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[KBP] Trailer Trash
Jul. 31st, 2016 01:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oneblackcatTwo days later, his head still hadn’t cleared.
The motions were the same. Go to school, work the trailer, mediate squabbles (okay, he’d never quite resorted to ending one by hosing them down before, but he wasn’t really sorry, either), spend evenings doing homework or catching up on the news. It was inside that was different. Conflicted.
What else could you call it, when someone took a child with nowhere else to go, and set them on a path to murder? But on the other hand, was that such a horrible thing when it was for something that gave purpose to an existence that otherwise wouldn’t have it? Didn’t the city need someone to do that kind of work? And wasn’t it only right, only fair, to give such a grim and terminal occupation to someone whose life was otherwise already over anyway? Surely that was better than taking away someone with other things to live for, like family or romance or indispensable talent.
With that in mind, how could he leave, even to a position fighting crime in more legal ways? There were plenty of people to do that! If he left, someone else would be brought into his place, and how could he know they would care as much as he did about taking care of Aya, Ken, and Youji? How would he know they cared as much as he did about doing something about the innocent deaths?
But were those things he cared about because of who he was, or things he cared about because he’d been taught to by someone else who chose this path for him? What if—
PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Omi shrieked and cringed as a blast of cold water sprayed him for what must have been six solid seconds, leaving him quite thoroughly drenched.
"You're getting lines around your mouth. None of the girls will want you anymore."
“Youji-kun...!”
Ken, who looked entirely too satisfied with this stunt, stepped over with a grin and playfully flicked his forehead. “Serves ya right, Omi. He who sprays first...”
“You were arguing!”
“I don’t see how that factors into rules of payback. Looks like the score is even now.”
Omi moaned and wrung out his shirt tail. He wanted a towel.
The motions were the same. Go to school, work the trailer, mediate squabbles (okay, he’d never quite resorted to ending one by hosing them down before, but he wasn’t really sorry, either), spend evenings doing homework or catching up on the news. It was inside that was different. Conflicted.
What else could you call it, when someone took a child with nowhere else to go, and set them on a path to murder? But on the other hand, was that such a horrible thing when it was for something that gave purpose to an existence that otherwise wouldn’t have it? Didn’t the city need someone to do that kind of work? And wasn’t it only right, only fair, to give such a grim and terminal occupation to someone whose life was otherwise already over anyway? Surely that was better than taking away someone with other things to live for, like family or romance or indispensable talent.
With that in mind, how could he leave, even to a position fighting crime in more legal ways? There were plenty of people to do that! If he left, someone else would be brought into his place, and how could he know they would care as much as he did about taking care of Aya, Ken, and Youji? How would he know they cared as much as he did about doing something about the innocent deaths?
But were those things he cared about because of who he was, or things he cared about because he’d been taught to by someone else who chose this path for him? What if—
PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Omi shrieked and cringed as a blast of cold water sprayed him for what must have been six solid seconds, leaving him quite thoroughly drenched.
"You're getting lines around your mouth. None of the girls will want you anymore."
“Youji-kun...!”
Ken, who looked entirely too satisfied with this stunt, stepped over with a grin and playfully flicked his forehead. “Serves ya right, Omi. He who sprays first...”
“You were arguing!”
“I don’t see how that factors into rules of payback. Looks like the score is even now.”
Omi moaned and wrung out his shirt tail. He wanted a towel.
