Japanese culture prided itself on many forms of art that would promise to purify the soul and let the mind forget it's daily worries.
Simplicity and strict order in every carefully chosen movement of a tea ceremony.
Pain and sweat of a kendō exercise, hardening the body and character in equal measure.
Unshakable concentration poured into every stroke of a brush, painting a calligraphic masterpiece.
Kiku loved them all.
But although he appreciated and often used the benefits of most of them, his favorite place where he could forget all of the word's sorrows was neither a dōjō, nor a teahouse, cleverly hidden in thick layers of greenery.
It was, somehow paradoxically, a Starbucks near the Hachikō exit of Shibuya station.
There, dressed like most men around him in a somber black suit, he could sit undisturbed in the high chair at the large window, and watch the giant pedestrian crossing underneath him.
Young women with sun umbrellas, balancing somehow awkwardly on high heels. Little school boys in shorts with yellow hats, clutching the hands of their parents. Old ladies, bent with age, making careful little steps in their kimonos.
Every twenty seconds, this colorful crowd would stop and wait for the green light. Every twenty seconds, people would start moving in all directions at once, disappearing from sight in a few more moments.
Kiku watched and felt the pulse in his temples. If Tokyo was his heart (and it was, although it still felt somehow new), than this place was his artery, pumping the never-ending stream of blood into his veins.
He was always the master of concealing emotions; people in the crowded café saw only his usual polite smile and a somehow dreamy expression on the face of the ordinary looking young man.
Inwardly, Kiku was bursting with life itself.
The Starbucks near the Hachikō exit is famous for being the busiest Starbucks in the world, and the crossing underneath is a really scary sight on a Sunday afternoon.
Tokyo is Japan's official capital only since 1868, Kyoto was for more than 1000 years. In my headcanon, Kiku who loves traditions and doesn't like changes much is still somehow awkward about it.
Also, first fill, no beta, English obviously not my first language. Just couldn't resist.
Artery
Simplicity and strict order in every carefully chosen movement of a tea ceremony.
Pain and sweat of a kendō exercise, hardening the body and character in equal measure.
Unshakable concentration poured into every stroke of a brush, painting a calligraphic masterpiece.
Kiku loved them all.
But although he appreciated and often used the benefits of most of them, his favorite place where he could forget all of the word's sorrows was neither a dōjō, nor a teahouse, cleverly hidden in thick layers of greenery.
It was, somehow paradoxically, a Starbucks near the Hachikō exit of Shibuya station.
There, dressed like most men around him in a somber black suit, he could sit undisturbed in the high chair at the large window, and watch the giant pedestrian crossing underneath him.
Young women with sun umbrellas, balancing somehow awkwardly on high heels. Little school boys in shorts with yellow hats, clutching the hands of their parents. Old ladies, bent with age, making careful little steps in their kimonos.
Every twenty seconds, this colorful crowd would stop and wait for the green light. Every twenty seconds, people would start moving in all directions at once, disappearing from sight in a few more moments.
Kiku watched and felt the pulse in his temples. If Tokyo was his heart (and it was, although it still felt somehow new), than this place was his artery, pumping the never-ending stream of blood into his veins.
He was always the master of concealing emotions; people in the crowded café saw only his usual polite smile and a somehow dreamy expression on the face of the ordinary looking young man.
Inwardly, Kiku was bursting with life itself.
The Starbucks near the Hachikō exit is famous for being the busiest Starbucks in the world, and the crossing underneath is a really scary sight on a Sunday afternoon.
Tokyo is Japan's official capital only since 1868, Kyoto was for more than 1000 years. In my headcanon, Kiku who loves traditions and doesn't like changes much is still somehow awkward about it.
Also, first fill, no beta, English obviously not my first language. Just couldn't resist.