[Fanfic, 100% OJ] Awkward

Series: Suguri/Sora

Genre: Friendship/Comedy

Length: 2000 words

B/D: Two people who are both bad at communicating talk, and very almost get it right.

Sora was not ‘lost’. That would imply that she, one of the finest soldiers of the greatest war ever known, did not have a sense of direction, which would be a very dangerous implication to make. She just didn’t know where she was, or where she was going. It was an entirely different thing.

Hime had sent her out with a list of things to pick up from town. She hadn’t specified which town, of course. Or even which country. Not that Sora could have told the countries apart, anyway. Things had changed since she had last explored the world, and she hadn’t had a great chance to take in the sights even then. She’d been too busy getting shot at. What Sora did know was that Hime was quite fed up with trying to eat scoops of ice cream out of a coffee cup, and wanted some cutlery. She also knew that Suguri could not be trusted to buy cutlery at all; the grey haired girl had been sent out twice earlier that week in search of proper tableware, and had come back with pockets full of things that were ‘close enough’, in her opinion. Evidently, Suguri had dangerous opinions, because in her world a fork was the same as a spoon and one-and-a-half castanets was dinnerware for the entire family.

Still, since Sora was absolutely Not Lost and had in fact never been lost in her entire life, she thought she might take some time to explore. She had at least found a town, which was a good start. It had knobbly, cobbled streets, the kind so old that they were out of fashion even before the war began, and the shops all had puns in the name – terrible puns, it had to be said. Sora felt like every shop owner had been given a Christmas cracker joke and been told to get on with it. Every few paces there was a wrought iron lamppost. It was oddly comforting.

She had just finished walking along the High Street (which was the lowest point in town) and turned onto Eastgate (probably east, definitely not a gate) when something in a shop window caught her eye. Sora had never been one for window shopping. She just moved to her objective, completed it, and repeated until she could return home. Part of her realised that it wasn’t actually her that did it; it was a mindset, brewed in the military. One more way that the war had followed her into the future. It would take time to break it, but she had time. More than enough.

She drifted along, wondering if the roll of notes Hime had given her would stretch to lunch. She’d already walked past five vendors hawking street food, and been tempted by every one; there was something about sizzling onions that called to her on a deep spiritual level. It amazed her that there was food from so many cultures, all collected in one place – it felt like the boundaries she had grown up with, the hate that existed between people, had loosened so much. Before, she could never have imagined being able to buy pad thai, falafel and paella within mere feet of each other.

“You look hungry,” a voice said from behind her left shoulder. Deep, feminine, but a little rough. One of the sellers, perhaps. “Sora.”

Not one of the sellers. Not somebody who should know her name. Her muscles tightened, her hands curled into fists of their own accord. She’d had her guard down, she realised. Been lulled into a sense of security by this peaceful place. She pivoted, eyes flashing, to face the speaker.

There was no weapon being pointed at her. No body armour in sight. No comforting hum from a personal shield. A non-combatant. With that established, the details began to pop out at her: a loose white peasant shirt reined in by a cropped navy jacket, the arms hanging empty by the sides. A skirt long enough to trail across the cobbled streets. Blue-grey hair, blue eyes. A familiar face.

“Nath,” she breathed.

“Oh? You recognise me. Unexpected. Ah. I’m not here to fight. I would show you my hands so you can see I don’t have a weapon, but… Well, that’s not a concern,” she said, and grinned almost sheepishly: the face of a woman who’d made a bad joke, and knew it. “Let’s have some tea. My treat.”

***

“I thought everything from the world before was gone.”

The tea room was very quaint. Hime would have loved it. Clotted cream, scones and red chequered tablecloths seemed to sprout from every surface. In the corner there was a great, leathery armchair with a night-table and a stack of thick books next to it. Every time the door opened – not constant, but often enough – a bell tinkled to announce the new arrival. Nath had ordered them a plate of biscuits, and a pot of tea; true to her word, she didn’t ask for any money.

“So did I. Bits and pieces turn up, from time to time,” Nath replied. “Could you pour?”

Sora nodded, and took the pot. Her hands didn’t tremble, although she was a little nervous.

“I didn’t die after our fight. That’s the silver lining, of being like me. They just… picked up what was left, and put me back together again. As easy as that,” Nath carried on, lightly. “A few little things went missing. They called me Humpty Dumpty for a while.”

“Really?”

“No.”

Sora raised an eyebrow. She’d never met somebody who could tell a joke and yet remain utterly, uncompromisingly serious. When Suguri or Hime told one, their eyes would light up, the corners of their mouths would twitch. You laughed, and then they would laugh, and everybody would smile. With Nath, it was like she was just going through the motions of a joke without really understanding what they were for. Like somebody had told her to do it one day, and she’d never stopped.

“…Are any of the others still around?” Sora asked. The question seemed to burn on the way through her throat, and when she finished, she could feel a strange, empty dread settle where it had been. Was she scared that nothing else had survived of the world she knew? Or scared that old enemies still remained to haunt her? She didn’t honestly know.

“Maybe. I hear rumours, now and again. I don’t follow up on them.”

A non-answer. It was enough, for now. Sora breathed deeply, let the smell of Earl Grey hit her airways. It was nothing like tea she used to see the soldiers drinking, the stuff they brewed overnight in tins and that was bitter enough to make you vomit if you drank it too fast.

“How are you going to drink that?” she asked, pointing towards Nath’s teacup.

“...You aren’t going to help me?” Nath asked, blinking. Absolutely serious.

A moment passed. “That… was a joke?” Sora tried.

“Yes. Watch.”

Nath seemed to close her eyes in concentration, and something moved in one of the long, billowy sleeves of her shirt. Sora realised then why the arms weren’t tied at the wrists, as they usually were for people lacking limbs; a bit quietly floated out of the cuff, and began to zip around the table.

“Old world technology. Still works, mostly,” Nath said, as the bit hovered around her teacup. It shot out a green ray that Sora immediately recognised as a tractor beam, one of the last big jumps of technology in the war. It was impressive that they had miniaturised it so far.

“You didn’t get prosthetics?”

“I did. But they wore out, and there were no parts to replace them. Some technology has come backwards after all this time. Not too many people get their arms blown off anymore, so the new stuff is a lot worse.” The teacup hovered level to her mouth, and she took a sip. “I heard you were dead, by the way.”

Sora said nothing. It wasn’t as though the assumption was necessarily wrong. If somebody stopped moving, you called them dead, didn’t you? She had just happened to wake up again, millennia later. An easy mistake to make.

“I was asleep,” she said, finally. “For years, and years.”

Nath’s eyebrow raised the slightest fraction of an inch, but she didn’t pursue the question. Instead she took a biscuit and began to nibble it daintily, as if showing off the control she had over her bits.

“I wondered, you know. If I was the only one having difficulty adjusting. Have you noticed? In this world, even the serious people smile and joke all the time. I tell jokes, and nobody laughs. I can’t get used to it,” she said, looking away from Sora’s face. A troubled expression flickered through her eyes. “Do you ever feel that?”

Sora nodded. Hime never seemed to stop teasing; she was always ready with a quip and a dry smirk. Even Suguri, who rarely laughed outright, always seemed to be warm and approachable, a smile in her eyes if not on her face. It was difficult to talk to them, sometimes. The silence was too big.

“What were you doing before I stopped you, by the way?” Nath asked.

“Buying spoons,” Sora replied, without a hint of irony.

“...You slept for years on end, and then you wake up to buy spoons? How mysterious,” Nath said, and her mouth creased into a smile despite itself. “Look for Market Street, on the other side of town.”

“I see,” Sora said, and stood up. “Thank you for the tea. And the directions. I should proceed to the objective now.”

“Mm. I don’t suppose we’ll meet again. Maybe that’s for the better. But it was good to talk to you, Sora. I didn’t think I would ever get the chance.”

Sora looked at Nath, then; saw her rounded shoulders, the wistfulness creeping across her face. She wanted to say something, but the air was heavy, and she didn’t know the words. What would Hime do in this situation, she wondered? She pictured her new friend, the impish grin, the assured way she went about everything, and she was struck with an idea so stupid that she had to act on it before she thought about it too hard.

Leaving herself no time for doubts, she lunged across the table towards Nath and shot a hand towards her face. Nath flinched, but too slowly; Sora’s fingertips brushed against her cool skin.

“Nath,” Sora said, holding up her thumb. “I have your nose.”

“...what?”

Sora wiggled her thumb, tauntingly. “If you want it back, you have to come and find me.”

Nath looked at her, dumbfounded. Then, she coughed: a cough that rolled itself into a low chuckle that sprang from the very pit of her stomach.

“You must be the strangest ultimate weapon I’ve ever met,” she gasped, her eyes crinkled at the edges. “Very well. I’ll find you and reclaim my nose some other day.”

“I’ll make some tea for you when you do. I’ll use my new spoons,” the blonde girl replied, grinning. Then she turned on her heel and left, still holding her thumb above her head.

Nath didn’t reply. She was too busy chuckling to herself. What kind of world was she living in, where two women who’d tried their very best to kill each other could turn around and drink tea, and play childish jokes on each other? A better one than when they’d first met, she decided. Better by far.

“Excuse me… Are you alright?” one of the waitresses said, passing by. She was young, much shorter than Nath was. Not sure how to deal with this strange, armless woman, chuckling to herself in a tea-room.

“Ah… Don’t worry about me,” Nath replied, with mirth still ringing in her voice. “I’m quite ‘armless.”

The waitress looked at her for a moment -- then slowly, uncertainly, began to laugh.

A/N: Don't ask me how I decided that Nath is a bad joke machine. It just sort've... happened. Legend says that Sora is still holding Nath's nose above her head to this very day.