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Shinobi and Nolan
Shinobi's new roommate arrives. Shinobi breaks out the vodka, Nolan breaks out a confession.
His customized Rapide S safely tucked away in the school garage, Nolan stopped by Professor Xavier's office. Ten minutes later, he was on his way to look for his room; his office would wait. Dressed in a pair of patterned trousers, a black blazer, and a couple of polo shirts (with one of the collars popped, of course), he studied his surroundings with interest as he made his way towards the boys' dorm, tugging a suitcase behind him, a Hermes bag over one shoulder and a computer bag over the other.
Honestly, a dorm. It felt like going back to MIT. What he wouldn't do to save his brain from frying.
Most doors were closed as he walked through the dorm, and he finally found room 109. A short, arhythmic knock announced his presence before he opened the door and walked in, smiling at the sight of the boy who was going to be his roommate.
"I was hoping I was right to think there was only one 'Shinobi Shaw' in the world."
Lounging on his back in his bed, wearing black silk pajama bottoms and a soft black t-shirt, Shinobi hardly looked like one of the wealthiest and (in his own mind, at least) most fashionable teenagers in this, or any other, hemisphere. But even he liked to relax, every now and again. He grinned lazily at the new arrival, raising a tumbler of something clear that might have been able to pass for water, on cursory inspection, in salute. "Often imitated, never duplicated," he drawled, amused. "Accept no substitutes. Nolan, darling. Irasshai. They told me you'd be arriving soon, but I never imagined it would be quite thissoon. As you can no doubt tell based on my current state of undress.
"How's the world of the billionaire tech-mogul treating you lately? Obviously not well, if you've retreated back to high school. But at least the company is bearable, neh?"
"I can't think of anyone I'd rather be stuck in a dorm room with," Nolan assured him, a soft smile playing on his lips.
The laptop bag was set down on the desk, the travel bag dropped on the empty bed, and the suitcase leaned against it. Nolan looked around the room, trying to wrap his mind around how small his living quarters were going to be... again. It was ridiculous how easy it was to get used to luxury. When he had gotten into MIT, he had jumped at the chance of living in a dorm room, but now here he was, bemoaning its size.
He mentally shook himself out of it and focused back on Shinobi. "I would've been here a few days ago, but you know how it is. Decisions to make, responsibilities to delegate..." Cams to set up in order to make sure no one else was going to try and betray him, especially in his absence.
"Oh, yes," Shaw agreed readily. "If it had been me, I would have spent so much time setting up a web of checks, counter-checks, and corporate paranoia that I doubt I would have ever actually found time to make it to school. Luckily, I'm still a few years away from being saddled with those responsibilities. I salute your fortitude. Speaking of," he held up his glass, sloshing its contents in invitation, "something to take the edge off? It's a bit early, I know. But I'm still on Paris time. Or maybe Tokyo time. My internal clock is hopelessly confused, at any rate."
Nolan hesitated - but he wanted to ask about Shinobi's mutation, which would undoubtedly lead into talk of his own, and he would certainly welcome alcohol in preparation for that. "Why not. The jet lag from the City's terrible."
That drew an appreciative laugh from the half-Japanese Shaw heir, as he slid from his bed in a single sprightly motion that belied his earlier lassitude. "It really is a whole world apart, isn't it?" Shinobi mused, bustling toward the closet and disappearing for a few moments inside. "I feel like time has slowed down--gelled, really. Not that this place doesn't offer its own entertainments, but still. It's a very different sort of atmosphere."
He emerged from the closet, a second tumbler in one hand, a bottle decorated in obscure Cyrillic characters in the other. He sloshed some of the contents of the latter into the former and held it out to Nolan. "Kampai, old boy. To your health."
"Kampai," Nolan told his friend, raising the glass in a toast before taking a sip. He winced at the taste. "I still don't have much of a palate for vodka. Here's to developing a taste for it."
"And here I had hoped you might have outgrown that unfortunate aversion," Shinobi tutted fondly. "Can I get you something else? My portable liquor cabinet is not nearly so well-stocked as you are no doubt accustomed to, but I should be able to dig up something you can enjoy. Or at least stomach. As the earlier arrival, it falls on me to play the role of the hospitable host, if only for today."
"I have every intention of teaching myself how to appreciate this," Nolan assured him, raising his glass slightly to indicate the vodka. He smiled at Shinobi, as always looking slightly awkward when showing real emotion. "Thank you, Shinobi." The gratitude was heartfelt; having a friend was still not something he was, in any way, used to. Moving right along, he slipped his free hand in the pocket of his trousers and asked, "How long have you been here?"
With a lopsided smile, Shinobi went back to lounging on his bed, so indolent one would hardly believe he'd been up and moving moments before. "Not long. A matter of days, really." He quirked an eyebrow. "I do not wish to be indelicate, Nolan, but you are eventually going to get around to telling me about that ... episode you had, aren't you? And what I suspect it has to do with you being here, at mutant school."
"That's what the vodka is for," Nolan confirmed offhandedly, and opened the door to his closet. "This isn't going to fit half of my wardrobe."
"Not a quarter," Shinobi confirmed. "I've given some thought to asking the Professor allow us to sub-let an adjacent room for wardrobe-housing purposes, for an extravagant fee. If that fails, maybe we can charm one of the resident teleporters to ferry us back and forth to more accommodating spaces in the city." Nolan would talk when he was ready; it wouldn't do to push him, for all that Shaw was, all appearances to the contrary, genuinely concerned. But it was safer for them both to conceal his curiosity behind legitimate business interests.
"We have resident teleporters," Nolan acknowledged, because he had to say it out loud for it to truly register. "That's good news." He stepped idly back towards his bed, sitting on it to face Shinobi. Elbows on his thighs, he fiddled with the tumbler in his hands, then cleared his throat. "Let's say rumors of my impending death by seizure have only been somewhat exaggerated. Professor Xavier is hopeful that they can help, however."
"Oh," Shinobi said, at a loss for words, despite himself. "You know, if there's anything I can do, you need only say the word. And while I'm grateful for Xavier's generosity, I can't help but wonder what seizures have to do with a school for adolescents who can fly, or blow walls apart by yelling at them."
Nolan's eyebrows raised at that last example of mutation. Flyers were expected, but for someone's voice to be so destructive... But he did not linger on his surprise, not when their actual subject matter felt as if it were lacing his lungs with something cold and tight.
But first things first, he took another sip of vodka, hoping to attenuate the feeling. "Visions." He smiled, although there was no real amusement behind it. "The good news is, it's not a brain tumor. The bad news is, my brain can't handle the full force of my precognitive mutation."
"Sou ka," Shinobi breathed, before taking a fortifying gulp from his own glass--considerably deeper than Nolan's, so much so that he gasped as he finished, eyes watering at the corners. "Precognition," he said, faintly wheezing. "You see the future. Which, apparently, is so amazing--or so terrifying--that causes the reset button in your brain to trip." Were it functional, that kind of power would have been worth ... well, he couldn't even begin to calculate the value properly. Shaw pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Dammit, Nolan. Why couldn't you have been another teleporter, or something? I'd even have settled for a copy of my own amazing abilities." This was a great deal more complicated.
Terrifying sounded more right than amazing, sadly. Nolan refrained from interrupting Shinobi, however. It was somehow even worse, seeing his friend affected by the news. It made it all more real - and more terrifying in its own right. Still, Shinobi's last words were the perfect opening, and Nolan was not one to let those pass him by. "And what are your own amazing abilities?"
"You see? This is the problem with having friends: they know exactly which topics will distract me the most," Shinobi smirked, though there still might have been a trace of concern in his expression. "My genetic quirk appears to involve personal molecular density control--I can spread them out to move through solid objects, or bunch them up to make myself effectively bulletproof. Don't ask me how I found that out. It's a more than typically harrowing story."
"A story for another time, then?" Nolan offered, even as he mulled over the consequences of Shinobi's mutation. "Well. I will never again feel as if any security measure is enough to secure anything physical."
"Nolan, darling, dearest most adorable plum," Shinobi said, just as sweetly as he could, "no security measure would ever have been enough, where I'm concerned. It's just a palliative measure to help you rest easy. But if I wanted to steal from you, don't you think I would have done so by now? Believe me, I'm as pleased by your prosperity as you are; it's like a victory for me, too, in an obscure sort of way."
Nolan couldn't help it; he laughed. There was something about being called an adorable plum, and the amount of affection he felt for Shinobi himself. It wasn't a mocking laugh at all, and it wasn't dry like his earlier smiles. It was warm, through and through.
"No, no, you're one of the few -" the only, "- people I trust in this world." Which was odd, for Nolan. Trust was odd. But that made it no less true. "We're in this together. But it seems ludicrous, not to mention statistically impossible in the long run, that any single mutation would keep manifesting in one person alone. More likely we're in the trial and error stage of mutation, and they'll manifest in different variations in different people."
Nolan would apparently be the error part of trial and error. How lovely.
"I have very little interest in Mother Nature, or whatever little experiment in evolution she may be conducting," Shinobi told him haughtily. "I'm mostly interested in making the best possible use of these additional gifts I've been given. Also, using whatever resources at my disposal are necessary to ensure my friends lead long, happy, profitable lives." Adding that last bit helped keep from miring his statement in sentiment. "This," he waved a hand to encompass the school, "is as congenial a setting for me to work as any."
"I have a feeling you'd thrive wherever you end up," Nolan replied, amusement twisting his lips slightly. "How congenial are we talking?"
"Precognitive vision, or affectionate vote of confidence?" Shinboi smiled. "I'm afraid I'll never know, anymore." Chuckling, he flopped back into his bed, careful not to spill any of the very expensive vodka as he did so.
"Well, the student body as a whole is beautiful," he said, expanding upon Nolan's question. "And, for me, that's saying quite a lot. But also occasionally prickly. At the very least, they seem to find my personality more abrasive than charming, overall. Which is a shame, since it's the only one I've got. But I'm still reasonably sure I can win most of them over, with time."
"Well, at least they're pretty," Nolan stated, but his heart was not in it. The truth was that he was trying to decide whether to tell Shinobi about the vision that concerned him. But there was no way for it not to sound ridiculous. If only Nolan could remember more than 'there were huge, menacing robots', and the sense of panic and doom that came with it.
So what was the use, for now?
He straightened up, and gave Shinobi a small, dry smile. "You'll have to warn me off the pricklier among them." It should be easy enough to avoid them, since he was hardly here to take classes.
"Yare yare, where would the fun be in that?" came Shinobi's impudent reply, followed by another healthy swig from his glass. "Besides, I'm sure you'll make a much better impression--nice, wealthy, totally emancipated boy like you? You'll have half the student body beating our door down, and the other half gnawing their livers in envy."
"Yes, that sounds likely," Nolan dryly answered. He had never been the most successful of social creatures, for all that with his newfound wealth had come many more social opportunities.
"Pfah, I won't hear any of that kind of talk," Shinobi returned, waving a dismissive hand. "A little immersion therapy, that's all we need. Your natural genius will do the rest." He leaned over on one arm to look at Nolan, still playful, but as honest as his nature would allow. "No friend of mine could possibly fail to be anything but charming. And you are. My friend, I mean. If nothing else, that should boost your confidence into low orbit--it's not as if I claim very many, you know."
Nolan, who had only ever claimed one true friend, in the person of the other boy in the room, knew better than to point out that very fact. His smile was still an odd, and very Nolan mix of skepticism and dryness, but he finished the drink, then, delaying his answer enough to find one that would work. "We'll see, won't we. But I appreciate your faith in my charms, however misplaced." He stood and set the tumbler down on what was to be his desk, then hoisted his suitcase onto the bed, opening it to get to unpacking.
"Faith has nothing to do with it," Shinobi sniffed. "I shun belief systems of all stripes, and worship wholly and solely at the Church of Shinobi." He rolled back up, sitting cross-legged on his bed, and Nolan began to unpack. "That faint, white-knight-ish voice in the back of my head suggests I should offer to help you unpack. But the black king that rules me says I should get us some more drinks, and put on some music to unpack to. I hope you will forgive me for going with what is more elementally me."
He bounded from the bed and bustled back toward the closet, after retrieving Nolan's empty tumbler from his desk.
"I'd rather you did, in any case," Nolan assured his friend easily. There was more still in his car; a few suits in the back seat that would not have appreciated being packed into something, but he could and would retrieve them once he was done with this.
"Then we will say your wish is my command, instead," Shinobi grinned, stepping out of the closet with two refreshed glasses in hand. He replaced Nolan's where he had found it before bopping over to the sound system to find something suitably peppy and void of depth--perfect for celebrating his arrival.
His customized Rapide S safely tucked away in the school garage, Nolan stopped by Professor Xavier's office. Ten minutes later, he was on his way to look for his room; his office would wait. Dressed in a pair of patterned trousers, a black blazer, and a couple of polo shirts (with one of the collars popped, of course), he studied his surroundings with interest as he made his way towards the boys' dorm, tugging a suitcase behind him, a Hermes bag over one shoulder and a computer bag over the other.
Honestly, a dorm. It felt like going back to MIT. What he wouldn't do to save his brain from frying.
Most doors were closed as he walked through the dorm, and he finally found room 109. A short, arhythmic knock announced his presence before he opened the door and walked in, smiling at the sight of the boy who was going to be his roommate.
"I was hoping I was right to think there was only one 'Shinobi Shaw' in the world."
Lounging on his back in his bed, wearing black silk pajama bottoms and a soft black t-shirt, Shinobi hardly looked like one of the wealthiest and (in his own mind, at least) most fashionable teenagers in this, or any other, hemisphere. But even he liked to relax, every now and again. He grinned lazily at the new arrival, raising a tumbler of something clear that might have been able to pass for water, on cursory inspection, in salute. "Often imitated, never duplicated," he drawled, amused. "Accept no substitutes. Nolan, darling. Irasshai. They told me you'd be arriving soon, but I never imagined it would be quite thissoon. As you can no doubt tell based on my current state of undress.
"How's the world of the billionaire tech-mogul treating you lately? Obviously not well, if you've retreated back to high school. But at least the company is bearable, neh?"
"I can't think of anyone I'd rather be stuck in a dorm room with," Nolan assured him, a soft smile playing on his lips.
The laptop bag was set down on the desk, the travel bag dropped on the empty bed, and the suitcase leaned against it. Nolan looked around the room, trying to wrap his mind around how small his living quarters were going to be... again. It was ridiculous how easy it was to get used to luxury. When he had gotten into MIT, he had jumped at the chance of living in a dorm room, but now here he was, bemoaning its size.
He mentally shook himself out of it and focused back on Shinobi. "I would've been here a few days ago, but you know how it is. Decisions to make, responsibilities to delegate..." Cams to set up in order to make sure no one else was going to try and betray him, especially in his absence.
"Oh, yes," Shaw agreed readily. "If it had been me, I would have spent so much time setting up a web of checks, counter-checks, and corporate paranoia that I doubt I would have ever actually found time to make it to school. Luckily, I'm still a few years away from being saddled with those responsibilities. I salute your fortitude. Speaking of," he held up his glass, sloshing its contents in invitation, "something to take the edge off? It's a bit early, I know. But I'm still on Paris time. Or maybe Tokyo time. My internal clock is hopelessly confused, at any rate."
Nolan hesitated - but he wanted to ask about Shinobi's mutation, which would undoubtedly lead into talk of his own, and he would certainly welcome alcohol in preparation for that. "Why not. The jet lag from the City's terrible."
That drew an appreciative laugh from the half-Japanese Shaw heir, as he slid from his bed in a single sprightly motion that belied his earlier lassitude. "It really is a whole world apart, isn't it?" Shinobi mused, bustling toward the closet and disappearing for a few moments inside. "I feel like time has slowed down--gelled, really. Not that this place doesn't offer its own entertainments, but still. It's a very different sort of atmosphere."
He emerged from the closet, a second tumbler in one hand, a bottle decorated in obscure Cyrillic characters in the other. He sloshed some of the contents of the latter into the former and held it out to Nolan. "Kampai, old boy. To your health."
"Kampai," Nolan told his friend, raising the glass in a toast before taking a sip. He winced at the taste. "I still don't have much of a palate for vodka. Here's to developing a taste for it."
"And here I had hoped you might have outgrown that unfortunate aversion," Shinobi tutted fondly. "Can I get you something else? My portable liquor cabinet is not nearly so well-stocked as you are no doubt accustomed to, but I should be able to dig up something you can enjoy. Or at least stomach. As the earlier arrival, it falls on me to play the role of the hospitable host, if only for today."
"I have every intention of teaching myself how to appreciate this," Nolan assured him, raising his glass slightly to indicate the vodka. He smiled at Shinobi, as always looking slightly awkward when showing real emotion. "Thank you, Shinobi." The gratitude was heartfelt; having a friend was still not something he was, in any way, used to. Moving right along, he slipped his free hand in the pocket of his trousers and asked, "How long have you been here?"
With a lopsided smile, Shinobi went back to lounging on his bed, so indolent one would hardly believe he'd been up and moving moments before. "Not long. A matter of days, really." He quirked an eyebrow. "I do not wish to be indelicate, Nolan, but you are eventually going to get around to telling me about that ... episode you had, aren't you? And what I suspect it has to do with you being here, at mutant school."
"That's what the vodka is for," Nolan confirmed offhandedly, and opened the door to his closet. "This isn't going to fit half of my wardrobe."
"Not a quarter," Shinobi confirmed. "I've given some thought to asking the Professor allow us to sub-let an adjacent room for wardrobe-housing purposes, for an extravagant fee. If that fails, maybe we can charm one of the resident teleporters to ferry us back and forth to more accommodating spaces in the city." Nolan would talk when he was ready; it wouldn't do to push him, for all that Shaw was, all appearances to the contrary, genuinely concerned. But it was safer for them both to conceal his curiosity behind legitimate business interests.
"We have resident teleporters," Nolan acknowledged, because he had to say it out loud for it to truly register. "That's good news." He stepped idly back towards his bed, sitting on it to face Shinobi. Elbows on his thighs, he fiddled with the tumbler in his hands, then cleared his throat. "Let's say rumors of my impending death by seizure have only been somewhat exaggerated. Professor Xavier is hopeful that they can help, however."
"Oh," Shinobi said, at a loss for words, despite himself. "You know, if there's anything I can do, you need only say the word. And while I'm grateful for Xavier's generosity, I can't help but wonder what seizures have to do with a school for adolescents who can fly, or blow walls apart by yelling at them."
Nolan's eyebrows raised at that last example of mutation. Flyers were expected, but for someone's voice to be so destructive... But he did not linger on his surprise, not when their actual subject matter felt as if it were lacing his lungs with something cold and tight.
But first things first, he took another sip of vodka, hoping to attenuate the feeling. "Visions." He smiled, although there was no real amusement behind it. "The good news is, it's not a brain tumor. The bad news is, my brain can't handle the full force of my precognitive mutation."
"Sou ka," Shinobi breathed, before taking a fortifying gulp from his own glass--considerably deeper than Nolan's, so much so that he gasped as he finished, eyes watering at the corners. "Precognition," he said, faintly wheezing. "You see the future. Which, apparently, is so amazing--or so terrifying--that causes the reset button in your brain to trip." Were it functional, that kind of power would have been worth ... well, he couldn't even begin to calculate the value properly. Shaw pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Dammit, Nolan. Why couldn't you have been another teleporter, or something? I'd even have settled for a copy of my own amazing abilities." This was a great deal more complicated.
Terrifying sounded more right than amazing, sadly. Nolan refrained from interrupting Shinobi, however. It was somehow even worse, seeing his friend affected by the news. It made it all more real - and more terrifying in its own right. Still, Shinobi's last words were the perfect opening, and Nolan was not one to let those pass him by. "And what are your own amazing abilities?"
"You see? This is the problem with having friends: they know exactly which topics will distract me the most," Shinobi smirked, though there still might have been a trace of concern in his expression. "My genetic quirk appears to involve personal molecular density control--I can spread them out to move through solid objects, or bunch them up to make myself effectively bulletproof. Don't ask me how I found that out. It's a more than typically harrowing story."
"A story for another time, then?" Nolan offered, even as he mulled over the consequences of Shinobi's mutation. "Well. I will never again feel as if any security measure is enough to secure anything physical."
"Nolan, darling, dearest most adorable plum," Shinobi said, just as sweetly as he could, "no security measure would ever have been enough, where I'm concerned. It's just a palliative measure to help you rest easy. But if I wanted to steal from you, don't you think I would have done so by now? Believe me, I'm as pleased by your prosperity as you are; it's like a victory for me, too, in an obscure sort of way."
Nolan couldn't help it; he laughed. There was something about being called an adorable plum, and the amount of affection he felt for Shinobi himself. It wasn't a mocking laugh at all, and it wasn't dry like his earlier smiles. It was warm, through and through.
"No, no, you're one of the few -" the only, "- people I trust in this world." Which was odd, for Nolan. Trust was odd. But that made it no less true. "We're in this together. But it seems ludicrous, not to mention statistically impossible in the long run, that any single mutation would keep manifesting in one person alone. More likely we're in the trial and error stage of mutation, and they'll manifest in different variations in different people."
Nolan would apparently be the error part of trial and error. How lovely.
"I have very little interest in Mother Nature, or whatever little experiment in evolution she may be conducting," Shinobi told him haughtily. "I'm mostly interested in making the best possible use of these additional gifts I've been given. Also, using whatever resources at my disposal are necessary to ensure my friends lead long, happy, profitable lives." Adding that last bit helped keep from miring his statement in sentiment. "This," he waved a hand to encompass the school, "is as congenial a setting for me to work as any."
"I have a feeling you'd thrive wherever you end up," Nolan replied, amusement twisting his lips slightly. "How congenial are we talking?"
"Precognitive vision, or affectionate vote of confidence?" Shinboi smiled. "I'm afraid I'll never know, anymore." Chuckling, he flopped back into his bed, careful not to spill any of the very expensive vodka as he did so.
"Well, the student body as a whole is beautiful," he said, expanding upon Nolan's question. "And, for me, that's saying quite a lot. But also occasionally prickly. At the very least, they seem to find my personality more abrasive than charming, overall. Which is a shame, since it's the only one I've got. But I'm still reasonably sure I can win most of them over, with time."
"Well, at least they're pretty," Nolan stated, but his heart was not in it. The truth was that he was trying to decide whether to tell Shinobi about the vision that concerned him. But there was no way for it not to sound ridiculous. If only Nolan could remember more than 'there were huge, menacing robots', and the sense of panic and doom that came with it.
So what was the use, for now?
He straightened up, and gave Shinobi a small, dry smile. "You'll have to warn me off the pricklier among them." It should be easy enough to avoid them, since he was hardly here to take classes.
"Yare yare, where would the fun be in that?" came Shinobi's impudent reply, followed by another healthy swig from his glass. "Besides, I'm sure you'll make a much better impression--nice, wealthy, totally emancipated boy like you? You'll have half the student body beating our door down, and the other half gnawing their livers in envy."
"Yes, that sounds likely," Nolan dryly answered. He had never been the most successful of social creatures, for all that with his newfound wealth had come many more social opportunities.
"Pfah, I won't hear any of that kind of talk," Shinobi returned, waving a dismissive hand. "A little immersion therapy, that's all we need. Your natural genius will do the rest." He leaned over on one arm to look at Nolan, still playful, but as honest as his nature would allow. "No friend of mine could possibly fail to be anything but charming. And you are. My friend, I mean. If nothing else, that should boost your confidence into low orbit--it's not as if I claim very many, you know."
Nolan, who had only ever claimed one true friend, in the person of the other boy in the room, knew better than to point out that very fact. His smile was still an odd, and very Nolan mix of skepticism and dryness, but he finished the drink, then, delaying his answer enough to find one that would work. "We'll see, won't we. But I appreciate your faith in my charms, however misplaced." He stood and set the tumbler down on what was to be his desk, then hoisted his suitcase onto the bed, opening it to get to unpacking.
"Faith has nothing to do with it," Shinobi sniffed. "I shun belief systems of all stripes, and worship wholly and solely at the Church of Shinobi." He rolled back up, sitting cross-legged on his bed, and Nolan began to unpack. "That faint, white-knight-ish voice in the back of my head suggests I should offer to help you unpack. But the black king that rules me says I should get us some more drinks, and put on some music to unpack to. I hope you will forgive me for going with what is more elementally me."
He bounded from the bed and bustled back toward the closet, after retrieving Nolan's empty tumbler from his desk.
"I'd rather you did, in any case," Nolan assured his friend easily. There was more still in his car; a few suits in the back seat that would not have appreciated being packed into something, but he could and would retrieve them once he was done with this.
"Then we will say your wish is my command, instead," Shinobi grinned, stepping out of the closet with two refreshed glasses in hand. He replaced Nolan's where he had found it before bopping over to the sound system to find something suitably peppy and void of depth--perfect for celebrating his arrival.