Chapter Text
Katsuki is floating in the ocean with his back to the darkened depths.
Water gently caresses his body, flowing around his fingers and rocking him against the waves. It fills his ears so all he can hear are the sounds down below, bellows of mourning and self-righteous anger. It’s a hollowed sound of moving water kilometers deep and the eerily, unnerving question; can he be alone if the creatures around him aren’t distinguishable from the water that holds him dearly?
The sun burns the skin that’s exposed above the surface. It’s not nearly as gentle as the water is but Katsuki always preferred the harsh heat of fire flickering around him. It’s not a blanket of warmth or a sweet kiss. It beats down on him, scorches every area that it can touch. The water pushes and pulls over him, trying to soothe the burns littering his body.
The air is humid and warm with the bright gaze of summer only getting more heated as time passes. There’s something in the breeze that tickles his nose. It’s not enough to make him open his eyes, for Katsuki knows that all he’ll see is an endless abyss of harrowing, cavernous water. The breeze sings to jaunty music playing in the distance where it can only be heard by those who allow themselves to hear it.
Katsuki floats in a perpetual state of falling and stillness. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here or for how long he’ll stay. The more time passes, the longer the comfort feels limited. There’s a sense of dread making its way around his heart, squeezing it and relishing in the way it speeds up. Blood rushes to his ears but it’s indistinguishable from the water. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And it does drop.
The water that’s been embracing him so kindly suddenly grasps his middle like arms coming up from the bottom of the ocean and then promptly yanks him down in seconds.
Katsuki’s eyes fly open in surprise. The bright blue of the sky fades away just as quickly, the blistering sun’s gaze taken alongside it. Water rushes past his ears and the requiem of screams from beneath the ocean’s surface are completely drowned out.
Katsuki lets out a scream of his own, instinctual and raw, as the last bit of light is snuffed out and all Katsuki can sense is ice cold darkness. He doesn’t have any air left and his chest burns. He tries desperately to stop his instincts from forcing his lungs to breathe in.
There’s nothing he can do. Water rushes down his throat and the sweet, soothing touch it once had is replaced by hands around his neck.
Katsuki cries tears that disappear into the unfathomably vast ocean. He flails around, trying to get out of the ocean’s grasp but the hold it has on him knocks the breath out of his lungs. His movements get slower and heavier as he descends.
There’s a moment where Katsuki realizes that he’s going to die. It’s fleeting and the cusp of a feeling but it clears his head just enough to take one last breath before the water’s pressure crushes his chest.
“Okay, listener, let’s calm down now–”
A man’s voice cuts through the darkness, through the screams. It’s barely audible. Katsuki’s ears are still underwater. It doesn’t sound like his father coming to save him. He wants to be disappointed, but he hadn't expected much.
“Zashi, hold him down! ” Another voice. This time it’s a woman, sharp yet not shrill or angry. Filled with panic. Or maybe it is anger. It sounds like the whines and squawks of the whales down below.
“I am! He’s a lot stronger than he looks!” The man’s voice is strained and Katsuki can hear the sound of waves lapping against a shore, or maybe it’s someone splashing around in water as they drown. Katsuki can’t tell the difference.
“Yeah, which is why you should’ve taken him to the hospital–”
“Oh my god, I get it.” The man sounds exasperated. “You kidnap a child once and suddenly every mistake you make is broadcasted to the world. Everyone’s a critic these days.”
Someone is holding him down, their fingers digging into his shoulders. He feels the burn of their touch, phantom hands grasping him and pulling him. He feels dozens of them among the flashing lights.
No, no, no! Let go– let go of me!
Despite the water in his ears, he can hear multiple sets of camera shutters clearly, followed by a distinct click, click, click . He can’t move enough to cover his ears, or knock off the hands poking and prodding at him. He can’t do anything .
“He’s freaking out, Nem!”
“He’s in shock–” One pair of hands let go and move to his legs, lifting them upwards and bending them at the knee. “I read somewhere that this helps? I think?”
Katsuki’s chest submerges under more water, a hand under his head keeping him from drowning in the dark. It all feels artificial. He can still see the sun behind his eyelids, but he’s so far under the ocean that shouldn’t be possible.
Where is he then?
Katsuki suddenly gasps in a deep breath, heaving as loudly as his lungs ache. He blinks rapidly, eyes burning and water droplets dripping off his eyelashes. It’s in this moment that he realizes he’s shivering, his body is vibrating in freezing water. There’s hills of ice rolling on top of him, tumbling down and clacking against something hard with every move he makes. He feels so numb that pain skates across his skin.
One of his hands, wet and icy cold, comes up to wipe his eyes. It takes a couple tries but eventually, he manages to force them open. He’s squinting and trying to blink away the pain in his eyes, but he can see the bright light shining down on him. It’s not the sun. It’s not a flash.
Katsuki’s teeth chatter loudly and he can’t control himself from jerking around in the, what he now sees to be, white bathtub. He wearily glances around the small bathroom, only being able to see vaguely blurry shapes and bright colors.
“There you are,” the man says, backing off and giving Katsuki some room. They must’ve been the ones touching him. They don’t have any cameras. “See! I told you he’d make it!”
“Oh, yeah, good job. He only almost died.” the woman sasses, letting go of Katsuki’s legs. He stretches them out against the chunks of ice, digging into his skin like glaciers in crystal clear water. He can’t see it, but he’s sure each breath he lets out is frosty white.
“I wasn’t the one that nearly killed him!” The man protests. “Why are you blaming me for this? I just found him on the road and brought him here! It’s like when Eraser brought you Sushi.”
“Sushi is a cat , Mic!” The woman is making an effort to not get too loud. Katsuki doesn’t hear the effort, he just hears the way she snaps at the man. It screeches in his ears, a saw blade against rusted metal. “You fucking brought in a human child with heat stroke!”
“I mean,” the man says. “It’s not that much different.”
“It’s- do I seriously have to explain to you that a dying child is not the same as a lost kitten with fleas?”
“I’m not a fucking child.” Katsuki slurs, vision finally starting to clear up. It hurts to talk, like every sound is rocks grinding against his vocal chords, and it sounds as rough as it feels. He barely recognizes his own voice. “I’m eighteen.”
“See! He’s eighteen.” The man says gleefully. “That means I didn’t kidnap a child.”
“Oh!” The woman throws her arms up in the air and looks at the man. Katsuki flinches. “Oh, that’s just wonderful, Zashi. Congratulations, you aren’t a child stealer! Doesn’t change the fact that you still fucking kidnapped him.”
Katsuki forces his eyes to open completely. The two figures in front of him are kneeling next to the bathtub, completely soaked. In fact, it looks like most of the floor is soaked in water with chunks of ice that flew out during his struggles.
They’re both clearly older than him by a few years but neither of them are old . Younger than his parents, less sharp than his parents. They seem more focused on themselves than him, bickering back and forth like those married couples on TV.
The woman has blue black hair tied up in a messy ponytail, like she did it in a rush. She wears a brown cami top and a flowy beige skirt with jingling bracelets adorning her wrists. She has on a pair of red glasses with a cat-eye frame, which Katsuki has only ever seen in sunglasses his mother wears, and some makeup on, but it’s smeared and clearly unfinished. She looks normal enough, but something about her unnerves him.
The man is the complete opposite. Opposite of her, opposite of his father.
His long blonde hair is also pulled back but his outfit is much more detailed. He has on a jacket that looks like it was originally a rusted copper green color and has since been filled with random patches of black leather sewed in using thick black thread. The jacket has black leather shoulder pads filled with small silver spikes and the sleeves have a bunch of silver colored rhinestones placed in a series of rhombuses lined and connected down them. Slightly covered by the jacket is a light brown button up vest that he’s left mostly unbuttoned and black pinstripe pants.
There’s nothing identifiable on either of them, nothing seemingly recognizable either. It puts him on edge.
“Are– are you two gon–na keep fuckin’ around or are ya gonna get me the– the fuck out of here?” Katsuki chitters, voice wobbling as he shakes.
“Oh, shit!” The man comically moves his body to look side to side like a cartoon character before grabbing a towel and helping Katsuki out of the bath. Water gushes onto the floor, flooding it even more than it already was.
The woman steps out of the bathroom for a moment while the man frantically wraps Katsuki in as many towels as can. It, like everything else about the man, is extremely obnoxious. Before Katsuki can tell him to fuck off, the woman steps back in the room with his bag and a bottle of water.
“Oi,” he barks. “Don’t fuckin’ touch that.”
The woman raises her eyebrows at him, unamused, and offers up his backpack. “I was going to give it back. Feisty little one, aren’t you?”
Katsuki gives her a dirty look and yanks his bag from her, still shivering violently as he takes the water bottle and downs it in one go. The throbbing headache that he hadn’t noticed until now, pounds behind his eyes and forehead. It’s like he’s experiencing the worst brain freeze of his life.
“Who the fuck are you people?” Katsuki asks, clearing his throat and trying to clear some of the creaky roughness from it. He keeps his guard up, constantly glancing up at the two strangers while he goes through his shit. It seems like it’s all there, thank fuck.
The woman sighs, letting out a small forced laugh in the middle of it. “Well, my name’s Kayama Nemuri and this is Yamada Hizashi.”
“But you can call me Mic!” Yamada cuts in with a toothy grin. He pulls the collar of his jacket forward, like he thinks he’s really badass. It reminds Katsuki of those old publicity bitches his parents would hire who would talk to him about how to make his image more marketable.
“Now, what’s your name?” Kayama asks, clearly looking down on him with her overly friendly smile and teacher-like tone.
Katsuki bites back a catty remark. He’s not sure where he is or who these people are. They seem to be too stupid and weird to be hired by his parents, but he can’t trust them on that alone. It’s better safe than sorry when it comes to how he interacts with them.
All he has to do is keep it cool and not pick any fights with anyone until he can leave. He can do that, easy.
“Kat,” he finally says. “My name is Kat.”
Yamada snorts. “I told you it’s the same as Sushi.”
Kayama opens her mouth to respond and then promptly closes it before reaching past Katsuki and into the tub. In a quick motion, she takes out a massive chunk of ice the size of Katsuki’s fist and shoves it into the front of Yamada’s pants.
Yamada shrieks. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” His voice is multiple pitches higher and makes Katsuki’s head hurt. He jumps around the tiny bathroom, bumping into Katsuki and Kayama once or twice as he sticks his hand into his crotch and pulls out the ice. “My dick’s gonna stay shriveled up and tiny forever, you bitch.”
“Already was,” Kayama says boredly.
“Are you done?” Katsuki snaps at them. He has his shoulders hunched inwards, backpack pressed close to his chest. The multiple towels around his body are beginning to slip from his grasp and fall towards the floor.
“Jeez, kid,” Yamada says, dropping the ice chunk back into the bath with a small thunk and flicking water off his fingertips dramatically. “Not too much of a sense of humor, huh?”
Katsuki glares at him. His body isn’t shivering as badly now, but he’s still cold as fuck and he’s not super interested in standing around mostly naked. Forgive him for still being a bit pissy. He thinks he has a right to be when he’s the only one acting like an adult.
“Hizashi.” Kayama leans over to fake-whisper to him. “We kidnapped him. He probably doesn’t think we’re too funny right now.”
“I don’t find you funny because your jokes suck,” Katsuki huffs.
“Oh,” Kayama hums, grasping her chin while she thinks. “So, it’s the material that isn’t working?”
“And you’re both fucking morons.”
“Youch,” Yamada frowns. “Tough crowd.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have patience for people who don’t even know what actual kidnapping is.
“It was heat stroke, right?” Katsuki asks, shifting gears. “You picked me up?”
Katsuki is pretty sure he already knows the answer. He remembers what happened clearly enough; he had been walking to the next town when the sun had risen and suddenly decided that Japan was going to be Hell on Earth. It felt like he was walking through a desert with no end in sight. If he had known that the coming weeks were going to be this brutal, he would’ve packed more sunscreen and water for his travels.
At some point, he had been walking with sweat pouring down his face and a throbbing headache that just kept getting worse and worse. He figured it was dehydration but he was about another hour before the next town at the slow, dragging pace he was at so he just kept going. Soon enough, that headache morphed into dizziness that left him stumbling and blacking out. He doesn’t even remember hitting the ground.
“We think so.” Yamada answers.
Katsuki tsks. “Damn.”
“You know what happened and can’t even spare a simple thank you? What a rude little boy you are.” Kayama says, smirking at him with her hands on her hips. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”
“Ah, bite me, bitch.” Katsuki clicks his tongue. He’s tempted to say that his parents are dead just to make her feel bad. “You still haven’t told me where I am so maybe this is a kidnapping.”
Yamada snaps his fingers. “That’s a great point! Why don’t you go back to Nemuri’s so she can clean you up and figure out our next course of action?”
“What?” Kayama furrows her eyebrows. “Why do I have to take him–?”
Yamada coughs and leans in close to her, lowering his voice. “He can’t stay here.”
“Why not?” She follows his lead, quieting.
“Because we have dress rehearsals tomorrow that take priority so we can’t take him anywhere, your couch can be converted into a bed, and I have a fuck ton of cocaine in my living room that I can’t afford to chance him stealing.” Yamada whispers. It’s so loud that Katsuki can hear everything perfectly and he can’t tell if the man was dropped on his head as a child or if he’s just really underestimating how quiet you need to be in order for someone standing right fucking next to you not to hear you.
“I don’t do drugs, asshole.” Katsuki growls.
Yamada looks at him like he’s actually shocked Katsuki heard him. “All due respect, listener, I can’t trust that. It’s a lot of cocaine.”
“Will you–” Kayama sighs, exasperated. “Don’t say that. He’s going to think you’re a criminal.”
“It makes perfect sense, actually.” Katsuki mutters. “The only way any of this makes sense is if you’re all fucked up on drugs.”
“Okay, smartass, let’s just go.” Kayama rubs her eyes, glasses pushed up by her hands. “I guess I’ll monitor him and make sure we don’t actually have to take him to the hospital, yes?”
Yamada flashes her two thumbs up and a cheeky smile. “You’re the best, Nem!”
“Yeah, and you owe me a damn raise, you vulture.”
Kayama gently starts to lead him out of the bathroom and through the cramped trailer.
“Wha– wait!” Katsuki protests. “Can’t I get dressed first?”
“I mean you can,” Kayama says, frowning. “But you had some nasty looking burns when we took you in. It would make me feel better if I could give you some cream for it or something. Don’t worry though, kid, my place is just over yonder.”
Katsuki swears and tries to fight against her, but it’s a lot harder than you think to wiggle out of someone’s hold when you’re also trying to hold up, like, six towels around your midsection. And he’s still cold.
Before he knows it, Katsuki finds himself pushed outside. The air is a bit thick and it’s feels so fucking good against his freezing skin. Katsuki actually feels the rattling of bones stop as the breeze ruffles his hair. It smells like dirt and smoke and Katsuki can hear chatter between the singing crickets and rustle of grass.
It’s not completely dark outside, still evening with purples and pinks layering the sky around the setting sun. Last he remembers, it was about high noon, so he’s been out for most of the day. He uses the remaining light to look around at his new environment.
It actually looks like something out of a fantasy novel; there’s two rows of over a dozen RV campers all modified to look like an older style wagon with dark golden trim lining the edges and doorways. The bodies are painted to look like they’re made out of wood, yet still with vivid colors.
Yamada’s trailer is a mix of aged dark blue with red accents and yellow rims in the wheels. It even looks custom painted with stars circling the windows, like van Gogh’s The Starry Night. Each camper has so much detail to it, all seemingly hand painted, making it truly look like a rainbow of old wooden wagons despite still obviously being a modern vehicle.
They’re set up as a fantastical trailer park with each camper having pull out awnings and temporary porches with chairs and candles. Katsuki even thinks most of the vehicles, if not all of them, are the expandable types meant to give you more room inside when you’re parked. Everything is very close knit too. There’s maybe a couple meters between each trailer with fairy lights strung between them so the middle path between the rows is properly lit up.
As far as Katsuki can see, though, the trailer park isn’t empty. Many of the lights are on within the campers and there are some people walking down the path or sitting in their porch areas smoking a cigarette and talking amongst each other.
“You’re seriously not gonna let me get changed?” Katsuki hisses as Kayama steps out of Yamada’s trailer and tries to push him down the steps.
“Well, you can do that right now and have to take everything off again in two seconds,” Kayama says annoyingly. “Or we can run to my place before anyone decides to look over here.”
“This is so fucking stupid,” Katsuki says. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable walking around half naked– he’s honestly used to it after years of modeling– but this entire thing is so insanely bizarre. This place looks like it’s a fucking theme park attraction and yet, it seems like these people actually live here. “You just get off to this, you fuckin’ freak.”
Kayama grins, lightly grabs his shoulders with both hands, and leans down to chuckle in his ear. “Maybe, but it’s a lot of fun. You ready? Go!”
Kayama pushes him diagonally from the trailer door so he stumbles in the middle of the pathway. Dirt clings to his still wet feet and Katsuki has to let go of a towel so one arm could spring up and help him keep his balance.
The numbing to his skin has started to fade and with each movement, the rough towels scrape against his skin. Katsuki winces with discomfort. It prickles and jolts up his body like lightning, stinging with every touch.
His eyes dart from trailer to trailer, both trying to see if anyone has noticed him and trying to spot where Kayama’s trailer might be. She didn’t actually clue him in on that with this stupid plan of hers. Moron.
Before he has any time to actually feel the anxiety bubbling in his chest, fingers wrap around his left bicep and pull him sideways. Katsuki makes a noise of surprise and trips over himself as Kayama yanks him towards a burgundy trailer with the same wagon aesthetics as the others. The awning, however, has fake plants lining the edges and making a wall of greenery that gives more privacy than the other porches. There’s light shining beneath and through the plants, not bright but still noticeable.
Kayama slips through the plants rocking in the breeze and Katsuki follows suit, the fake leaves tickling his skin. “Will you fucking let go of me?!” He snaps as soon as the plants cover them.
Kayama raises an eyebrow at him and lets go of his arm. “You sure are a bummer to hang out with, y’know? Total buzzkill.”
“Maybe I’d be more pleasant if the forty year old woman I’m with didn’t act like a shitfaced toddler,” Katsuki sneers, gripping the strap to his backpack so hard that his knuckle turns white.
Kayama’s face falls into something akin to alarm and heartbreak. “You think I’m forty?! ”
Katsuki ignores her and drops all the towels. He’s no longer shivering; instead just cold, miserable, and covered in goosebumps. The warm lighting from the porch light is just enough for him to assess the damage to his skin.
It could be worse but… it’s not great, either.
“Eeeugh,” Kayama’s expression morphs into one of disgust. “If I had known it looked that bad, I wouldn’t have dragged you around so much.”
“Gee, thanks,” Katsuki snarks. It’s not actually the worst sunburn he’s ever seen, but his skin is peeling something terrible around his shoulders and most of his back is a painful red.
“I have lots of aloe for that,” Kayama continues with a thoughtful hum. “Probably have something you can take for the pain, too, if it’s that bad.”
“It’s fine,” Katsuki spits. “I can handle it.”
“O-kay, tough guy. If you say so,” Kayama turns and sticks a key into a dark gold keyhole. The door of the camper is painted black with detailing that makes it look like a door to an actual house. It’s all very bohemian. “You got a problem with dogs? Allergies? Phobias?”
Katsuki scoffs. “No?”
“Good.” Kayama opens the door with a quick “ Zostań! ” before stepping inside.
Katsuki follows with his backpack hanging by his side and the first thing he notices is three dogs on the floor, sitting patiently with wagging tails. One of them, a black shiba inu with a cream colored underbelly, does a little hop before taking a few steps closer to him.
“Yoshi! Zostań!” Kayama snaps her finger at the dog and reaches over to grab a small black clicker off a kitchen counter as well as a small treat from an open bag. When the dog doesn’t move again, she clicks it with a smile and feeds the dog the treat. “Zuch chłopak.”
Katsuki isn’t familiar with the language she’s using, which is impressive considering he’s been cramming languages since he was a baby. It doesn’t sound Latin based and it’s definitely not Asian… Slavic, maybe? It’s hard to tell based only on a couple words.
He can hear his mother’s disappointment in him from here.
Kayama turns to Katsuki and interrupts his thoughts. “Come on in, honey. Make yourself at home.”
Her trailer is a lot like Yamada’s in layout with the entrance door going into the living space with the driving pit on one side and the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom on the other. The main difference, with the small glimpses that Katsuki managed on his way out, are in decoration.
Yamada’s trailer had mess everywhere with guitars, albums, and band t-shirts hung up anywhere he could fit them. Katsuki caught knick-knacks and figurines on shelves and tables, even saw a miniature version of Yamada’s trailer on his kitchen counter. The place was clean but still overcrowded with things and papers Katsuki didn’t have time to read.
Kayama’s is much more simplistic. It’s clear that she had a vision for the aesthetic and executed it, which is one of the few things Katsuki can respect about her. Tiny circular fairy lights are attached to the ceiling in random zigzag motions and, just like outside, she has a ton of hanging plants lining the walls. These ones are real this time, all leading to painted pots attached to the ceiling.
With big, patterned curtains covering the windows, there’s not a ton of space for things hung up on the walls. Still, she somehow manages to fit in various art pieces that mostly look like unfinished canvases and sketches all overlapping each other anywhere there’s space. There’s also an analogue clock hung up in the kitchen area, tilted off center and ticking loudly despite the hands not moving.
The decor that she has in the rest of the space has a common theme of crystals, mushrooms, and small potted plants. Anything that can be hand painted, looks like it is and there’s many handmade details in her furniture, like fake moss glued to bookshelves filled with weathered looking and sometimes spineless books. In the back corner of her kitchen counters, there’s a waterfall fountain incense burner that’s burning a distinctly lavender scent throughout the space.
The floor is mostly clear with only a couple dog toys thrown about and three colorful, but empty, lickmats on the kitchen counter, recently used. Katsuki notices picture frames set up among the crystals on the small units of shelving, as well as flashy red and blue garb and accessories tossed over chairs.
“Just make sure to watch your step,” Kayama chimes in, walking over to her couch and beginning to fiddle with it. “Bathroom’s in the back if you wanna change in there, or you can wait for the aloe.”
Katsuki shrugs to himself and rudely wipes his feet on the entrance rug, smearing gritty mud all over it. He notices three sets of eyes watching him curiously. The shiba inu looks seconds away from barking at him.
“Didn’t you say you had a cat?” Katsuki asks gruffly, just to fill the silence. Forcing himself to bite his tongue and avoid snapping more than he already has makes his skin crawl. His insides feel itchy, like they’re sparking inside him and waiting to ignite.
All of his instincts tell him to run head on, screaming at him that he can take on the world and figure it out, but that feels dangerous right now, even for him. Better to wait and observe, just like his father taught him.
“Hm?” Kayama perks her head up. “Oh, right, you mean Sushi. She’s at her dad’s right now.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Nah, just a friend.” Kayama says, yanking at the lever connected to the couch. She tries to adjust her grip, but still struggles to pull it. “She belonged to a mutual friend of ours who couldn’t keep her so now we have dual custody. Sushi comes and goes as she pleases.”
“You want some help?” Katsuki offers when the woman spends a solid thirty seconds readjusting her grip and failing to pull down the lever.
Kayama takes a step back with a self-deprecating laugh. “Could you? I swear this shit gets harder and harder to open every time.”
Katsuki swaps places with Kayama and takes a look at the black lever that’s hidden away by the plush cushions on her couch, covered in throw pillows and blankets with detailed spiral designs. He wraps his hand around it and gives it a hard pull. As he does, he can hear the front door open and then shut a couple of seconds later. The muscles in his arm flex and the mechanism clicks, unlocking the couch.
Katsuki looks at his hand with furrowed eyebrows. That lever wasn’t easy to pull by any means, but it didn’t seem that stuck.
“Oh my goodness, thank you so much!” Kayama gushes, a little too fake sounding. “I really appreciate it.”
“Sure,” Katsuki nods and backs out of the way so she can step past him and push the futon the rest of the way down.
“Take a seat,” she says, laying down a couple of the towels Yamada gave him and patting them invitingly. As Katsuki sits, she moves around the dogs on the floor with ease, opening a tall skinny cupboard in the corner and pulling out a thin blanket and some more pillows. She tosses them next to him and then disappears into where her bedroom is.
Katsuki takes the time to look at the three dogs sitting on the ground, all staring at him expectantly. The shiba inu hasn’t moved from its place in front of the door, but the other two are much more out of the way.
The second dog looks to be a puppy; a toy poodle with shiny, soft looking reddish brown curls and a prissy pink collar. It sits curled beneath the chair of a small cyan vanity tucked against the wall in the hallway going towards the bedroom. It’s clearly old and easily the messiest thing Katsuki can see in here. Some of the paint is chipped off the wood and it has makeup stains across the surface, as well as a handful of brand new products tossed haphazardly onto it.
The final dog is the biggest of them all. It’s a massive white samoyed that looks to be more fluff than dog with a red bandana stitched with multicolored flowers wrapped around its neck. This one slumps against the kitchen counters, partially underneath the small table connected to the camper’s wall. There’s three distinctly sized beds under the table, clearly for each dog, and half the samoyed’s body is on the smallest looking one– he guesses it’s for the toy poodle by the pale pink color.
Man, this woman really is the most basic bitch of dog owners.
Kayama comes back moments later with a small glass jar of aloe vera, a bottle of generic pain medication, and a roll of white bandages. “Alright, do you mind if I put this on or do you want to do it yourself?”
Katsuki scoffs. “Do you actually care or are you just gonna do whatever the fuck you want again?”
Kayama purses her lips. “You really are upset about all that, huh?”
“Are you fucking deaf? How many times do I have to tell you that you’re annoying and pissing me off before you get it?” Katsuki barks, trying his best to keep any actual heat from his tone. People can tolerate disrespect as long as they don’t feel cornered.
Kayama places the jar, bandages, and bottle next to him on the couch, takes a small step back, and then bows a little. “I’m sorry about that. Mic and I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. Sometimes it takes a bit for us to recognize that strangers aren’t going to get the way we do things.”
“Strangers? What are you– a fucking cult?” Katsuki mutters, picking up the jar of aloe. He twists it open and begins to gently apply it to the worst of his sunburns.
“No, but we get that often too,” Kayama chuckles, taking off her glasses and setting them on the counter. “We’re a bunch of travelers. You may have heard of us? The Hands Up Circus?”
No, he hasn’t. “Of course, I have.”
“Oh yeah?” Kayama’s shoulders perk up and she can’t stop the smile growing on her face. She actually sounds excited. It makes him feel a little bad. “You’ve seen our show?”
“Uh no, I’ve just heard about it.” Katsuki says noncommittally. He applies a glob of aloe to his shoulder blades and nearly sighs in relief. It tingles and is way too cold but it feels more refreshing than anything he’s felt in weeks.
Freaks in a circus actually explains a lot. Katsuki has never been to a circus, or even really knew that they were still around. It’s like if someone told him they were performing in a vaudeville. It just doesn’t sound real in modern times.
“I see, well I’ll take that over nothing.” Kayama shrugs. “Do you want some more water, Kat? You probably need it.”
“Yes, thank you.” Katsuki has to stop himself from gritting his teeth. The niceties are instinctual– only dipshits are rude when someone offers you something– but they’re just as instinctual as his need to bite the hand that feeds him.
“Why are you doing this? Why did you bring me here?” Katsuki finally asks when she turns her back on him. They’re the questions that have lingered in his mind since he got here. “Why not a hospital?”
Kayama opens one of her cabinets and pulls out a glass cup. “Honestly? The best answer is that Mic is a moron. The man means well but when it comes to, well, most things he struggles with thinking things through. It would be unfair not to take care of you when he’s clearly the one who fucked up.”
It’s not like a hospital would’ve done him any good. Katsuki thinks that this is probably the best case scenario; no hospital to call his emergency contacts, no dying from heat stroke on the side of the road, and he’s at the last place on Earth that his parents would look for him. But, of course, people aren’t usually nice enough to give away things for free. Katsuki isn’t dumb enough to think that.
In fact, it’s that train of thought that’s kept him so on edge since he woke up to strangers tending for him. Everything in life is a trade and Katsuki has a bad feeling about what this one might be. Every best case scenario can just as easily turn into the worst if he’s not careful.
“You know what happened then? When he found me?”
“Ehh,” Kayama makes a so-so hand gesture with her hand. Using the other one, she fills up the glass cup with tap water from her sink. “I know that he was driving back from town with our props master, Momo. She said that we needed more paint or something and Mic tends to ride along to keep track of what’s going on.”
“So, he’s a moron and he chaperones your shitty group projects?” Katsuki asks. He shouldn’t be too surprised, he’s pretty much the same way. It’s organized chaos. Impulsivity doesn’t matter if you know how to react and respond to the dumb shit you do in order to get the best outcome.
“He’s our ringmaster and the artistic director of the circus so he’s basically in charge of everything. He likes keeping track of things himself and likes to be very involved with things. I think it’s fun for him.” Kayama explains.
“That guy’s the fucking boss?” Katsuki snorts. “Are you shitting me?”
“Nope,” Kayama giggles. “Mic doesn’t necessarily own the circus, but he might as well. I honestly think that the reason this place survives at all is because of him, though. He’s good at what he does, it’s just that sometimes we have to deal with the consequences of his… interesting choices.”
“Like picking up someone dying of heat stroke off the side of the road?”
“Exactly,” Kayama turns off the water and goes to give the glass to Katsuki before realizing that his hands are slathered in aloe vera. She awkwardly sets it down on the storage table next to him. “Mic has a big heart so when he sees someone in need, he brings them along with him. It comes with the territory when you spend half a decade recruiting people for a circus.”
Katsuki wipes his hands on his wet boxers and starts the process of bandaging all the sunburns he put aloe on. “You think that’s what he was doing here? Recruiting me?”
It would make sense if that were the case too, given how charitable they’ve been so far. Katsuki’s willing to bet that they want to use his own weakness against him. They supply him with medicine, water, maybe even food if he asks and then they tell him that he owes them a debt. It’s a debt that will only be paid if he gives his life to them.
Kayama half shrugs. “Who knows what he’s thinking? Why? Are ya interested in a job, Kat?” Kayama waggles her eyebrows at him. She moves past him and takes a seat at the cyan vanity. She’s careful of the puppy underneath the chair and uses the heel of her foot to gently rub circles into its belly.
Her words make him tense up, fists clenching and unclenching around the bandages as he wraps them neatly around his shoulder. He’s acutely aware of Kayama’s eyes on him as he works himself over.
“I was just curious,” Katsuki says steadily, careful not to let his voice reveal anything. He’s watching her just as closely. “Can’t wrap my head around how you people think.”
Kayama playfully rolls her eyes. “We’re just people, like you and everyone else. There’s nothing to figure out. If you are interested in a job though, maybe I can help you out?”
“How so?” Katsuki’s mind races. She’s clearly testing the waters, trying to get something out of him. Katsuki can hear his publicist’s words in his head– ‘Try to make it look like you’re interested even when you’re not. You’ll find an opening to get out of it eventually.’
He doesn’t have enough information about this place yet. He needs to figure out how much she’s willing to tell him. Based on what Yamada said earlier, it seems like he’ll be spending the night and possibly leaving in the morning– or, more accurately, he’ll be accosted in the morning and forced to sign some kind of contract.
He can handle this shit. No problem.
Mic is a fucking stick, all height and no weight. He walks like a goddamn metronome. He’s nothing to worry about. Kayama looks athletic, lean muscles filling out her clothing, but Katsuki is powerful and he’s been in hundreds of fights since he was young. He could beat her if he needed to. The dogs, however… they’re a bit of a wild card.
“Well, I can talk to Mic and he’ll probably set you up with ring crew,” Kayama says, digging through the products on the vanity until she finds some makeup wipes. She wipes her face clean, taking special focus to her unfinished eyes. “It’s a bit of a catch-all title that works mostly with constructing the sets and tent, as well as just about anything having to do with the performances themselves. If you do join, we’ll give you a place to sleep with electricity, food, and plumbing alongside the paycheck you’ll get for your hard work.”
Sounds way too good to be true. The benefits they give you have to add to your debt and the money you make won’t ever be enough to pay for it. It’ll be a cycle worse than ouroboros.
“Sounds like quite the setup,” he says. “What would I have to do to apply?”
“Talk to Mic, mostly.” Kayama says. “He’ll ask you some questions about what kind of skills you have and he’ll handle the specifics of it. Then, he’ll assign you a wagon– though, it won’t be anything like mine, yours will be more of a bunk situation.”
Yeah, that’s definitely not shady as hell.
“And I’d have to do that tomorrow? When– the morning?”
Kayama tosses the dirty makeup wipe to the side and looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Really? You actually want to apply? I was just joking.” Kayama’s disbelieving tone pisses him off. She picks up an eyeliner pencil. “You? Mr. No-Fun-Allowed is interested in working at a circus?”
“It’s not that fucking shocking,” Katsuki growls. “It sounds like a reasonable gig, that's all. I’m keeping my options open.”
“Right, because people with options choose to work for a circus,” Kayama stares at her reflection in the mirror; her mouth agape and eyes wide as she tries to pencil in her waterline.
Katsuki doesn’t recognize the brand. It looks nice, though. The softer red lines compliment Kayama’s vivid blue eyes, much like her red glasses do. It’s clear by the way she’s handling it that she’s new at it. She probably prefers liquid liner– as she should, that shit is always better than fucking school supplies .
“Don’t people run away to join the circus all the time?” Katsuki asks.
He finishes a final wrap of bandages around his midsection and tosses the rest away, making sure that he can move around without undoing anything. When nothing budges, he reaches over to inspect the bottle of pain medication. It doesn’t look like anything dangerous– just familiar looking pink circles. Still, he doesn’t want to risk it. He tosses it aside as well and takes a sip from the glass of water, relatively certain there’s nothing in it.
“Sure,” Kayama answers, coloring in the point on her first eye. “But it’s usually people who either want to perform or people who want to escape something; their lives, their pasts, their families, things like that. Are you running from something?”
Katsuki freezes. Is she fishing for information? Looking to make sure that no one will come looking for him? Maybe it’s paranoid to think so but the chances of this place being a human trafficking scheme isn’t zero percent. It’s probably closer to fifteen percent with an added five percent from their drug addled boss and another seven percent from how weird they all act.
So, there’s at least a twenty seven total percent chance that Katsuki was actually kidnapped and their jokes about it were just attempts at forcing his guard down. No fucking thank you.
“What if I’m not?” Katsuki sneers. “What are you gonna do about it? Deny me a job just because I’m not like one of your freakshow trauma pets?”
Katsuki is absolutely smart enough to take a deep breath, keep his cool, and figure out a good response all within the time it would take for it to still sound truthful.
But instead, the words come out without his permission. He doesn’t hold well under scrutiny or social pressure. His heart is beating too fast. Sweat gathers at his temple and his blood tingles like the aloe vera.
He feels like a cornered animal and the worst part is that he can’t even tell if he’s right for it or if it’s all in his head.
Kayama’s eyes barely look over at him before settling back on her reflection in the mirror. “Awfully defensive for someone who’s not running from anything.”
“Awfully presumptuous of someone who won’t even tell me what they do for this shitty circus,” Katsuki fires back, desperately trying to change the subject before she thinks he’s on to her.
With an amused laugh, Kayama drags the pencil to the corner of her second eye. “Baby, all you had to do was ask. That’s not a secret. I’m a–”
Without missing a beat, the samoyed lets out a loud bark that cuts through the quiet of their conversation. Katsuki jolts, flinging a bit of water on himself and the towels he’s sitting on. With a satisfying sense of amusement, he also sees Kayama jump in her chair and jerk her eyeliner across her cheek as she shrieks.
“Obłok, cicho!” She calls over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the dog. “I’m a performer.” Kayama says, inspecting the newly drawn red line going down her face. “ Damn it. I’m an acrobat, mostly. My act uses those guys.” She gestures to the dogs.
“An acrobatic dog trainer? Seriously?” Katsuki snickers, forgetting himself a bit. He wipes off the water. “That’s a shitty combination.”
“Hey!” Kayama laughs with him. She takes a makeup wipe and dabs at the line, taking care not to disturb the eyeliner actually on her eyes. “Don’t knock it ‘til you see my act, punk. I’ll have you know that I’m a fan favorite.”
“What are their names?” Katsuki asks, seizing the opportunity.
Kayama makes a noise like she’s caught off-guard. “Oh shit, that’s right. I forgot to introduce you; I’m sorry.” She snaps her fingers in the air and calls, “Do mnie.”
Instantly, all three dogs are up and come to her obediently.
“Okay, so,” she starts, tossing the makeup wipe towards the others streaked in red. “That one is Yoshi. He’s the middle child and a massive pain in my ass–” She says as she points to the shiba inu. “That one is Nori. She’ll be your best friend if you rub her belly–” She points to the toy poodle. “And that big guy is Obłoczek, but if that’s too hard to say then you’re welcome to call him Czek.” She finally points to the samoyed. At his name, Obłoczek ruffs happily.
“Are any of them guard dogs?” Katsuki asks, tilting his head like he’s curious.
Kayama lets out a boisterous laugh. “Guard dogs? These bitches? Absolutely not. Obłoczek is scared of running water and Yoshi likes to pretend that he’s doing a good job guarding us but he’s nothing more than a really noisy alarm. Nori is probably the most fierce out of them, but she’s about… seven months old, I think? Just about. No way she’s doing anything right now, if ever. She’s too tiny. Isn’t that right, baby?” She baby-talks Nori, making kissy faces at her and rubbing her behind the ears.
Kayama doesn’t seem like an idiot, but revealing her lack of protection to a stranger is fucking stupid. She’s either dumb and telling the truth, which is really good to know, or she’s lying to him and her dogs are capable of more than she wants to let on.
Despite the paranoia simmering within him, Katsuki gives Obłoczek a toothy grin and reaches out a hand to let him sniff it. Surely it’s trained enough not to attack him right now, right? Even if he’s deadly, Kayama won’t sic him here. “Weird names for dogs, though. Seaweed, a Mario character, and– what’d you call the other one earlier? Ob-obwo-”
“Obłok– I’m surprised you caught that as a name. It’s all Polish,” Kayama explains. “It basically means a pure white cloud, like one of those perfect fluffy ones you see on beautiful days. Obłoczek is like a cuter, more childish version of that, and Czek is just something I tell people they can use because it’s the easiest way I could shorten his name for people who don’t know Polish.”
“Right, so seaweed, a Mario character, and a Polish cloud.” Katsuki says. He reaches out a hand and Obłoczek lets him run it over his soft fur. “Is that also what you’re speaking to them in? Polish?”
“My commands? Yeah,” Kayama nods, “It’s because I found Obłoczek when he was a puppy with that scarf around him–” she gestures to the fabric around his neck. “–and I tried training him using Japanese commands for a while but he wouldn’t listen to me. We thought he was just a stubborn dog so we tried again for over a month, and even used some English words too. Eventually, we had a new performer who had recognized his name as a Polish word and discovered that his scarf is a traditional Polish headscarf or something– we think it might’ve belonged to his owner- so, we tried some basic commands in Polish and suddenly, it was like he was a whole new dog. Now, I just use those same commands for all of them since it’s easier.”
Katsuki is proud that his language guess was pretty spot on. He was a bit worried that it might be Russian and he’d have to escape from Russia if he got taken there, but he doesn’t think Poland is nearly as awful. He thinks he could make it out of there if he had to. It does suck that he never studied any Slavic languages, though. That might’ve been helpful later if he has to run from Kayama’s clearly well trained dogs.
Kayama reaches down to pet each of them behind their ears with a gentleness that Katsuki isn’t used to seeing. Katsuki never had any pets growing up, his parents were too busy and didn’t trust him to be able to take care of anything himself, but he does remember the reactions they would give to other people’s animals. They once babysat their neighbor’s dog and his mother spent the entire time screaming at the thing for not listening to her. Katsuki remembers how the dog spent most of the night in his room, cowering away from her.
“We were still right,” she continues, leaning back. “Obłoczek is a stubborn piece of shit, and Polish has so many variations of even the most basic ass words that it took forever to figure out the ones he knew. But I can’t blame him for only wanting to be talked to in his native language. It’s the least I can do to make him comfortable.”
“So, you learned Polish just because your dog was being an asshole?” Katsuki realizes.
“Why not?” Kayama smiles at him, her eyes crinkling. “You wouldn’t like it if we popped you in Poland and no one tried to help you understand, would you?”
“No, but I’m not a dog ,” Katsuki says, trying to figure out if that was a threat.
“But you are a Kat,” Kayama laughs at her own joke. Katsuki stares at her with a blank face. “And animals have feelings too,” Kayama says softly. There’s a sadly melodic shift to her voice. “They miss their homes and feel scared just like we do.”
“I guess,” Katsuki relents. “But even if that’s true, it’s weird of you to care so much. It’s a dog, eventually it’ll learn the commands you want it to.”
Kayama hums. “Maybe, but I don’t mind. I think that learning new things is a valuable part of life and if something comes into my life that prompts it, I’m not one to ignore that.”
The statement feels pointed, clearly meant for him. It’s clearly manipulation, right? She’s trying to bond with him, trying to get him to relate to her. This entire thing is painfully transparent. He could come up with a better story in his sleep.
“Right,” he says slowly, unsure of how else he could respond.
Kayama takes that cue for what it is and stands up. “It’s getting late and you probably want to rest some more. If you’re serious about joining us, I’ll talk to Mic in the morning and we can see what you two come up with, yeah? If you change your mind, we can give you a ride instead.”
Katsuki nods. “Sure, thanks.”
Kayama gives her dogs a quick kiss on their heads before pointing to the three beds underneath the table. “Leżeć.”
Obłoczek and Nori are quick to obey, huddling under the table and laying down in their large red and tiny pink beds respectively. Yoshi looks at Kayama expectantly but she just stares him down until, a few moments later, he gets with the program and goes to his medium sized green bed.
“Grzeczny psy!” It sounds like she’s praising them. She gives them each a little treat and then smiles at Katsuki. “Bathroom is next to my room and you’re free to snack on anything in the kitchen. I have practice to go to so I’ll be back later. I’ll try not to wake you if I come in too late.”
“You’re not taking your dogs to practice?” Katsuki questions, assuming it’s circus practice she’s referring to.
“Normally, I would,” Kayama admits. “But I can’t leave you here alone in case you’re not who I think you are.”
Okay, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Does she know who he is? Is this all a thinly veiled, elaborate act set up by his parents to bring him back home? What the fuck is with these people and their weird wording and cryptic bullshit?
“Obłoczek isn’t a guard dog, but he will bite you if you try stealing any of my shit.” Kayama says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Anyways, good talk. See you in the morning~”
As she sing-songs her goodbyes, Katsuki watches her slip out of her trailer and push the door close with a click. It’s just him and the Three Stooges with sharp teeth now. Katsuki sighs.
He digs through his backpack for a new pair of boxers that aren’t covered in aloe vera and slips on a brownish green tank top. He feels good, health wise, all things considered. A little weak, a little dizzy if he moves too fast, but taking steady sips of his water and sitting in a very air conditioned trailer does wonders for the human body. Getting some sleep would help too…
Kayama heading out with no ETA on when she’ll be home is a bit problematic. Katsuki figured that he could just sneak out tonight while she’s sleeping, but if she’s only starting practice after the sun has already set then who knows how long she’ll be out. It could be an hour, could be four hours, could be six hours.
He doesn’t even know where he is in reference to where he passed out, or to the town he was closest to. Katsuki scratches the top of his head through his spiky hair. He could honestly use an actual shower too. He has two options: leave now and definitely be on his way, or take a small nap and hope for the best.
Katsuki doesn’t spend much time thinking about it.
Doesn’t matter where he is or what kind of shit he’s gotten himself into, his mother didn’t raise a bitch. He’ll find his way out, one way or another.