and InuYasha is just arrived, and he needs a good meal if he plans on sleeping outside, and for that matter, up a tree.
Rin doesn't really get it, but you can't really argue with InuYasha. He's already figured that one out.
He'd let him wander and do whatever he wanted in the apartment when they'd first arrived, and it's only now, when the food is just on the edge of being done, that he decides he can start asking the questions that are really on his mind. He doesn't really know how to cut in, or even what to ask first, so he just gets the bowls out of the cupboard and gives InuYasha a long, strangled look of insecurity. He wishes he could come up with any kind of reasonable gameplan.
"You really didn't like it when that train station attendant knew your name," he says, almost wincingly. He's pretty sure he'll get a sarcastic answer back, but it's the only place he knows to start with.
It's just cold out, and InuYasha is just arrived, and he needs a good meal if he plans on sleeping outside, and for that matter, up a tree.
Rin doesn't really get it, but you can't really argue with InuYasha. He's already figured that one out.
He'd let him wander and do whatever he wanted in the apartment when they'd first arrived, and it's only now, when the food is just on the edge of being done, that he decides he can start asking the questions that are really on his mind. He doesn't really know how to cut in, or even what to ask first, so he just gets the bowls out of the cupboard and gives InuYasha a long, strangled look of insecurity. He wishes he could come up with any kind of reasonable gameplan.
"You really didn't like it when that train station attendant knew your name," he says, almost wincingly. He's pretty sure he'll get a sarcastic answer back, but it's the only place he knows to start with.
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InuYasha wonders what enables Rin to muster up such an effort.
"You've already made one meal for me," InuYasha says, wrinkling his nose as he rubs at the back of his neck. "You don't need to make another. I don't know what you're getting out of it. Unless you really like to cook."
Crossing his legs, InuYasha stifles another yawn, leaning heavily against the back of the couch.
"I get stronger when I protect people because... I'm not fighting for myself anymore. There's more at stake. If I let myself go, it sucks, but that's all there is. Losing other people or seeing them hurt, I'd have to live through it."
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"It's like I said, it makes me happy to know that people are somewhere enjoying the food I cooked. And anyway, I'm used to living alone with my little brother for months now The cafeteria where we were going to school was way overpriced because it was for those kinds of students, normally, so I bought all the groceries and cooked the meals at home I'm so used to making enough for two people that it just comes second nature ... and it ends up piling up in the fridge as uneaten leftovers if I don't pawn it off on someone."
He gives a nervous laugh, before waving the topic away sheepishly, tail waving gently for the fond thought of Yukio.
"But I think I know what you mean. It doesn't make me any stronger. Protecting people I care about, I mean. But it makes me more careful. Makes me able to do things more conscientiously than I would, otherwise. More gets done that way. When I use my strength," Rin says, fondly quoting his father's oft-repeated words to him. "For a gentler purpose."
He thinks he's finally getting the idea of it.
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He understands that Rin has high ambitious, but without enough of the instinct to drive his decisions, InuYasha wonders if the kid might be best keeping his sentimentality in the kitchen, where it seems to be put to good use. It's hard imagining that normally, there's even one more kid like him walking around, liable to stir twice the trouble.
His expression remains carefully neutral through all of his thoughts, eyes only focusing on Rin after noticing a fair amount of movement.
"Your tail gives away how you're feeling," InuYasha bluntly points out.
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"What's wrong with that?" he asks InuYasha, more defensive than upset or aggravated. He's had enough sideways comments about it all from Shura to last a lifetime. "It's a part of me. It's more comfortable when it hangs out however. Hiding it makes me feel awkward and weird and uncomfortable, and like I can't balance. It's just not happening. I don't know what else anyone wants from me."
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But he'd rather avoid people more often than compromise the skin he's comfortable in.
"Just that it's giving away everything you're feeling. Like you can't control the damn thing. Your face does it, too, but the tail's more obvious. Like it's a monkey's tail or something."
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He drops his tail, which droops, before the end twitches in aggravation, just as InuYasha had said it would, easily broadcasting Rin's thoughts and moods. "Monkey, monkey, monkey!" he grouses. "Why is it always 'stupid monkey.' Do I look like a monkey to you? Why can't it ever be something fierce and scary, like a tiger. I'm a tiger," he decides, trying to make his point with a set of bared fangs. It might even have worked, maybe on someone not InuYasha, but Rin accompanies it with a pair of gentle hands with blunt fingernails, curled into paws, to emphasize the point.
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"Have you ever met a tiger? They sleep most hours of the day," InuYasha says, yawning at Rin and more than a little ware that it might end up only aggravating the kid further. The prospect doesn't scare InuYasha, though; if anything, he finds the indignation amusing. For some level of amusing.
"They reserve their energy for when they really need it instead of expressing everything. Being able to hide how you're feeling can be helpful, you know. I'm not the best at it, but K—" He pauses, frowning. "But I know some people who were."
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The other part of him knows those feelings are exactly why he has to keep going.
He stares blankly down at his open palms for a few seconds before mustering his concentration on stilling the movement of his tail, no matter what he's thinking. He's truly doubtful he'll be able to be the cool and aloof type like Yukio and Suguro. But it's worth practicing every once in a while.
"You stopped in the middle of saying a name," Rin observes, although he doesn't push the issue. "I should make you your bento. You should feel free to stop in any time you want, okay? And I'll get you some more and you can rest on the couch."
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More than anything, Rin confuses him. Truly, deeply. For all that InuYasha's suffered prejudice from surrounding parties longer than Rin has, Rin has something that InuYasha never had to deal with — a sharp change from one life to the other. Going from a comfortable and seemingly loving family life to suddenly pushed and pulled around by people who only see what he is rather than who. InuYasha knows that it'd piss him off. Probably trigger an unhealthy temper.
With Rin, there are little bursts of frustration, like puffs of smoke, before he calms down and becomes just a kid again.
Maybe that's it. Kids. Resilient.
"You want me to visit, don't you?" InuYasha asks, his ears twitching again. "It's not just an open door. You're practically waving me in."
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"So what if I want you to visit? I'm just showing solidarity and goodwill and whatever. It's December, after all. It's gonna be Christmas soon. People shouldn't be all alone at this time of year."
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He's not sure the kid's smart enough to handle it on his own.
"I don't care about Christmas, or about winter," he clarifies first, not wanting the sentimentality, even as his expression softens. "But I'll come back to visit. Stop yapping about it."
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