/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>44824137
(2/3)
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Mr. Anon told many stories, many involving his daughter, Hana. They focused on the spring of her life, and all were soaked in nostalgia. Time passed rather quickly, and I was there, listening in awe to his fast-paced words. He'd jump from topic to topic, from memory to memory, never letting silence settle. It weirded me out a bit, but I paid no attention to it.

We moved to the bed, nice choccy milk for me and bitter tea for him.

"It was the first time she drank alcohol, and, gosh, it was the funniest thing. She was barely 9, tripping around with a pink cup of the softest sake we had stored, drinking from an over-the-top curved straw." I giggled at the image of this Hana, supposedly that looked just like me, all tipsy. "Recently she drank again at a festival, and if she still had her puffy cheeks..." His eyes stared into nothingness, suddenly empty and sad. His moods change so quickly...

"Why do you get so sad, Mr. Anon?"

"Hm?"

I drank from my choccy milk before elaborating, "Sometimes you're happy, then you're sad. Why?" Unlike before, Mr. Anon didn't answer immediately, mouth straightening to a line. It's the same expression Master sometimes uses, but instead of disappearing the moment I stare too much, his has morphed into a sad smile.

It's odd how a smile can be sad. Hurts the chest.

"I think I just live too much inside my own head and am sensitive to my thoughts... The past used to be so simple," he played with his hands, reaching for the two long needles and threads of before. Being so close now, I saw that he was knitting something: fluffy gloves, red and white. "I know it was not, however. Yet, I long to have it back—a past where Hana was this little thing that perfectly fits in my arms, and life had its small embers of peace."

I didn't really understand what he was talking about, but I felt sad too, tails low and eyes drooping. Mr. Anon noticed.

"Oh! Sorry for that!" He laughed, but there was no light in it. "That's one of the curses of getting old: you just start spewing cryptic stuff out of nowhere; I should get slapped for that!" I stared at him, slapping himself in the back of the head, perplexed by one more mood swing. "Hm..." His hands picked up the gloves he was knitting, apparently done. "Ah, another mistake. These go into the trash—"

"H-huh? Why? They look so fluffy!"

"Meh," he pointed to a small, uneven formation on the fingers. "I did the fingers wrong; they're messed up and kinda broken now. Throwing in the trash and—"

With quick movements, I got the gloves from him: mad, pouting, and with tails wiggling, the past interaction already forgotten.

"Bleeeh, mine now!" I showed my tongue to him before starting to wear the gloves, a note of anger born in my complexion; "It's not because they're 'broken' that you should throw them away, baaaaka! Dumb adults are always like this." Satisfied with the lecture, I brushed the gloves against my face, purring with the warmth. "So cozy~"

"Heh... Yeah, I think it makes sense. You're very wise, Chen." Feeling triumphant with the compliment, I returned my gaze to Mr. Anon's face, the previous sad gone. Now, genuine light. "Your chocolate milk will get cold if you don't drink it, though."

"Wah?!" Wide-eyed and suddenly remembering my beverage, I was swift to sip it, doing it so quickly to the point I slightly burned my tongue. Mr. Anon was laughing, and the sound was unlike his other laughs.

It sounded nice.

We kept talking, and the conversation flowed much more naturally, which made it easier to accompany and give my input: Mr. Anon never ignored it or brushed it aside, as so many adults like to do. I don't know why they wouldn't want to hear a wise girl like myself, but that's their loss!

At one point, Mr. Anon picked up the remaining thread on the side and, wordlessly, started tangling it in between his fingers. Puzzled, I just kept staring, ending my third cup of choccy milk by the time he, with a big smile, showed me what he had done.

I looked at the threads, then at his eyes, confused.

"This is called a 'Catbed'!" He pronounced it without losing his smile.

"I don't think Chen can sleep on that."

He laughed.

"It's not to sleep on; try to pull the middle thread." I followed the instructions, and, to my surprise, the threads started forming a diamond! What the?! "Cool, isn't it? It's a game I played a lot in my childhood—tried to teach Hana, but she never quite got the hang of it."

"And what's the purpose?" I tried pulling another thread, and it returned to the initial position before I pulled for the first time. What the devils?!

I tried pulling another, and the diamond reformed. Mr. Anon gave me a smug look. "The purpose? To undo it."

The challenge saturated the air, and my eyes were flames. Chen Yakumo never backs down from a challenge!!

For the next few minutes, we played the game, me and Mr. Anon laughing and talking.

I got the hang of it and undid it. He seemed proud.

I smiled a big smile.