Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.
He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.
Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.
Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.
Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.
It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.
He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.
"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."
It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.
Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.
There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.
Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.
That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.
The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.
Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."
It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.
It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.
He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."
The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.
It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.
He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.
"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."
He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.
"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."
He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.
But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.
"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."
He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.
He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.
102 notes
·
View notes
Kudo is actually such a kind, soft-hearted guy that had to toughen up because he cared too much
He looked at AFO's rule, and even though he was weak, he had that glint in his eye that has been referred to as the "will of a hero" to oppose him. A hopeful glint shared with Midoriya, Bakugo, and Hawks
He even parallels Hawks when they talk about that particular look in their eye
From a glimmer in the eye, to which eye is shown, how much of the face, a similar angle of the face, and placement of text questioning the existence of that light,
He stormed to kill Yoichi with Bruce, but couldn't, once he saw the state Yoichi was in. Even knowing he was the enemy, he still reached out his hand and never let go, even when they were running
When Yoichi died, even though they'd only been together for two months, Kudo still cried and froze up.
This is a reaction from a man who repeatedly used lives as a stepping stone for his own goal.
Kudo said himself, that victory was life, and defeat was death. He had killed and seen his friends killed over and over, but still cries when it happens again. And to someone he only knew for two months, at that.
Kudo gathered allies under his cause, and they were loyal enough to die for him. Bruce cries (still smiling tho) facing AFO, tried protecting Kudo when he froze up at Yoichi's death, and we see all Kudo's comrades dead in the end. Maybe Bruce was suicidal when he went to face AFO, knowing he'd die, but most of his comrades (and Kudo) were already gone. Their cause was snuffed out, but the will persisted.
Kudo is a bit like Aizawa.
A bit crass and blunt, doesn't like beating around the bush, but he can clearly see what kind of person you are. He's not openly kind, but you know he cares so much, but has also lost too much once. He's seen his friend(s) die, and shouldn't it have been him in that spot? Shouldn't he have died instead, but was forced to continue living for that dead person's sake?
His speech about why we call Abilities "Quirks", recognizing people's intent over raw power is the real power. (Ch 369)
He's blunt and goes straight to the results rather than beat around the bush, but it doesn't mean his heart is frozen and he doesn't care about you. (Ch 408)
He cares so much, and that's why he has to do so much. (His whole Resistance thing, figuring out how Yoichi's Factor works to make sure Yoichi and his will can live on in some way)
He recognizes that Midoriya isn't driven by duty, but that he genuinely adores Quirks too much. (Ch 414) He could look at Midoriya, read that immediately, and even though he looked through his memories, Midoriya's character was his takeaway. Not that Midoriya is an idiot for letting himself be stepped on, or that this kid was bullied, but that Midoriya could see the goodness in others.
Like how Aizawa saw that Midoriya was relying on the reason [It can't be helped] whenever OFA broke his bones and told him he can't always break himself just because he could be fixed (Midoriya's recklessness that showed itself on the first day of school). He called out something that was an underlying, innate belief to Midoriya, that was so normal to the teen, and no one else had brought up as wrong to him.
The first thing they perceive is a person's character.
When Aizawa tied up Midoriya on the first day of school, he wasn't telling him off over his Quirk destroying him being a PR thing or too gruesome for the public. It was out of the fact that his Quirk shouldn't destroy him, because it's dangerous for Midoriya.
Aizawa came off antagonistic, but he was looking out for Midoriya. He didn't want him to keep breaking his whole arm, he didn't want him to get stuck in the mindset that he had to get hurt to use his Quirk, he was looking out for his wellbeing from the start. A kid he didn't know personally until that day.
Kudo did a similar thing. He turned his back, and refused to help, because they were putting their hopes in a delusional boy who would go too far. When the vestiges realized their gathered Abilities and Quirks were letting Midoriya have the freedom to do as he wished, Kudo already knew, only saying "His path is the right one". He could relate to having to run full-sprint to see your goal realized, even if everything opposed him, but didn't want Midoriya to go through that same path alone.
If he were alone, he'd be like Nagant. He had to have comrades to be like Kudo, able to continue and stand for their beliefs, but having comrades to fall back on, or pull him back when it's too much. That's why he follows up in that moment with, "But, if there's something Midoriya does need..."
Kudo and Aizawa could see themselves or their comrades in others, and knew how to approach those character flaws that were normalized to others and said person.
Kudo could see others for who they were, and I think it's this, and his caring nature, that he gathered so many allies with him. He knew when to be blunt, when to show kindness, that the truth hurts but needs to be seen, was actually very logical and witty, and when to step aside and let people do their thing, even if it wasn't the best move (like saving All Might). Because that was what was best for that person.
It's not like people would join someone so wholeheartedly without conviction and being left unseen by that person. So many people were willing to die with and for Kudo, and Bruce believes in him so much.
When All Might's vestige was fading and becoming more solid, Kudo had to look away. They knew it meant All Might was dying in the real world.
Kudo was telling Midoriya not to intervene with Gearshift there. But once he saw All Might genuinely dying out, he couldn't look at him, and kept quiet. He stopped hanging onto battlefield logic of necessity, shut up, let Midoriya do his thing, and it saved All Might. It saved Midoriya from seeing his idol die in front of him, and Kudo didn't have to see another ally die beside him.
The chapter is literally called [We Love You All Might!!]. Even if it's just meant to focus in Bakugo and Midoriya, and only has 2 exclamation marks, it can't discount the world is watching. The vestiges care about All Might too.
When the vestiges come up with the plan to forcibly transfer themselves to deal damage, Kudo volunteers himself as the test dummy. Sure, he backs it with a lot of reason too, but he didn't want anyone else to go first as a test drive
He, with a Gearshift Ability that resembled a manual car, was the test drive. Ha ha pun- *gets shot*
En tried going first. Kudo rejected him, saying he would go first.
"Part ways with Gearshift [me], and you'll be free of the crippling recoil too."
Too. TOO.
KUDO JUST WANTED TO GO AND BE DESTROYED FIRST. HE PUT THE FREEDOM OF RECOIL DOWN AS AN EXTRA BONUS SO THEY'D AGREE WITH HIS CHOICE.
I'd cut the image so it looks better, and I can use Bruce's words elsewhere, but this is an image limit, so,
- Kudo refused to let anyone else go first. This was before giving reasons to convince them he should leave first
- En gives reason to why it can't be Kudo. Kudo just says, "Listen." and reminds them of now.
- Look at Kudo's face when he says that. The guy knows what he's doing when he cuts off En, and would probably be a horrible liar. He might as well be pulling this out of his ass.
He's said "The world will end" "You have to or else" "Five minutes" "You're going to die" a few times in this fight already. DUDE STOPPP
(Terrible liar and a guy who purposely eggs you to torment? What a great friend he would be [yknow, when u make ur friends freak out by being ominous or reminding them of stuff. Like Toast to Lilypichu in a game of Observation Duty])
- "Too."
- Bruce's trust in him, but knowing when to pull Kudo back from going too far
Also, when he's transferred, he smiles to Midoriya. He knows he's about to die again, but the last thing he does for Midoriya is
1) Take away the recoil of his existence as a Factor on the boy
2) Reassure him that it's okay, so it doesn't weigh on his conscience
Even if only in thought, STILL!
KUDO LOOKED SO PROUD OF MIDORIYA!
I bet Kudo is suuuch a sentimental fool
> [Be me and watch your new friend die]
> [I have Yoichi's Factor]
> [It's like I carry his will now]
> [Have a glint of opposition in my eye that drives the Demon Lord and my comrades (Bruce) crazy]
> [Hey Bruce, let's figure out how it transfers]
> [Bruce's common sense VS my rabid ideas]
> [I win]
> [Bruce was unwilling the whole time and still ends up with the Factor]
> [The Factor is named One For All, after something in Yoichi's favorite comic book series]
> [We pass it on to the future to carry forward]
> [Even as everyone else and me dies, I make sure Yoichi and his will are safe from his Demon Lord brother that locked him up]
> [Decades later, my sweet vaulted friend reminds me of when we met]
> [I turn around and give my whole-hearted support to believe in some 15-year old boy because Yoichi believes in him too]
SEN - TIM - ENT - AL!
When Shinomori was stolen by AFO, Shinomori pushed everyone away before they could really notice the invader. Kudo called out for him.
Everyone is in shock, but I don't think it's a mistake that the text bubble calling out for Shinomori is pointing from Kudo.
All For One made it through and is ready to steal them, but the first thing Kudo did was call out for the one at the very front.
[On the post I made that mentions Shinomori pushing everyone away] What if Kudo wasn't pushed away? What if this was him at the front, realizing the danger and turning around, but being unable to do anything for Shinomori when he saw?
Like Bruce, Kudo communicates. He doesn't expect you to just follow or understand him. He actually lays it out and makes sure you keep up.
He explains
- the transfer of vestiges, and why he should go first
- his Quirk
- why Quirks are Quirks
- reports to Midoriya what's happening and what's next
- to Yoichi why they couldn't trust in a delusional boy. In a way that wasn't Bruce's roundabout "we lived in a terrible era and a leader gathered us"
When En panics, he barks at En to keep up. By barking at him, rather than any other way he could've used his tone, it shuts up En in his frantic babbling. Kudo also lets Vestige Might put in his thoughts to understand better, and uses it.
Eye reflection. Kudo can really see people for who they are, and understands others, and himself.
I can't repeat the pics cuz image limit, but look at previous panels here. For example, Kudo saying Yoichi's will lives in him, and when AFO reflected in his eyes
It's something I learned from Re:Zero. When a person in reflected in one's eye, something something that person can see the true core of you, of what you really are underneath everything. The eyes are the window and mirror [glass] of the soul. I finally see the true you.
AFO never reflected anyone.
But Kudo reflected AFO when the man accidentally killed Yoichi. He saw that AFO wasn't seeing anything, so later, Kudo smiled and mocked AFO at his own death.
"Yoichi?"
"He's gone."
"You killed him, Demon Lord."
And AFO hated that reminder.
Kudo was reminding him of what the truth was. Kudo saw it himself, and AFO blocked it out from the get-go. Kudo already knew what AFO was, what he was seeing, what he was doing to himself by blaming Kudo instead of himself.
And then, Kudo's eyes reflected his own hand when he realized Yoichi's Factor was in him.
Kudo clearly saw himself, and in himself, Yoichi. Nothing distorted it. It really was a clear mirror.
He really perceived Yoichi's will was living on, and was right. Otherwise, his eyes wouldn't have shown it.
Kudo was right about AFO. It's even implied back when he and Bruce had their backs turned; Kudo knew what AFO's real goal was. That was back when AFO preached unity and division under him.
Kudo could always see right through AFO. He really understood people from the start. And he never tried making up truths to justify what he was seeing, facing it head-on.
Kudo's lying about the world being black and white.
Kudo and Bruce saw the world as black and white. This was mentioned in the void.
Kudo also says, "Victory meant life. Defeat meant death."
But it's the Resistance. It's when Japan and the world was at their lowest. The world wasn't black and white; there's lots of gray.
Kudo and Bruce would've seen this. Kudo even admits that there's gray, just not directly.
Kudo says Yoichi knows, how he killed and trampled so many lives, to get back at AFO. He knows it wasn't right, or an amazing choice. Later, he says that when your back is against the wall, you have to make callous judgements. These hint at gray moments.
Kudo and Bruce have faced and been in the gray. But it's too hard to make the right choices, and there are times there is no right answer.
Historically, soldiers would convince themselves the enemy were monsters. They wouldn't be able to fight and kill them otherwise. They wouldn't be able to live with themselves without believing in this so badly.
Kudo and Bruce had to have been the same way. They were Meta Humans [Monsters] in a time they were viewed as diseased humans. The monsters were real. And they had a Demon Lord. Kudo and Bruce literally dressed up as soldiers.
Even if they were monsters to society, being Meta, Kudo and Bruce were still human. They knew this. The ones who tried believing in only black and white were inhabitants of the gray itself.
But they have to protect themselves. Kudo is so adamant that the world is only black and white, because he can't stand the gray. What it makes him do, what it means, that he's too weak to do anything.
Yoichi is an example of that gray area. The mortal enemy's younger brother, was actually locked up and sickly. He's just a comic book nerd. And it humanized the other side Kudo opposed so vehemently.
Kudo says victory is life and defeat is death. And Yoichi asked why he reached out to him then. He reminded Kudo of that gray area, and Kudo opened up.
Kudo might avoid the gray area because it's a matter of the heart and a moral dilemma, but it's what makes him human. When there's no right answer in the battlefield, he decides on his feelings instead.
He wishes the world was black and white, because it'd be so easy. But it's not.
Yoichi reminded him of how entering that gray area led to OFA ("when you reached out your hand to me"), and it had been the best choice in the end. The gray area is real, and Kudo's left a bare man with only his emotions when he's there.
Kudo is actually really kind and understanding. He's too soft for his own good. Thanks if you made it this far, I hope it makes sense (tag and image limit)
109 notes
·
View notes