songs about toxic people

Ch 5: Your idiot

Sanzu Haruchiyo is a fucking child in a grown man's body and your forehead is scrunched in concentration as you try to make sense of the man right in front of you, presently expertly balancing a 4-year old boy on his lap, one hand lightly hovering behind the kid while the other attempts to maneuver a plate of dessert away, his entire expression bright with mirth and mock teasing and what looks to be genuine delight (not an artificially-induced one) as if he wasn't just painting the pavement red with a Bonten informer's blood in the earlier hours this morning. The child's expressions shift from on-the-verge of crying to sudden, misplaced snort-laughing, as Sanzu effortlessly steers the sinful confections away from his grasp, the whole while making faces that sends the kid into fits of laughter.

Leave me alone with my blueberry cupcakes, kid, why don'tcha? You hear the rough, not-here-to-play-around tone lacing his playful admonishment of his tiny companion, as if the child's no different from a crook he's about to hang upside down, resulting—curiously—in the 4-year old's uncontrollable giggles. Another curious thing the kid does is every time Sanzu laughs or makes a harsh sound, his tiny arms instinctively stretch out towards the sides of Sanzu's mouth, touching and pinching his scars, as if making sure they're real, morphing and moving along with his smiles and facial contortions. Sanzu would pretend to nip his little hands off with his teeth and the kid would once again be all out of breath, delighted at this wild man's antics.

You always thought that if you ever were a parent, there's no way you're letting your child go anywhere near your co-workers, much less this crackhead of a man-child. Still, in spite of yourself you smile, because Sanzu is Sanzu and what a silly tableau this whole scene makes—enough (private) entertainment for yet another run-of-the-mill official gathering that is more or less an elbow-rubbing/business dealing party in disguise. So there's that.

You stifle a yawn. You've talked to enough people this afternoon alone it's made your mood sour. That's why you're standing on your own at the edge of the crowd, not looking to be a fun person to be around for the kids to even approach; instead they're out there with funny Uncle Haru and his deceptively sweet face, clinging to his legs and trying not to fall from his lap. There is already a slight chill in the 4PM air that nips at your exposed neck, making you shiver a little.

It hits you that you actually hate putting your hair up.

"I'm never letting my kids go anywhere near that beanpole." From behind you, you hear Rindou yawn, cracks his neck. He sounded serious but you also quickly detect the lazy smile on his lips and for a split second, you think he looks like one of those lost kids you see in malls. He approaches your side and catches your eye and your curious expression. "I mean if I had kids, of course."

You blink because that's not what you think needs clarifying—Beanpole? what is it with today and your fearsome fellow Bonten executives and why are they either conversing with children or conversing like one—but you let it go. Your mind however quickly conjures up the image of Rindou Haitani with a tottering child by his side looking so much like him (or would it be his uncle...), a tiny Rindou with baby fats and possibly in a miniature suit and a lollipop stuck in his mouth in lieu of a cigar. Tormenting his own mother probably, scraping one of his father's mahogany tables with his kid-sized spring rifle. The poor child, you already decide. Any of your closest co-workers having children sounds ridiculous enough it almost makes you laugh. Instead, you just snort quietly.

"What?" You feel his stare boring on the side of your face and you try not to reveal anything through your tight-lipped smile.

"Nothing. But I agree. I don't think I'm ever letting my kids come anywhere within a 50-mile radius of..." you trail off, changing your mind at the last moment, "...of anyone among us." And to that, Rindou does chuckle. His way of agreeing too, probably.