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You tilt your head to the side, the sounds Ritsuka is making echo in the kitchen. You think that he seems even smaller as he moves back and forth in front of the cooker. Leaning against a wall you light a cigarette, Semei has never used your things, has never cooked in your kitchen. He has never hugged you, his way of touching you was completely different, it was the way in which a man touches his dog, his animal. You bite the filter of the cigarette.
-Hey Soubi, I'm talking to you!
You focus your attention on Ritsuka, and as always you can't help wanting to reach out, to touch him, because in this grey world you keep living in he is so soft and warm, but you know you can't taint him.
-Tell me, Ritsuka.
He stands there, hands on his hips and tail wagging back and forth, his eyes are like violet gems, and you know you are not supposed to be so lucky to see him in front of you.
-Where do you keep the eggs?
You grin and puff out some smoke.
-In the fridge. Can I ask you what are you making?
Ritsuka's ears are flat over his head.
-No!
And again there's that childish look on his face, your bliss and your damnation, because you know that is the pureness in him that makes you want to be closer, you who are nothing more than a filthy, ruined butterfly, and yet is that same pureness which makes it impossible for you to touch him. Even know, with his hands and cheeks splashed with flour he seems so much brighter that everything else in the room, of everything you have inside.
So you lower your gaze, because you eyes have never been used to a light like this. Semei's was different, it was a dirtier light, you tremble as the thought crosses your mind, as if you are afraid of Semei's hand appearing out of nowhere to punish you.
The cigarette is almost finished and it burns your lips, but you don't feel any pain, it's as if your body remembers other pains, like the one of Ritsu sensei's whip on your back or the one of Semei's hands carving those letter on your neck, and little things like a burn slide over that tainted body of yours.
-Hey Soubi, are you alright?
You lift your face and smile, that fake, reassuring smile of yours. Ritsuka glares at you and comes closer.
-That's a burn, Soubi! Put some cold water on it.
His eyes are soft with concern, not hard and cold as Semei's used to be.
You nod, take the butt of the cigarette and leave it in the ashtray on the table.
As you walk towards the sink Ritsuka runs to stand in front of the cooker, his arms opened.
-You can't look, Soubi! That's an order!
You smile, and you wish you were still able to laugh, because probably it would make Ritsuka happy, and to see him happy is all that you want.
-Alright, Ritsuka!
Sometimes the word that comes to your mind is "master", but really you are not stupid and you have understood long time ago that Ritsuka is no longer that for you.
The water is cold on your burnt lips, you close your eyes.
A gentle, little hand brushes on your back, you smile against the water pouring on your lips.
- Yes, Ritsuka?
-I-It's ready.
You like the uncertainty in his voice, the way he can be so strong and yet so vulnerable. You sit at the table and look at the okonomiyaki on the plate. You feel something trembling somewhere inside of you. If it hadn't been years since you last cried, you probably would cry, who knows. But you just let your lips stretch into a smile and pull at Ritsuka's wrist. He lands on your legs, head against your chest. You know these are things a fighter like you should not do, but you hug him, and you know perfectly that what was Semei's order is not longer an order, it's just what this stupid butterfly that you are feels.
And as you hold Ritsuka, as you feel his hands grabbing the front of your shirt, you think that really what you have caught inside your kitchen is your own little sun.