Books and Berries

The first 1-2 pages of All Systems Red, inspired by @nothingiswrongwithyourarmrests's post about how tmbd should have been adapted into a graphic novel.

Version where every tab is readable below the cut, because I spent way too much time on those things for no one to be able to see them

i am not being metaphorical, i work in a garden center, stop buying plants 'to bring in the bees and butterflies' and then immediately poisoning every caterpillar that dares to consume a single leaf

MY GOOD FRIEND HANZAWA MASAKI. very glad to have an excuse to talk about some of my bullshitttttt For example for last year’s hirakagi week that I didn’t end up participating in on account of I’m me. I had an idea for one of the days, and in case I ever return to the idea I’ll be vague. but you won’t be surprised to hear that hanzawa masato is there. also there is an older lady I made up who does chinese medicine. and in this scenario I position masato in The Scenario at Large because he was sent by “his brother, who is friends with doctor lady’s husband’s sister’s coworker,” and I follow that bullet point with this one:

it would be funny if the “brother” was actually masaki this time

the funny thing about masaki is that we see so much less of him than eldest masaomi and incidentally more than youngest masako,

(the masako in question)

and how memorable his brief appearance is. like putting aside the agony the broader context puts me in every time without fail he comes in and really clearly characterizes himself as the kind of guy to genuinely and cheerfully just speak his mind at the drop of a hat and accidentally throw off both of his older brothers and probably alter the trajectory of all their lives in the process. because to be clear as established in the blog post I painstakingly translated last summer masaomi for real went into that dinner with a well-thought out plan for how to proceed if anybody reacted to his coming out poorly and then he got totally blindsided by masaki’s “me too!” and so masaomi ended up staying at home to look after him, because frankly with the way masato bit the I prefer girls bullet and the way their mom was relieved about it I think he realized as much as masato did that acceptance probably wasn’t actually so cut and dry.

but this is of course a bummer. and not specifically about masaki. I think masaki bisexuality would be really funny. I think generally masaki is the kind of person to get along better with people who are older than him. unbelievable thing I only realized this past month was that masaki was in his and masato’s middle school’s shogi club, which is information I could’ve had in my wheelhouse no joke almost three years ago because our dear @sunnnfish translated the hanzawa family relevant pages back then but also I own this book and took photos of those same pages because I am sick in the head.

it’s another case of harusono shou’s handwriting Let’s all collectively thank sunnnfish for doing the actual hard work in like 2023. masako is listed here as having done archery in her final year of elementary school, and you might realize as I did that shogi and archery are both very traditional pastimes. but if we go down this path* again then I won’t be able to finish this ask within even twenty four hours, let alone like. maybe four and a half.

*”this path” it’s the blog post thing again sorry

anyway.

I think the contrast between masaki’s apparent happy-go-lucky personality and his evident practice in a historical strategy game is really striking. and fun and interesting. and not intrinsically contradictory. I definitely like the dimensionality it gives him on principle. but if I were to use this information I could have had last year but didn’t to supplement that Scenario at Large then I would of course see masaki sending his second eldest brother to Place at Time to meet his friend’s coworker’s brother’s wife to drop something off for a purpose greater than simply Make sure masato niichan sees the sun and people he doesn’t work with. who’s to say. there’s another bullet point that long story short draws another piece toss-adjacent line but really We don’t need to get into it right now. we just don’t need to get into it. Okay? just trust me.

Faster.

It’s like introducing oxygen to house fire. The starving flames shoot up and start to crawl towards the source of their fuel, up and out. Each patient Buck carries out and sets at the foot of the ambulance is like an open window on the ground floor.

It’s good, the passion, the drive, it’s good. That’s what Bobby says to himself as the kid grows. Gets his shield. Settles in.

The shadows flicker back and forth every so often.

Now, Bobby’s a legacy firefighter, but you don’t have to be to know that the fuel eventually runs out and eventually you’re standing in a smoking pile of rubble, or not standing at all. He can’t put his finger on it though—the way Buck seeks out the heat, but not the praise; the fire, but not the glory. There’s just something about how he carries himself.

“You’d think a kid that cocky would stick around for the cameras,” Hen comments as she packs up the ambulance at the end of a long shift. Buck, sooty and gleefully exhausted, lets Chimney herd him towards the showers like a misbehaving sheep while the rest of A-Shift shucks their gear and collapses into bunks. He came back in the engine with the rest of them, dodging reporters in favor of dogging Bobby’s heels.

“Hm,” is all Bobby says.

It’s late, one night, when Buck finds him sitting at the loft table doing the meal planning for the next month. He wanders upstairs with bleary eyes and nabs an apple from the bowl on the island before plopping down on an armchair, sprawling coltish legs over one arm and crunching sloppily on his prize.

Bobby marks down Granny Smiths on the grocery list and returns to plotting out the weekly protein dishes. Spaghetti and meatballs, by request, falls in the middle of the week; he can put chicken on either end, fish on a Friday maybe…he’s cross checking what they already have in the freezer when Buck comes up behind him and peers over his shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?” He takes another slurping bite of his apple and leans over to squint at the calendar array on the table.

Bobby has an idea.

“I’m writing a menu for next month. Got any requests?” He toes out one of the chairs and Buck takes the invitation, sliding into the seat and grabbing at one of the notepads Bobby uses to write down recipe ideas.

See, Bobby’s got a theory. Most guys, the fire station is their “home away from home.” Sure they love the job, you have to in order to do it—if you’re good at it—but this isn’t the place they come to land, it’s not where they start or end.

Buck’s a bit different. Maybe Bobby wouldn’t go as far as to say the fire station is his home but—well, maybe that is a fair assessment. Wherever he does come from it’s not worth saying. Maybe it’s too cold. Maybe that’s why he runs towards fire. He’s no firebug, god forbid, he’s a heat seeker.

Thankfully, there’s more than one way to run into a fire.

Bobby flips to a blank page on his note pad and starts writing. Eggs. Bacon. Pancakes, blueberries or chocolate chip. After that they can move on to lunch foods—Hen loves paninis, and Chimney will never turn down a club. He’ll have to ask Buck if there are any soups he likes, but for now they’ll start with a tomato bisque.

After all, the hearth is the heart of the home.

The next day, Buck joins him at the blue-burning gas stove and learns to make eggs with shallots. He burns the whole pan.