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yuri_challenge2011-03-24 12:15 pm
pi) wrote in yuri_challenge2011-03-24 12:15 pm
Entry tags:
Thinking, High School of the Dead, Saeko/Saya
Title: Thinking
Creator:pi
Rating: PG
Warning: none
Word Count: 1084
Prompt: High School of the Dead, Saeko Busujima/Saya Takagi, "Does my presence bother you?"
Teaser: Someone interrupts Saya's thoughts.
It's not that Saya hates not being in charge. She is. In charge, that is, in a way. She's still the brains of this opperation. Komuro is their de facto leader, but that's because everyone listens to him. Not everyone listens to Saya. It's their loss for being so oblivious. But she has to admit they work well as a group under his command. Hirano gets to shoot his guns, Miyamoto gets to make doe eyes at Komuro, or whatever it is she does that's productive. Shizuka-sensei can at least drive, if nothing else. Busujima helps Komuro kill things. And Saya thinks. Saya thinks a lot. Aside from drilling a zombie in the forehead, she hasn't done her fair share of killing things. Killing Them. Saya is a better strategist. Only, things tend to happen to fast for her to have any input. Hirano's shooting and Komuro's whacking Them left and right with his baseball bat. And Busujima is almost a work of art to watch, with bodies falling around her like girls fainting at a idol show. It's almost frustrating. So, when Saya finds time to think. Like this, it's really quite annoying when someone just happens to be there too.
Saya isn't good at everything. If there's anything she's learned from this, it's that she's good at nothing constructive. Her parents are ready for the worst, fight ready. She, their brilliant daughter can do no better than barely getting anywhere alive. Saya breathes deep and tries not to get snippy. She can be a bitch, particularly under stress. She's known this every midterm of her existence. They are like a pop quiz with added gore. Saya's nerves are fraying like overplayed bows. Saya is not a musical instrument.
"Does my presence bother you?" Apparently Saya is not masking well.
"Since you asked? Yes!" She answers. Saya doesn't open her eyes. She is thinking. She is making plans, escape routes, checklists of the things they will need. The important little things no one else will think about. What will they do when the food goes bad, what will they do if it rains, if their guns jam, if they run out of ammo, if they pop a tire. Where will be safe, where will be secure. Where can they get anesthetic and antibiotics and clean bandages. Where will they aquire clean clothes. How much could the reasonably carry walking. There are too many things to think about, and Komuro is busy thinking about killing Them, and his issues with Miyamoto and Busujima too to be honest. Hirano is probably thinking about amo and food, but he isn't thinking about the whys and the hows. And here Busujima is, asking if she's a bother. And she hasn't left. She asked the question, she's got her answer and she's still standing there.
"Don't you have somewhere better to be?" Saya asks. Her voice isn't as cutting as she was going for. She always sounds tired these days. Too much doing nothing is more stressful than actually killing Them she thinks viciously. Even Alice is sleeping most of the time. Maybe that's what children do. Saya is not a child. She is terribly tired.
"Not particularly." Busujima answers. Great. Saya will sit here with Miss Perfect and all her skills breathing down her neck.
"I'm trying to think." Saya says, finally opening her eyes to look accusingly at Busujima.
Busujima looks calm, she looks a little happy. Saya wants wipe that hint of a smile off her face. With her fist. Only, Saya's only hit someone once, and even then it was pretty ineffective. Busujima would probably laugh at her. Or just stay quiet and look and Saya would feel just as bad as if she'd done nothing. She feels that way anyway. Saya doesn't hit her. She doesn't want to bruise her fingers.
"You think a lot." Busujima says. Saya tries not to roll her eyes. She doesn't answer. "I've noticed." Busujima continues, "I'm glad. I think we'll need someone to be doing that for us, more in the future."
"Well, I'm glad somebody sees that." Again it's not as harsh as she meant.
Busujima's smile is twitching. It's not on her lips, but quirking just behind them. Saya want's to poke them with her finger, reveal her teeth to prove the smile really is there. It's just hiding. There's silence. Saya realizes she's been staring. Her fingers twitch. She closes her eyes and breathes, thinking. This is about thinking. Busujima has to be intentionally annoying her. She's breathing in the same rhythm. Saya is not meditating. She glares again. Busujima's eyes are closed. Her legs are folded neatly under her. Her hands are ready, and her breaths deep and even. She still looks peaceful and she still looks happy. Saya thinks her glasses are crooked from where she accidentally sat on them. Her hair is tangling itself without a brush, and approaching a point where she will have to perpetually wear ponytails for the rest of her life or look like a hair monster. But She doesn't still have blood under her fingernails. She wasn't sure how it got there, but it was the first thing he washed away. It's not there, but she can feel where it was. Where it was on her cheek and splashed across her skirt. It makes her knees itch. Busujima looks like she's never had an itch in her life.
"How do you do it?" Saya blurts.
"Do what?" Busujima asks without opening her eyes. Saya makes a pointless gesture, Busujima can't see it.
"Everything. Your, your composure. How do you?" Busujima's smile is almost frightening.
"Unlike you, I enjoy it. I don't think that that is something to admire." Saya stares. She thinks about that for a moment.
"Yeah, probably not." The silence is harder, more awkward. Saya's throat works before she breaks it, "But I think maybe it's helpful, now."
"Perhaps." Busujima says. Her eyes are critical and Saya sits straighter. "I'm not sure any of us know what's really helpful now. We wont for a while." Her voice is soft. Saya nods. That makes sense, all they have now is data and not nearly enough of it.
"Thank you." she says and she's not sure why. Busujima hasn't done anything for her.
"Call me Saeko." the other girl responds. It's out of place, Saya hasn't said her name, but somehow it seems like the right answer.
"Thank you, Saeko." she says, smiles a little. Saeko smiles back.
Creator:
piRating: PG
Warning: none
Word Count: 1084
Prompt: High School of the Dead, Saeko Busujima/Saya Takagi, "Does my presence bother you?"
Teaser: Someone interrupts Saya's thoughts.
It's not that Saya hates not being in charge. She is. In charge, that is, in a way. She's still the brains of this opperation. Komuro is their de facto leader, but that's because everyone listens to him. Not everyone listens to Saya. It's their loss for being so oblivious. But she has to admit they work well as a group under his command. Hirano gets to shoot his guns, Miyamoto gets to make doe eyes at Komuro, or whatever it is she does that's productive. Shizuka-sensei can at least drive, if nothing else. Busujima helps Komuro kill things. And Saya thinks. Saya thinks a lot. Aside from drilling a zombie in the forehead, she hasn't done her fair share of killing things. Killing Them. Saya is a better strategist. Only, things tend to happen to fast for her to have any input. Hirano's shooting and Komuro's whacking Them left and right with his baseball bat. And Busujima is almost a work of art to watch, with bodies falling around her like girls fainting at a idol show. It's almost frustrating. So, when Saya finds time to think. Like this, it's really quite annoying when someone just happens to be there too.
Saya isn't good at everything. If there's anything she's learned from this, it's that she's good at nothing constructive. Her parents are ready for the worst, fight ready. She, their brilliant daughter can do no better than barely getting anywhere alive. Saya breathes deep and tries not to get snippy. She can be a bitch, particularly under stress. She's known this every midterm of her existence. They are like a pop quiz with added gore. Saya's nerves are fraying like overplayed bows. Saya is not a musical instrument.
"Does my presence bother you?" Apparently Saya is not masking well.
"Since you asked? Yes!" She answers. Saya doesn't open her eyes. She is thinking. She is making plans, escape routes, checklists of the things they will need. The important little things no one else will think about. What will they do when the food goes bad, what will they do if it rains, if their guns jam, if they run out of ammo, if they pop a tire. Where will be safe, where will be secure. Where can they get anesthetic and antibiotics and clean bandages. Where will they aquire clean clothes. How much could the reasonably carry walking. There are too many things to think about, and Komuro is busy thinking about killing Them, and his issues with Miyamoto and Busujima too to be honest. Hirano is probably thinking about amo and food, but he isn't thinking about the whys and the hows. And here Busujima is, asking if she's a bother. And she hasn't left. She asked the question, she's got her answer and she's still standing there.
"Don't you have somewhere better to be?" Saya asks. Her voice isn't as cutting as she was going for. She always sounds tired these days. Too much doing nothing is more stressful than actually killing Them she thinks viciously. Even Alice is sleeping most of the time. Maybe that's what children do. Saya is not a child. She is terribly tired.
"Not particularly." Busujima answers. Great. Saya will sit here with Miss Perfect and all her skills breathing down her neck.
"I'm trying to think." Saya says, finally opening her eyes to look accusingly at Busujima.
Busujima looks calm, she looks a little happy. Saya wants wipe that hint of a smile off her face. With her fist. Only, Saya's only hit someone once, and even then it was pretty ineffective. Busujima would probably laugh at her. Or just stay quiet and look and Saya would feel just as bad as if she'd done nothing. She feels that way anyway. Saya doesn't hit her. She doesn't want to bruise her fingers.
"You think a lot." Busujima says. Saya tries not to roll her eyes. She doesn't answer. "I've noticed." Busujima continues, "I'm glad. I think we'll need someone to be doing that for us, more in the future."
"Well, I'm glad somebody sees that." Again it's not as harsh as she meant.
Busujima's smile is twitching. It's not on her lips, but quirking just behind them. Saya want's to poke them with her finger, reveal her teeth to prove the smile really is there. It's just hiding. There's silence. Saya realizes she's been staring. Her fingers twitch. She closes her eyes and breathes, thinking. This is about thinking. Busujima has to be intentionally annoying her. She's breathing in the same rhythm. Saya is not meditating. She glares again. Busujima's eyes are closed. Her legs are folded neatly under her. Her hands are ready, and her breaths deep and even. She still looks peaceful and she still looks happy. Saya thinks her glasses are crooked from where she accidentally sat on them. Her hair is tangling itself without a brush, and approaching a point where she will have to perpetually wear ponytails for the rest of her life or look like a hair monster. But She doesn't still have blood under her fingernails. She wasn't sure how it got there, but it was the first thing he washed away. It's not there, but she can feel where it was. Where it was on her cheek and splashed across her skirt. It makes her knees itch. Busujima looks like she's never had an itch in her life.
"How do you do it?" Saya blurts.
"Do what?" Busujima asks without opening her eyes. Saya makes a pointless gesture, Busujima can't see it.
"Everything. Your, your composure. How do you?" Busujima's smile is almost frightening.
"Unlike you, I enjoy it. I don't think that that is something to admire." Saya stares. She thinks about that for a moment.
"Yeah, probably not." The silence is harder, more awkward. Saya's throat works before she breaks it, "But I think maybe it's helpful, now."
"Perhaps." Busujima says. Her eyes are critical and Saya sits straighter. "I'm not sure any of us know what's really helpful now. We wont for a while." Her voice is soft. Saya nods. That makes sense, all they have now is data and not nearly enough of it.
"Thank you." she says and she's not sure why. Busujima hasn't done anything for her.
"Call me Saeko." the other girl responds. It's out of place, Saya hasn't said her name, but somehow it seems like the right answer.
"Thank you, Saeko." she says, smiles a little. Saeko smiles back.