Peas In A Pod

"Coming Up Next On Ultimate Disaster Prank!!! What do you think will happen when these average office workers see a life-sized dinosaur exit the elevator-"

"OH NO!!!! She almost knocked over all the bowling pins but left one up!!! I thought she really had it there with how fast she was careening down the mudslide!!!"

"...Senka, I may not know how you time-traveled here from the Edo period, or what the odds were of you stumbling into my uncle's cafe. But what I do know...is that I lov-"

"Here comes Daisuke Motoki, head coach for the Yomiuri Giants, about to make a pitching change in the top of the eighth inning...*

"Hmm~..." The settling down of the remote on the adjacent armrest of her recliner along with some intrigued humming were all the typical indications of Blade having ceased her ritualistic channel surfing. One habit among a plethora that was cultivated after years of living the bachelorette lifestyle with not a care in the world, especially in regards to anything aside from the most basic of housekeeping fundamentals. As evidenced by the day old newspapers scattered atop the coffee table and waste basket on the brink of overflowing from beer cans, rotten food stuffs, food packaging and plastic bottles. Blade eventually confirming that the waste basket was officially full via the emptied beer can she'd chuck on to it, only for the crunched aluminum to tumble down to the floor instead. Not to worry though, she'd come prepared with an extra beer can spritzed open immediately afterward with a kicked up incline to her recliner. Bare feet tapping together as she streeeetched herself out like a cat about to settle in for the night in her favorite spot of the house, a few creaking cracks in her spine overheard apart from the brimming electricity of a toasty warm portable heater.

Adorned in fitness shorts with her gym hoodie and sports bra underneath, Blade was the epitome of being comfortably snug as a bug in a rug from the winter weather outside. Even with her immediate surroundings being an unkempt hodgepodge of dirtied clothing, odorous socks, and training attire all in dire need of several rinse cycles before being dared to be worn again. To her, this was all just an extension of herself and how life was meant to be lived. Putting in the hours at the fitness center and spending the sweat/blood to be in her physical prime. Coaching some of the younger talent looking to get into the wrestling game. Being an ambassador to the sport what with her grappling pedigree and being one of the few W.A. ladies whom a federation can deem fit to be the face to their brand without being a sexual deviant. Oh, and occasionally actually wrestling every once in a while. Yep Yep Yep...Blade figured she'd most definitely earned the right to veg out in front of the tube like the coach potato she was. Smiling contently with a beer can in one hand and her other hand rummaging through a bag of calbee chips. The crumbs of which dotted atop her hoodie as Ryoma Nogami was about to throw his first pitch against the Chunichi Dragons in this crucial league game...

For over ten years, Chizuru’s Saturday mornings always started the same. She listened to the morning game show on newsweek trivia with her mother while she prepared a heap of scrambled eggs and apple pancakes that they enjoyed at the table. After filling her belly with warm food and fresh fruit, she’d catch a train and go on her morning run through the countryside.

Every Saturday she would feel the sunshine on her face and look to an ever-changing sky and rediscover a world that was in constant motion. From the birds flying over arabesque summer fields, the sweet and wildflowers dancing with the spring winds, the golden leaves of fall littering the path of her great stride, and the endless snow covering the rolling hills and mountains in calming, brisk white. Every Saturday, she was free from the worries and makings of today and tomorrow, liberating the present from her shoulders in each breath.

Chizuru was far from that heaven on Earth tonight. Though not for lack of trying.

Her daily routine since she’d moved in with Blade Uehara had taken quite the detour today…or several. Moving in with someone so amazing should have been a dream come true for Chizuru, and in many ways it was. Blade was inviting and dependable in countless ways. Chizuru just wished she would extend that same care to her living space…

She didn’t remember it being this bad when she first arrived. On the first day, the German girl spent the morning deep-cleaning their bathroom after she peeled back the curtain for her shower only to find deep brown and orange stains scabbing over every inch of the linoleum that took hours to properly clean. She had yet to even allow herself to fix a bowl of cereal in their home, assuming there was even one available. It was impossible to tell what was clean and what was dirty in the pile of food-crusted and stained silverware and dishes piled into her sink and lazily run over warm water. Every step she took around the place ran the risk of getting tripped or punctured by some discarded pile of clothes or piece of trash stuck between the carpeting. Getting it all correct would be an ongoing project, she accepted that. It would have gone a much longer way if she just had some sort of acknowledgment from-

Chizuru sighed and tucked the vacuum cleaner away in the closet, wedging it as best she could between the cardboard boxes carelessly stuffed inside. She closed the closet and reached her hands up to unite the ponytail behind her head. Her auburn hair fell across her aching shoulders as she sighed away from the soreness and tension. The German-Suplex Girl reached down and effortlessly hauled up a basket of laundry and carried it into the living room. She’d been meaning to sort it all day, but the tasks just seemed to keep piling on. Did she turn the TV on at some point?

No. It was just Blade in her familiar spot. Chizuru looked out the windows and noticed the darkened skyline just outside. When did it turn to nighttime? Did she miss the entire day? She couldn’t help but huff her disappointment. She missed her chance.

Her eyes trailed back inside the room and regarded the living space. The coffee table she was going to use to start folding was piled high with junk. Where the Okinawan even stored all these beer cans, she never knew. It was just then that she noticed the wastebin, still overflowing and still inside their apartment. Chizuru turned her head to Blade and asked a pointless question. “Hey, Blade. Did you get around to taking out the trash?”

Although it might be tough to imagine, Blade only became an avid baseball within the past few years thanks to the fanatical obsession of one Bomber Kishima. An old-school tag-team partner of hers, former roommate, innovator of the lariat, and die-hard Yomiuri Giants fan. To the point where her bedroom may as well have been a shrine dedicated to the team with apparel and furniture Blade didn't even know they sold. And of course, when you live with someone whose obsession is that joyously prominent and is that dedicated of a fan, invariably you yourself become a fan as well. Blade still remembering being dragged off to baseball game after baseball game, giant foam index fingered glove affixed to her right hand and everything. Thankfully Bomber was crazy enough to spend the extra coin for season long box seats. Which made for wild times during the playoff's. Now Blade stays in touch with the team out of lingering habit and to not be out of the loop whenever she runs into Kishima and she gets to yakkin about the team again.

Blade noticed what were disgruntled huffs and the sound of the vacuum cleaner being fidgeted within the closet, but turned her attention back to the game once Ryoma had finished his warm-up and was about to throw his first pitch. Making sure to raise the volume a little in case whatever Chizuru was doing back there made even more of a ruckus. Her suplexing roommate sure seemed perturbed about something nowadays. Blade thought ordering out for dinner tonight would brighten her up some given it was her night to cook and a night off from kitchen duties may cheer her up some. Of course, Blade always orders out whenever it's her night for cooking, and the refuse tends to stick around well past than. Only adding to Chizuru's lamenting woes in the end. *Hmm, I wonder if-*

"Yes!!! Got him looking!!!" Blade immediately forgot wherever her train of thought was taking her and pepped up with brightened jubilation, pumping her fist and accidentally spilling some of her beer on the floor beside her in the process. Settling back down with adrenalized glee and only faintly noticing Chizuru's question.

"Huh?...Oh, the trash. YeahYeahYeah I took out the trash a while ago. No biggie." Blade confidently remarked with her attention divided between the baseball game and her roommate. Except as if on cue, one of the crumpled beer cans precipitously teetering atop the mountain of trash would come scuttling down to a metallic clanging on the kitchen floor. Blade gawking down at it and the tower of trash it came from before settling back down in her recliner once an epiphany was illuminated upon her. "Oh you meant todaaaaaaaay...uh, no. Sorry, I'll get right on it...just as soon as this inning ends." Blade half-heartedly replied as the next batter came up to plate, somehow only just than noticing Chizuru had a basket of freshly dried clothing in her hands. "Oh, shoot. I hope you didn't use the dryer we have in the house for that load of clothing. It's kinda been on the fritz recently and tends to get scorching hot no matter what setting you put it on. I wouldn't put anything in that monster unless you want to add burn marks to your underwear or something." Blade than returning to her game nonchalantly.

Beer soaking the carpet.

And just like that, Chizuru's forehead grew another wrinkle. There were just some bad habits that she sincerely wished Blade would unlearn sooner than later. Almost every inch of Chizuru’s former home was hardwood floors and genuine imported granite tiles.

It had taken days of power cleaning and revisiting the last time they had a stain like that. She didn't bother mentioning it to Blade the first time. Accidents happened and she assumed her new roommate would take better care next time and simply eat over one of the many dinner trays Chizuru had already bought for them. Blade didn't, and they ended up with a second stain. Then a third. And the trash was still just sitting there and rotting away and why were there burn marks on her underwear?!

Chizuru dropped the basket of laundry to the floor and quickly stood up straight, pressing her lips tight and taking a slow breath through her nostrils. As badly as she wanted to say something, it wouldn't be right to cause a fuss over something so small. She could fold laundry later.

This was her fault too. She should have known better than to give Blade more than three tasks at once. It wasn’t that her roommate couldn't handle it. No, to Chizuru, the Okinawan just seemed to have a mind that operated on a simple string of priorities. She wasn't going to adapt overnight. She didn't have any right to come in and tell Blade how she should be living her life. This was her home long before Chizuru showed up.

Or over the past few weeks, apparently...But that was fine! Chizuru let her disappointment be known with a long sigh that could barely be heard over the sound of the television before she turned towards the kitchen. Once she runs done emptying the dishwasher, the inning should be over with and she could finally finish…

"Wha-Blade?!” Chizuru nearly snapped her neck with how fast she turned to call back into the living. The sink was overflowing with dishes. Patches of food scraps and a pile of thoroughly-cleaned chicken bones had gathered to one side. The smell of metal was starting to mix with the rot. “Dishes in the dishwasher! Why didn’t you run it?!”

Yeah...the carpet soaking up the beer. Blade failed to see what the big deal would have been.

She just figured that one of the inherent benefits of carpeted flooring was to act like a clothed barrier between yourself and the hardwood beneath it. A blanketing towel that saves her time on mopping up messes of whatever beverage Blade typically partakes of, be it spilled beer, coffee or schnapps. However, to justify her carelessness...it was a really wicked curveball. One that she wished Chizuru would have seen if she'd just take a load off beside her and stop griping on about overflowing trash bins, burnt unmentionables, dirty dishes. *Wait, what dishes?* Blade swiveled around in her couch to spy the sink scarcely "overflowing" with dishes. She's been able to stack them way higher than that. Afterward twisting back around to face her peeved roomie.

"What that? Relaaaax~...We still have two clean dishes left. I like to tackle them all at once, no big deal." Blade proceeding to take her own advice by reassuming her slouched positioning with stretched out tranquility, legs kicked up and wiggling her toes as the next batter came up to the plate. The dishwasher was thankfully not in immediate need of repair like their clothes dryer was, but she was a stickler for handwashing the dishes anyway. Call it her natural inclination towards putting in hard work and elbow grease. Or more likely the fact that she's too stubbornly prideful to ask for help in learning how to use that infernal contraption. The baseball game was halted due to an errant cat scrambling across the field, but Blade perked up and saw this interruption as an opportunity to do something she's been meaning to do all week.

"Oh Chiz, hey hey, while I got you here, been meaning to tell ya that you got some missed messages from people calling the house this past week." Blade sat up and shuffled out a memo-pad underneath an old magazine beside the phone, clearing out her voice and reading her scribblings as thusly.

"First Message - You got a call from Angelica Valestein on behalf of the GM of Friction...BlahBlahBlah...Asking if you'd be interested in participating in some promotional gigs for the company. Sumthin about potential title belt opportunities somewhere down the road if you played along and to call her back immediately.

Second message - Angelica again. Hitting you up a few days later about these potential opportunities. Says spots for them are filling up quicker than expected and to call the office back when you can.

Last Message - Angelica for the third time. Apologizing that you two never got a chance to speak but that they've moved forward with other volunteers instead."

The Okinawan nonchalantly setting down the memopad onto the coffee table and assigning her entranced attention back to her scheduled baseball game, feeling particularly prideful in finally remembering to get those messages to Chizuru after what must have a week of failed attempts.

She wanted to make an egg sandwich.

Chores, chores, and more chores had been the only thoughts on her mind from the moment her feet left the bed to the minute the sun disappeared behind the skyline. Time slipped through her fingers fastly and the only thing left behind was dust and scraps of lint from every corner of the living space. All she wanted to do after this was sit down and eat something that reminded her of home: the tamago sando her mother used to make with jelly from their little estate in Germany. But this was going to set her back another hour. There wasn’t a single dish clean.

If she had some help, then maybe-

Chizuru took a deep breath through her nose. At the end of the day, this was just one more chore for her. Was a little dilemma like this worth damaging her relationship with Blade, the only real person she had left in her corner? Right after they’d just moved in together? They were new roommates. There were going to be some things that she would have to adjust to and meet each other halfway on. There would be a time to talk about that.

She focused her attention back on the pile of dishes in the sink. Food scraps and containers of every size and color. Chizuru couldn’t even fathom where to start just by looking. She opted to not think about it and simply grabbed a sponge. Soaking it in hot water with a dab of soap, she grabbed her favorite plate with a smiling lion painted on the center and went to scrub the bits of leftovers away. A few earnest swipes of her sponge weren’t enough to dislodge it, so she went harder and faster. At some point, her motions moved away from scrubbing and turned into scratching at the food crusts stubbornly clinging to the ceramic. They were too well set. How long had this plate been sitting out?

Chizuru felt the back of her teeth clench inside of her mouth. Her arm was already tired after a minute, her muscles growing tense before a sudden click in her elbow made her stop. The thin brows on her forehead tightened as she gripped the rim of the sink and bowed her head. Strands of her auburn hair

Maybe the time for that was now. Chizuru set the plates back down in the sink and craned her neck to look back into the living room. The light from the television was the only real illumination now that the sun had almost completely set.

“Blade? Can you please turn that do-” She yelped and almost tripped over a pile of Megadeth t-shirts and worn jeans around the table. After a quick recovery on her front foot, she turned and looked at her roommate. “Turn that down? We need to…Blade?”

She asked simply, but she failed to carry her voice over the television. The game being televised appeared to be reaching its high point. The audience was easily drowning out Blade's roommate. Bases were loaded, everything leaning on this final point, all pushing the sound of Chizuru’s voice to the fringes.

"Well, looks like the grounds crew is having a heck of a time chasing down that cat in the outfield. But boy, I tell yah Skip...this right here is what the cherished pastime of baseball is all about. The Yomiuri Giants have what could only be described as a miraculous turnaround since their abysmal start at the beginning of the season. Injuries have plagued this banged up team all year, but somehow they've managed to dig deep and pull themselves out of the gutter thanks to sheer guts, determination, and the billions of yen at the team's disposal to buy the best talent on the free agent market. Now here we are in Game 7 of the playoffs with two of the most talented teams in the league. Bottom of the 9th. Bases loaded. The count is two strikes and three balls with the Giant's closing pitcher really in the pressure cooker to score this last out..."

Phew, Blade sure was relieved she managed to relay those old messages to Chizuru before this pivotal moment of the game. Now she could concentrate solely on what was the make or break moment of the team’s entire year. Ashamed though she was to admit it, she did own one of those foam gloves with the index finger pointing out. It was a last-minute gift from Kishima that Blade promised to wear during games before stuffing it somewhere in her closet to never be thought of again. Unearthing it now would take too much time and effort, and plus she didn't know if Chizuru and her were at the level of their friendship where they could do embarrassing things around the other with supreme confidence it wouldn't become gossiped about in the chatterbox that was the ladies locker-room. However, thinking about Chizu at that moment made her peek in her roommate's direction as she started scrubbing at the dishes.

"Hey uh, you alright Chiz? Seem a little...I dunno...fussy, today." Blade queried while spying the back of her roomie's ponytailed head, immediately noticing that something was amiss now that she could pry her eyes from the television for a moment. "You're not pissed off about the title belt opportunities, are ya? That's just part of the game upper management plays to squeeze as much labor out of their talent as possible. Dangling the title belt in front of people so they volunteer for lame-ass gigs like that. Trust me, you're sending a much stronger message to the higher ups about your worth as a competitor by turning crap like that down." Blade dismissively waved Chizuru's concerns about those missed calls away, returning her attention back towards the baseball game now back in progress. The pitcher reading the catcher's signals...checking the bases...here comes the pitch...

There was a ringing inside of her ears, far in the back.

At first, she thought it was fatigue. She hadn’t gotten much water these past couple of hours and her head was throbbing in the worst way. Only it was getting louder with each step she took. Every step to the television.

The sound was aggravating. Just the sensation made her feel worse. Everything from the stiffness in her shoulders, the strain in her neck, and the soreness in her feet became pronounced and sharp. Her head wouldn't stop throbbing like it hadn’t for the past hour. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this mentally exhausted.

And Blade still wouldn't just look up from that television-!

"Woop!" The German girl let out as she suddenly fell back. The remote left on the floor slipped out from under her foot and whizzed like a bullet past Blade's spiky curls. The pitcher's dramatic, high-definition swing was cut short by smashing glass and an explosion of sparks erupting all at once from the remote suddenly embedded through the screen.

Chizuru had already hit the ground by then, ignorant of the destruction she'd just caused. Rubbing the back of her head, the main concern was the pain and the sudden, sticky sensation she felt as a wet patch within her bright curls. She raised her hand in front of her and found her palm dripping with nacho cheese. Some from the lunch carton the Okinawan left on the floor.

That ringing was even louder.

Everywhere.

"HOLY SHITFUCK!!!!" Cat-like reflexes and agility were how Blade kept her balance upon precarious perches and taut tethers, although this feat was typically demonstrated in the wrestling ring and less so within her own living room. The Okinawan scrambling up the recliner she was previously sprawled out in to now be tenuously settled atop it with one foot on the back cushion and the other on the armrest. Her elevated heart racing a mile a minute as she attempted to process what the hell just happened with her own stark wide eyes. Electric sparks being the dying swan song of her smart T.V. now relegated to tomorrow's trash pickup. The remote sticking out of its mortal wound and at least solving the riddle as to what the murder weapon was.

Blade spying Chizuru flat on her ass, head in the clouds, and hair in what was left of the veteran's nacho surprise meal. Somewhat piecing together what just happened, Blade climbed down and approached her roommate from behind Chizu so Blade's concerned face would be flipped turned upside-down. "Whoa, you alright Chiz?! Geez Louise, you know coulda just told me you hate baseball. It's a good thing I ordered extra snacks or you might have wound up nursing a concussion or something. Heh, and you wanted me to throw all that food out~..." Blade joked before offering Chizuru a yanking hand to gingerly help her back to her feet. "Lemme get you a wet towel for your hair. Oh wait, weren't you suppose to do laundry today? Hope you didn't forget or something..."

Chizuru slowly rose from the floor. Her eyes found a spot on the wall to focus on. The perfect, hazel pupils in the center of her eyes did not dare stray from that point. The smell of cheese invaded her nostrils, the fatty cheese in her hair like a sudden, revolting weight tugging her ponytail and sticking to the back of her neck. The heat flushing her face would have been enough to make it bubble.

She couldn’t look back at her.

“...you know coulda just told me you hate baseball..."

She couldn’t.

“...and you wanted me to throw all that food out~..."

She-

“Hope you didn't forget or something..."

“ARE YOU SERIOUS, BLADE?!”

The sound of her voice bounced off every wall and rattled the window panes across the room. A sudden stillness was left behind in their wake. It sounded wrong coming out of her throat. How the words were said was alien and undignified. Strong impressions of her native intonation ravaged the two, simple words that resounded from her mouth. Even as strange as it felt, she was free and without empathy.

The German girl whipped around and faced her roommate with a countenance of creased wrinkles and swollen eyes flared crimson. Her heart pounded inside of her chest, desperate to break the lump in her throat. Like an animal gnawing at its cage. “Can you not listen?! Do you think I'm doing this for fun?! Wasting my time cleaning up…dieser Müll?! It's disgusting! Just because you’re fine with living like a pig doesn't mean-!”

Chizuru slapped her hands over her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at her roommate. The fog around her had lifted. Her honest eyes returned to their living room, devoid of color, and a sudden overbearing weight on every muscle in her body. Moisture started to well underneath her eyelids.

“I’m sorry…”