Work Text:
"Kyoudai. Your homework."
Ishimaru tapped his pencil on the tabletop, right by Mondo's crossed arms where he rested his head. When that failed to spur him into action, Ishimaru gave Mondo's knuckles three sharp raps.
Mondo groaned in response. "Don't wanna."
"Come on, Kyoudai, you know you need to get this done! The sooner you finish your work, the sooner I'll stop harassing you."
It took him a moment, but with a groan Mondo finally raised his head. "Fine," he grumbled, pulling his paper and pencil over to him. "What do we gotta do again? Write some stupid poem?"
Ishimaru snorted derisively. "It's not just some stupid poem. It's a haiku, specifically. It's an ancient art of Japan, and you should take it seriously." He paused. "Well, you SHOULD take ALL your schoolwork seriously, but this warrants particular interest and attention."
"Whatever," Mondo said. "Five syllables, seven syllables, and then five syllables?"
"Correct."
"Sure. Easy enough." With that Mondo set to work.
Now Ishimaru could concentrate on his own work. Unfortunately, though, he hadn't made much progress yet. He knew he wanted to write a poem about the springtime, his favorite season. But he was having trouble getting the syllables to line up.
Spring is drawing near
Leaves are growing on the trees
Flowers bloom too
No, no, that just sounded stupid. Juvenile. Plus, the last line only had four syllables.
Flowers are blooming too
No, that was six. Maybe if he just...
Flowers begin to bloom
That was six too! The whole poem just felt wrong. Ishimaru crumpled the paper and tossed it aside. Spring apparently wouldn't be his muse.
Mondo raised an eyebrow at Ishimaru throwing the paper, but said nothing, and went back to his own work.
Ishimaru pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, rolled his pencil between his fingers, and began to draft ideas. He knew haiku were usually inspired by nature, so maybe he'd just pick a different season. Winter sounded nice.
Cold comes all around
Hmm, not bad so far. He bit his eraser, thinking for another minute or two, before writing again.
Snowflakes falling to the ground
Ishimaru reread his poem. This was looking pretty good so far! And it rhymed! Now he just needed the last line.
We need mittens and hats
He felt sure he was done, until he re-counted the last line. There it was again, that pesky sixth syllable. How could he make the sentence shorter? He couldn't just say "we need mittens," that was only four...Maybe he should just choose an entirely different idea for the last line.
Let's go build a snowman
He felt good about it for about two seconds before he realized—six syllables again. Why could he never get the numbers right? He tried to rework the last line fruitlessly, but finally grew frustrated and decided to scrap it. New idea. New season. He loved the colors of the leaves in the fall, so maybe he could write about that? He decided to give it a try.
Autumn falls around
There, that was a good start. Five syllables, and he'd incorporated the words "autumn" AND "fall". Ishimaru mentally patted himself on the back.
Leaves turn from green to brown
Ishimaru frowned. No, that wouldn't do—that was only six syllables, not seven. Saying "red" instead of "brown" wouldn't fix it, it would still only have six. Maybe if he used the word "orange," and if he stretched it out, like "o-range"—
"Done."
"What?!" Ishimaru looked at Mondo's paper incredulously. Sure enough, he had written a three-line poem.
Purrs with cat-like grace
Engine growls like a lion
Motorcycle roars
Ishimaru counted, then counted again. Five, seven, five—it was correct. "How did you do this so fast?" he demanded.
Mondo rubbed the back of his neck. "What? It wasn't hard or anything, I just started writing and made sure I had the right syllables. It just kinda came." He glanced at Ishimaru's paper. "Why, are you having trouble?"
Ishimaru scrambled to hide his half-written poem. "No, of course not! I'm doing just fine, thank you!"
Mondo raised an eyebrow and squinted a bit. "Do you need some help?"
Before Ishimaru could answer, Mondo began to grin. "I can help you if you want."
Ishimaru straightened himself up. "No, I'm fine, I can—"
"This is not so hard," Mondo said, looking pretty pleased with himself.
Ishimaru felt himself steaming. "It IS hard, Kyoudai! It's not like you can just, I don't know, rattle off a haiku on the spot! It takes hard work, and a lot of thought and preparation!"
"No it doesn't. I wrote one just now."
Ishimaru sighed. "Yes, I KNOW you did, I just read—"
"No, like as I was talking," Mondo clarified. Ishimaru squinted at him, unsure of what he meant. Mondo repeated himself, counting syllables on his fingers.
"Do you need some help?
I can help you if you want.
This is not so hard."
Ishimaru sat, dumbstruck. He'd done it, just on the spot like that. Five, seven, five. Unbelievable. "How—how did you do that?"
Mondo shrugged. "Dunno. Knack for poetry, I guess. Or maybe I just count fast."
Ishimaru shook his head. "But you just...you just did it so quickly. I don't know how you did it."
Mondo stood and took a few steps, tapping his chin for a moment before speaking. "I'll do it again," he said, beginning to grin. "I will write one more aloud. See, I just did it."
Ishimaru counted on his fingers. Yes, that was it. Mondo had somehow pulled a haiku from thin air again.
Ishimaru clenched his fist in frustration. "You shouldn't be able to do this so easily," he insisted. "It takes me so long to do this! You cannot seriously just be inventing these from nowhere!"
Mondo took a few steps closer and reached for Ishimaru's paper. "Let me see," he said, but Ishimaru snatched it away.
"No, not until I'm finished!" He kept the lines he'd written out of sight, embarrassed of his own sorry poem.
"Ain't gonna judge ya," Mondo grunted, stretching to reach the paper even as Ishimaru stood too and leaned away. "I just wanna see your work. Lemme have a look."
Mondo began to laugh, and Ishimaru's ears turned red as he realized Mondo had done it again. Five-seven-five. Ishimaru was going to have an aneurysm.
He faltered for just a moment, and Mondo was able to snatch the paper from his grasp. "Don't!" he shouted, reaching for it, but Mondo had already stepped away and was skimming the page. Ishimaru pursed his lips and let a sigh of defeat out through his nose, his face undeniably red.
"I see your problem," Mondo said. "You need one more syllable."
"I know that," Ishimaru said as he grabbed the paper back and sat down, frustrated, just as Mondo said, "Then you will be done."
Ishimaru opened his mouth, then noticed Mondo's shit-eating grin.
Ishimaru sighed, closing his eyes. "You did it again, didn't you."
Mondo clapped Ishimaru on the back. "Aw hell, c'mon, you'll get it. Don't beat yourself up over something as stupid as schoolwork."
"It just seems so hard," Ishimaru said, staring down at the table. "I can't seem to get it right." He grabbed his paper and crumpled it, his fists clenching. "Why can't I do this?!"
He raised his arm to throw the paper down, just as Mondo shouted "Kyoudai, you just did!"
Ishimaru turned to look at him, stunned. Mondo quickly repeated it back to him: "'It just seems so hard. I can't seem to get it right. Why can't I do this?'"
There it was again, that elusive five-seven-five. But this time it was something Ishimaru himself had said.
"I did it?" he said, and when Mondo nodded, he grinned wildly. "I did it!"
"You did it, Kyoudai!" Mondo said. He raised his hand for a high-five, which Ishimaru gratefully returned.
"I'm a poet and I didn't even realize it!" he said triumphantly.
Mondo was silent, then stifled a laugh. Ishimaru turned to stare at him. "What?"
Mondo leaned against the wall looked at him fondly, still laughing a little. "Know it," he said. "You're a poet and you didn't even know it."
Ishimaru stared blankly. "Huh?"
Mondo shook his head, smiling. "Just stick to writing prose, okay?"
"Okay, Kyoudai, if you say so."