Chapter Text
So, this is it. It had taken all day and a lot of sweating effort before he cleared out enough of the trash in his 'new' room that he could walk easily from one side to the either. An entire afternoon's effort for an almost liveable space. For the next year he gets to sleep on a bed that's more an afterthought than a mattress, work at a desk that has a hammer on it that looks older than his guardian, and nothing else to make the work table useful. No door protecting his privacy, no chance of anything even approaching it. While this was still better than the holding cell they had him in prior, in this regard it was still the same. At least the chair and couch are comfortable enough, not like he'd be entertaining any guests, but still.
Bright side and all that.
Hopefully all the physical labor would make it easier for him to pass out now that the sun was down, he always had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar environments.
Unbidden comes one of his oldest and fondest memories.
His parents brought him on his first ever vacation; a camping trip in what may as well be the remotest part of the forest beyond Inaba, though in reality it was only about a twenty minutes out and his child mind extrapolated the rest. No matter how much fun that first day had been, filled with campfires and fishing and swimming in water that was too cold, getting to sleep in the tent was just not happening.
Unfamiliar sounds and unfamiliar smells and unfamiliar places kept his brain awake and alert. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours to his young child mind, his father got up out of his own sleeping bag and began whispering to Ren to follow him. Sneaking out with his dad to do something they weren't supposed to, how exciting that was! And in his very first act of rebellion? Sitting on a log and staring up at the stars as his father rattled off constellation after constellation. This kept Ren enraputred by the beauty of a sky he never spent enough time looking at. Right up until he awoke to the sound of birdsong back in his sleeping bag, gripping his stuffed animal Nozomi to his chest as he always did.
Slumping forward, Ren heaved out a sigh just loud enough for only him to hear, he didn't know just how tenuous the relationship with his guardian was and wasn't looking to test the waters just yet by making too much noise.
It's too early in the year to be homesick, he can't do that to himself, so stop thinking about it.
Walking as silently as the creaky floors allowed, he sat down on his mattress for the first time feeling how thin it was, as though the only filling was old newspapers. The only saving grace that kept him from trying to sleep on the couch was the knowledge that the mattress being covered in bags meant at least the mattress wasn't dusty.
Bright sides.
Whatever. Maybe if he turns in a little early he can get to sleep on time.
Gliding over to the box that contains everything not currently on his back, he begins rummaging through to the bottom where his pajamas were going to be. Cursing himself internally for not bringing Nozomi with him, not aware that she was right where she was needed the most as his mom would cry herself to sleep clutching that very same plush tonight, seeking that same comfort the tuxedo cat would always bring a younger Ren.
After taking an inconvenient bath across the street, Ren was changed and ready for bed. While under the blanket that reminded him too much of the detention center they held him in while he awaited a judge to hear his case, he was once again reminded of the camping trip.
The sounds of the forest replaced with the equally unfamiliar sounds of the city, having never ventured far enough from Inaba to identify what that sound was, or that one, or that one. The smell of the forest replaced with the overwhelming scent of coffee, only his mom drank the stuff back home. Further making him feeling the alienation of her not being able to even so much as visit for the duration of his stay here. Looking out his window he saw no stars in the sliver of the sky he was given.
It was going to be a lonely year.