Chapter Text
The long winding roads and endless sprawling scenery of the natural lands that dominated Maria County was not something Jean Kirschtein was used to. He never grew up seeing fields of untamed grass flowing carelessly in the wind, never gazed upon walls of trees that seemingly had no end and swallowed everything they touched.
Skyscrapers and concrete? Sure. Putrid smelling exhaust fumes from the corner bus assaulting his nose? Check. Constant screeches of machinery and children graining in his ears? Absolutely. But the serenity of nature, the fresh air rushing through his lungs in desperate gulps he'd realize every so often? That was way too new for the boy.
“This really is your first time out of the city isn't it Jean?”
If the tease was coming from anyone else, Jean’s fist would certainly have connected with someone’s shoulder, maybe even the unguarded sides of the human body. But there was always a hard time inflicting punishment on the golden sunshine seated beside him, and instead he gave a quick snarl before grabbing at the bag of chilled apple slices being offered to him.
“Shut it Bodt.”
Beside him, the familiar soft laugh of Marco worked it’s way past his lips as he resettled in his seat. Unlike Jean, he’d been able appreciate the ride, a bit over excitedly if he had to say so. Marco was used to these things; he had grown up living in a farming community before the financial support of Trost’s best preparatory school brought the brunette to the Native’s doorstep. He understood the changes going on to the world outside the window, and eagerly explained it all to Jean with little questions.
Except one.
“I'm afraid I still don't understand why we're going there,” Marco muttered, selecting his own slice before returning his gaze to the wheat fields. “Your Uncle’s idea?”
“It wasn't mind that's for sure.”
Jean had never heard of this uncle of his. When had his father even had siblings, let alone ones that apparently knew about Jean to invite him to their town for the summer? It reeked of suspicion to him, the mystery behind it all, his father’s burning persistence that he go, and the even stronger hesitation at Marco being invited.
“Maybe he's finally getting rid of me. Didn't want you coming because you're our precious little honor guest.”
“Maybe your dad thinks we're dating.”
This time, there is no hesitation in the fist colliding with Marco’s knee. It's only a small satisfaction in the yelp, undone by the glare of the bus driver through the rear view and harsh stares of the passengers across the aisle. But even then, the sudden crack of thunder that seems to shake Windows is enough to distract everyone from the teenagers antics.
“You should calm down Jean. You're going to make it rain.” Marco is far too innocent in his jokes, clearly already over the injury and poking fun at the weather patterns. It always seemed this way: Jean would experience a mood swing, and the weather follows.
“Whatever. It'll be worse if I can't get off this damn vehicle the moment it pulls into the station. All of your crap better be together, I'll leave you behind if it's not”
He really wouldn't, but the threat is enough for Marco to begin his collecting, snacks and books finding their place back in his backpack. The rest of their companions seem to follow suit as the announcement of the town border arriving in ten minutes is whispered across the intercom system.
“I'm sure it will all go well.”
Marco's hand is on his shoulder, a small squeeze doing wonders to the trembles Jean wasn't even aware he had. He decided instead to focus back out the window, reading the welcoming billboard as they pass
Welcome to Shinganshina.
“It better be damn interesting. “