[The couple had gotten his name the first time they'd picked him up on the street. They'd treated him to ramen, refusing to take no for an answer, and all exchanged names. Ichimatsu was ashamed every time he recalled the instance, because he'd sat at the little counter in the stand and cried into his hands when they'd asked him what he was doing, why he was out on his own and with no money. He'd cried for an impossibly long time, too tired to stop, and Yuki had just circled around to the other side of him and they looped both their arms behind him and held him. They hadn't asked him further, only his name. Beyond them... Well, no one knew who he was. He floated around wards, staying out of densely populated areas and periodically accepting scraps of food from people who felt bad for him. He probably hadn't spoken regularly in most of the six months he'd been gone, sparing words sparsely only for Yuki and her boyfriend.]
[So, to have his name called was somewhat startling. For a while he thought he was dreaming, especially with as recognizable as the voice was-- but the cat beside him shifted and stretched, reaching a paw out to his side and prodding. It was as if the old creature was saying "Hey, there's someone here for you,". He opens his eyes and looks at Karamatsu for nearly ten seconds, just blinking, before recognition hits him.]
[He gasps, trying to press himself further against the wall and the dumpster, but doesn't speak.]
[He's small. Ichimatsu had always had a knack for folding himself up to seem smaller than he was, but he'd always been a little softer than some of his brothers. Their mother spoiled them, and Ichimatsu being as sedentary as he was, it made sense for him to keep the weight of most of what he ate. He moved slowly when he did move, so he had a belly and thick legs, but it never really seemed to bother him. But, even just a cursory glance at him folded up on the ground, Karamatsu would be able to see the stark differences to him. His eyes were dull, duller than usual, his skin sallow and sickly, making the circles beneath his lidded eyes much darker than the second born may have remembered. His clothes were still decided too large for him-- he'd always liked to be comfortable --but now hung off him more than before. His features were sharper, now, almost like Choromatsu's, angular and ghostly in comparison to the roundness he once held. His fingers were knobby-knuckled and spidery against the sleeves of his sweater, and when he drew back his knees seemed to pull farther to his form than they'd previously had the space to. He was obviously skinny-- too skinny, for someone like Ichimatsu who had always been a heftier young man.]
no subject
[So, to have his name called was somewhat startling. For a while he thought he was dreaming, especially with as recognizable as the voice was-- but the cat beside him shifted and stretched, reaching a paw out to his side and prodding. It was as if the old creature was saying "Hey, there's someone here for you,". He opens his eyes and looks at Karamatsu for nearly ten seconds, just blinking, before recognition hits him.]
[He gasps, trying to press himself further against the wall and the dumpster, but doesn't speak.]
[He's small. Ichimatsu had always had a knack for folding himself up to seem smaller than he was, but he'd always been a little softer than some of his brothers. Their mother spoiled them, and Ichimatsu being as sedentary as he was, it made sense for him to keep the weight of most of what he ate. He moved slowly when he did move, so he had a belly and thick legs, but it never really seemed to bother him. But, even just a cursory glance at him folded up on the ground, Karamatsu would be able to see the stark differences to him. His eyes were dull, duller than usual, his skin sallow and sickly, making the circles beneath his lidded eyes much darker than the second born may have remembered. His clothes were still decided too large for him-- he'd always liked to be comfortable --but now hung off him more than before. His features were sharper, now, almost like Choromatsu's, angular and ghostly in comparison to the roundness he once held. His fingers were knobby-knuckled and spidery against the sleeves of his sweater, and when he drew back his knees seemed to pull farther to his form than they'd previously had the space to. He was obviously skinny-- too skinny, for someone like Ichimatsu who had always been a heftier young man.]