Work Text:
Another stroke formed the last branch of the tree. A bit shaky, but still recognizable. He was halfway there. He could do this.
The first short stroke landed neatly where he intended followed by an equally short second. Already more successful than his past several attempts, but then he was too heavy-handed with the third. An ugly blotch marred the page, and the edge of his sleeve dragging through wet ink only made it worse.
He set his brush down harder than intended. "Kojiro!" he called, "How often does your apron find itself in the pot?"
Kojiro looked up from the stove, ladle halfway to his lips. "Not often? Why?"
Kaoru shrugged his good shoulder. "It simply occurred to me that putting on an apron is, at its core, not that different from tying back the sleeves of one's yukata, and so I wondered if your skills were equally lacking in the former as they appear to be in the latter."
"So I take it the calligraphy's not going well."
"The calligraphy would be going far better without an escaped sleeve getting in the way. If you want to be useful, then come over here and tie it back for me again."
Kojiro muttered something undoubtedly unkind under his breath, but he set the ladle back down beside the pot and came around the counter to peer over Kaoru's shoulder. "This is better?" he asked.
Kaoru gestured to the latest mangled example and to the utterly illegible first attempt on the other side of the table. "Progress. There's still time, and I only need one good one."
"The great Sakurayashiki Kaoru defeated by an injured arm. Have you really never practiced with your other hand? Not even for fun?"
Kaoru hoped Kojiro could feel his glare even from the opposite direction. "It wasn't exactly encouraged," he said. "I--hey!" he hissed as Kojiro pulled on his bad arm.
"Just lose the yukata for a bit," Kojiro pleaded. "There's not way to tie that sleeve back and make it stay that won't hurt your shoulder. I promise, a little exposed skin isn't going to kill you. Who knows, you might even decide you like it."
"I will not. You have to understand; the calligraphy experience is more than just the characters on the page. To do calligraphy naked as you suggest would be an entirely different experience. If you're so confident, you could always try it yourself."
Kojiro studied the detritus threatening to take over the largest table in his dining room. "I know my handwriting sucks, as you like to point out on a regular basis, but even I can do better than this. High school me could do better than this. Remind me again why this has to be done now? Didn't you say most of your clients were willing to reschedule?"
"It's for a high school festival. The date isn't going to change, so they need it now. The good news is, they didn't want a demonstration. The better news is it's a reference for some competition the Calligraphy Club is hosting. It doesn't need to be an artistic masterpiece."
"Says the one who can't back down from a challenge, even when it's a bad idea. Move over before you hurt your other arm too."
"Move me yourself if you're so insistent."
"Carla, move this stubborn bastard out of the way before I sit on him," Kojiro said.
"Acknowledged."
Kaoru made a mental note to revoke Kojiro's permissions. He could override the order of course, but then Kojiro would undoubtedly just pick him up and move him himself. Better to retain what little dignity he still had. He'd ask Carla to help him get revenge later. He winced as Kojiro cracked his knuckles. "I know it's a foreign concept to you, but please be gentle with my brush. Think of it like one of your knives if you have to; it's just as important."
"You know I'm always nice to your things, Kaoru. Isn't that right, Carla?"
"Don't answer him, Carla," Kaoru ordered. "You'll need a new sheet of paper. No, not those. Use the stack to your left; they're for practice."
"So did you pick the character, or did they?" Kojiro asked as he arranged his work area. His rolled up sleeves showed off his muscled forearms, but his callused hands were surprisingly gentle despite dwarfing Kaoru's favorite brush. That was Kojiro in a nutshell; he could always be gentle when it counted, despite what his public demeanor might suggest.
"They did, and before you ask, I did try to talk them out of it, but they were quite adamant. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was someone's idea of a joke. Now make sure you have the correct amount of ink on your brush. Not too dry, but no too wet either."
"Says the one who gave me a hard time for saying 'not too large, but not too small either' in a recipe," Kojiro said. "Good thing I remember this much from high school, no thanks to a certain punk with a lip ring who had a bad habit of kicking the back of my chair."
"You were blocking my view."
"Why did you even need a view? You were already better than the teacher by then, and we all knew it."
"You could have at least let me pretend to be normal. That's all I wanted. That's all any of us wanted."
Kojiro jammed the brush down onto the paper, leaving an angry vertical stroke down the left of the page.
"Not so hard," Kaoru chided, turning the conversation back to less dangerous subjects. "I know it can be difficult for your musclebound self to grasp, but strength isn't everything. You're making a tree, not rebar. Let me try to make it simple for you. Think cutting a tomato, not punching down dough."
"Your explanations continue to leave much to be desired. Spend too much time talking to Carla and you forget how us normal humans work, you machine weirdo. Keep your calculations, I already know what your thoughts on this particular character."
"How?" Kaoru asked.
"They made a big deal of it at your father's retirement. His thoughts on a life of calligraphy, and then they unveiled your first official piece as the new family head and brought you forward to give your remarks as well. Unlike some people, I remember things myself instead of trusting a glorified video camera to record them all."
"If I'd known I'd be hearing about that interview for the rest of my life, I would've come up with some pithier soundbites," Kaoru said. He rubbed at the sudden new ache in his chest. Funny how sometimes a single pain would emerge from the general background noise and capture his whole attention.
Kojiro's hand covered his. He'd set down the brush at some point, though stray ink still spattered his fingers. "It was a good interview, and you've grown into the part. If your father were here, I bet he'd be proud of what you've done."
The ache intensified. Damn bruised ribs. Damn body that didn't heal as quickly as it used to. He tilted his head toward the paper. "Not bad, for a first attempt. Do a few more for good measure, and if you can keep Mr. Muscleman out, then maybe I'll let you try the real thing."
Kojiro smirked. "You know my muscles are a charm point." He turned away before Kaoru could respond and busied himself with setting out a new sheet of paper.
Somehow Kojiro was better than Kaoru would have expected, though he'd never admit it of course. Kojiro didn't need any more of a swelled head than he already had. The final version was distinct from Kaoru's own style--heavier on the first radical, and lighter on the rest in a way that felt strangely familiar--but the overall effect remained balanced and visually pleasing.
"You can praise me, you know," Kojiro said as he set the brush aside. "Especially since I just saved your ass."
"I would have managed alone," Kaoru countered, but he held out his personal stamp, "but I guess you can do the honors."
"I don't get to sign it myself?"
Kaoru glared over the top of his glasses.
"Fine, fine, I know. Not bad though, huh?"
"Acceptable."
"You wound me," Kojiro said with a dramatic flourish. "After all I've done for you."
"You know that sort of dramatic flair has never suited you. If you want to be helpful, then help me clean this up before your dinner rush arrives. I'll deliver to the school tomorrow."
"You're supposed to be resting. Make your assistant or whoever-it-is do it for you. Or I could do it myself; it's not like we don't both know exactly where this is going. I'll be in the area anyway. I won't even embarrass you."
"Your existence is embarrassing. How would you explain why a random chef ended up playing messenger for Sakurayashiki Kaoru?"
Kojiro shrugged. "I'd just say that a certain calligrapher was unable to come himself due to weak health, and I happened to be nearby. It covers any questions about why this looks different from your normal style too, and less likely to end in you punching me than 'he had a skateboard accident and had to try to do this with his other hand.'"
"Find a better phrase than 'weak health' and I'll consider it," Kaoru said. Though the other statement was more accurate than even Kojiro assumed. After all, what was Kojiro if not his always-present other hand?