RP Log: Niou & Ryoma
Date: This afternoon-ish, 5/9/08
Rating: Just a bad word here and there?
Summary: Ryoma is lost. Niou "helps" does not help. XD; They get coffee instead, yay~
The kid must've been no more than twelve -- no, maybe fourteen upon closer inspection. Niou approached from the side, curiosity piqued from across the way. Okay, maybe sixteen max-max, now that he was closer...
He looked kinda lost. From Niou's years out wandering the streets (and back alleys, high-rises, shopping centres, highways...), he could generally tell a lost person plain as day. This one was no exception. No small giveaway that the kid kept glancing up at a nearby sign, then doing a damn good job to imitate practicing bad calligraphy on the red DS in his hands. Niou sidled up and sat beside the boy on the bench, peering obnoxiously over his kinda-small shoulder without comment.
Ryoma was used to being out on his own - just not in a strange city where the signs were something akin to unintelligible. Sure, half of them had English printed conveniently underneath them, but he was really more concerned with the half that didn't. Like the shopping plaza directory sign here. If you were going to sell books in English in your store, couldn't you call it something in English, too?
The kanji program he'd gotten for his DS was pretty useful - if he could draw the character in question correctly. That was the catch, and this one was being particularly difficult. And he was getting distracted in no small part by the... presence lurking just at the edge of his awareness. There was a mutant nearby, and they were getting closer. It was weird, to feel that people were nearby and not immediately link up with their powers, but Ryoma was not complaining. This shielding method was working pretty well, even if he would much rather be self-sufficient. Well. He was working on that.
... And there it was again - still getting closer, until someone sat next to him on the bench, a little too close for comfort (or to be someone uninterested in him), and leaned over his shoulder. Ryoma paused, stylus still in hand, and glanced to the side. Bleached hair? Well. The guy sitting beside him on the bench kinda screamed "out there." Or something. You didn't have to know he was different on the inside to get that from him.
"... What?" he asked, not really caring if it sounded rude - he was pretty sure coming up and depositing yourself in someone's personal space wasn't considered polite, even in Japan.
"Lost, Kiddo?" Niou grinned, not moving any further back from the other's shoulder. He'd long since gotten over any lingering concepts of etiquette, personally. Sure, he still knew what they were, but it wasn't like his conscience bothered him about them <3 Which was useful for unnerving people, if not just outright getting on their nerves. He glanced at the boy's DS screen. Huh, one of them Kanji Sonomama games, or something. Snerk. "Lost, or just illiterate?" Wasn't every kid that had trouble with mall signs.
If Ryoma could have chosen anyone to ask for help with reading the sign, this guy would definitely have not been on the list. He turned a bit more, not liking only getting a sidelong view, and realized his companion looked even weirder than he'd previously thought. His eyes were green, which was fine, but somehow the color clashed with his hair and his skin and the slant of his eyes to make him look even more outlandish. Ryoma wondered if he was a half or even a foreigner; Ryoma looked a lot more Japanese himself than this guy did.
And then there was the fact that he was another mutant - but not an obvious mutant (well, looks aside, though Ryoma supposed anyone could choose to look like that), and there was no way to tell what kind. Ryoma was so tightly-shielded that he could almost feel the bubble encompassing him; the only thing that snuck through the barrier was that feeling on the edge of his perception that told him this person was not all that he appeared.
"... Not lost," he finally said after the silence had stretched, feeling the need to enunciate that point right off the bat. He wasn't lost - not really. He just couldn't read the directory that told him where to go. "Just... not good with kanji," he mumbled, grip tightening on the stylus in his left hand. "Stupid bookstore sells American books and still has a Japanese name." He knew the kanji for "store", but nearly all the lines of text on the sign had that one. He glanced at the other, wondering if maybe it wasn't just worth asking the question: "You know what the bookstore around here's called?"
"Bookstore?" Niou asked, skirting the question to peer at the boy somewhat curiously. As if the concept was as alien as the kid seemed to be: "You like to... read?" He couldn't quite come to terms with that idea. Here, the kid looked about twelve -- okay, or maybe fourteen -- he had a bright red DS in his hands, and... he was looking for a bookstore? What the hell would you want one of those for? DS games came in English, too. Not that Niou really knew: all his familiarity with the language came from picking on tourists and watching bad Hollywood productions. He pulled back, regarding Ryoma pseudo-closely. Americans weren't supposed to be that strange. TV said so <3 "Are you... British?"
"Yeah, bookstore," Ryoma said a bit flatly, in response to the look he was getting. What, was there something wrong with reading? He wasn't a nerd or anything - "Just want some stuff to read. Like a magazine or something." And maybe some Japanese textbooks - he had some, of course, for school. But maybe some more basic ones... just to practice. And of course, he'd been worried that if he'd brought anyone along from school they might've started looking at him in just the same way that this guy was looking at him now.
But then the guy asked if he was British, of all things, and Ryoma was unable to suppress an involuntary burst of snickering. "What? No - do I look British?" He gave the other a pointed look, as if to say that he looked... well, okay. Not British, either. But weirder, that was for sure. "No, I'm American. Moved here, though. An' what are you, one of those..." He tried to think of the word. "Gunguro?"
Gunguro? Niou blinked. "Oh, ganguro?" he laughed. He got that often enough (or the male version "center guy" anyway) just for his hair when it wasn't dyed, though he wasn't quite tanned enough. Not pale, just not burned-biscuit!brown. The kid wouldn't know, though -- who'd guess if he'd even been born yet, in the nineties when the fad first started. "Nah..." Niou rummaged around in his sling bag for a few seconds, coming out with a small tube of thick, all-purpose concealer. In off-white. (Porcelain eggshell, said the sticker.) "I can be half, though."
Flipping a small mirror out of his pocket, the phaser pursed his mouth and delicately applied just enough of the make-up to his lips to look like a very bad fashion statement from afar. Then promptly stowed his affects, and grinned in the other's direction as if they hadn't just taken a small ad break from reality. "So books right, Kiddo? Which store were y'after? There's one on the seventh floor, one in the basement down two, and one across the carpark, down the road."
"Yeah, that." Okay, so maybe not, but he was still weird. Ryoma's eyebrows rose as the older boy pulled out something that looked like concealer or makeup of some sort, flashing open a small mirror long enough to dab some on his lips.
Definitely weird. What was with the Japanese - they all looked alike so some of them had to do their damnedest to stand out? Well, it wasn't so different at home, Ryoma thought. There were always people who wanted to stand out. And this guy was obviously no exception to that rule. Well, unless his mutation turned his skin funny colors and he was trying to cover it up. But there was no indication of that, and no reason to ask, so Ryoma let it slide as the other stashed his mirror and makeup tube and suddenly returned to their previous conversation (of sorts).
Ryoma was caught off-guard momentarily, before opening his mouth to reply. Couldn't this guy have just said something about all these bookstores before? "... Yeah, books. I dunno which one - something that's got stuff in English. Even f'it's not a lot." He paused, regarding his too-pale companion. "You don't happen t'know which one a'those might have that stuff, do you?" Probably too much too hope for...
"Hell if I even know what any o' them're called," Niou snerked. He'd dropped out of school at sixteen -- as soon as the law allowed. Wasn't that he was interested in being stupid, he just couldn't see the point in sitting there for hours, wasting good years of his life for a few letter grades while getting drilled for crap any idiot could just get out of their local library or online encyclpedia. Wasn't his beverage of choice, by a long shot.
Scrounging again, he pulled what looked like a small, battered GPS from the back recesses of his bag and poked at it. It beeped irritably, but glowed to life without much fuss. Niou added the sci-fi sound effects himself, humming low in his throat as the device loaded. "Let's ask the satelite god," Niou said. "The satelite god never lies."
But while the technology might have been straight-laced, its user wasn't so much in this case. With a few prods of the screen, Niou loaded up the address of a netcafe around the corner and two blocks down, making some minor course corrections. The little GPS twittered an enquiry, accompanied by quick-scrolling kanji to the rough effect of: Dear Mister User, are you sure you want to take the super ultra roundabout curly way for this 300m crows-flight course?
Niou poked his affirmation (Yes, idiot. I am your master.) and stood, waving in the vague vicinity of south-southwest. "Says the biggest one's the one across the carpark and down a bit, so that's prob'ly your best bet." Glancing over his shoulder at the kid like it didn't bother him either way (because it wasn't like he had anything better to do) Niou asked, "Want me t' get'cha there?" The Friends of Humanity were all well and good when it came to mutants after all, but most of them (Niou's cell at least) tended to be social straightjackets. Maniacs beyond much fun: there were only so many times that rubbing their morals up the wrong way turned out amusing.
{ Turn, right. In. Fifty metres! } the GPS chirped from Niou's hand.
That was not helpful, Ryoma thought sarcastically, sighing a bit. Maybe this guy really just hadn't had anything better to do than bother some random person on a bench. Just as he was about to give up and take himself and his DS elsewhere (there had to be an information stand or a police station or something around here somewhere, right?), the other pulled out something small, but that looked... like a GPS?
The little console beeped and Ryoma watched as the other boy entered what looked like a destination and a few other parameters, followed by a couple of screens full of kanji. Then he was on his feet and pointing down the road a bit, suddenly much more helpful than previously. Ryoma thought about this a moment - okay, so this guy was really weird. But it was broad daylight, and Ryoma might not be good at reading kanji, but he could take care of himself. And that aside, he had Hanamura's powers at his disposal, and possibly whatever this guy's were, in a pinch. He just wouldn't follow him anywhere suspicious-looking. And he did have a GPS, so in the event that this guy was really genuinely trying to help him out, they wouldn't get lost.
Well, there was one other way to be relatively sure. Making it look like he was thinking it over (as best he could while concentrating), Ryoma bit his lip and pushed with his empathy - he could only get the barest hint of it past even his own shields (and he didn't want to risk synching a mutant with unknown powers), but maybe that would be enough. It was a strain, but he was able to tell that there wasn't really any malicious intent on the surface, at least. The bleached-haired boy in front of him was laid-back, calm, and a bit amused. That was pretty safe, right? Ryoma pulled the empathy back with only a slight wince, and nodded.
"Yeah, okay. That thing prolly knows best," he said, indicating the GPS with his chin as he stashed his DS in a pocket and stood. Then, after another pause for consideration, as they began walking, "... What's your name, anyway?" It was probably good to know this information. Just in case. But if he wanted Ryoma's, he was going to have to ask.
Niou glanced sideways at the other. "Weird kid," he said instead. "Din'cha parents ever tell you t' introduce yourself first?" (And to not talk to strangers and shit..?)
{ Turn, right -- now! } the GPS exclaimed. Niou followed the direction automatically, without taking his eyes off the boy in his company. "It's meant t' go like this:" Turning to face the other fully, he shuffled sideways for a few steps, affecting a coy, girly voice: "I'm Masaharu Niou." Shallow bow, shy smile. "What's your name?"
Ryoma shrugged. "Dunno, you're older, you should introduce yourself first," was all the explanation he gave (even if it wasn't really an explanation). Masaharu Niou? He frowned slightly; most Japanese introduced themselves family name first, but sometimes when they found out he'd lived in America they switched it. He wasn't good enough with Japanese names yet to figure out which was which - but, well, Masaharu sounded kind of... first-name-ish? Maybe? Whatever. He wondered why he even cared which it was. Niou was the shorter of the two options, so that would do.
"Ryoma Echizen," he replied, as they turned again - wait, wasn't that two rights in a row? At this rate, the GPS would take them around the block to where they'd started. He didn't really feel like bowing and walking, so he just inclined his head a bit - sure, if he was meeting someone important he would've bowed, but chances were he'd never see this Niou person again anyway.
They took a left at the next corner, which was only somewhat comforting, and less so as, after a few more turns, Ryoma could've sworn, "Haven't we been by that place before?" He pointed to the small grocery store with the display of cabbage, carrots, and radishes out front. There was no way two grocers in the same two blocks would've had the exact same display. Nor would there have been the exact same travel agency on the level above the shop. He glanced at the GPS, then at Niou; he sped up his steps to reach out and grab the display with one hand, tilting it so he could look at it. "Are you sure this thing's not broken? We're going in circles." Now he wasn't even really sure where they'd started from - which was just great, really, because even if he gave up and left Niou to his own weird devices now, how was he supposed to find his way back to the train station? There might not be another one for blocks.
Niou laughed, shaking the little box of wires in the Echizen kid's grip. (Foreigners got called by their first names usually, not that it mattered <3 Echizen wasn't really a foreign name -- nor was it common, though. Niou liked the sound of it -- like the funny bristling noises combs made when you played with their teeth.) He shook the GPS again, and something conveniently rattled. "Oops," Niou said unapologetically. "Maybe it is broken." You couldn't really tell with Friends of Humanity tech. Sometimes it was top stuff, financed by some high-flying corporate supporter. Sometimes, it was gleaned out of a dumpster. (Just as often, it didn't last too long either way, after Niou got tinkering with it.)
The phaser made a show of glancing around, shielding his eyes against the sun as he looked for a memorable skyscraper or two. "Hm," he said, pursing his white-painted lips in deliberate contemplation -- "Hmm... Let's go this way <3" -- and pointed, grinning, in an arbitrary direction.
Ryoma felt just about ready to throw his hands up in the air and proclaim Niou insane. (Well, that probably didn't need proclaiming, it was pretty obvious. Too bad insane people didn't know they were insane.) "Do you even know where we are, anymore?" he asked, looking in the direction the other was pointing. It didn't seem to be any more promising than the other 359 degrees from which they could choose to go. He scanned the street, glancing at the by-now-familiar grocer, and the couple of shops beside it. Then he turned back the other way - they direction in which he thought they'd originally been headed. There was a corner cafe about half a block down; they'd already passed it once, and Ryoma's stomach had been on the verge of growling ever since.
"I'm stopping there," he announced, pointing and deciding that the search for books could wait.
He set off, only half-caring whether Niou was following him or not. Despite the way the other acted, there was still something about him that made Ryoma curious. He was a mutant, after all, and a weird one at that. He didn't go to Ryuhana, as all of the other mutants Ryoma had met so far did, so that made him vaguely interesting. Suddenly Ryoma wondered if Niou even knew he was a mutant - sometimes people didn't, sometimes their powers were so subtle that they never realized they had any at all. Then again, maybe Niou's mutant ability was the power to be weird.
Now Niou was the one with options. He could go find someone else to bother, or he could follow the little kid.
Wasn't even a question, really. It wasn't every day you got lucky enough to pester funny people who were willing to entertain you <3 Well, without wanting to beat you up at the same time anyway.
He trailed Echizen over to the cafe door, following him in. "Do y' parents let you drink coffee even?" he asked, scanning the menu. "Aren't'cha little for that? Y're like, twelve or something..." Okay, so he'd pitched that guess a little low on purpose -- it was an obvious stretch (or so Niou thought): Echizen was on the short side, but his eyes weren't so much immature as just... bratty. And Niou was used to that.
"Sixteen," Ryoma shot back, narrowing his eyes, though the other didn't appear to be looking at him anymore. "I'm sixteen. I c'n drink whatever I want."
Nevermind that he didn't exactly like the taste of coffee - if you put in enough chocolate and milk and sugar it was just fine. He dug through his pockets for his wallet and waited as the woman in front of them ordered, sighing - he was short, but he wasn't that short. Niou was probably just trying to be annoying. He seemed to be good at that. Ryoma suddenly wondered if his curiosity in the other's potentially interesting background was worth it, but there wasn't much he could do about it now.
They ordered and sat down by the window - it was a small little place and the girls behind the counter brought your order out to the table. Ryoma set his chin in his hands, elbows on the table, and glanced up at his companion. "So what d'you do all day, other'n bother innocent people?" he finally asked. That might tell him whether Niou was old enough to be out of school or not; he figured he might as well make an effort to get to know the guy, at least a little, to see if his curiosity was going to be satisfied or if he should just get out of here as soon as he'd had his food and drink.
Sixteen, huh? The kid didn't look it. But who knew, it took all kinds, and it wasn't just old women that lied about their age besides.
"Proffessional delinquent," Niou answered, tipping a hat he didn't have, with a lazy grin. Like it was a brand: "Since two-thousand and four. An' sometimes I blow shit up on the side." Wink <3 It wasn't a complete untruth: he didn't deal with that crap himself, for the most part. Though currently the brainstorm behind half the operations in their Friends of Humanity cell, Niou left the actual explosives to others.
"Hm," was all Ryoma said for a moment. He was probably too young to have graduated high school in 2004, so that meant... something. Not enough to figure anything out, really, but he supposed it was better than knowing nothing. But then there was the rest of it... Blow shit up? He narrowed his gaze, wondering... "S'that what you do," he murmured, studying the other as though that would tell him anything and thinking that it would definitely be in his best interest not to synch the guy, then. It was too bad that he could only sense mutants, and not their abilities. Because that would've been useful, but there was no use wishing after something he'd never have. For now, he was just glad the link he had with Hanamura allowed him to shield and wasn't about to waver anytime soon.
"Well it sounds pretty boring to me," he finally said, leaning back in his chair although he was actually probably more curious than ever. This guy was plenty weird, but he was nothing if not interesting. He supposed someone like this probably got away with a lot on charm alone - something Ryoma had never been able - or cared about being able - to do. "You gotta job, or you just swipe all your fancy stuff?" He wondered how a "professional delinquent" would be able to afford a GPS, as battered and sorry as that handset had been.
"Told'ja it's a profession," Niou grinned. "The fancy stuff's on loan from the boss <3" Sort of. Not that he didn't steal when the occasion called for it, certainly. But it was usually just cash. Safer when you couldn't trace it too much.
His answer was only a secondary thought, though. Grin still in place, he looked over the Echizen kid with a narrowed eyes, though not sure what he was after. Usually his instinct was pretty good, and gave him an advantage in fights and things -- but he couldn't pin what'd been off about the kid's reaction. 'S'that what you do' wasn't a normal response to explosives, no matter how you looked at it. It was as if Echizen had been expecting Niou to 'do' something so left-field, and that shouldn't have been possible. Unless he knew Niou was FoH -- or a mutant...
"So what's it that you... do?" the phaser asked in return, leaning on the table just a little closer, hoping he'd left enough pause over the word for the kid to make his own assumptions as to its meaning.
"Nothin' much, usually," Ryoma replied carefully - well, it was the truth in a way, and he hadn't missed the way the other had put a bit more emphasis on the word do than was normally required. But then, he supposed he was probably arousing suspicions, if this Niou guy was half as sharp as he seemed. It was weird - while he hadn't sensed anything dangerous from the other (obviously, otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to follow him in the circles that ensued), Ryoma still got the feeling that this guy could be plenty dangerous, when cornered. And that was probably the last thing Ryoma wanted to do - especially if Niou blew stuff up for fun and profit.
"I'm just a student," he said with a shrug - the truth, again: he was a student, and he didn't really do anything. Not unless he let his shields down. (Nevermind that was something in and of itself, it wasn't the point.) "I was just sittin' there trying t'find the bookstore when you made yourself obvious." It was kind of an interesting game, telling the truth while obfuscating the really important parts of it. Ryoma settled back with a small, self-satisfied smirk as a girl appeared at their table, presenting him with a mocha and a pastry before giving Niou his order.
Niou knew that smirk. It was the expression of a boy who secretly thought he owned the situation -- familiar from the mirror since years ago <3 Unable to help a lazy grin himself, Niou turned his attention down and spent the next few moments happily scraping liquid chocolate from around the bottom of his iced mint mocha thing. Through rising to the challenge of a kid wasn't his favourite game, he'd bet on this one being interesting. Cocky bastards always were, one way or another.
Assuming the kid wasn't leading him in as many mental circles as Niou'd physically lead them earlier -- 'Just a student' was bullshit after the bare-boned fashion. Niou'd gone and 'made himself obvious' to 'just a student'. It sounded more like how Peter Parker was 'usually' 'just a reporter' with spidey senses. Which was a dumb idea, thinking this kid had spidey senses -- though maybe not really. Echizen was American, after all. Maybe they had lots of radioactive arachnids over there... Stranger things had happened <3
Like mutants.
Once was random. Twice was coincidence. Thrice-- well, Niou's thoughts had only been led to the mutant conclusion twice so far, but it was good enough.
Absently, the phaser stirred cream into his drink. Well, if so... what kind of powers? It obviously wasn't anything physical, nor volatile -- sixteen year olds with explosives tended to walk around like they owned the place. (Or scurry like they were a danger to humanity.) No, this kid sounded like he knew too much -- was used to knowing too much. And smiled like it, too. Though mindreading made no sense, unless Echizen just liked following strangers around, knowing full well they were going to get 'lost'... Maybe it was something like empathy, and Niou'd 'made himself obvious' when Echizen had piqued his curiosity...?
But that didn't quite click, either. Kids didn't get cocky over lame powers like that -- they got emo. ...Didn't they?
Niou finally let his brows furrow over his coffee, admitting a temporary defeat. He'd taken about thirty seconds to run that course, and couldn't see any further options at this point without more clues. And so he set his spoon down, regarding Echizen again with a steady gaze. Smiled. "So what's a foreign kid like you doing here anyway? Parents back in America, or do y'just like scarin' 'em by goin' around by yourself 'n gettin' lost with strangers?"
Ryoma had been making short work of his pastry - it was good, and he was hungry. He glanced up as Niou finally broke the silence they'd fallen into when their orders had come, taking another bite before he answered. "Nah, they're here. Mom just... wanted me t'try this school here, or whatever. Dad wanted t'move back here anyway." He frowned slightly, remembering the long hours of discussion about the pros and cons and why they should move. Really, it hadn't taken long for his parents to unite on that front (well, Mom did work for a law firm and she was nothing if not good at bringing people around her her point of view, especially Dad), and most of the rest of the discussing had been them trying to convince Ryoma it would be good for him. On the one hand, Xavier's was crowded - too many mutants coming and going and it made his skin crawl just to go there. He hadn't liked that as a permanent solution, but on the other side of it, Ryuhana might be smaller, but it was in Japan and he was in Japan now and it was more than a little overwhelming. And Ryoma Echizen hated being overwhelmed.
He hid his expression behind the coffee cup a moment before setting it down. "Anyway, it's a boarding school. Don't live at home anymore." Not that the weird temple-place that his parents were living now felt much like home yet. Another pause, then a wry grin. "Besides, isn't Japan supposed t'be really safe?" Cue a look that said that he knew Niou might or might not fall into that category, depending.
Niou grinned, liking the implication, and waved Ryoma's half-sarcastic assumption away. "Safe's a relative term and all that." His tone lowered conspiratorially, grin never losing its edge. "The mutant threat's as big here as anywhere else, y'know. Gotta be careful <3" Leaning back to take another sip of his chocolate, Niou filed away the extra bits of information and licked off his milk mustache. Boarding school. Searching from this location out, he could probably narrow down the results and maybe track the kid down sometime later. Odds were. (Maybe.) Just for fun, to see if he could.
The phaser decided then, that if his hunch was right and Echizen was some kind of mutant, this wasn't the last they were going to see of each other. (Or not the last Niou'd see of Echizen, anyway. Sometimes stalking only went one way like that <3) He'd have to find out for sure first, though. There was 'You might be strong, consider me curious.' and then there was also 'Well that was a fucking waste of time.' and Niou liked to avoid the latter when he could.
He stared into his drink for a bit. Then looked Echizen in the eye, a picture of seriousness suddenly painted over his face. "Do they scare you at all?" he asked. "Mutants, I mean..."
The mutant threat, huh? Ryoma narrowed his eyes, wondering how he was supposed to take that. Because there were at least three possible ways (and probably more): 1) Niou hated mutants and didn't know he was one (unlikely, it was beginning to seem); 2) Niou knew he was a mutant and knew he was dangerous (more likely); or 3) Niou had figured out that Ryoma was a mutant too (not likely... right?). Ryoma sighed and took another sip - trying to read Niou was tiring, and using his empathy might give him an edge but that would be even more tiring and hadn't told him all that much the first time. If Niou wanted to be enigmatic, then fine. It might be fun to obfuscate and bend the truth, but it was also something Ryoma didn't do often. And he was beginning to remember why.
But the question still remained. Did mutants scare him? Well, he might as well be honest, and see what Niou thought of that. "Sometimes," Ryoma said slowly, putting his cup down and glancing out the window, watching the people walking by on the sidewalk for a moment before looking back at the other across the table, returning the older boy's gaze just as directly. "It depends on their powers. Guess you could say their powers scare me more'n they do, themselves."
That was the honest, boldfaced truth. Ryoma wasn't scared of mutants - why should he be, when he could protect himself against anything they threw at him? But what he couldn't protect himself from was the way his power took their powers for his own, and the way he never had control when that happened. And that scared him more than any energy blast or mindwipe anyone could threaten him with.
He broke the other's gaze, finally (his eyes couldn't be that shade of green naturally, not really, it looked so off when you looked too hard), to lean back and make another grab for his cup for a drink. And then, as long as the question was on the table, "They bother you?"
Presently, Niou gave a nonchalant shrug. Mutants? "When I let them, I guess <3" (Or when I pester them into it...) Which was as much of a mostly-truth as Echizen's own answer had been. The phaser smiled and ran his finger around the inside of his glass, cleaning up the dregs of brown-tinted cream. It had to've been a half -- the answer was entirely too diplomatic otherwise, and Niou didn't believe in the diplomacy of (arguably) sixteen-year-old boys. "Gotta agree, though. Sometimes, the one most scared of their powers is the mutant himself." One eye closed lazily, and Niou rested his chin in his hand with a grin. "Truth?"
"Huh. Prolly, yeah," Ryoma replied, entirely too unsettled at the way Niou had seen straight to the heart of the matter, whether he knew it or not. Though from what he'd gleaned so far of the other's personality, he probably knew it. Ryoma finished the last of the mocha in his cup and leaned forward again to set it down for the last time, watching the other again. There really wasn't much of what Niou did that didn't feel deliberate, which was weird when he was so damn nonchalant about it all.
"Anyway, guess f'you discovered you could suddenly do weird stuff, it'd be pretty scary." And imagine discovering it over and over again, Ryoma thought bitterly, thinking that there weren't many other mutants with his particular problem. He moved some of the crumbs around on his plate and shrugged. "Guess it's their choice whether they let it run their lives or not. People're just people, anyway." Just because they had weird abilities didn't make them any more or less a person than anyone else - that was how Ryoma saw it. "People c'n be plenty weird with or without powers." Exemplified by the boy across from him, because Ryoma was pretty sure by now that the weird was intrinsic. The mutant power, whatever it was, was secondary. (Then again, who just met people on the street and revealed a mutant power? Probably not the best course of action; he'd had that one repeated like it was litany after Mom had found out that he thought everyone could do what he - she - did.)
That little bit of introspection was enough to slide Echizen down the last few points of Niou's bellcurve, to the 99.95% Probably Mutant, or whatever that third standard of deviation was meant to be. "Huh," Niou said, as he scrawled quickly on a napkin. Guess that's as good a way of lookin' at it as any. Stalking it was.
Stowing his pen back in a pocket, Niou spun the napkin over for Echizen to see:
station: go right, 2nd L, down 500m 4th R, main road visible.
bookstore/s: no fkn clue <3
0422 811 926 peterpan ;D
Standing, he brushed out imaginary crumbs in his lap, and took his leave, patting Echizen's head as he went past. "See ya' around, Shortstuff. Call if y' ever need some pixie dust in a pinch, yeah? <3"
It had been a productive afternoon.
Ryoma blinked, beginning to decipher the writing on the napkin just as the other pushed his chair back and passed by the table with a pat on the head and 'Seeya' before he could really respond. The cafe door opened and shut and the mutant feeling faded away, and Ryoma sat for a moment, feeling a bit blindsided, but only in the respect that most people generally gave you more warning when they said good-bye.
Well, this Niou obviously wasn't most people, he thought wryly. Or most mutants, even. He was pretty unique, whatever the hell that meant, and he'd left his number to boot. Not that Ryoma was really planning on calling him - not unless he wanted to get led in circles by a half-witted GPS again. Right?
He stood, nonetheless shoving the napkin into his pocket - the directions weren't hard to memorize, but it was probably better to have them, anyway. It looked like he'd have to skip the bookstore today and try to find it another day; the afternoon was getting on and he still had a few more things about his classes to figure out, even if he did have the weekend to do it.
After all, Ryoma thought, Ryuhana took a little more getting used to than most other boarding schools.
Rating: Just a bad word here and there?
Summary: Ryoma is lost. Niou "helps" does not help. XD; They get coffee instead, yay~
The kid must've been no more than twelve -- no, maybe fourteen upon closer inspection. Niou approached from the side, curiosity piqued from across the way. Okay, maybe sixteen max-max, now that he was closer...
He looked kinda lost. From Niou's years out wandering the streets (and back alleys, high-rises, shopping centres, highways...), he could generally tell a lost person plain as day. This one was no exception. No small giveaway that the kid kept glancing up at a nearby sign, then doing a damn good job to imitate practicing bad calligraphy on the red DS in his hands. Niou sidled up and sat beside the boy on the bench, peering obnoxiously over his kinda-small shoulder without comment.
Ryoma was used to being out on his own - just not in a strange city where the signs were something akin to unintelligible. Sure, half of them had English printed conveniently underneath them, but he was really more concerned with the half that didn't. Like the shopping plaza directory sign here. If you were going to sell books in English in your store, couldn't you call it something in English, too?
The kanji program he'd gotten for his DS was pretty useful - if he could draw the character in question correctly. That was the catch, and this one was being particularly difficult. And he was getting distracted in no small part by the... presence lurking just at the edge of his awareness. There was a mutant nearby, and they were getting closer. It was weird, to feel that people were nearby and not immediately link up with their powers, but Ryoma was not complaining. This shielding method was working pretty well, even if he would much rather be self-sufficient. Well. He was working on that.
... And there it was again - still getting closer, until someone sat next to him on the bench, a little too close for comfort (or to be someone uninterested in him), and leaned over his shoulder. Ryoma paused, stylus still in hand, and glanced to the side. Bleached hair? Well. The guy sitting beside him on the bench kinda screamed "out there." Or something. You didn't have to know he was different on the inside to get that from him.
"... What?" he asked, not really caring if it sounded rude - he was pretty sure coming up and depositing yourself in someone's personal space wasn't considered polite, even in Japan.
"Lost, Kiddo?" Niou grinned, not moving any further back from the other's shoulder. He'd long since gotten over any lingering concepts of etiquette, personally. Sure, he still knew what they were, but it wasn't like his conscience bothered him about them <3 Which was useful for unnerving people, if not just outright getting on their nerves. He glanced at the boy's DS screen. Huh, one of them Kanji Sonomama games, or something. Snerk. "Lost, or just illiterate?" Wasn't every kid that had trouble with mall signs.
If Ryoma could have chosen anyone to ask for help with reading the sign, this guy would definitely have not been on the list. He turned a bit more, not liking only getting a sidelong view, and realized his companion looked even weirder than he'd previously thought. His eyes were green, which was fine, but somehow the color clashed with his hair and his skin and the slant of his eyes to make him look even more outlandish. Ryoma wondered if he was a half or even a foreigner; Ryoma looked a lot more Japanese himself than this guy did.
And then there was the fact that he was another mutant - but not an obvious mutant (well, looks aside, though Ryoma supposed anyone could choose to look like that), and there was no way to tell what kind. Ryoma was so tightly-shielded that he could almost feel the bubble encompassing him; the only thing that snuck through the barrier was that feeling on the edge of his perception that told him this person was not all that he appeared.
"... Not lost," he finally said after the silence had stretched, feeling the need to enunciate that point right off the bat. He wasn't lost - not really. He just couldn't read the directory that told him where to go. "Just... not good with kanji," he mumbled, grip tightening on the stylus in his left hand. "Stupid bookstore sells American books and still has a Japanese name." He knew the kanji for "store", but nearly all the lines of text on the sign had that one. He glanced at the other, wondering if maybe it wasn't just worth asking the question: "You know what the bookstore around here's called?"
"Bookstore?" Niou asked, skirting the question to peer at the boy somewhat curiously. As if the concept was as alien as the kid seemed to be: "You like to... read?" He couldn't quite come to terms with that idea. Here, the kid looked about twelve -- okay, or maybe fourteen -- he had a bright red DS in his hands, and... he was looking for a bookstore? What the hell would you want one of those for? DS games came in English, too. Not that Niou really knew: all his familiarity with the language came from picking on tourists and watching bad Hollywood productions. He pulled back, regarding Ryoma pseudo-closely. Americans weren't supposed to be that strange. TV said so <3 "Are you... British?"
"Yeah, bookstore," Ryoma said a bit flatly, in response to the look he was getting. What, was there something wrong with reading? He wasn't a nerd or anything - "Just want some stuff to read. Like a magazine or something." And maybe some Japanese textbooks - he had some, of course, for school. But maybe some more basic ones... just to practice. And of course, he'd been worried that if he'd brought anyone along from school they might've started looking at him in just the same way that this guy was looking at him now.
But then the guy asked if he was British, of all things, and Ryoma was unable to suppress an involuntary burst of snickering. "What? No - do I look British?" He gave the other a pointed look, as if to say that he looked... well, okay. Not British, either. But weirder, that was for sure. "No, I'm American. Moved here, though. An' what are you, one of those..." He tried to think of the word. "Gunguro?"
Gunguro? Niou blinked. "Oh, ganguro?" he laughed. He got that often enough (or the male version "center guy" anyway) just for his hair when it wasn't dyed, though he wasn't quite tanned enough. Not pale, just not burned-biscuit!brown. The kid wouldn't know, though -- who'd guess if he'd even been born yet, in the nineties when the fad first started. "Nah..." Niou rummaged around in his sling bag for a few seconds, coming out with a small tube of thick, all-purpose concealer. In off-white. (Porcelain eggshell, said the sticker.) "I can be half, though."
Flipping a small mirror out of his pocket, the phaser pursed his mouth and delicately applied just enough of the make-up to his lips to look like a very bad fashion statement from afar. Then promptly stowed his affects, and grinned in the other's direction as if they hadn't just taken a small ad break from reality. "So books right, Kiddo? Which store were y'after? There's one on the seventh floor, one in the basement down two, and one across the carpark, down the road."
"Yeah, that." Okay, so maybe not, but he was still weird. Ryoma's eyebrows rose as the older boy pulled out something that looked like concealer or makeup of some sort, flashing open a small mirror long enough to dab some on his lips.
Definitely weird. What was with the Japanese - they all looked alike so some of them had to do their damnedest to stand out? Well, it wasn't so different at home, Ryoma thought. There were always people who wanted to stand out. And this guy was obviously no exception to that rule. Well, unless his mutation turned his skin funny colors and he was trying to cover it up. But there was no indication of that, and no reason to ask, so Ryoma let it slide as the other stashed his mirror and makeup tube and suddenly returned to their previous conversation (of sorts).
Ryoma was caught off-guard momentarily, before opening his mouth to reply. Couldn't this guy have just said something about all these bookstores before? "... Yeah, books. I dunno which one - something that's got stuff in English. Even f'it's not a lot." He paused, regarding his too-pale companion. "You don't happen t'know which one a'those might have that stuff, do you?" Probably too much too hope for...
"Hell if I even know what any o' them're called," Niou snerked. He'd dropped out of school at sixteen -- as soon as the law allowed. Wasn't that he was interested in being stupid, he just couldn't see the point in sitting there for hours, wasting good years of his life for a few letter grades while getting drilled for crap any idiot could just get out of their local library or online encyclpedia. Wasn't his beverage of choice, by a long shot.
Scrounging again, he pulled what looked like a small, battered GPS from the back recesses of his bag and poked at it. It beeped irritably, but glowed to life without much fuss. Niou added the sci-fi sound effects himself, humming low in his throat as the device loaded. "Let's ask the satelite god," Niou said. "The satelite god never lies."
But while the technology might have been straight-laced, its user wasn't so much in this case. With a few prods of the screen, Niou loaded up the address of a netcafe around the corner and two blocks down, making some minor course corrections. The little GPS twittered an enquiry, accompanied by quick-scrolling kanji to the rough effect of: Dear Mister User, are you sure you want to take the super ultra roundabout curly way for this 300m crows-flight course?
Niou poked his affirmation (Yes, idiot. I am your master.) and stood, waving in the vague vicinity of south-southwest. "Says the biggest one's the one across the carpark and down a bit, so that's prob'ly your best bet." Glancing over his shoulder at the kid like it didn't bother him either way (because it wasn't like he had anything better to do) Niou asked, "Want me t' get'cha there?" The Friends of Humanity were all well and good when it came to mutants after all, but most of them (Niou's cell at least) tended to be social straightjackets. Maniacs beyond much fun: there were only so many times that rubbing their morals up the wrong way turned out amusing.
{ Turn, right. In. Fifty metres! } the GPS chirped from Niou's hand.
That was not helpful, Ryoma thought sarcastically, sighing a bit. Maybe this guy really just hadn't had anything better to do than bother some random person on a bench. Just as he was about to give up and take himself and his DS elsewhere (there had to be an information stand or a police station or something around here somewhere, right?), the other pulled out something small, but that looked... like a GPS?
The little console beeped and Ryoma watched as the other boy entered what looked like a destination and a few other parameters, followed by a couple of screens full of kanji. Then he was on his feet and pointing down the road a bit, suddenly much more helpful than previously. Ryoma thought about this a moment - okay, so this guy was really weird. But it was broad daylight, and Ryoma might not be good at reading kanji, but he could take care of himself. And that aside, he had Hanamura's powers at his disposal, and possibly whatever this guy's were, in a pinch. He just wouldn't follow him anywhere suspicious-looking. And he did have a GPS, so in the event that this guy was really genuinely trying to help him out, they wouldn't get lost.
Well, there was one other way to be relatively sure. Making it look like he was thinking it over (as best he could while concentrating), Ryoma bit his lip and pushed with his empathy - he could only get the barest hint of it past even his own shields (and he didn't want to risk synching a mutant with unknown powers), but maybe that would be enough. It was a strain, but he was able to tell that there wasn't really any malicious intent on the surface, at least. The bleached-haired boy in front of him was laid-back, calm, and a bit amused. That was pretty safe, right? Ryoma pulled the empathy back with only a slight wince, and nodded.
"Yeah, okay. That thing prolly knows best," he said, indicating the GPS with his chin as he stashed his DS in a pocket and stood. Then, after another pause for consideration, as they began walking, "... What's your name, anyway?" It was probably good to know this information. Just in case. But if he wanted Ryoma's, he was going to have to ask.
Niou glanced sideways at the other. "Weird kid," he said instead. "Din'cha parents ever tell you t' introduce yourself first?" (And to not talk to strangers and shit..?)
{ Turn, right -- now! } the GPS exclaimed. Niou followed the direction automatically, without taking his eyes off the boy in his company. "It's meant t' go like this:" Turning to face the other fully, he shuffled sideways for a few steps, affecting a coy, girly voice: "I'm Masaharu Niou." Shallow bow, shy smile. "What's your name?"
Ryoma shrugged. "Dunno, you're older, you should introduce yourself first," was all the explanation he gave (even if it wasn't really an explanation). Masaharu Niou? He frowned slightly; most Japanese introduced themselves family name first, but sometimes when they found out he'd lived in America they switched it. He wasn't good enough with Japanese names yet to figure out which was which - but, well, Masaharu sounded kind of... first-name-ish? Maybe? Whatever. He wondered why he even cared which it was. Niou was the shorter of the two options, so that would do.
"Ryoma Echizen," he replied, as they turned again - wait, wasn't that two rights in a row? At this rate, the GPS would take them around the block to where they'd started. He didn't really feel like bowing and walking, so he just inclined his head a bit - sure, if he was meeting someone important he would've bowed, but chances were he'd never see this Niou person again anyway.
They took a left at the next corner, which was only somewhat comforting, and less so as, after a few more turns, Ryoma could've sworn, "Haven't we been by that place before?" He pointed to the small grocery store with the display of cabbage, carrots, and radishes out front. There was no way two grocers in the same two blocks would've had the exact same display. Nor would there have been the exact same travel agency on the level above the shop. He glanced at the GPS, then at Niou; he sped up his steps to reach out and grab the display with one hand, tilting it so he could look at it. "Are you sure this thing's not broken? We're going in circles." Now he wasn't even really sure where they'd started from - which was just great, really, because even if he gave up and left Niou to his own weird devices now, how was he supposed to find his way back to the train station? There might not be another one for blocks.
Niou laughed, shaking the little box of wires in the Echizen kid's grip. (Foreigners got called by their first names usually, not that it mattered <3 Echizen wasn't really a foreign name -- nor was it common, though. Niou liked the sound of it -- like the funny bristling noises combs made when you played with their teeth.) He shook the GPS again, and something conveniently rattled. "Oops," Niou said unapologetically. "Maybe it is broken." You couldn't really tell with Friends of Humanity tech. Sometimes it was top stuff, financed by some high-flying corporate supporter. Sometimes, it was gleaned out of a dumpster. (Just as often, it didn't last too long either way, after Niou got tinkering with it.)
The phaser made a show of glancing around, shielding his eyes against the sun as he looked for a memorable skyscraper or two. "Hm," he said, pursing his white-painted lips in deliberate contemplation -- "Hmm... Let's go this way <3" -- and pointed, grinning, in an arbitrary direction.
Ryoma felt just about ready to throw his hands up in the air and proclaim Niou insane. (Well, that probably didn't need proclaiming, it was pretty obvious. Too bad insane people didn't know they were insane.) "Do you even know where we are, anymore?" he asked, looking in the direction the other was pointing. It didn't seem to be any more promising than the other 359 degrees from which they could choose to go. He scanned the street, glancing at the by-now-familiar grocer, and the couple of shops beside it. Then he turned back the other way - they direction in which he thought they'd originally been headed. There was a corner cafe about half a block down; they'd already passed it once, and Ryoma's stomach had been on the verge of growling ever since.
"I'm stopping there," he announced, pointing and deciding that the search for books could wait.
He set off, only half-caring whether Niou was following him or not. Despite the way the other acted, there was still something about him that made Ryoma curious. He was a mutant, after all, and a weird one at that. He didn't go to Ryuhana, as all of the other mutants Ryoma had met so far did, so that made him vaguely interesting. Suddenly Ryoma wondered if Niou even knew he was a mutant - sometimes people didn't, sometimes their powers were so subtle that they never realized they had any at all. Then again, maybe Niou's mutant ability was the power to be weird.
Now Niou was the one with options. He could go find someone else to bother, or he could follow the little kid.
Wasn't even a question, really. It wasn't every day you got lucky enough to pester funny people who were willing to entertain you <3 Well, without wanting to beat you up at the same time anyway.
He trailed Echizen over to the cafe door, following him in. "Do y' parents let you drink coffee even?" he asked, scanning the menu. "Aren't'cha little for that? Y're like, twelve or something..." Okay, so he'd pitched that guess a little low on purpose -- it was an obvious stretch (or so Niou thought): Echizen was on the short side, but his eyes weren't so much immature as just... bratty. And Niou was used to that.
"Sixteen," Ryoma shot back, narrowing his eyes, though the other didn't appear to be looking at him anymore. "I'm sixteen. I c'n drink whatever I want."
Nevermind that he didn't exactly like the taste of coffee - if you put in enough chocolate and milk and sugar it was just fine. He dug through his pockets for his wallet and waited as the woman in front of them ordered, sighing - he was short, but he wasn't that short. Niou was probably just trying to be annoying. He seemed to be good at that. Ryoma suddenly wondered if his curiosity in the other's potentially interesting background was worth it, but there wasn't much he could do about it now.
They ordered and sat down by the window - it was a small little place and the girls behind the counter brought your order out to the table. Ryoma set his chin in his hands, elbows on the table, and glanced up at his companion. "So what d'you do all day, other'n bother innocent people?" he finally asked. That might tell him whether Niou was old enough to be out of school or not; he figured he might as well make an effort to get to know the guy, at least a little, to see if his curiosity was going to be satisfied or if he should just get out of here as soon as he'd had his food and drink.
Sixteen, huh? The kid didn't look it. But who knew, it took all kinds, and it wasn't just old women that lied about their age besides.
"Proffessional delinquent," Niou answered, tipping a hat he didn't have, with a lazy grin. Like it was a brand: "Since two-thousand and four. An' sometimes I blow shit up on the side." Wink <3 It wasn't a complete untruth: he didn't deal with that crap himself, for the most part. Though currently the brainstorm behind half the operations in their Friends of Humanity cell, Niou left the actual explosives to others.
"Hm," was all Ryoma said for a moment. He was probably too young to have graduated high school in 2004, so that meant... something. Not enough to figure anything out, really, but he supposed it was better than knowing nothing. But then there was the rest of it... Blow shit up? He narrowed his gaze, wondering... "S'that what you do," he murmured, studying the other as though that would tell him anything and thinking that it would definitely be in his best interest not to synch the guy, then. It was too bad that he could only sense mutants, and not their abilities. Because that would've been useful, but there was no use wishing after something he'd never have. For now, he was just glad the link he had with Hanamura allowed him to shield and wasn't about to waver anytime soon.
"Well it sounds pretty boring to me," he finally said, leaning back in his chair although he was actually probably more curious than ever. This guy was plenty weird, but he was nothing if not interesting. He supposed someone like this probably got away with a lot on charm alone - something Ryoma had never been able - or cared about being able - to do. "You gotta job, or you just swipe all your fancy stuff?" He wondered how a "professional delinquent" would be able to afford a GPS, as battered and sorry as that handset had been.
"Told'ja it's a profession," Niou grinned. "The fancy stuff's on loan from the boss <3" Sort of. Not that he didn't steal when the occasion called for it, certainly. But it was usually just cash. Safer when you couldn't trace it too much.
His answer was only a secondary thought, though. Grin still in place, he looked over the Echizen kid with a narrowed eyes, though not sure what he was after. Usually his instinct was pretty good, and gave him an advantage in fights and things -- but he couldn't pin what'd been off about the kid's reaction. 'S'that what you do' wasn't a normal response to explosives, no matter how you looked at it. It was as if Echizen had been expecting Niou to 'do' something so left-field, and that shouldn't have been possible. Unless he knew Niou was FoH -- or a mutant...
"So what's it that you... do?" the phaser asked in return, leaning on the table just a little closer, hoping he'd left enough pause over the word for the kid to make his own assumptions as to its meaning.
"Nothin' much, usually," Ryoma replied carefully - well, it was the truth in a way, and he hadn't missed the way the other had put a bit more emphasis on the word do than was normally required. But then, he supposed he was probably arousing suspicions, if this Niou guy was half as sharp as he seemed. It was weird - while he hadn't sensed anything dangerous from the other (obviously, otherwise he wouldn't have agreed to follow him in the circles that ensued), Ryoma still got the feeling that this guy could be plenty dangerous, when cornered. And that was probably the last thing Ryoma wanted to do - especially if Niou blew stuff up for fun and profit.
"I'm just a student," he said with a shrug - the truth, again: he was a student, and he didn't really do anything. Not unless he let his shields down. (Nevermind that was something in and of itself, it wasn't the point.) "I was just sittin' there trying t'find the bookstore when you made yourself obvious." It was kind of an interesting game, telling the truth while obfuscating the really important parts of it. Ryoma settled back with a small, self-satisfied smirk as a girl appeared at their table, presenting him with a mocha and a pastry before giving Niou his order.
Niou knew that smirk. It was the expression of a boy who secretly thought he owned the situation -- familiar from the mirror since years ago <3 Unable to help a lazy grin himself, Niou turned his attention down and spent the next few moments happily scraping liquid chocolate from around the bottom of his iced mint mocha thing. Through rising to the challenge of a kid wasn't his favourite game, he'd bet on this one being interesting. Cocky bastards always were, one way or another.
Assuming the kid wasn't leading him in as many mental circles as Niou'd physically lead them earlier -- 'Just a student' was bullshit after the bare-boned fashion. Niou'd gone and 'made himself obvious' to 'just a student'. It sounded more like how Peter Parker was 'usually' 'just a reporter' with spidey senses. Which was a dumb idea, thinking this kid had spidey senses -- though maybe not really. Echizen was American, after all. Maybe they had lots of radioactive arachnids over there... Stranger things had happened <3
Like mutants.
Once was random. Twice was coincidence. Thrice-- well, Niou's thoughts had only been led to the mutant conclusion twice so far, but it was good enough.
Absently, the phaser stirred cream into his drink. Well, if so... what kind of powers? It obviously wasn't anything physical, nor volatile -- sixteen year olds with explosives tended to walk around like they owned the place. (Or scurry like they were a danger to humanity.) No, this kid sounded like he knew too much -- was used to knowing too much. And smiled like it, too. Though mindreading made no sense, unless Echizen just liked following strangers around, knowing full well they were going to get 'lost'... Maybe it was something like empathy, and Niou'd 'made himself obvious' when Echizen had piqued his curiosity...?
But that didn't quite click, either. Kids didn't get cocky over lame powers like that -- they got emo. ...Didn't they?
Niou finally let his brows furrow over his coffee, admitting a temporary defeat. He'd taken about thirty seconds to run that course, and couldn't see any further options at this point without more clues. And so he set his spoon down, regarding Echizen again with a steady gaze. Smiled. "So what's a foreign kid like you doing here anyway? Parents back in America, or do y'just like scarin' 'em by goin' around by yourself 'n gettin' lost with strangers?"
Ryoma had been making short work of his pastry - it was good, and he was hungry. He glanced up as Niou finally broke the silence they'd fallen into when their orders had come, taking another bite before he answered. "Nah, they're here. Mom just... wanted me t'try this school here, or whatever. Dad wanted t'move back here anyway." He frowned slightly, remembering the long hours of discussion about the pros and cons and why they should move. Really, it hadn't taken long for his parents to unite on that front (well, Mom did work for a law firm and she was nothing if not good at bringing people around her her point of view, especially Dad), and most of the rest of the discussing had been them trying to convince Ryoma it would be good for him. On the one hand, Xavier's was crowded - too many mutants coming and going and it made his skin crawl just to go there. He hadn't liked that as a permanent solution, but on the other side of it, Ryuhana might be smaller, but it was in Japan and he was in Japan now and it was more than a little overwhelming. And Ryoma Echizen hated being overwhelmed.
He hid his expression behind the coffee cup a moment before setting it down. "Anyway, it's a boarding school. Don't live at home anymore." Not that the weird temple-place that his parents were living now felt much like home yet. Another pause, then a wry grin. "Besides, isn't Japan supposed t'be really safe?" Cue a look that said that he knew Niou might or might not fall into that category, depending.
Niou grinned, liking the implication, and waved Ryoma's half-sarcastic assumption away. "Safe's a relative term and all that." His tone lowered conspiratorially, grin never losing its edge. "The mutant threat's as big here as anywhere else, y'know. Gotta be careful <3" Leaning back to take another sip of his chocolate, Niou filed away the extra bits of information and licked off his milk mustache. Boarding school. Searching from this location out, he could probably narrow down the results and maybe track the kid down sometime later. Odds were. (Maybe.) Just for fun, to see if he could.
The phaser decided then, that if his hunch was right and Echizen was some kind of mutant, this wasn't the last they were going to see of each other. (Or not the last Niou'd see of Echizen, anyway. Sometimes stalking only went one way like that <3) He'd have to find out for sure first, though. There was 'You might be strong, consider me curious.' and then there was also 'Well that was a fucking waste of time.' and Niou liked to avoid the latter when he could.
He stared into his drink for a bit. Then looked Echizen in the eye, a picture of seriousness suddenly painted over his face. "Do they scare you at all?" he asked. "Mutants, I mean..."
The mutant threat, huh? Ryoma narrowed his eyes, wondering how he was supposed to take that. Because there were at least three possible ways (and probably more): 1) Niou hated mutants and didn't know he was one (unlikely, it was beginning to seem); 2) Niou knew he was a mutant and knew he was dangerous (more likely); or 3) Niou had figured out that Ryoma was a mutant too (not likely... right?). Ryoma sighed and took another sip - trying to read Niou was tiring, and using his empathy might give him an edge but that would be even more tiring and hadn't told him all that much the first time. If Niou wanted to be enigmatic, then fine. It might be fun to obfuscate and bend the truth, but it was also something Ryoma didn't do often. And he was beginning to remember why.
But the question still remained. Did mutants scare him? Well, he might as well be honest, and see what Niou thought of that. "Sometimes," Ryoma said slowly, putting his cup down and glancing out the window, watching the people walking by on the sidewalk for a moment before looking back at the other across the table, returning the older boy's gaze just as directly. "It depends on their powers. Guess you could say their powers scare me more'n they do, themselves."
That was the honest, boldfaced truth. Ryoma wasn't scared of mutants - why should he be, when he could protect himself against anything they threw at him? But what he couldn't protect himself from was the way his power took their powers for his own, and the way he never had control when that happened. And that scared him more than any energy blast or mindwipe anyone could threaten him with.
He broke the other's gaze, finally (his eyes couldn't be that shade of green naturally, not really, it looked so off when you looked too hard), to lean back and make another grab for his cup for a drink. And then, as long as the question was on the table, "They bother you?"
Presently, Niou gave a nonchalant shrug. Mutants? "When I let them, I guess <3" (Or when I pester them into it...) Which was as much of a mostly-truth as Echizen's own answer had been. The phaser smiled and ran his finger around the inside of his glass, cleaning up the dregs of brown-tinted cream. It had to've been a half -- the answer was entirely too diplomatic otherwise, and Niou didn't believe in the diplomacy of (arguably) sixteen-year-old boys. "Gotta agree, though. Sometimes, the one most scared of their powers is the mutant himself." One eye closed lazily, and Niou rested his chin in his hand with a grin. "Truth?"
"Huh. Prolly, yeah," Ryoma replied, entirely too unsettled at the way Niou had seen straight to the heart of the matter, whether he knew it or not. Though from what he'd gleaned so far of the other's personality, he probably knew it. Ryoma finished the last of the mocha in his cup and leaned forward again to set it down for the last time, watching the other again. There really wasn't much of what Niou did that didn't feel deliberate, which was weird when he was so damn nonchalant about it all.
"Anyway, guess f'you discovered you could suddenly do weird stuff, it'd be pretty scary." And imagine discovering it over and over again, Ryoma thought bitterly, thinking that there weren't many other mutants with his particular problem. He moved some of the crumbs around on his plate and shrugged. "Guess it's their choice whether they let it run their lives or not. People're just people, anyway." Just because they had weird abilities didn't make them any more or less a person than anyone else - that was how Ryoma saw it. "People c'n be plenty weird with or without powers." Exemplified by the boy across from him, because Ryoma was pretty sure by now that the weird was intrinsic. The mutant power, whatever it was, was secondary. (Then again, who just met people on the street and revealed a mutant power? Probably not the best course of action; he'd had that one repeated like it was litany after Mom had found out that he thought everyone could do what he - she - did.)
That little bit of introspection was enough to slide Echizen down the last few points of Niou's bellcurve, to the 99.95% Probably Mutant, or whatever that third standard of deviation was meant to be. "Huh," Niou said, as he scrawled quickly on a napkin. Guess that's as good a way of lookin' at it as any. Stalking it was.
Stowing his pen back in a pocket, Niou spun the napkin over for Echizen to see:
station: go right, 2nd L, down 500m 4th R, main road visible.
bookstore/s: no fkn clue <3
0422 811 926 peterpan ;D
Standing, he brushed out imaginary crumbs in his lap, and took his leave, patting Echizen's head as he went past. "See ya' around, Shortstuff. Call if y' ever need some pixie dust in a pinch, yeah? <3"
It had been a productive afternoon.
Ryoma blinked, beginning to decipher the writing on the napkin just as the other pushed his chair back and passed by the table with a pat on the head and 'Seeya' before he could really respond. The cafe door opened and shut and the mutant feeling faded away, and Ryoma sat for a moment, feeling a bit blindsided, but only in the respect that most people generally gave you more warning when they said good-bye.
Well, this Niou obviously wasn't most people, he thought wryly. Or most mutants, even. He was pretty unique, whatever the hell that meant, and he'd left his number to boot. Not that Ryoma was really planning on calling him - not unless he wanted to get led in circles by a half-witted GPS again. Right?
He stood, nonetheless shoving the napkin into his pocket - the directions weren't hard to memorize, but it was probably better to have them, anyway. It looked like he'd have to skip the bookstore today and try to find it another day; the afternoon was getting on and he still had a few more things about his classes to figure out, even if he did have the weekend to do it.
After all, Ryoma thought, Ryuhana took a little more getting used to than most other boarding schools.