pure gold baby | denreze roleswap (csm)

2. noodles

The woman's presence is suffocating. Reze fidgets in the car seat. Looks out the window to gaze at the rolling flatland. She doesn't speak.

We'll grab a bite, says Makima as she watches the traffic. They pull into a roadside restaurant and the car powers down.

Their surroundings gleam as the sunrise washes the rickety wooden benches in burnished gold. Letters in the takeaway window spell out FAMILY MEALS, with a drooping Y. Tongue like. Reze doesn't move until Makima gestures to the door with a sharp jerk of her hand.

It's cold and empty. A bleary-eyed cook is just pulling down the sign; he straightens to attention as Makima walks up to order. Reze shivers on the bench. She's bare-chested, her small frame drowned in an overlarge coat. She sniffs its sleeves — it doesn't have any particular smell. Makima didn't seem like the type to use perfume anyway. An effortless woman.

A man stumbles into the restaurant. He's all haggard lines and screaming for his daughter. Her dad used to do that too, didn't he — with that stench of alcohol and his waiting debt? Screaming the name of a son he never had? Before... her memory eludes her, but she's focused on the noodle bowls, delicious smells wafting from them, that Makima's just placed on the table. But the older woman inclines her head and pushes the bowl away from Reze's hungry eyes. You're a devil hunter, aren't you? Go do your job.

And so she does, trudges into the leaves and squints through the brightness of the sun for the devil. It tries some tricks on her, but it doesn't matter. She watches dispassionately as the screaming child cowers and she shreds the devil to pieces.

Her stomach aches in hunger by the time she's done so she limps back to the restaurant and deposits the bloodied girl at Makima's feet.

There, she says. Can I have my noodles now?

Makima's mouth breaks into a smile. A warm hand ruffles Reze's hair and she freezes.

Your hair's quite long, Makima muses. I'll cut it for you.

No, Reze forces out. Please.

Makima hums, but doesn't press it — just looks at her with curious eyes. Can you eat?

Reze nods too, too fast.

She's just starting on her food Makima speaks again. It's alright if you want to keep it long. A smile. It's cute.

Reze thumbs the ends of her hair— choppy, shoulder length. If it wasn't for the blood loss, she'd be blushing. But she grins shyly instead. Thanks.

Makima asks her about Pochita. Reze breaks into conversation animatedly about him, exhilarated by the careful way Makima follows her every word, how she nods at the right places. She reassures her that Pochita isn't dead, that he's keeping her heart beating, that he's alive inside her.

Oh, Reze says. Her eyes sting. She hunches over her noodle bowl, determined not to show weakness.

A hand strokes her back — misleadingly soft. It's okay, says Makima. It's okay. A pause.

You'll be living with me.

There are dogs. Five of them — names she'll never bother to learn. Makima loves them – there's a slight crinkling in her eyes as she sets down her keys on the shoe rack to be assailed with their enthusiastic yipping. Reze stands in the shadows behind her, mildly uncomfortable until the woman turns and beckons her in. Make yourself at home.

The next day, she sits behind Makima's desk as a dark-haired man reports to the woman.

Who's that? he asks finally, jerking his head at her.

Makima smiles. Public Safety's latest acquisition. Why don't you take him out for a run?

a.n
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