Chapter Text
It had been hell on earth to argue her case and debate in order to obtain a singular mini-fridge for her apartment.
Technically, she had her meals delivered every day. The only place she could have a fridge was at the studio, to be used in-between rehearsals and recordings, while her apartment only comported a few cupboards, filled to the brim fortunately. They weren’t supposed to be. Ever.
But while a fridge is optional in an apartment, you can’t really easily rid one of most of its cupboards. Over time she’d learnt to sneak in some snacks.
Regardless of all of those details, she finally owned a fridge.
And its sole contents were one carefully packaged heart.
Teto had received the package two days ago. It was well-preserved, drained of actual blood but tinted red using… what was probably food dye. The package’s interior was filled with ice packs and tinfoil.
Now, it wasn’t a human heart. Judging by the shape, although quite similar, it was probably a pig’s or something.
She’d stared at it for a long time, once the initial shock had subsided. She still wasn’t entirely sure how the package had made it to her; no fanmail ever reached her directly, everything was opened and read and answered by her public relations team now. She had no say in what was told to those fans or what happened to their gifts.
As odd as it might’ve been, that gift was the first one she’d received in years.
Someone out there had been determined enough to reach out to her, bypass her protections, just to send her a packaged organ in a cardboard box.
If that wasn’t dedication…
The least she could do was show her gratefulness, after all?
Teto closed the door of the fridge, slowly walking back to the living room where she was expected to wait. An interview was awaiting her, had been scheduled for days.
She was supposed to subtly hint at the release of her upcoming album, and look her best — twenty more minutes to wait…
The thought of going to eat something before going crossed her mind, before she strongly pushed it back.
Man, how many times a week could a single drain get clogged? He could’ve sworn it was his fourth time working around the sewer access because some fat had accumulated during the day.
Checking one last time if the way was cleared, he finally stood back up and cracked his spine, slightly groaning as he did so. He spent way too much of his work hours bent over on something and he could feel it it take effect.
Glancing back at the freezer storage’s door still closed, he deduced his boss was still in there setting up the new stock and probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed. The boy left for the front store while removing his now sticky gloves, humming something under his breath.
This trashy idol music the boss kept playing during opening hours was stuck in his head, dang it.
The gloves soon met their end in the trash. What now… he thought as he looked around. He hadn’t been given any particular instructions for when he’d finish clearing the drains, but as his dear boss liked to say “There’s always something to do! And if you think you have time to stay idle, you’re wrong.”
He stepped outside to go check the shop’s mailbox just in case they had any overdue taxes he could help sorting.
Ads, ads, more ads, client's letter – keep that. Ads. Ads again. Some envelope with a pink star sealing it, fancy – keep that. More ads.
The boy returned inside and threw the ads to meet his gloves in the trash, setting the more valuable mail on the countertop for his boss to check once the stocks were dealt with. He could hear the unmistakable sound of a bone saw in action and drew the conclusion it shouldn't take too long from now.
And right as he formed the thought, the freezer door slid open and his boss walked out with an apathetic smile etched across her face.
“You’ve got mail,” he signaled with a nod. “And I'm done with the drain, so the grinder station should be all good to use now. Can I go on break?”
The butcher stared at him for a second, before grabbing the client's envelope and tearing it open.
“Boy, boy. Len, my boy. My employee.”
“Intern,” he corrected her.
“Employee. There's enough meat in these stocks for us to go a full new week even with the rush we're undergoing these days. I think we're good right now. Take your break. I'll start keeping the shop soon as I've read these.” She bared a toothy smile and Len gave her a thumbs up in return. “If I need you for cutting later I'll call but for now rest these bones. You look like shrimp.”
He scoffed a little at the jab but ultimately had to suppress a giggle as he wearily went for the back rooms, leaving the butcher to read her mail.
Hm-hmmm.
Some recently diseased husband whose wife really couldn't hide his body for long, she'd attached some justification as to why he was dead at all - the butcher didn't bother reading that part and proceeded to add the pickup to her schedule. Sometime tomorrow, she could ask Len to keep the shop while she was gone. He was a good kid.
And what of that fancy envelope then ? That wasn't no client.
She stared at the pink star on it. …No way.
Could it be ? Already an answer ? The butcher couldn't take her eyes off it.
Even if it was an automated answer sent by the label house, she'd be overjoyed. It’d mean her maneuver had worked. So much effort had been put into it.
She tore the delicate paper open to take out the actual letter - folded in three neatly. Handwritten.
To my most dedicated fan ♡
I hope this letter finds you well !
I wished to personally thank you for the thoughtful gift you've sent me, even as it was quite odd. Any and all love from my fans is appreciated ! (ゝω●)
This may surprise you, but I don't receive mail all that often, let alone presents.
I want to know how you did it.
I want you to do it again.
I feel invisible nd this package was the first time I've felt seen in years. Like someone wants to put in the effort to reach me.
Whatever damn gift you send me, I'll accept with open arms, however it is you manage to send them.
I want to know who you are. An address means nothing and everything where I am.
Please keep doing whatever it is you're doing to reach me.
— Kasane Teto ☆
The butcher lowered her face into the crease of the paper and inhaled deeply. Somewhere beneath the paper and the shakier and shakier writing, she could detect her smell.
This was more perfect than what she'd ever imagined. A dream come true – her heart could burst out her chest any second now.
I'll keep finding you, my muse.
I’ll always find a way.