Missed Appointments (Kunzite)
|Missed Appointments (Kunzite)|
|Date of Cutscene:||17 September 2017|
|Synopsis:||Turns out there are things Kazuo dislikes more than breakfast with his dad.|
|Cast of Characters:||Kunzite, Hiroshi Takeba|
|Tinyplot:||Make a little Wish|
In his son's view, Hiroshi Takeba was a man of numerous virtues, all of them annoying. Punctuality might well stand as chief among them. On the occasions that he'd been too unnerved to keep their prescribed and mutually-resented Sunday morning breakfast appointment, he'd always been meticulous enough to give advance notice.
At this point, though, Kazuo had been occupying the table for an hour and three-quarters past their appointed meeting time. No matter how much he was willing to overpay, he couldn't in good conscience keep taking up the space.
He listened to his phone recite Hiroshi's voice-mail greeting for the seventh time, and hung up before it could get more than four or five words in. He'd left a terse message the first time; no more seemed necessary.
The eighth time that he listened to the greeting came after he paid the bill and took his leave. The ninth through twelfth on the route between the restaurant and Hiroshi's house. Maybe his father had lost his phone. Maybe his father had gotten tired of his disreputable son calling and 'accidentally' dropped it in the sink.
Maybe his father had gotten a girlfriend. There were unlikelier possibilities.
A block and a half away, he caught the first glint of something small and purple and crystalline protruding from the corner of a building.
His father's house stood quietly and intact, windows darkened; the amethyst growths formed something like a garden, or a moat. Kazuo frowned, and paused to send Mamoru a text with his location before starting up the walk.
Halfway up the walk, a gap in the clouds opened and a shaft of sunlight fell across the building. It cast the paint a brighter white. But it did not reflect off the windows. They stayed dark. Something dimly reddish roiled in them and vanished, leaving them darker still, a light-eating black.
Kazuo stopped in his place and reached for his phone again.
TXT to Mamoru: We have a problem.