The Patience of Job (Mosa)

The target was a weirdo. That's the best way that Kenji could describe him. He was absolutely massive, for starters-- built like an inverted triangle. The man's hair was long and curly, exploding from beneath a bucket hat with ears on it. He had to be an eccentric!

He stepped on the slippery disc, and his descent was like watching a felled tree. Very slow, very quiet, except for a groan of "hm?" that escaped him. Kenji sputtered, from his spot behind the bushes, clasping two hands over his mouth. He couldn't blow his cover so early in the game. Kenji watched with anticipation as the man reached for the bench to steady himself.

"Yes, yes, yes!" the child hissed with delight. He rolled himself into a crouched position, and began to crawl towards the far end of the hedge. He'd need to mobilize soon, if he didn't want to get caught. Kenji got to his feet, still crouched out of view, and waited.

The dude had laid down on a sticky disc. Poor soul. It'd wear-off shortly, he just had to be patient. A young woman passed-by, and the man stopped to speak with her. Now was his chance! While the man's attention was elsewhere, the young teen emerged from the hedge. He pushed a hand through his hair, to brush away any incriminating leaves that might still be there. The boy wedged his hands deep into his pockets as he strolled, listening to the man's polite inquiry, and his ponderous surveillance of his hands.

The gravity of the man's voice made it even funnier. As Kenji strode past, he generated small sticky discs at the soles of his feet. With each step he placed near the bench, another disc was laid. It was like a minefield of bad news surrounding the poor, curly-haired man.

Kenji made as if he were headed towards the water fountain. Two meters away, he heard the subsequent *pop!* *pop!* of the first two discs releasing. There would no longer be a slippery patch on the sidewalk, or a sticky patch on the bench. Now, new problems would have arisen-- in the form of sticky patches around the man's feet.

๑

He felt the first drop on the back of his neck, as he bent at the waist to get a drink of water. This was followed by two drops. Kenji stopped drinking, looking skyward. Thick gray clouds had rolled in. How had he missed that?! Perhaps he'd been too absorbed in the process of finding a target to pay attention.

It was about then that the sky opened up-- not a torrential downpour by any means, but Kenji was in a t-shirt. It sent the boy scurrying to the overhang near the bathrooms. Kenji pushed a hand through his hair, muttering churlishly. Maybe he could wait to see if the rain let up? Maybe the afternoon wasn't an absolute loss. Maybe he could fool around on his phone until the rain let-u-- crap, his phone!

All of his things had been stashed up a tree, where they were undoubtedly absorbing rainwater now.

"Crap!" Kenji broke into a jog. His concentration having been severed, the sticky discs released their captives.. Moments later, Kenji trotted past them, now thoroughly doused from the rain-water.

He came to a halt at the base of a massive tree, generating pink sticky-sleeves over his hands. He leapt, latching onto the massive trunk. After sticky-sleeves materialized around his feet, too, Kenji scrambled up the trunk. With very little hand- or foot-holds, the boy scaled the vertical surface.

It was no stretch of the imagination, who was to blame for the sticky patches on and around the bench.

Moments later, the boy dropped down from the thick foliage, landing shakily on his feet. He now wore a backpack, and toted a perfectly useless skateboard. The boy made a hasty retreat, before either adult could stop him.


The redhead didn't stop running until he reached the bus shelter, and he didn't look back to see if he was being followed. The drenched shirt clung to his skin, seemed the child shivered. Everything was soaked. Absolutely everything. Kenji pulled-off his knit cap and wrung it out, sending a cascade of water to the ground. He then shook the water from his hair, rummaging into his water to retrieve his bus pass--

Where was his bus pass? He dug blindly around his bag, searching for the familiar hard edge of the plastic pass. He found nothing. Nowhere to be found. And he couldn't call Charles, or else the child would have to explain why he was in Tokyo rather than Mustafu. Kenji bit his lip, hot, frustrated tears welling in his eyes. He fished out his wallet. Practically empty from buying snacks earlier in the day. And you couldn't skate in the rain, unless you wanted a bruised tailbone.

"Damn it…" the child whined, pressing the back of his hand against his eyes. Kenji was drenched, miserable, stranded… and it was all his fault... Hot tears welled in his eyes before overflowing, dribbling down his icy cheeks, before dripping off of his undefined chin. Kenji wiped his eyes with a cold, damp arm, weighing his options.

๑

The boy balked when the sonorous voice interrupted him, the color draining out of his already-pale face. He knew that voice. It was the unfortunate man who’d fallen prey to his traps. Kenji hurriedly shoved his wallet back into his bag, hot embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the enormous man take a seat, delicately freeing a soggy sandwich from its wrappings.

“N-not really,” the boy mumbled into his knees. The dude had to know-- he had to know that Kenji was at fault. He must’ve seen him scale the tree. The rain had made Kenji sloppy. But… in the off-chance he hadn’t noticed… Kenji wasn’t going to say anything. Kenji wrapped his arms around his knees. It was easier to lie through his teeth, or feign ignorance, then to fess-up to tormenting a random passerby. If the man didn’t bring it up, neither would he.

The man offered to wait with him. Kenji’s expression drew more tightly.

“You’ll be here a while,” the boy advised the long-haired man. He’d probably call Charles, ask him to order a cab since his guardian didn’t drive… but he didn’t want to wake Charles up, either. Kenji picked at the worn hems of his shorts. Some places were looking a little thin, like an actual hold might form at any moment.

While sitting in silence would’ve been ideal, listening to the man eat his sandwich was starting to grate on the child’s nerves-- perhaps this was partially due to his own, nagging guilt. But the contemplative chewing was… enough to compel Kenji to address the elephant in the room.

“D-did you see me?” the boy finally blurted, keeping his eyes forcefully shut, “In the park, did you see me?”

Anything was better than listening to the man eat his sandwich.

๑

Kenji wrung his hands together, trying to ignore the clammy, absolutely humid feeling that the rain was inflicting upon him. Not only was the air disgustingly thick, but he couldn’t help but be cognizant of the man beside him. With Kenji seated on the ground, and the man on the bench, the boy felt even tinier. The sooner the man left, the sooner Kenji could call Charles for a ride. Or, if worse came to worse, he could walk.

The boy entertained his options, doing his best to ignore the soggy sounds of a sandwich being devoured. It was like needles on the back of his neck. He wasn’t getting Kenji’s subtle cues to leave, and he wasn’t ceasing his infernal consumption of the sandwich. This has to be, like, my own personal hell, the teen thought crossly.

When Kenji finally blurted his inquiry, the guilt finally compelling him to speak, the man verbally took the question and turned it over in his hands, talking around it. He blamed the rain, talked about the well-being of the woman who’d gotten involved, about the sandwich he’d been eating.

Kenji opened his eyes, confused at first, and he glanced sidelong at the man beside him. Was he really that dense? He didn’t blame Kenji for the sticky discs? But it had been so obvious!

“I don’t… think anything was ruined,” Kenji mumbled, bewildered, “I mean, my backpack is waterproof, and clothes will dry…”

Why did he care if any of Kenji’s things were wet? That was a stupid thing to ask. The boy dropped his gaze again, picking at the hem of his shorts. Well, if the man wasn’t going to ask about it directly, Kenji wasn’t going to fess-up about it.

“Train to be fast?” the kid echoed, “N-no. I’m fast because I’m little. That’s all.”

His idle fingers found a loose string, and he pulled at it, fraying a small bit of the hem. Kenji thought the man was still talking about running, not quirks.

“Are you a teacher?”

Anyone who had students had to be a teacher.

๑

Kenji was quiet as the man spoke. He seemed nice enough. That only made matters worse, though. It was easier to be nasty to strangers. If someone was nice to you, then you felt guilty about doing unpleasant things to them. He nibbled his thumbnail crossly, his beady eyes pointing at the frayed hems of his shorts. And he complimented Kenji's smallness, which elicited only a please "hmph" in response.

The oblique response to Kenji's answer intrigued him even more, his brow furrowing in an attempt to make sense of it. Who worked with more students than a teacher? A principal. Kenji looked sidelong at the man, trying to envision him as a principal. Principals were meaner than the man. Unless he worked with smaller kids. Like elemntary school kids? Those principals could get away with being nice. His hair was too long, though. If the man wasn't so positively musclebound, he could've been mistaken as a woman.

Kenji's attempt at diverting the focus from him was quickly flouted, rerouting back to his purpose here. The child looked away again, looking at his shoes.

"Mmmmm," the boy hummed. An idle hand pinched at his shoelaces. The only time he really gave any thought to his answers was when he was contemplating lying. And Kenji was presently deciding whether or not he'd tell the the truth to this man.

"I..."

He itched his head.

"Well I started with skateboarding, but I got bored. And it was way too hot."

That was true, his afternoon had started with skateboarding, and he had stopped because it was so warm.

"And then..."

The moment of truth.

"I uh..."

He paused. He sighed. It was obviously a titanic struggle that was occurring within the child.

"I thought it would be funny to, uh. Play some pranks. On, uh... some people."

He rubbed the back of his neck. He'd ultimately settled on the truth. Technically it was breaking the law, to use one's quirk. But... if he didn't get caught... was it really that bad? He looked at the mountain of a man beside him, his lips thinning. It took no stretch of the imagination to intuit that Kenji was to blame for his fiasco with the bench.

His heart was racing.

"I... do plan on taking a bus," Kenji concluded. He might need Charles to come retrieve him, and give him money for a fare... but eventually Kenji would board a bus.

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MADE BY MINNIE OF FTS & GANGNAM STYLE