Use your Noodle(s)

Fukako plopped two cups of instant noodles in front of her guests. Steam and the enticing aroma of rehydrated noodles wafted from the opened styrofoam receptacles.

“Sorry,” she said. “I thought there would be something I could throw together in the fridge. But this is all we have.”

“Don’t worry,” Chouji said. “I couldn’t thank you enough for this.” 

And he meant it. After those accursed hours on the road and the whole hospital escapade before that, the mere fact he could sit down and eat with someone he knew and trusted was a miracle. He slurped the noodles down, relishing the heat on his tongue. 

Normally Chouji would be opposed to eating instant noodles. His people (the gamers) have long been stereotyped for their less than ideal taste in cuisine, and he wished to remedy that. But something about this cup was so delicious. Eating meals thoughtfully crafted his beloved? He could get used to this.

Morty joined him in his noodle slurpage, though with a notable lack of gusto. Perhaps French people didn’t have the taste for ramen. Fukako sipped on a mug of tea she had steeped alongside the instant ramen. Might as well get some use out of that boiling water.

“You’ll be doing plenty more of that pretty soon,” she said, interrupting Chouji’s slurping.

 
He raised an eyebrow.

“Eating cup ramen.” Now that they were in a well-lit environment, Chouji could see a glint of mischief in her eyes. Dear God, was she doing all this on purpose? That didn’t sound like Fukako at all. What had gotten into her?

Chouji pushed those mental questions aside as he tried to see her point.

“Oh,” he said. “College.”

She nodded. 

They were both nearing the end of high school, and had already been accepted into universities. She had gotten into one of the most prestigious colleges in the country. Who else but Fukako. Chouji’s prospects weren’t too shabby either. He had even gotten into the same college as his brother. Not that he told him that. Not that he had committed yet.

Chouji chuckled. “I suppose I will,” he said, before going back to slurping up noodles. Escaping from a hospital and running from both the law and a Shinigami organization sure makes a guy hungry. 

Truth be told, he was ignoring any and all thoughts relating to college. He knew he was indecisive. Narrowing down which ones to apply to was hard enough, and now he had to choose just one from his list of acceptances. He kept pushing the decision down the line, and was going to keep doing that to the last minute. Until he died. That changes his perspective. It changed a lot of things.

Their cups of noodles didn’t last long surprisingly. But they did fill the stomachs of two vagabonds. Fukako finished her tea just as quickly. The three of them sat in silence digesting both thought and morsel.

“I still don’t understand why you’re doing so much for us,” Chouji admitted. “I saved your life and you’re grateful. That I understand. But there’s something more to it.” Morty nodded along but said nothing. He still felt uncomfortable in the presence of this stranger.

Fukako stirred nothing but air in her mug, more habit than anything else. The spoon clinked around the inner ceramic walls as Fukako’s train of thought chugged along. She stared into the empty depths pensively.

After a bit of nighttime silence, she spoke.

“It’s hard,” she said. “It feel like you have no one else, that there’s some part of you which will never be the same. But I only know that because I’ve been through the exact same thing as you. Because you’re not alone.”

When she looked at him in the overpowered light of her kitchen, Chouji was caught off-guard seeing her eyes well-up. She wasn’t crying, but she wasn’t too far from it. He somehow missed how strained her voice was getting.

“The same thing?” Chouji said. Chances were that she, in fact, did not also have to flee from a hospital with potentially falsified medical records, but he wanted to be sure.

She reached up to dab at her eyes. “Losing an older brother, I mean.”

Chouji nodded with as much solemnity as he could muster. It was the only thing he really could do. She didn’t know that his brother was technically alive somewhere else and Chouji knew he could save him. Somehow. But more than that, Chouji was trying to hide the shock he experienced. She had an older brother? And said older brother died? How did he not know this about her?

How much did he not know about her?

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, but his heart was barely there. He was thinking on his feelings for Fukako. Or rather, on his feelings for the person he thought Fukako was. All these years and he never truly got to know her. He was a naïve puppy-dog chasing after an idea, a fleeting shadow. Can that really be considered love?

“I’m sure it must have been devastating hearing about the news in the hospital. I went through something similar with my brother. It was also a sudden medical emergency.” She let out a chuckle. “What a coincidence, huh? Feels divine. Or cosmic. Or something.”

“Death comes swiftly, but it does not come cruelly. I wish his life were longer, as much as he wishes yours were happier,” Morty said. The words were sudden both Fukako and Chouji’s heads whipped to face him. Morty placed a hand on Fukako’s, still cradling the warm mag. 

Fukako sniffled. “Thank you.” And took a moment with a bowed head. Chouji could only watch in silence.

She looked up again, rubbing her eyes. “Whew! Sorry ‘bout that. As you can see, I know better than anyone what that kind of grief feels like,” she said with a wry smile. “So please. Don’t hesitate. Tell me if you need anything. I know that I would’ve wanted that support in the past.”

~⚔~

Chouji flattened out one of the old futon Fukako had pulled from her closet. Morty was already laying in the other one. She was kind enough (too kind, really) to let them sleep on the living room floor.

“What was that about?” Chouji asked.

Morty blinked his eyes open. “Bwuh?”

“That little quote you gave. Death comes swiftly, but it does not come cruelly. You sounded like a real professional there, nearly made me cry.”

Chouji shimmied his way into the futon while Morty gave a shrug in his.

“O-Oh, I dunno. It just felt right. In that moment.”

“It was impressive. Really.”

Even though there was barely any light, Chouji could see Morty’s faint blush.

“Hella impressive,” said a voice.

Chouji and Morty bolted upright. The only source of light was the glimmer of moonlight streaming through a crack in the windows. It was close to nothing, but it was enough to outline the hooded, scythe-wielding figure standing at the foot of their futons. And it was enough to outline the suit exposed by his open robes.

“Shimada,” Morty breathed out.

The well-dressed Reaper frowned.

“That’s Shimada-senpai to you, bub.”