Gold Foil

Chapter Four: To Cast the Match Onto the Oil

A plume of steam lofts upwards and Satoru watches it with dull interest. He's bored out of his mind and watching how the steam curls into itself is far more entertaining than listening to a whole bunch of old and washed up sorcerers talk about how things used to be so much better back in the day. It's all irrelevant to Satoru and he goes out of his way to completely ignore everything, because, at the end of the day, it's their failings that created such a mess for Satoru and the rest of his generation of sorcerers to clean up while they sit in some stuffy room and complain.

Instead of voicing this, Satoru sighs and takes a drink of his tea. It takes all of his willpower to not balk; the tea that they served is far too bitter for him. A voice at the back of his mind tells him that this tea would be perfect for Getou. Bitter, strong and too medicinal. Before they got married and before all of this mess happened, Getou would drone on and on about the health benefits of kuding tea this and fermented tea that. Just the thought of drinking something good for him makes Satoru want to dump several spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. It's unfortunate that everyone here seems to share Getou's mindset and hate sweetening things because there's not even a cube of sugar to be found.

Gakuganji watches him with an indecipherable expression and Satoru has to bite back any insult at the tip of his tongue. Instead, he takes another sip of his tea and dies a little inside. Gakuganji merely smiles, taking a long drink of his own tea and Satoru wants nothing more than to rip out all of the old man's piercings. If he wants to play this game, Satoru will play the hell out of the game. Returning Gakunganji's smile, he gulps down the tea and chokes on it.

"Is there something you would like to add to the conversation, Gojou?" One of the elders speaks up and everyone's eyes are on him. He knows that they're expecting him to cower under their overpowering aura but Satoru can't be bothered.

"Well... now that you're so kind to ask my opinion," He hums, rubbing his chin and doing his best to act like a bitter old man like the rest of them. "I just think that it's a grand idea to sit up here with all of my revered elders and talk about how great we once were. I for one, enjoy this far more than actually going to today's youth to help them with the current day's problems!" If he had any other drink in his hand, he'd toast to his own words. Not wanting to risk poisoning himself with whatever vile liquid that they call tea, Satoru simply grins instead. Instead of being met with various voices of agreements, everyone in the room bristles with indignation.

"It would be in your best interest if you would watch your words in the future."

"Oh? Do you not agree with me, Zenin?" Satoru prods, leaning closer and propping an elbow on the table. "I thought we were all under the general understanding that talking about our problems rather than assuming any action is the best way to handle everything? Perhaps, you do not hold the same sentiment as the rest of us?" Satoru's grin turns sly when the old man flushes with irritation. If they're so intent in making him work directly under them, then he'll do his best to make them regret that decision by being as vexing as he can be without outright starting a fight with any of them.

"From the sounds of it, boy, you're not even taking this meeting seriously. With age comes wisdom and it's quite clear that you don't understand anything."

"I'm afraid that's where you're wrong." He turns to face another elder. "I have a good understanding of the world around me."

"You're not yet twenty, your experiences are nothing and your apparent understanding of this world is meager at best. We have made incredible sacrifices to keep this world in order, Gojou, you know nothing of sacrifice." Someone else says in turn. A few weeks ago, he'd been introduced to all of them but in Satoru's opinion, their wrinkled faces, permanent scowls and tetchy attitudes make them all seem one and the same. Several other of the elders hum in agreement and from across the table, Gakunganji smiles in victory.

Satoru decides to stay quiet.

He's far too acquainted with sacrifice.

He's in a sour mood. It's not often that Satoru drinks but the elders grated on his nerves, he's overworked and exhausted. On top of everything, his back is full of knots from sleeping on his sofa for so long; his long legs either dangle off the end of the sofa or he has to contort into a pretzel to fit somewhat decently on the sofa. All in all, Satoru thinks that he has several perfectly good reasons to drink from the amber bottle in his hands.

If Getou wants to say something about it, he doesn't. Satoru most likely would've ignored any sort of quips anyway. Ever since the earlier meeting, their words have seared themselves in Satoru's mind. He hates how he can still see that thin and smug smile that Gakunganji gave him.

Frowning, he takes a long drink. Satoru hopes that the faster that he drinks, the faster he can make himself forget them.

"Something on your mind, Satoru?" Getou asks, watching him with raised eyebrows.

"Hopefully not for long." He grumbles. Getou either loses interest or didn't care to begin with because he simply hums and goes back to eating his dinner in silence. The awkward atmosphere here is almost as bad as the elders, Satoru thinks, wincing as Getou's knife scratches along the porcelain plate.

Inhale. Skritch. Exhale. Skritch

Satoru is pretty sure that Getou is doing it on purpose. For what reason is beyond him though.

"It was a shit day." Satoru offers, desperate to fill the infinite void between them, yet he only receives a hum in response.

"Almost threw hands with some old farts today." He tries again. Getou glances up at him before his eyes flicker down to his plate.

"Well, that's nothing entirely new." Getou replies.

Satoru feels an oncoming headache and Getou's continued caginess and aloofness isn't really helping him. His already sour mood begins to plummet after every attempt at small talk with the other man is met with short answers or hums. Ever since their wedding, Getou has been withdrawn more than usual and it makes the whole apartment feel tense and unwelcome. He had hoped that seeing the girls would cheer Getou up or at least help him get out of whatever funk he's in. It helped for a day before Getou started to slip back into that hole again. Satoru knows it's because he's kept in the apartment like some sort of unwanted animal but it's not like anyone in the sorcery world would approve of a murderer walking around in broad daylight. Satoru's hands are tied and he has no other choice but to watch as his best friend withers away like a long forgotten flower.

He misses the playful light in Getou's eyes.

Giving up, Satoru looks down at his own plate with a defeated sigh. There had been a time where they had fit together so seamlessly and flowed with the crystal clarity of a mountain stream. Now, they're both so on edge and tired that it's like they're nothing more than oil and water. Satoru fears the day that a hypothetical lit match falls onto the oil.

A glint of silver catches his attention and he studies his wedding band. Clenching his hand, the ring clinks softly against the knife and suddenly, Satoru doesn't feel very hungry.

"You look like you're seconds away from plunging that knife into either me or yourself." Getou breaks the silence around them and Satoru looks up to be greeted with a ghost of a smile. "Well, if that's your plan at least do it quickly." It sounds like a poor attempt at a joke, perhaps Getou is also tired of how things are between them and this is his own way of trying to mend the fraying edges. Yet, Satoru finds himself wondering if Getou had granted a quick death to everyone in that village. Perhaps it's the alcohol that loosened his tongue or his curiosity finally won him over.

"Is that what you did to everyone back there? Hmm? Did you grant them a quick death?" His questions come out far more harsh than Satoru aimed for but there's no taking back his words. Getou's smile quickly fades and he looks away, wearing an expression of regret and pain. Satoru is far from satisfied.

"Why? Why did you do what you did? Why couldn't you wait? Why couldn't you have just asked me for help? Jesus, or anyone for help for that matter. Just... Why, Suguru? Were their deaths worth it?" Questions continue to spill from between Satoru's lips and with each question, Getou grows more sullen. When Satoru finally stops, Getou looks over to him with a flat expression.

"If I had an answer," He pauses and takes a long drink from his cup of tea. "I'd given it to you by now."

Satoru has a feeling that it was him that had thrown the lit match onto the oil.