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lupiiifics · 3 years ago

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Lucky To Love You

Fic #2 Posted on AO3 on October 1, 2021 for Luzeni Friday on Twitter.

A/N: I swear my stories aren't going to be formatted like this. It's just that I formatted it to fit AO3 so I wasn't sure how to split the chapters here. I didn't want to post them separately, so this is how I did it. Hope it's not too jarring. Next story will be posted on October 8, 2021.

Summary: Zenigata and Lupin agree to a date in Lupin's jail cell. Some hijinks occur, but it's mostly just pining and fluff.

Word Count: 6,988

Chapter 1:

"He's coming."

Goemon appeared between Lupin and Jigen's shoulders, the first sign of him being the hilt of Zantetsuken. His hand gripped the shoulder of the seat in front of him, and Lupin looked back just in time to see blue lights flashing in the distance.

" Shit . How do you do that?" He asked, glancing at the samurai. "I thought we'd have a clean getaway tonight, but it looks like Pops has other plans."

"I thought you kept this one secret? How'd he find us?" Jigen asked.

Lupin shrugged. "Dunno. That guy has some sixth sense when it comes to us."

"When it comes to you , you mean," Jigen corrected. He pulled his Magnum from its holster and popped the chamber to count the amount of bullets. "Want me to take care of him?"

"Maybe. How many are there?"

Jigen turned in his seat, peering past Goemon to stare out the back windshield. "It's just him and his lacky. No one else."

Lupin nodded, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Hold off for now. I'll signal you when I need you to slow 'em down."

Jigen lowered his hand but didn't put away his gun. "What're you plannin'?"

Lupin waved a hand in front of them, steadily accelerating to try and outrun their pursuers. They were fast approaching a large copse of trees, the plush green blur becoming clearer as the seconds passed. "I'm gonna try and lose them."

"You sure?" Jigen angled his head upwards until one of his eyes was visible, his bangs peaking through to frame his face. "I could at least stall them."

"Don't waste your ammunition. Save it for when we really need it."

Jigen shrugged, leaning back to kick his feet up on the dash. He pushed his hat down over his face again and stuffed a cigarette from his pocket into his mouth. "Suit yourself. Just don't complain to me later when he catches you."

"He won't catch me," Lupin said, matter-of-factly. "I'm Lupin the Third!"

"That hasn't stopped him before," Jigen muttered. “That guy can’t resist putting his handcuffs on you, can he?”

Lupin grinned, glancing through the rearview mirror again. “Hey, I can’t help being irresistible. It comes with the charm of being me!”

The blue lights were fast approaching, as was the forest. He slammed on the breaks and pressed the clutch to the floor, shifting down until he felt the car catch enough to turn. He jerked the steering wheel, pressing Jigen up against the passenger side door, and throwing Goemon against the back seat. He came up with a glare on his face, his fierce stare peering at him through the rearview mirror.

“You could have warned us,” Goemon said, gripping Zantetsuken. The debris from their sudden shift fell through the sunroof, covering each of them in fallen branches, leaves, and dirt. Lupin ignored the yells of protest coming from his two partners, pressing down the small dirt road in hopes of losing Zenigata. The blue lights still stubbornly pursued them, however, a permanent fixture in the reflection of his mirrors.

The sound of the sirens mixed with the sound of crunching metal as long grey streaks appeared along the sides of his precious Fiat. He pressed his cheek against his window, watching as the trees scratched his car. “ Fuck . Pops is gonna owe me for this one.”

“Ain’t the first time I’ve heard you say that,” Jigen drew a pull from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out through his nose. “You gonna actually hold him to it, this time?”

Lupin leaned forward, shifting as he accelerated deeper into the forest. It was a bumpy ride, throwing each of them around the car as the forest grew more narrow.

“Hush you,” Lupin said. He leaned over, not taking his eyes off the path ahead of him. “Gimme a taste of that, would ya?”

“Thought you hated Marlboros?”

Lupin craned his head, shrugging. “Can’t really pull one of mine out right now, can I? I’m driving.”

Jigen huffed. “Fine. Here.”

He held the cigarette out and allowed Lupin to suck on the end of it. As soon as he pulled away, he crushed the cigarette between his fingers, shoving it into the car’s ashtray and pulling another from the pocket of his jacket.

Lupin laughed the smoke forward to filter against the windshield. It rose overhead and escaped through the sunroof. “Grumpy much, Jiji?”

Jigen ignored him, lighting his brand new cigarette. Goemon leaned forward between them again, his face grim and his hair dotted with leaves and spots of dirt.

“The car will not last,” he said, indicating their slowing speed with the hilt of his sword. “Zenigata will catch up.”

Lupin looked between the samurai and the speedometer. “What? No! She can’t give up on us now!”

Jigen held up his Magnum again, eyes glinting with obvious mirth. “You want me to slow them down now?”

The car began to sputter, dying like a star at the end of its lifecycle. “I’m not sure there’s much point. Looks like we’re running from here. Goemon, you got the stuff?”

Goemon held up a duffle bag full of loot, the pockets glimmering with various pieces of gold, silver, and whatever else they could find that they deemed worth enough to take. He hefted it against the top of one of his shoulders, hopping through the sunroof right as the car came to a stop at the end of a clearing. He drew Zantetsuken in one fluid motion, sending the surrounding trees crashing to block Zenigata’s pursuit. They could hear the inspector yelling on the other side, obviously frustrated to be stopped in his goal of catching them.

“LUPIN! Move these trees, dammit!”

“Sorry, Pops!” Lupin shouted over the chaos. “But I’ve gotta run.”

“Oh no you don’t!”

Zenigata exited his police car and began climbing the fallen trees. When Jigen and Goemon saw this, they began to back away.

“Whelp, I’m outta here. You comin’, Goemon?”

The samurai nodded. “I’m right behind you, Jigen.”

Lupin turned to follow them, but found his arm restrained by a familiar set of handcuffs. He looked back, and found Zenigata half slumped over the trees, grinning at him with a thick rope clutched between his fingers. “I’ve got you now, Lupin!”

Lupin turned toward his friends, watching as they continued to run away from him. “Wait, no. Guys, help me !”

Jigen gave him a sympathetic look while Goemon remained stoic in their escape.

“Sorry, boss,” Jigen said, “but we gotta keep the goods safe, right?”

“No! You’ve got to keep me safe, you bastards!”

Jigen ignored him. “We’ll be sure to give you your share when you escape, okay boss? See ya later!”

“What?! No. Jigen , get your ass back here.”

They disappeared out of the clearing, leaving Lupin alone with Zenigata and Yata. Lupin slowly turned to find Zenigata standing behind his shoulder, tugging his hand up to grin at the cuffs.

“Thought you could escape from me, did you?” He asked. He untied the rope and grabbed Lupin’s other hand to trap behind his back. “Now you’re coming back with us to the station.”

“Aw, but Pops. Tonight was supposed to be a quiet night. I didn’t even send out a calling card.”

“I don’t care!” Zenigata beamed, his face absolutely alight with pride. “Wherever you go, I follow, remember?"

Lupin hunched his shoulders and blew out a defeated sigh. "Normally I'd call that romantic, but with you I'm not so sure."

"Call it whatever you want. You're not getting away this time, Lupin ," Zenigata said. He turned toward the pile of trees and pulled Lupin along with him. "Yata! Come help me load our prisoner."

"Yes, sir!" Yata poked his head up from where he had climbed the trees, reaching an arm down to do just as Zenigata had asked. "Boost him up. I’ll pull.”

Zenigata fumbled with his cellphone, struggling to dial the number of his police chief. Yata did his best to help him, but there wasn't much he could do for a man as stubborn as the Inspector. Lupin watched helplessly from the back seat, listening as the two bickered.

"Just let me dial the number—"

"No, I already told you I got it. Here, look. See? It's ringing!"

Zenigata held the phone gleefully to his ear, a large grin spreading across his face. Yata's expression was a little less enthusiastic, exhausted against his superior's relentless tenacity.

Zenigata didn't notice this. His voice was bright as he said, "hello? Chief? Yeah, we got 'em! We caught Lupin. We're transporting now."

Lupin had already slipped his cuffs, but his escape was thwarted by this car's lack of back-door handles. This wasn't Zenigata's typical police car. It didn't have a sunroof either.

He wrapped his arms around the headrests of the seats in front of him, leaning to poke his head between the two police officers. Yata jumped when he noticed the thief, while Zenigata ignored him and finished his report.

"We'll be there in an hour. Have his cell prepped and ready for me, alright? Yes, sir. I'll give you the full run-down once I have Lupin locked up tight."

"Sir—" Yata sputtered, staring wide-eyed at Lupin. He held his hand to his holstered handgun, ready to use it if Lupin decided to try anything hasty. Zenigata remained calm as he felt Lupin snake his hand around his left shoulder. He simply said his goodbyes, hung up the phone, and turned to look at their prisoner.

“You slipped your cuffs,” he said, voice flat.

Lupin held up the cuffs in question, hanging them off the top of his forefinger. He grinned. “You know me, Pops. I’ve never been one to be restrained.”

“I beg to differ,” Zenigata said. “Seeing as I’ve got you where I want you, and we’re heading back to the station now.”

Lupin shrugged and fell back against his seat. "I'll find a way out of this. I always do. You got a smoke?"

Zenigata grumbled, much of his initial enthusiasm gone from his body language. He rummaged through his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter, pulling one out, lighting it, and handing it back to Lupin. Yata stared at him as the cigarette left his lips, his entire face twisted in confusion.

"You're actually giving him one?"

Zenigata shrugged. "They haven't been tampered with, so why not? Not like he'll get many opportunities in prison anyway."

Yata slumped his shoulders. "You're too kind, Inspector. He's a thief!"

"Hey, just ‘cause he’s a thief, doesn’t mean I can’t treat him with respect.” Zenigata said.

Yata sighed, and Lupin laughed at the reserved look on the young police officer’s face. This earned him a glare worthy of Goemon, and Lupin’s laughter only got louder.

“Zenigata, with all due respect, you’re hopeless…”

His cell was at the back of the police station, past the rows of office desks, people, and officers. The room was dark and windowless, with lights that were controlled by whoever was guarding him. The cell door was heavy and automated, with no obvious control panel, nor way Lupin could conceivably hack it. He realized then that this cell had been specifically created to contain him, at least temporarily, until they could figure out a way to keep him from escaping. It was kind of impressive actually, until he realized the reality of what that would mean.

“You’ve been doing your research,” Lupin said, looking around. There was a bed suspended by wire in the corner of the room, and a mirror and toilet behind a wall for him to use.

“Told you you weren’t going anywhere,” Zenigata said. He pressed his hand against the back of Lupin’s shoulder, pushing him forward into the cell. “Welcome to your new home, Lupin~”

Lupin was beginning to panic, though he hid it under a veneer of careful planning. He straightened the orange jumpsuit they’d forced him into. Anything to make him look, and feel, composed. “ Temporary home, you mean. You know I’ll bust outta here eventually.”

Zenigata smiled at him and started to turn to leave the cell. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

Lupin stumbled forward, unaware of the movement until it was actually happening. He caught Zenigata’s wrist in a plea to get him to stop. “Wait.”

“What?” Zenigata raised a dark eyebrow at him, turning to stare at their intertwined arms. “Do you need something?”

“Let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” Zenigata shook his head, pulling away. “I don’t make deals with criminals, Lupin. You know that.”

Lupin was desperate. “A bet then. If I can make it through a week, you have to go on a date with me.”

Zenigata’s face flushed red and he took a step backwards. “A date ? Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably,” Lupin said, “but anyway. What do you say? Will you accept?”

Zenigata pressed his back against the cell door, face still flushed with what Lupin thought was embarrassment. “Don’t you have Fujiko? Or Jigen? Why would you want me ?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” Lupin asked, genuinely surprised. “You’re my rival , Zenigata. No cop in the world has ever managed to capture me for more than a night, and you’ve done it more than I can count. You’re my equal .”

“What about the others?” Zenigata asked. “Won’t they be angry?”

Lupin waved a hand. “Nah, they won’t care.”

Zenigata spluttered. “But isn’t that… cheating?”

“ Zenigata …” Lupin stared at him, a smile slowly growing to meet his eyes. “People can be polyamorous.”

“R...Right.”

Lupin edged toward the inspector eagerly. “So? What do you say?”

Zenigata rubbed his face. He was silent for several moments, seemingly going over the pros and cons in his head.

“This isn’t some plan to escape, is it?”

Lupin shrugged. “That depends. Where will the date take place?”

Zenigata scanned the room with his eyes, a plan slowly forming in his mind. “Here.”

“Really? How?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Zenigata said, “but we’re sure as Hell not doing it anywhere else.”

Lupin drooped his shoulders, disappointed that his idea hadn’t quite worked how he expected. “Aw, you’re no fun.”

“Just be glad I’m gonna let you do this at all.”

“So is that a yes?”

Zenigata looked like he was about to sign his soul away. He exhaled and rolled his shoulders. “ Yes , but only if you make it a week. Otherwise, the entire thing is off.”

Lupin shouted his excitement, throwing his arms around the inspector’s shoulders. “I’m looking forward to it!”

Zenigata allowed Lupin to nuzzle into his neck for a moment, enjoying the contact as much as he could allow. A moment later, he pried the thief off of him, and missed the warmth of his arms almost immediately. “Seven days,” he said. He held up seven fingers. “One week from today, or the date’s off.”

Lupin saluted him loyally, stepping back with a grin bright on his face. “Yes, sir! One week.”

Zenigata gave Lupin a small smile, stepping to turn back to the door. He paused for a width of a second, expecting something else, but the only sound he heard was the squeak of Lupin’s bed as the prisoner climbed into it. He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed as he left the jail cell. There shouldn’t have been anything else he was expecting.

As soon as the door closed, and Lupin was sure Zenigata was gone, he tugged at the edge of his ear until a small earpiece popped out into his hand. He played with the contraption for several seconds, bending and contracting it until he had it how he liked it. Then he hooked it back to the plastic by his ear, and grinned when he heard the other end pick up.

Jigen sounded tired as he answered, and Lupin wondered if he had woken him. “Boss?”

“Hey, Jiji . Listen. I need a favor.”

Chapter 2:

Report #1, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day one of Lupin’s imprisonment was an overall success. Lupin himself was cooperative. He answered my questions, followed orders, and did his best to seem like a perfect prisoner. Most of his first day was spent lounging on the bed. When I asked if he needed anything, he requested extra blankets. This seemed to be for comfort, as he used them as pillows and laid one over the sheets on the mattress. Otherwise, there is nothing else to report. He asked me for details on the date, and I hesitated to answer. I’m still not sure what I’m feeling over our bet, but my heart keeps skipping beats. Maybe I should go see a doctor?”

Report #2, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day two came with a string of complications, none of which seemed to affect Lupin or his seemingly unwavering determination to make it through this week. I hadn’t expected him to be so positive throughout this experience. So far he’s been nothing but smiles when in the past, it was always grandeur and posturing. I feel like he’s hiding something from me, though I can’t figure out what. I will get to the bottom of it, however. He can’t hide from me! I know all his secrets. Also… he called me ‘handsome.’ I’m not sure if that’s information I should share in my reports, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Report #3, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I think his facade is starting to crack. When I approached his cell at the beginning of my shift, I found him shouting orders to the men guarding his door. Of course, this stopped once I announced myself. The men wouldn’t answer me when I asked what he had been shouting about. Instead, they told me it was nothing and, even when ordered, ignored me when I asked them to tell me. I entered Lupin’s cell angry, which was a mistake, because he caught me off guard with a hug from behind. I was so startled that I threw him off. Of course, he laughed about it. Sometimes I forget how damn good of a man Lupin can be. It takes a lot to piss him off. Apparently throwing him against a wall isn’t enough to break him down.”

Report #4, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“Day 4 and I think Yata has finally given up on me. He refuses to work with me on Lupin’s imprisonment, instead choosing to pursue the other three. So far, he hasn’t made much leeway. I warned him that this would be the case. Lupin might have screwed up by allowing himself to get caught, but Jigen and Goemon are a whole other monster when put together. And who even knows what’s going on with Fujiko? Lupin doesn’t seem to know where she is, but he’s not concerned, so neither am I. I instructed Yata to keep looking, if only to keep him from judging me. He seems disappointed in my deal with Lupin. Personally, I don’t see the issue with it if it keeps him in jail. We’ll have to see how it goes. That is, if Lupin makes it through all 7 days and Yata stops sighing whenever he looks at me.

Lupin was just as sugar-coated as usual today. He kept asking me opinions on things we could do during our date. I’m not sure if that was his way of flirting with me or if he was simply trying to make small talk. He does seem fairly sincere in his affections, but Lupin is like that with a lot of people. I don’t know if I can trust him. The men cheered when I exited the cell and I found several post-it notes with words of encouragement at my desk. I’m not certain I like what they’re all getting at.”

Report #5, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“We ran into our first actual issue with Lupin today. He seemed oddly defeated when I visited him in his cell, though he put up a facade almost as soon as he noticed me. Otherwise, he was energetic. I don’t know if being in the cell is starting to take its toll, or if he’s accepted his future imprisonment. He wasn’t lying when he said I’d done my research. The cell itself is tailor made to keep him contained, plus it’s at the back of the police station. If he were to escape, he’d have to go through me and every officer on duty in the office. He might be a master thief who had escaped from impossible odds time and time again, but everyone has their limit. He is just one man, and as far as Yata has told me, there’s no sign of Jigen or Goemon on their way to save him. As far as I can tell, they’ve abandoned him. Maybe that’s why he’s so listless? He’s probably missing his partners. I’ll try my best to make him happy during his time here, if only to wipe that hurt puppy look off his stupid monkey face.”

Report #6, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I can tell Lupin is trying to come up with a way of escaping after our date in two days. He was restless when I found him this morning. I don’t think he’s really slept since I caught him, and while that shouldn’t concern me, it does. I tried asking him about how he was feeling, and he just dodged the question. I wonder if this is what he’s like with all of his partners. Is he open with Jigen, Fujiko, and Goemon? Or does he thrive on hiding behind a mask? He seems to be trying to convince me he’s fine, but I can see he’s not. I don’t think he likes being alone. He thrives off of other people, but I can hardly let him around other prisoners. It’s not that he’s particularly dangerous. He’s rarely even violent. He’s just flighty. If I let him anywhere but the bath house and his cell, he’ll get too many ideas and be out of my hands before I even know it. Maybe that’s not a risk right now with our date at the end of the week, but it becomes a risk as soon as that date is over. I’m not sure if this entire thing is just some elaborate scheme to take advantage of me, but he does seem to actually like me. I keep asking what it is he sees in me, an old police inspector, and he keeps saying the same thing. We’re destined rivals, which means we’re destined to be together.”

Report #7, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“The date is tomorrow night, which seems to have revived Lupin’s spirits a bit. He gave me a hug again when I entered his cell, though he waited until I could see him before actually doing it. This time, I didn’t throw him off me, though part of me kind of wanted to. I just can’t wrap my head around what’s happening here. We’re on the opposite sides of the law. I shouldn’t have this pressing need for him to be nearby, but I do. I’ve tried so long to push these feelings aside, or to channel them into capturing him, and now that I have, I don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve started to realize that this is the way it’s always been. That my desire to capture him was more than just my job. It was personal, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about that. The men seem supportive, with the only detracting person still being Yata. He seems to have overall accepted the fact that this is something that’s happening. I don’t know how to explain to him why I have to do this. Hopefully, he’ll eventually understand.”

Report #8, Zenigata Koichi. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department:

“I still think Lupin is hiding something from me, and when I tried to ask about it, he once again ignored me. For now, I’m giving up on figuring it out by focusing on tonight. Lupin seemed over the moon when I talked to him about it this morning. I’m mostly nervous. I’m getting off an hour early to go home and prepare. The men seemed excited for me. They kept cheering me on about it. They even got Yata to join in, though he seemed embarrassed. It makes me happy to finally see him come around. Yata’s still new to this. I think it’s taken him a while to understand that the life of someone like us is not all about catching criminals. Sometimes, it’s about capturing them and then going on dates with them. I still can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

Chapter 3:

Zenigata pulled up to the police station embarrassed.

He was dressed in a dark brown pinstripe suit, with a pristine white dress shirt, a cream and gold striped tie, and an old pair dress shoes. He felt oddly stuffy when walking into the station. Like he looked out of place. Most of the people on duty complimented him as he passed, and suddenly he wished he had not gone without his hat. At least with it he could hide, and maybe get rid of this feeling of wanting to flee. This was Lupin’s reward, after all. He couldn’t back out now, not when the thief had buckled down and done what he had promised to, anyway.

He noticed about halfway through the office that most of his colleagues wouldn’t look him in the eye. Normally this wouldn’t be something that bothered him. He could be intimidating, especially to younger officers, based on his title alone, but this was different. People he’d worked with for years didn’t quite meet his gaze. They dodged his questions, welcomed him and asked him what he had planned, but they didn’t look at him. It got to the point that he thought something was wrong with the way he looked, and a wave of self-consciousness washed over him once again.

The only outlier was Yata, who led him back to Lupin’s cell with the same smile he always had on his face. He treated Zenigata as he normally did, and for the moment, that helped to calm him down.

“Is something wrong?” Zenigata asked as they passed the rows of desks.

Yata shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that everyone seems to be acting weird.”

Yata shrugged. “It’s not everyday a police inspector has a date with a world-renowned criminal. I’m not sure it’s surprising that they’re acting differently.”

Zenigata shifted the basket he had brought with him to rest under one of his arms. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Yata looked back, holding out his keycard, but not actually scanning it against the hidden scanner quite yet. “No. Why would I be mad?”

Zenigata rubbed his neck. “Well, I know this isn’t quite what you expected when you agreed to become my partner.”

Yata laughed and it surprised him. “With all due respect, sir, nothing we’ve done so far has been what I was expecting. It’s been fun though, and I hope we continue to work together.”

“So you’re really not upset at me?”

“No. I thought it was odd at first, but then the men reminded me that this is always how it’s been between you and Lupin.”

Zenigata was astonished. “That’s not true…”

Yata smiled. “Are you sure? From what they tell me, you’ve always been smitten with him.”

“That’s… okay, probably true, but I don’t know if ‘always’ is the word I’d use.”

“Whatever you say, Inspector.” Yata scanned the keycard, and punched in a code that was linked to his work phone. “You ready?”

Zenigata sighed, looking down at himself and the basket. He looked back up to Yata and nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The feeling of nervousness was so strong his chest hurt. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting as Yata opened the door. Maybe it would be empty? Maybe this was how they discovered how Lupin had played them? Maybe it would be normal? He didn’t know.

What he wasn’t expecting was the sound of music, the smell of scented wax candles, or the shuffle of feet as Lupin rushed to finish whatever it was he was preparing. He stepped through to see the thief turn on his heel, greeting Zenigata just as the door to his cell slammed shut behind him.

“Pops! Welcome!” Lupin swung his arms aside to showcase what he had been working on. It was then Zenigata noticed that both the room, and Lupin, had been transformed to match that of some fancy French restaurant. There was a tall circular table in the middle of the room, covered by a bright white sheet. On this table sat a basket of red wine and two crystalline glasses, as well as two tall candles and a single red rose in a vase. On the floor near the table was a small black cassette radio playing a song Zenigata didn’t recognize. It said,

“ I ain't got any worries

And I ain't got any money

But luck seems to follow

Wherever I go

When you said hello

My luck disappeared

You didn't even know I cared. ”

Lupin wore a black three piece suit, fancier than anything Zenigata owned, with a white ruffled blouse, and shiny silver cufflinks. He was so surprised by this, he didn’t even hug back when the thief wrapped his arms around his shoulders. His mind was too preoccupied with trying to figure out how he’d done this, along with processing just how good Lupin looked in that suit.

“What is this?” Zenigata asked, voice weak.

Lupin pulled away from him and smiled. He led Zenigata to the table, and pulled out one of the two chairs for him to take. “Our date,” he said. “It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

“How? How did you do this?”

Lupin’s smile turned into a grin. He picked up the glasses and placed one in front of Zenigata. “I enlisted the help of your men. They planned everything. All I did was order some stuff for Jigen to drop off. Like this wine, or my favorite suit.”

“They… really? Is that why they wouldn’t look at me as I was walking in?”

Lupin shrugged. “I guess they didn’t want to ruin the surprise. What do you think? Did they do a good job?”

“It’s perfect,” Zenigata said, still shellshocked. “Wait, did you say you’ve spoken to Jigen?”

“Yes, but not about escaping. I’ve kept my promise.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about. I just want to know how.”

Lupin looked guilty, and pulled at something at the top of his left ear. A thin flesh colored piece of metal appeared between his fingers and Lupin held it out to show him. “This is how. It’s an antenna with a builtin speaker and microphone. I connect it to this,” he removed another piece by his ear, “and I can talk to whoever it’s connected to like a cellphone.”

“Shit, didn’t think of that,” Zenigata said. He wasn’t really surprised. With the amount of contraptions Lupin had on his person at any one time, it was impossible to be alarmed by missing something.

Lupin’s expression of guilt shifted to pride and he grinned. “Clever isn’t it? I came up with it for situations just like this.”

“You came up with it for dates with police inspectors?” Zenigata smiled, watching as Lupin’s expression shifted once more into disdain.

“Quit being facetious. You know what I invented it for. Now drink your wine.”

Zenigata nodded and picked up his glass. “About that. You said Jigen dropped this off? How’d he do that without being caught?”

Lupin took a sip of his own glass, tipping it toward him. “He disguised himself as one of your officers. Said something about finding everything I asked for dropped off at the door with a note attached saying, ‘For Lupin.’”

“And they didn’t notice?”

Lupin bobbed his head. “What can I say? There’s truly no one out there like you, Pops.”

“Koichi.”

“Hm?”

“For tonight, call me Koichi. This is a date, isn’t it?”

Lupin laughed. “Yes it is. Doesn’t that mean you should call me Arsène?”

“Do you want me to?” Zenigata asked.

Lupin hid his face in his glass. “I wouldn’t be against it, though I cannot remember the last time someone called me by my first name. It might have been right before my grandfather died. I can’t be sure.”

“Well, Arsène , if it’s any consolation, I don’t remember the last time someone called me by my first name either.”

Lupin shivered and placed his glass back down on the table. “Okay, that’s gonna take some getting used to. It doesn’t even sound like my name anymore.”

“I can call you Lupin instead if you’d like.”

Lupin shook his head. “Nah, if it’s coming from you, Koichi. It’s fine.”

Zenigata smiled. He leaned forward in his seat and took another sip from his glass. “Alright, but we go back to normal after this. I don’t know how the men would react if they heard you calling me Koichi.”

Lupin nodded. “And I don’t know how Jigen would react if he heard you call me Arsène. He might actually kill me. He gets kind of touchy when it comes to things like that.”

“I don’t think Jigen would be capable of killing you,” Zenigata said. “One, you’re well… you and two, he loves you too much.”

“Oh he’s capable, alright. If Jigen wanted to, he’d be able to take me out in mere seconds. Luckily, as you said, he loves me.”

“A lot of people do,” Zenigata said.

Lupin leaned forward. The look on his face was wide and cocky. “Is one of those people you, Koichi ?”

The way Lupin purred his name gave Zenigata pause more than the actual question did. He found himself spluttering for an answer, his entire face flushed and bright red. “I… well . Yes. I suppose so.”

The song playing over the radio had long since repeated itself, playing softly to aid the thoughts running through Zenigata’s mind. Now it said,

“ Lucky-I can't be lucky in love

All my four leaf clovers

Can't do me no good

Funny, just when I needed to be lucky

Couldn't help but lovin' you

Lovin' you… ”

Lupin repeated the last of the lyrics in a whisper between them, wineglass all but forgotten and Zenigata the main focus of his attention. He reached forward and plucked the inspectors hands up off his lap, rubbing calloused thumbs over the top of both of them.

Zenigata stared at their entwined hands, and couldn’t help the thrum of emotion from rising deep within him. He almost felt like crying. He wasn’t quite sure why.

Lupin noticed this and smiled at him. He leaned farther forward, close enough that Zenigata could smell the wine on his breath. “I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you this yet, but you look wonderful tonight, Koichi. I wasn’t even expecting you to come dressed up.”

“I couldn’t very well show up in my regular clothes now, could I? Just because it’s been a while, doesn’t mean I don’t remember how to prepare for a date.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Lupin said. “You’re perfect no matter what you’re dressed in.”

“That’s not true, but thank you anyway, Arsène.”

Lupin looked scandalized. “It is true, but you’re welcome.”

Zenigata felt awkward, but he plowed forward anyway. “You… you look nice tonight too. So nice in fact, I think I short circuited when Yata let me into your cell.”

Lupin giggled and nodded his head. “I noticed that, though I wasn’t sure if it was me or if it was everything we’d managed to sneak in.”

“It was both,” Zenigata said. “Though you were a big part of it.”

“Even in jail, I clean up pretty nice, don’t I?” Lupin looked down at himself and back up at Zenigata. “They even let me shave.”

“I can tell, and yes. You’re probably the most beautiful person I know.”

Lupin looked genuinely touched. “Even compared to Fujicakes?”

Zenigata nodded. “She doesn’t even begin to hold a torch to you. I promise.”

“Hey, Fuji-chan’s a knockout. Don’t underestimate her looks.”

“Don’t underestimate yours either,” Zenigata said. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” Lupin smiled. “Hey, Koichi. I have a question.”

Zenigata dipped his head. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Everything stopped, and the blush returned to Zenigata’s face. That song kept up it’s chorus, saying,

“ Couldn't help but lovin' you

Lovin' you… ”

“Yeah…”

Lupin inclined his head, letting go of Zenigata’s hands to press his own against his cheeks. His lips were soft as they met the inspector’s, sweet like wine and cherry chapstick. For several moments they stayed like that, lost in a world of warmth, love, and that happy song playing in the backdrop. Zenigata’s heart raced as the time went on, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. The kiss felt so right against him that he wished it would go on forever. The rush of air between them tickeled as their breaths quickened, and their tongues slid together through parted lips. It was like nothing Zenigata had ever experienced. Like lightning in a bottle or the unmistakable feeling he got during a car chase.

When they pulled apart, he wanted to go back in. When Lupin smiled at him, he did. The second kiss was faster, more passionate, but just as sweet. They pushed against each other, fighting for dominance. For a time, it was unclear who would break away first. It seemed to go on endlessly, but at long last, it was Zenigata who broke contact.

They came up from the kiss huffing into each other’s faces, out of breath but grinning like school girls. Lupin snuck his chair closer to Zenigata, and wrapped his arms around his back to bury his face in the inspector’s neck. He sighed heavily, purring almost like a contented cat.

“I’m glad we made that bet,” he said. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

Zenigata hummed and allowed himself to nuzzle his nose against the thief’s shoulder. “I did too. We should do this every time I catch you.”

“Thought I wasn’t getting away?” Lupin chuckled, and Zenigata felt it bubble between their chests.

“You’re not,” Zenigata said. “But in the case you do, I’m going to be extra determined to get you back.”

Lupin’s chuckled turned into genuine laughter, and he pulled away just enough to see Zenigata’s face. They were close enough that their knees pressed together, the fronts of each of their chairs practically touching. “Challenge accepted,” he said. “Though we don’t have to save these dates for every time you catch me.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Zenigata asked.

“Hey, the chase and date themselves might be fun, but I’d actually like to take you out sometime.”

“I wouldn’t be against that. This turned out to be more than I was expecting.”

“Is that a good thing?” Lupin asked.

Zenigata nodded and pressed his lips against Lupin’s forehead. “It’s the best.”

“Good,” Lupin leaned down onto his shoulder again. He grew heavy until, that is, he noticed something. He perked up. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Lupin broke away from him to grab the basket Zenigata had deposited beside his chair. He held it out. “This.”

Zenigata slapped his forehead, having completely forgotten about his basket. He took it from Lupin and placed it on the table, opening it up and dropping its contents around the candles and rose. The moment he pulled out two containers of cup noodles, his electric kettle, and bottles of water, Lupin lost it. He nearly fell out of his chair laughing, and for a moment Zenigata grew defensive.

“What are you laughing at?”

The laughing continued. “Why…why did you bring cup noodles?”

“It was all I had.”

“But we’re on a date .”

Zenigata was confused. “So? They’re good and easy to make. There’s not much we can do in a jail cell so I had to improvise.”

“Yeah, but cup noodles? You could have ordered something from a restaurant and brought it with you.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Zenigata said. “And anyway, why does it matter? Why’s it matter what we eat?”

“It doesn’t,” Lupin said. “It’s just so incredibly you . I’m not sure what else I was expecting.”

“I’m not sure what you were expecting either.”

Lupin continued to laugh. “You realize the wine I asked for isn’t cheap, right? Wine and cup noodles. It’s so… perfect .”

Zenigata began to put his supplies away, offended by Lupin’s reaction. “If you don’t want ‘em, I’ll leave. Maybe this was a mistake after all.”

Lupin threw out his hands to stop him. “ No . No. Don’t go. I'm sorry. I’m not mocking you. It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“I can order something too if that’s what you’d prefer. I’m sure Yata would—”

“No. Make the damn noodles, Koichi. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”

Zenigata slowly started to place his supplies back down on the table. “You’re sure?”

Lupin nodded. “I can’t wait to tell Jigen about this. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Alright,” Zenigata said. “I’ll be sure not to bring noodles with me on our next date.”

Lupin shook his head. “But you have to. At this point, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Perhaps, but it’s only because I love you.”

Zenigata stared at him, all the emotions of the past hour rushing back to flood his brain.

“I love you too,” he said, along with the chorus of that song, and the chuckles of his thief reverberating throughout the jail cell.

#lupin iii #koichi zenigata #arsene lupin iii #jigen daisuke #goemon ishikawa #lupin x zenigata #zenigata x lupin #luzeni #my writing

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swimyghost · 4 years ago

Text

Uniforms

This is a Lupin III High School AU that no one asked for but me and some friends made anyway. This AU will include OCs they haven’t made an appearance just yet. Also this high school is a blend of American and Japanese high schools since I’m, unfortunately, more familiar with an American setting. I hope you enjoy.

---

The ICPO Academy’s name was a joke. Not to say the academy itself was a disgrace to the name of education seeing as the school produced several graduates that went on to become lawyers or doctors or more artistic jobs such as famous actors or architects. ICPO Academy was well known for its reputation as the hub for international learning and cultural acceptance, having the school built in Japan but accepting students from everywhere. Many would question why someone would call the academy’s name a joke with high test scores, amazingly well-funded athletic and arts programs, and a spotless background all being well-known facts.

ICPO: International Criminal Police Organization. The name was outdated and, as mentioned before, a joke, especially to the students who attended the school. The once militaristic educational institution was originally assembled by the Japanese government as a way to train the most elite future members of the police force; the international part only added later once other countries noticed how well the Alta maters excelled in their field. Time, however, was an ever-flowing river and soon more programs such as the arts were added to the school. The need for highly trained police officers was in little demand and the school’s talents for training the best were need elsewhere. The name never changed due to stubborn tradition, also due to the idea of the students needing to “remember their roots”.

Horrible naming aside, the school was strict with everything, from grades to clubs to sports, including school uniforms. That was how three students ended up in the principal’s office one early morning.

“Arsène Lupin, Daisuke Jigen, and Goemon Ishikawa,” the principal, a heavily balding middle-aged man, sighed. He looked like he hadn’t received any proper sleep in weeks. “You three realize the school year only started a month ago and yet you consistently end up here.”

“Sir, I think you are missing the point!” a tall dark-haired man shouted. He stepped forward, shoving aside the three students. The red armband on his left arm was labeled “Head Hall Monitor”. “These three have broken one of the school’s rules, one which is mentioned on the first page of the school handbook so they clearly know what they are doing!”

One of the students, a sophomore with a cocky grin and an even cockier look in his dark brown eyes, laughed. “Pops, you should know I never read any of those dumb manuals!”

“It’s paramount that you read the handbook! And quit referring to me by that ridiculous nickname!”

“Whatever you say, Pops.”

“Mr. Lupin, Mr. Zenigata, I order you to stop this nonsense!” the principal shouted over the arguing pair. “Mr. Lupin, despite you lacking in understanding the school’s policies, you are a sophomore, you should already know that wearing the school’s uniform is a requirement, that goes for you too Mr. Goemon, and especially you Mr. Daisuke, you’re a junior, for Pete’s sake!”

“Jigen.” a gruff-sounding teen muttered. Shaggy black hair covered the teen’s eyes. Unlike the well-dressed (although still against the rules) Lupin, Jigen chose to wear baggy clothes such as a worn hoodie and ripped jeans instead of his uniform.

“Fine, Jigen,” the man said with an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase since you already know what’s going to happen. I’m going to have the front desk call your parents so they can drop off your uniforms. Mr. Lupin, Mr. Jigen, you’ll be sent to detention for today and tomorrow and will have to use half of your lunch period cleaning the school along with the regular cleaning hours. Mr. Ishikawa, you will have the same punishment except you won’t have detention.”

“What!?” Zenigata cried.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Zenigata?”

“Sir, forgive me for my insolence, but I think this is highly unfair,” Zenigata turned his gaze to the last of the trio, a blue hakama-wearing boy with long but slightly uneven cut hair. “Goemon here is equally as guilty as the rest of them! Therefore, he deserves the same punishment!”

The principal let out a long groan. “I wish I could, Mr. Zenigata. Unfortunately, Mr. Ishikawa is a part of our Judo Team and we’re about to have a match against Cagliostro Academy so-”

“So it’s favoritism!” Zenigata bellowed, slamming his hands on the principal’s desk.

“It’s not favoritism, it’s about securing our school’s reputation! Besides, Mr. Ishikawa isn’t a criminal for refusing to wear the proper garb.” the principal nonchalantly waved his hand.

“We will become one if you don’t punish him accordingly!”

“Do not insult the Ishikawa name like you, you bumbling gorilla.” Goemon spat, keeping a cold expression on his face.

“What did you say!?”

“ENOUGH!”

The room went deathly quiet. The principal, who was suddenly standing tall with an enraged expression on his face. He glared at the four students with a newfound fire in his dark eyes.

“Mr. Zenigata, this is not up for discussion. If you have a problem, take it up with someone else!”

Zenigata looked like he was going to blow up due to how red his face was. Lupin was frightened, but he kept a small grin on his face. The other two were suddenly extremely interested in the wall.

“Now, all of you, out of my office. I have important work to do.”

Zenigata took several deep breaths before replying. “Alright, sir. I shall take these troublemakers to the front desk to make sure they don’t try to run away.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr-”

It was too late as Zenigata swiftly herded the group outside of the office, slamming the door behind him.

The trio shuffled down the hall with only Zenigata walking with a powerful stride. The halls were silent with only the muffled chatter of teacher’s going over their lessons breaking that silence. Posters advertising out of school and in school were taped on walls or pinned to one of the many corkboards that lined the walls. Freshly cleaned windows allowed light to enter in. Jigen grunted as a line of sunlight pierced through his thick locks and entered his eyes. Lupin leaned over Zenigata’s shoulder and smiled.

“The head really chewed you out, huh?”

“Quiet, you scum!” Zenigata snarled, glaring back at the shorter man.

“Wooooooow, is that how all upperclassmen speak to their juniors? I thought we were starting to become friends.”

Zenigata scoffed. “You are not one of my equals, neither as a student or a member of society.”

“Really?” Lupin said with fake surprise dripping from his words.

The senior stopped, leading the rest of the group to follow suit. “I know who you are, Lupin, and I know what your family is.”

“You do?” Lupin glanced over at his companions, who kept measured expressions on their faces, then back at the older student. “What is my family, Koichi Zenigata?”

“A bunch of liars and thieves,” Zenigata said with an icy chill.

The stillness held nothing but tension. Jigen and Goemon silently moved to Lupin’s side. One a slight glimmer of Jigen’s eyes could be seen through the curtain known as his hair; meanwhile, Goemon’s eyes were studying the situation, ready to strike if necessary. Zenigata stood tall with his dark blue and white suit barely hiding the muscles bulging through the cloth. Time ticked away until Lupin broke out into laughter.

“Never knew you hated me that much, Pops!” Lupin patted his shoulder, causing Zenigata to flinch. “C’mon, let’s not fight. Especially since it won’t be a fair fight since your little buddy isn’t here and your reputation would be hurt more than mine.”

“Little… Buddy?” Zenigata looked confused, both due to Lupin’s actions and at the nickname he gave to this unknown person.

“What was his name… Goro! Goro Yatagarasu! That poor boy follows you are like a puppy.” Lupin said.

“Do not insult him like that! Yata is a good student and a better person than you’ll ever be.”

“You’re starting to sound like his boyfriend, Pops,” Jigen spoke up, enunciating the word ‘Pops’.

“Wha- Yata is a freshman and a minor!”

“That hasn’t stopped seniors before,” Jigen muttered.

Goemon stepped between them with his hands raised. “You wanna get in more trouble?”

Jigen grunted and turned his head away. Zenigata just glared at the trio before starting back on his quest to the front desk. Lupin just pretended to wipe the dust off his crisp white dress shirt and followed the upperclassman with his friends following close behind.

The rest of the walk was uneventful since Lupin stopped trying to press his senior’s buttons. Jigen was more interested in his old sneakers than a conversation with Goemon adopting a similar attitude. Once they reached the open front lobby, Zenigata turned his gaze to the lady who sat behind the circular front desk. Her hair was tied up in a lazy bun with her glasses hanging close to the end of her nose. She looked as interested in her computer work as the principal had looked. She lifted her gaze when Zenigata cleared his throat.

“Can I help you?” her tone was low and bored.

“Yes, these three have broken school rules by deciding to not wear their uniform! I assume the principal has alerted you about the situation?”

“He has.” the receptionist said.

“Then I believe you need to-”

“I’ve already contacted their parents, Mr. Zenigata.” the lady cut off Zenigata with a pointed stare.

“Um, uh, yes,” Zenigata cleared his throat, more awkwardly this time. “W-Well I assume you have the situation handled then?”

“I do.”

“Great! I need to return to class! Please make sure they don’t try anything suspicious.”

“I will, Mr. Zenigata.”

Zenigata bowed before turning to look back at the trio. Lupin stuck out his tongue with a goofy smile plastered on his face. The senior frowned deeply then took off towards an adjacent hallway. The group looked at the front desk lady who already went back to typing away at her computer.

“Wait by the benches over there.” she pointed at the set of benches that were poised by the front doors made entirely of glass.

“Thank you, ma’am!” Lupin replied in a cheery tone with a wink. The woman just made a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment. Lupin, Jigen, and Goemon all sauntered over to the benches and sat with Lupin in the middle and Jigen and Goemon sitting at the far left and right respectfully. Goemon closed his eyes and lowered his head in mediation with Jigen scratched at his kangaroo pocket. Lupin noticed his not-so-subtle scratching.

“You need to smoke already?” the sophomore whispered.

“Nah,” Jigen replied in a matching soft voice. “Just need to know they’re there. Get anxious if they’re not.”

“That’s a sign of addiction, my scruffy friend.”

Jigen scowled. “Like you’re any better.”

“I can handle being away from cigarettes for a few days, you cannot,” Lupin pointed out. “I’ve even seen you smoke bent ones!”

“A smoke is a smoke.” the junior shrugged.

“Both of you have bad habits.” Goemon chipped in at the same time side-eyeing the pair.

“Like you’re any better. You even said that cigarette you had felt nice!” Lupin countered.

Goemon looked down. He enjoyed the feeling that one cigarette gave him but he’d never admit it, especially since it would most likely lead to his athletic career being cut short.

Lupin turned his attention back to the older of the three. “Is your mom or dad gonna drop off your outfit.”

“Doubt it,” Jigen snorted. “Ma started taking double shifts to make up for all the new books I had to buy.”

The leader of the group stared at Jigen for a few moments before pulling out his cellphone. He tapped away before raising the phone to his ear.

“Hey, dad? Yeah, it’s me, did you leave already? No? Good!” Lupin said. “Listen, along with my uniform, can you get the bigger one that’s in the drawer next to all my other ones? Thank you!”

“No using any electronic distractions during class periods.” the front desk lady said, still not looking up from her computer.

“Got it, ma’am!” Lupin replied, saying a quick goodbye to his father before preceding to smile at Jigen. Jigen knew something was up.

“What did you do?”

“Called my old man, of course,” Lupin said.

“No duh, but I know what your family… Does. I need to know if you didn’t just secretly hire a hit or something.”

“Do you really think that lowly of me, Jigen?” Lupin pretended to look hurt.

“I think you can do some nasty shit if you felt like it,”

“He’s got you there, Lupin,” Goemon added.

“You both are so cruel!” Lupin dramatically placed a hand on his chest. “All I did was ask my father to bring a junior uniform and you’re accusing me of murder!”

“Junior uniform, why would you-” realization hit Jigen. “You bought one… For me?”

“You’re my best friend, you wheezy chimney,” Lupin let out his signature grin. “Someone’s gotta pick you up when you’re down.”

Jigen stared deeply at Lupin before making a tsk sound and whipping his head towards the window. Lupin just chuckled and leaned backward.

Suddenly, the bell rang throughout the school. Students immediately started to flood both the hallway and the front of the school. Couples were walking with their arms linked while others congregated in large groups, laughing about the latest episodes of their favorite shows or lamenting failing a test. Lupin watched them walk by as if he were looking for-

“Hey, Fujicakes!”

Jigen and Goemon both groaned as a long-haired brunette with highlights sashayed over towards them. She wore the standard dark blue, gray, and white uniform but it was clearly altered in some minor but still noticeable ways. The shirt was smaller than it needed to be and the skirt was shorter. Black tights completed the outfit. The freshman carried books and a binder in one hand and a phone with a fake diamond keychain in the other. She stopped only a foot away from the trio before glancing up and down.

“Was dressing like clowns really necessary?”

Jigen and Goemon’s preexisting frown deepened but Lupin gave her a hurt puppy-dog look. “That hurt Fujiko. The real clown outfits are those gaudy uniforms they make us wear. Not you, though. You look fantastic in anything you wear.”

Fujiko giggled, causing Jigen and Goemon to roll their eyes. Fujiko stopped with a sigh. “In any case, I’m guessing you three are in detention.”

“I actually got-”

“And I’m hoping you’ll be there with me,” Lupin said, interrupting Goemon.

“Are you kidding me?” Fujiko said with a snort. “I have cheer practice. I don’t have time to waste with someone like you.”

“Fujicakes,” Lupin said with false hurt.

“I gotta go, Lupin, maybe I’ll see you later when you’re done making a fool of yourself.”

Fujiko walked away with a purposeful stride, leaving Lupin wanting more of her and the other two wanting less. As the crowd began to grow smaller, Jigen glared at his friend.

“How can you stand that girl?”

“Perhaps Fujiko is right about one thing,” Goemon looked down at the still swooning Lupin, “you are a fool.”

“She may be made of ice, but like all ice, it can be melted.” Lupin poetically answered.

“Oh, please,” Jigen grumbled.

Just as all the people left for their class, two men entered the building. One was a wealthy-looking businessman with well-kept hair and a faint beard. He wore a freshly ironed suit that almost gleamed as much as his well-polished shoes. The other was an equally well-dressed man but this time in more traditional Japanese garbs and sandals. His hair was much longer and had a clean-shaven face. Goemon stood up and made his way to the more traditionally dressed man, bowing once he reached him.

“Father.”

“Goemon,” he replied, thrusting the pile of neatly folded clothes he had been carrying into his son’s arms. “Do not repeat this act.”

“I won’t, Father.”

While that exchange went down, the first man eagerly went over and hugged Lupin. He held a smile that was eerily similar to the boy’s.

“Arsène! You causing micheaf again?”

“Of course, dad, why else would be here?” his son wheezed, trying to escape his bear hug.

He laughed and clasped Lupin on the back. “Aw, I don’t know, maybe you missed me that much you had the principal call me down.”

“Dad!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Lupin’s dad chuckled. He looked at the front desk lady, who was watching the whole scene and shrugged. “Kids these days, am I right?”

The lady blinked slowly. “You need to give them their uniforms, sir.”

“Right, right, right,” the man reached into his suit and handed two bags to Lupin and Jigen. “I believe these are for you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lupin.”

“Now, I need to leave. Business never gives you a break, I swear.” Lupin’s dad winked at the receptionist before following Goemon’s dad out of the building. Lupin let out a long sigh once he left the building.

“Your dad is certainly a character, Lupin,” Goemon commented.

“Not a word, Goemon,”

“You three go change in the bathroom. I write you a pass to your next class.” the woman at the front desk called over to them.

Lupin gave the group a smirk. “There’s still a full day ahead of us, gentlemen. Let’s not waste it.”

#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #arsene lupin iii #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon ishikawa #ishikawa goemon xiii #jigen daisuke #daisuke jigen #fujiko mine #mine fujiko #koichi zenigata #zenigata koichi #inspector zenigata #high school au #lupin iii high school au #ficlet #fanfic #fanficition

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years ago

Text

“SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 2: “YATA MISAKI’S BUILDING EXPLORATION! HAUNTED HOUSE EDITION” (Part 2)

* K - Six Idols (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

The director puts his hand to his jaw and thinks. Yata looked at his figure expectantly.

"It is true that this will hinder the schedule."

"Really?!"

"Then, let's go find the rabbit."

"Eh?"

The director and other members of the film crew rose to their feet one after another. From those who handle the light to the makeup, they try to go with the director. Yata instinctively tried to stop them.

"Wait a minute! Why is everyone going?"

"As we will be looking for him, it is better to have more manpower."

"That's right, oh, yeah, then I'll go with you."

"No, if we let the actor do these kinds of tasks, the name of the show will be frowned upon. Yata-san and Kamamoto-san, you should wait here."

Just with that, the other members except Yata and Kamamoto walked out of the reception room.

"……"

Yata stretched out his empty hand and sat back on the couch.

The reception room, where the current had already been introduced, felt even colder when the equipment left. Yata flailed his legs fiercely, staring into the dim lamplight. He cannot say anything and is calm.

He feels bad because he is worried about the normal path. As an important figure in the world of idols, Yata pays tribute to Kokujoji. He is concerned about the status of the great man, not because he is afraid of this eerie western-style building.

While repeating his trembling thoughts, Yata was confident that the team or the rabbit would return as soon as possible.

And 30 minutes passed, 1 hour passed.

It seems that the rain has stopped a bit. Instead, thunder was heard more frequently. The haunting and rumbling sky sometimes casts a light similar to a flare on the window. This time, Yata realized that his body was jumping.

"It's not too late?"

Unable to suppress the trembling voice, he talks to Kamamoto. Kamamoto keeps his camera on the table in front of him, arms crossed and silent.

Yata was driven by anxiety and shook his shoulder.

"Eh? Kamamoto?"

Kamamoto lowered his head in a low voice.

"Yes."

"Don't fall asleep, fat man!"

"Hmm!" When he touched his head, Kamamoto's sunglasses slid off.

Kamamoto makes a shocked voice, dressed like an idiot with sunglasses hooked to the edge of his ear.

"What is it? What is it?"

"Idiot! The others haven't come back yet!"

However, Yata's anger did not seem to be transmitted to Kamamoto at all. He stretched out humorously, grabbed the camera from the table, and stood up.

"I'm in trouble. Then I'll search a bit!"

"Oh, why?"

The voice was about to scream, but Yata no longer has the psychological margin to worry about such things. Kamamoto scratched his head like he was in trouble.

"No, it doesn't matter what you say. If they don't come back, it's only natural for me to go looking for them, right?"

"That said, the directors have not returned. If you go, the same thing will happen, right?"

Kamamoto bowed his head and pointed the camera at Yata. Yata's face is reflected in the black lens. Kamamoto had a ridiculous tone as he clearly reflected his scared face.

"Maybe Yata-san… Are you afraid of being alone?"

"Moron!"

Yata's low kick went through Kamamoto's right knee and the giant rolled on the ground.

"Hey, Yata-san, please stop hitting me!"

"Ah! Maybe it's because I don't like your comments?"

"Just kidding! Yata isn't scared at this level! I get it!"

"I go to search..."

Yata responds with a negative voice like a different person than until now. Kamamoto stood up while rubbing his knees and headed straight for the exit.

"Then, I'll go for a bit."

Kamamoto left the room. Yata was left alone in the reception room.

"……"

He cannot hear anything but the sound of rain, thunder, and the beat of his heart. He feels restless and walk around the table for no reason. Check the clock almost every minute. Every time, he repeats the idea of going round and round, why he hasn't come back yet.

At that moment, the roar of the guitar solo echoed through the hall.

"What?!"

Involuntarily, he raises a strange voice and jumps. The guitar solo echoed in Yata's bag that he had left on the couch. The fiery melody is a representative song of "Red King Idol" Suoh Mikoto, which Yata respects.

Yata took out his PDA while suppressing his heartbeat.

The incoming call was from Kamamoto. As soon as he answers the call, Yata yells at him.

"Hey, don't call suddenly!"

As he screamed, Yata felt relieved somewhere in his heart.

Kamamoto on the other end of the phone echoed the usual subtle voice without knowing such complicated psychology.

"No, I'm sorry, Yata-san. I thought it would be bad for Yata-san to be worried, so I'm sorry."

"Are you eating something?"

"Eh? No, no way..."

"You're eating! Where are you now?"

"Oh, no... it's like a kitchen."

"You're stupid! How do you eat in someone's kitchen when you visit their house? You can't do that, even if you're a visitor!"

Yata yells. At the same time, when he looks out the window, he notices that his expression has softened. Kamamoto's usual eating habits seemed to be irreplaceable and encouraging at this point.

Kamamoto says, while making a locking sound.

"Well, you often say that if I'm hungry, I can't do it, right? And I came here guessing."

"Eh?"

"I could see a figure here, so I thought it was a rabbit. It was wearing white clothes, so I'm sure it's correct."

A small shadow was born on Yata's slightly warmed chest.

A figure in white clothes.

"Hey, Kamamoto."

"Hmm? That? That, maybe..."

When he hears Kamamoto's voice as if noticing something, the shadow gets bigger as it swells.

"Wait a minute. Come back!"

"No, what are you talking about, there was a rabbit. Sorry! When can I start recording?"

There, Kamamoto's voice cut off.

The shadow fills Yata's heart. Yata clenches the sweat from his hands that slowly spreads onto his PDA.

"Hey! Kamamoto! Come back!"

"That? It's weird. Why?"

"Kamamoto!"

"Why was his neck looking away?"

Almost at the same time as those words, a wet sound echoed off his PDA.

It's like hitting a wet leather bag on the ground.

It's like squashing a rotten tomato.

A sound with an ominous premonition clung to Yata's ears.

"Kama-…!"

The calling voice was interrupted by a loud sound that pierced the tympanic membrane. Maybe that's why he dropped his PDA. He lets it go involuntarily, and Yata looks at his PDA. Notice the words "Rikio Kamamoto" floating just below the "Call" screen.

After a while of silence, the speaker began to pick up the sound of "something."

Tap. Tap. Yata notes that the sound that resonates regularly is footsteps. Facing Yata, who is stuck as if frozen, the speaker mercilessly continues to reproduce the sound of "something".

"Heh heh heh."

In the end, a sound like that of a laughing voice, and the call was cut off.

Seeing the words "End of call", Yata noticed the sweat on his back.

There is certainly "something" here.

Yata thinks about it while being driven into a panic. Can't imagine what it is. Is it related to that white figure? What happened to that rabbit and the members that went looking for him?

And Kamamoto...

"Ah!"

Clenching his fist and teeth, Yata stared at the living room door.

If Yata were alone, he would have screamed and stormed out of the reception room, rushing into mountains of thunderstorms. Not good in this situation, let's be clear. It is incredibly scary. Even now, his knees are shaking and he can't even stand.

However, Kamamoto is here. There are also directors and film crews that came with him.

If he abandons them and runs away alone, he will deny the human Misaki Yata.

"Damn!"

Yata slammed his hardened fist against his thigh. That doesn't stop the shaking of the knees, but it is something.

Thus, pain inspired Yata. He strides across the room and kicks the door open before crossing.

"Wait, Kamamoto! I'm going to help you now!"

Screaming to inspire himself, Yata stepped into the darkness in front of him.

++++++++++

Kamamoto said at the end that he was in the kitchen.

Of course, Yata does not know the layout of the building. Still, since it's a kitchen, he guesses it's somewhere on the first floor, and he walks down the hall in big surprise. The lamp, which should be from the lighting equipment, was not on, and Yata had to use the light from his PDA as a flashlight and advance terrifyingly.

Lightning and thunder roar. The entire view of the hallway was projected for a moment as if the camera's flash fired.

It's a long corridor with blood-colored ridges and bone-like walls. The portraits are evenly spaced on the wall.

As he slowly advances, Yata tries to keep the portrait out of his eyes. Because the line of sight can match. Because if he looks at them, they might laugh at him.

If he looks at a portrait, his heart may explode as if he is doing his best live. Yata still couldn't die. He couldn't die until he saved Kamamoto and the team members.

"……"

The blankness on his face means that fear outweighs courage. There is no colleague from the "Homura Performing Arts Office" who can laugh at him, they are not here at the moment. Yata has to fight both loneliness and fear.

Fold the corner twice.

Apparently it is a corridor. Maybe the kitchen is not on the first floor. If that happens, he will have to climb the stairs. That fact began to haunt Yata's thoughts.

Before entering the hall, a white figure reflected in the window for a moment flickered in Yata's mind.

Climbing the stairs means going to that figure. Yata wasn't sure he could get into such a situation even though he no longer had the courage to oppress it anymore.

When, suddenly, the door on his left moved with a piercing noise.

"Eh?"

Yata jumped to the ground in a squeaky voice.

The door opened slowly as if it had a will of its own.

The warm breeze that flowed from there caressed his taut cheeks.

He's sure it was moved by air flow or something, until he found out, it wouldn't move.

Thousands of words that are less than thoughts fill his mind. The instinct of "I want to get away from here" and the belief that "I can't abandon my friends" conflict with each other, and Yata's body tends to be rigid.

As it is, a minute has passed.

Nothing happens.

Realizing that, Yata began to move. The doorplate illuminated by the light of the PDA came into view.

The word "Dining Room" was written there.

"This is here?"

Muttering to be sure, swallowing hard, Yata opened the door.

The spacious dining room was filled with humid air. There is a long table as seen in the movie and several chairs around it. A three-pointed candelabrum on a pure white tablecloth receives the light and glows golden.

Yata scans the room while glancing at the scene. If there is a door that leads to the kitchen, that will be the goal.

The feelings of wanting to find them and not wanting to find them are in conflict in Yata. It was the manifestation of the two feelings that filled Yata's heart, the instinct of not wanting to face loyalty and the belief that he should help his companions.

Suddenly, Yata felt something crash against his toes.

It bounces and terrifyingly points the light to the ground.

It was a ham. A thick, boneless ham that appears to be around Yata's foot. There is evidence that the packaging has been broken and removed.

Kamamoto no doubt picked it up and ate it.

He had been here.

"Kamamoto?"

His voice echoed mysteriously. When he turned on the lights, the door that would lead to the kitchen was open. Yata went in there.

The kitchen floor was damp. When Yata's shoes hit the wet floor, he made a sticky noise and pulled a rope between his shoes and the floor.

The light from the PDA trembled as if Yata's discomfort was transmitted.

The previous light reflects the ground. Yata arrived when there was a trail of something crawling across the red-black wet ground.

At the same time, there is a watery sound in the kitchen.

Kucha, Juru, Picha, Nichi, Giri.

He doesn’t notice it from the sound of the rain. he could hear the sound all the time.

Jutsu, guchitsu, baki, zuru, gucha...

Maybe he didn't want to realize it. Because it was a realization of Yata's fear.

Baki, Bagi, Goritsu, Boritsu, Jururu.

However, Yata had to face realization. He thought that he had to record it in his own eyes no matter what result he was hoping for.

A trembling light crawls across the ground and follows the bloodline.

"It" was closer than he expected.

He was wearing white clothing, similar to a dress. The word "it" comes from the fact that it was so worn that it was hard to see. The hem ripped like a saw blade and dirt that has mixed in here and there has soaked it. It was probably the dirt that caused the thread to stick to the soles of Yata's shoes.

"It" seemed to turn away from him and crouch like a monkey, shaking his head vigorously. He shook his pure white hair, moving his face further and further, and moving his hands to break something.

Each time, the watery sound from before, resonates.

A familiar giant lay in front of "It"

Kamamoto's eyes, illuminated by the lights, were wide open and were no longer looking at anything.

Yata took a step back, it would be terrible to blame him for being shy. Yata's survival instinct demanded a distance from "it", just as a hunted animal would reflexively frighten. Holding his mouth with his hand, while pouring a fixed stare at "it", Yata tries to leave the room.

There was a dry sound under his feet.

"… ?!"

Yata hastily points the light at his feet.

There were Kamamoto's sunglasses. Stepped on by Yata, the lens of the sunglasses snapped in two.

He looked up from the sunglasses and saw "it", terrifyingly.

The movement stopped, as if it had frozen.

Even arms thin like dead trees and hair white like ceramic remain frozen.

The neck began to turn silently.

Slowly and precisely, like the gears of a machine. Turning sideways, diagonally back, and turning 180 degrees, it "saw" Yata.

Kamamoto's words revive in Yata's mind.

("Why is your neck there?")

Looking at Yata with only his face, with his body facing forward.

"It" moves just a little.

Random blood-soaked teeth were stained with a speckled pattern of yellow and red.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaah!"

When he noticed, Yata was sprinting down the hall of the building.

Screams of flight and senseless came from his mouth, the eyes had shed tears incessantly. He is not sure where he is going. However, he wanted to get away from that kitchen as soon as possible.

Yata slipped and fell, trying to turn the corner of the hall at full speed. He crashes into the wall and stops, reflectively looking at the darkness from which he ran.

He couldn't find the figure for "it."

However, only sound was heard.

Regularly echoing sounds and footsteps approached Yata from the other side of the darkness with a speed that shook fear.

Yata got to his feet and started running. His brain made a full rotation. Remembering the layout of the building, He try to find a way out.

As he ran down the hall, he saw a familiar sight.

This is the entrance hall he saw when he first entered the building. A ridiculously huge chandelier and a portrait of Daikaku Kokujoji on the wall of a huge staircase. Yata immediately took the door that led to the outside of the left door.

No matter how much he pushes or pull, it won't open. Even if he turned the key like crazy, kicked the door, or slammed it, the heavy door would not stubbornly move. Full of irritation and anger, Yata says, "Come on! What's this? Open up! Open up!"

However, the screaming, almost crying, stopped immediately. The footsteps were getting closer.

Hita, Hita, Hita, Hita.

Yata let go of all his emotions and ran like a ball. He refused to be there putting all his physical abilities that he refined as an idol.

Yata, who was running like the wind, soon found a bath.

When he enters, it was divided into several private rooms. He pushes open while checking with the PDA light and it slides inside.

When the lights went out, the bathroom filled with a darkness that seemed to crush him.

Yata supports his head as he shakes on the toilet seat.

("What is that, what is that, what is that?")

Did "it" eat Kamamoto?

Anger at his partner's murder swelled through his body, but much more than that, fear of the mysterious monster in front of him. The monster crawls out looking for him at this very moment. Just imagining it makes his skin rust.

After doing it for a while, Yata suddenly came up with something.

"I have to ask for help..."

Of course, the reason the idea that was taken for granted didn't come up until now is because his brain was engulfed in fear. Yata tapped his PDA with his shaking finger and first tried to contact his most trusted boss, Izumo Kusanagi.

At that moment, he heard a voice from the depths of the darkness of the hall.

"Yata-san, where are you? Please answer."

Yata stops his finger and raises his face as if flipped over. The cold, sweaty expression shone with wonder and joy.

"Kamamoto...?"

"Yata-san, please help me. I got hurt."

Without a doubt, it was Rikio Kamamoto's voice.

It has been delayed, but it cannot be wrong. Yata stood up in the bathroom of a private room and sharpened his ears.

Kamamoto's voice seems to come and go right outside the bathroom. Or maybe Kamamoto, who was lying at the time, was still alive. Perhaps he escaped from the monster and came to ask for help.

("Here! Kamamoto, I'm here! We will run away together!")

Yata hastily shut his mouth when he was about to scream.

Not out of self-protection, it was out of doubt.

Is that really Kamamoto's voice?

There is no reason. The questions equal to intuition, however, get louder and louder as he hears Kamamoto's voice.

"Yata-san, Yata-san, where are you? I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I don't care, I want to eat soon."

He had goose bumps.

No matter how much it is Kamamoto, in such a situation, he couldn't think of making such a loud voice and worrying about food.

Yata sat back on the toilet seat. He keeps his mouth closed with watery eyes to prevent any sound from escaping.

Still, Kamamoto's voice continues to call him by name. "Yata-san, where are you?"

Suddenly, Kamamoto's voice cut off.

"……"

Yata blinked. A tear drop was shed. He wondered if he was gone.

There is no way to confirm it. There is not an iota of courage to get out of there. Yata took out the PDA again and started the message app. He absolutely did not want to talk. First he would call Kusanagi, then Kusanagi would call the police.

Yata's PDA sounded with a roaring guitar solo.

"Eh?"

Suoh Mikoto's guitar solo, which he is more intoxicated with than anyone, now sounds like a devastating call from the devil. Yata hurries to look at the PDA. While cursing the idiot who made a call in such a situation, he looks at the screen regretting not having put the silent mode.

His spine froze.

The name "Rikio Kamamoto" was etched on the screen.

He hung up the call and turned off the PDA. As he did so, he thought.

He couldn't think optimistically that Kamamoto was alive. The voice from before was definitely not Kamamoto himself.

So the current call was... that "thing".

That "thing" took Kamamoto's PDA and called it, to find out where it turned on.

About the same time, he was convinced of that, there was a sound of footsteps.

Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap. He has regular intervals and gradually but surely approaches Yata.

Can't bear it. Yata decided to reject the reality in front of him.

He closed his eyes tightly. He covered his ears with both hands. Even if death falls from above one day, try not to look directly at it.

Yet in the dark, Yata thinks.

A feeling of strangeness.

A person can stop his movement of his own free will, but he cannot stop his will. The feeling of strangeness that was born in the dark grew in Yata's brain, because there was nothing else.

Why does he hear footsteps?

The floor of the building is completely strange. The kitchen was really different, but the hallways and bathrooms were filled with crimson delicacy.

The heavy boots would make steps. But that step is barefoot. No matter how fast he run barefoot, the sound should be absorbed by the relief and disappear.

So it's "it".

At that moment, there was something that shone like a revelation.

Can't stop thinking. The discovery cannot be ignored. In that sense, Yata must have been more human than anyone. Even if that means ruin, to confirm his own conscience, he opened his eyes and turned his face away.

On the bathroom ceiling, "it" was stuck.

His palm with dirty claws, every time it sticks to the ceiling, makes a "thump" sound. That was the true identity of the "steps". When he turned his head upside down, the ragged white hair was tousled. Stuck to the ceiling on all fours, "it" had bright red eyes that glowed negatively, exposing turbulent yellow and red teeth.

In the form of a predator who found Yata with no escape.

"No, aaaaaaaaaaah!"

Yata screamed with all his soul. At that moment, Yata's sight turned white.

++++++++++

"Hey! It was amazing!"

With such a voice, the door to the private room was opened.

Behind the door, the film crew, illuminated by electric lights, waited. Kamamoto Rikio holds up the camera, and a man in sunglasses and a red helmet holds a sign that says, "Don't miss it!" The man in the sunglasses looked a lot like Yata's trusted boss, Izumo Kusanagi.

"……"

Yata was watching the scene with all faces dead.

Kamamoto, who should have died, looks at a man who looks like Kusanagi while holding the camera.

"Kusanagi-san, this is…"

"I don't think there will be a reaction. So again."

He hit the sign in front of him.

"Yata-chan? Are you really okay?"

"……"

Yata cannot react.

When the man who looked like Kusanagi sighed, he left the sign to Kamamoto and entered the private room.

"Sure! The idol has a fluid face during the tea ceremony!"

Gently tap Yata's head.

"Ah! Eh, that? Kusanagi-san? Why?"

Kusanagi shakes his head at Yata, who drips confusion as is.

"That's why I told you about it for a while. It's a shocking show! The target is Yata-chan, and the tricks are us, 'Homura Performing Arts Office'."

At that moment, a figure fell from the ceiling. That monster with a shabby dress and white hair.

From "it", the horror was completely lost. She pulled her false teeth out of her mouth, tucked her white hair back, and turned her red eyes to Yata. "It" he breathed through her nose, giving a feeling of fullness to her young face.

"How was it? Was my performance terrifying?"

"Oh, you did it perfectly, Anna!"

"He was scared of you!"

Look at the friends who are raising their thumbs.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah?!"

Yata screamed as loud as he did before.

Ten minutes later.

Yata was angry at the entrance of the building, which was fully lit.

"What's that? It's terrible, Kusanagi-san! Please tell me in advance if you do this kind of thing!"

"Ahaha, Yata-chan, don't talk nonsense. If I told you, you wouldn't be surprised, right?"

"Kamamoto, you were an accessory too! I really thought you were dead!"

"Well, it doesn't matter how much food you eat there, doesn't it?"

Yata struck Kamamoto's head with all his might for the first time in a long time, gathering in his fist all the reaction of fear and anger that he had suffered.

With Kamamoto crouched on his back, Yata turns his resentful eyes on Anna.

"And Anna... even you..."

Anna suddenly looked away, perhaps uncomfortable.

"Because it was work.", Anna muttered.

So everything, it was something that had been organized from the beginning.

The place where the program will be broadcast is "Shirogin Deluxe" remains unchanged. However, it was not actually a visit to Kokujoji's house, but rather a project presented by the "Homura Performing Arts Office".

After seeing it, "Idol King" Isana Yashiro said, "This looks interesting!", And this project received the full backing of the "Tokijikuin Agency". Small dark vision cameras were installed around the building, rabbit costumes rented, and a recreational facility that was no longer in use. The words, actions and reactions Yata has done so far are said to be fully reflected.

Everything to give the Yata lens the greatest fear and obtain the best recordings.

Kusanagi happily explains.

"You know, Yata-chan has become popular lately? He's been featured in entertainment magazines and online, and some people call him 'The Red Prince'."

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"So, I wonder if that's a little different from Yata-chan's politics. I brought this project to highlight Yata-chan's original charm here."

"Eh..."

Honestly, he's not sure about politics or appeal. Yata entered this path longing for Suoh. He really hadn't been aware of how others saw him.

Such a production was the work of Kusanagi at the "Homura Performing Arts Office".

"Thanks to that, I got a good photo! Anna did a good job, and two birds with one stone."

Therefore, it would be nice if Kusanagi were satisfied with his work, although he is not yet convinced.

However, Yata looks at Anna with concern.

"Well Anna, how did you do that?"

Anna shook her head.

"Eh?"

"I see, that... was it glued to the ceiling?"

Anna turns to the side. Look at the hallway wall, put both hands on it, and climb the wall while making noise.

Yata opened his mouth.

Anna asks, glued to the ceiling and looking at Yata upside down.

"What about this?"

"No... that... how...?"

"Expert."

Anna said it with a calm face. Yata watches her like he's looking at something incredible. No, the idea occurred to him that it would be impossible to practice or that she was ignoring the laws of physics, but he felt that even doing it was unsophisticated.

"Well then, what about that? That way of turning the neck."

"This?"

When Anna's neck began to twist, Yata hastily stopped her.

"Wait! Stop! Stop! You don't have to show it!"

Anna returned her head to its original position. Looking at Yata upside down, with a smile.

"Special training."

"No, it's amazing, right?! Kusanagi-san, okay? What are you doing as an idol?"

"Yeah, well it's a subtle thing to say if it's an ant or a pear, but... Anna did her best, so ant!"

"Sweet! Are you really sweet to Anna?"

"Haha, okay, this is also an art style. Wasn't Anna's threatening role in the hallway quite realistic?"

"Yeah, well, I thought my heart would stop..."

Yata muttered that.

Of course, the rage at being cheated continues to smoke.

However, it was even stronger than that, and relief filled Yata's heart. He really thought that Kamamoto was dead, and he really thought they were going to kill him. Rather, he even remembered to praise the production team that created such high quality.

"Well I'm excited about this too. Yata-chan had a good reaction too!"

"Ah…"

When Kusanagi hit him on the back, Yata gave a dry laugh.

"The event has been completed! Please go ahead!"

A staff member who was in charge of the location car outside the building called him out. Kusanagi and other members of the "Homura Performing Arts Office" follow suit and get into the car one after another.

The rain had completely stopped and the light was shining through the clouds. Looking at him, Yata suddenly called to Anna in the seat next to him.

"Hey, Anna, you were on the second floor when we entered the building, right?"

"Eh?"

"No, you know. I saw you by the second floor window."

Anna looks at Yata saying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kusanagi, who had either heard or accosted him before, said with a bitter smile.

"Yata-chan, don't say weird things. No one went up the stairs."

"Ah…"

"I had no plans to use the second floor in the first place. No one should have gone."

The relief in his heart changes fast and cold.

So what did you see at the time?

Yata's neck was twisted back, as if it were a physical law. While he thought it was something he shouldn't see, he wanted to make his own discoveries, simple human curiosity.

The exterior of the desolate building. The windows on the second floor open in black at regular intervals. At one of the windows where sunlight enters after the rain, a girl dressed in white was smiling and showing her yellowish teeth.

#k #k project #k six idols #idol k #yata misaki #k stories #k fan clan

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shoheiakagi · 5 years ago

Text

Summary: In which HOMRA is a bunch of college frat boys trying to get in your pants. Or: “Come back, I’m not done wasting your time.”

Warnings: Some might be a bit ooc since they’re all fuckboys in here (some more than others), y/n culture, angst, somewhat explicit ***, unrequited feelings, Chitose in his natural habitat, Fujishima is a furry, Yata still can’t talk to women, and Bandou still can’t get laid.

Word Count: 5.6k lol

Notes: OKAY, IT’S FINALLY HERE. I was working on my FwB piece with @mangoqueens when we were suddenly like, “Okay, but fuckboy!homra tho.” Also, not including the trio in this one cause I wanted to focus on the younger guys more. A quick shoutout to @anewmourning for helping me come up with ideas for fuckboy!fujishima. This is my first ever time doing something like this, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes or stale dialogue. Reblogs/replies are appreciated!

This is pretty self indulgent, so ignore it if it’s not your thing.

Yata

Obnoxious in a completely different way from the average fuckboy (as in he doesn’t break your heart. Well, not intentionally).

That one guy who always shows up to your Philosophy class late with loud rap music blasting from his headphones, with a skateboard under his arm.

But if he’s not coming to class late, he’s skipping. You don’t think you ever saw him come to class on time (seriously, why is he even in this class?).

If he’s not sleeping in class, he’s always arguing with someone, even the Professor. Usually, that random student happens to be you.

“What the fuck do you mean we don’t have free will?” “I mean that there’s something called fucking fate which means everything is destined to be, you asshat!” “The fuck did you call me?”

You happened to be the lucky student he fights with cause of the one time you ‘accidentally’ told him to shut the fuck up (but in a ‘kind’ way cause you can’t just go around cursing during class) and you’ve been on his radar ever since.

But not in that “damn, i wanna fuck her” way, more like “i hate her, i gotta ruin her life” type of way since you pretty much embarrassed him in class.

Doesn’t really hate you or wanna ruin your life though, just likes to start fights with you over petty shit (Bandou would be proud).

Intervenes whenever you’re flirting with another guy in class with the pretext of trying to “save” him from you.

And everyone definitely notices his behavior towards you cause no matter how obnoxious Yata is, he never picked any fights with girls (except for that one busty blonde who’s part of the student govt).

If he’s really feeling bold (and stupid), he would sometimes tug on your hair or jab you with his pen to get a reaction out of you in class.

Pretty much the embodiment of the whole “you know a boy likes you if he teases you a lot.”

Your philosophy class is practically a war zone at this point with how much you two bicker (which really pisses everyone off).

One day your prof assigns the class a group paper and partners you and Yata up (probably for some sadistic reason).

You refuse to have anything to do with Yata at first but then he just declares that you can write the whole paper then. So you bitterly suck it up and force him to contribute just out of spite (you know if you write it yourself, your grade will be higher. But you’re honestly willing to take the lower grade if it means Yata will suffer in the process).

He stands you up whenever you arrange to meet in cafes, the library, etc. You leave him really angry, nasty texts and tell him to go to hell.

You were over it one day and marched up to his dorm room, banging on the door, demanding that he let you in. He opens the door, irritated with you, and you push through and start going OFF on how much of an idiot and a dick he was.

And as cliche as it is, you guys were too busy yelling at each other to notice how the distance between you two was getting shorter and shorter until you had him backed against the wall. Yata looked at your lips, before looking up to glare at you, “I fucking hate you.” Before you can respond some equally nasty shit, he immediately slammed his lips against you.

What started off as a kiss, eventually turned into you getting fucked by Yata against the wall (God, you never knew a day like this would ever happen...and that he would actually be a good fuck despite his height and inability to talk to most women).

You both eventually fall into this pattern of sleeping with each other, since it’s an easier way to deal with anger and stress.

But other than sex, nothing changes between you two. You still treat each other like shit.

And in the end, your paper got a C+ so at least you passed.

You didn’t notice that you caught feelings for him until a friend pointed out that you seemed to have softened up on Yata (which you denied, of course).

But once you realized that his smile is probably one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen and how his usually obnoxious laugh suddenly became endearing to you, you noticed a change in his behavior.

He...he doesn’t pick a fight with you that much anymore? That’s a good thing, right?

But...he doesn’t really talk to you that much either, other than some half assed replies. And he stopped coming over for sex too.

Was fighting (and sex) really the only way you guys communicated with each other?

You try not to think much of it and decide to treat yourself to your favorite drink at the cafe nearby.

And it wasn’t until you were halfway across campus when you hear that familiar voice and your heart started beating like crazy when he came in your view.

But before you can call out to him, you notice the petite figure walking next to him. And then you really take a look at Yata this time.

For the first time ever, you see Yata unlike his usual, loud self. He’s patiently teaching the pretty girl how to use his skateboard, and when she holds onto him in fear of falling, you see how broad his smile gets, despite his awkward stammers and obvious blush. It was only when the girl leans over to kiss his cheek, when you decide to walk away.

It’s just in your fate for your first heartbreak to be like this.

Kamamoto

Ah yes, the king of ghosting™

So here’s the thing, you didn’t think much of him at first. But then you found out that he’s one of them and suddenly, he was just another annoying ass fuckboy to you.

So you were shocked to see him join the home economics club you were part of.

Didn’t take you long to change your opinion again cause despite his sketchy appearance and friend group, he was such a sweetheart??? He was always making sure all of the club members were appreciated and acknowledged for their efforts, would bring food for everyone, etc.

And you find yourself becoming friends with him, learning about how his parents owned a liquor store back home, how he spent his first couple of years in college undeclared cause he was following Yata around so that they can major in the same field, which obviously didn’t work out (fortunately, he was able to discover his passion for cooking).

It was during a rainy day when he was walking you back to your dorm when he leaned over to kiss you. And it was after a couple of dates, you decided to ride him in your dorm when your roommate was out.

And all was well till it was the end of the semester and it was time to go home for summer break. Despite promising to keep in touch over the summer, you notice the good morning texts becoming rare until it just stopped showing up. Replies to your texts would be vague or one worded (if it’s one of those lucky days where he finally decides to text back). It doesn’t take that long for you figure out what’s happening.

He’s ghosting you.

aka he’s breaking up with you without even letting you know.

He wants to play that game? Then fine, you’re not the type to beg someone to stay anyway. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Easier said than done,” you mused to yourself as you search for his Instagram later on.

You don’t know what you were expecting to see on his page, but you definitely were not expecting to see this thin, surfer looking guy pop up, donning the same name and username as Kamamoto.

You check his instagram and see his latest selfies and you can’t believe what you’re seeing???? Who is this guy and where is Rikio???

You thought that Kamamoto must have changed his @ until you realized that the names still there and that the other homra guys are following him (with jealous, bitter comments from Yata, Bandou, and Chitose).

He posts a lot of pics with so many pretty girls, his comment section is filled with girls, he’s out partying with so many girls.

And you can’t help but notice this petite girl named Ayumi, who keeps popping up in his comments (and the fact that he’s always replying to her).

You eventually give up. Maybe this is a sign from God that it wasn’t meant to be.

But when you come back to uni, you noticed that he’s back to his normal shape. How does he lose and gain that much weight in such a quick span of time??? And his hair????

Ironically, he suddenly remembers your existence and pretends as if he didn’t ignore you during the summer.

When he waits for you outside of your classroom with a boxed lunch for you two to share, you immediately turn around and walk away.

You loved yourself too much to let yourself be used like that.

Akagi

You know him cause everyone on campus knows him, judging by the large amount of followers he has on social media, and how he’s always seen hanging with all types of people on campus.

The type to constantly post shirtless pics and gym selfies, so that he can show off his abs and biceps (you may or may not have drooled at one or five pics). Posts videos of his crazy nights out, which always include girls and alcohol. Strangely enough though, with the amount of girls he’s seen with, you don’t hear any crazy rumors about him with any of the girls he’s seen with other than a casual hookup here and there.

He also happens to be in your consumer behavior class. And unlike the majority of the class, he’s one of the rare people who takes this class cause he actually majors in marketing. It fits him though, he’s an extremely social person who is good at persuading people, as proven during his presentation of why students should invest in the shitty gym near campus (y’know, the type ex convicts work out at), rather than the one provided by Uni.

It wasn’t until you worked with him in a group assignment that you realized that he’s a lot nicer than he looks. Suddenly, conversations about the group assignment transitioned from sitting next to each other in class to actually hanging outside of class and making plans.

It didn’t take a long time for you to realize that you were whipped for this full time student, part time delinquent with puppy dog eyes and a boyish grin.

Despite your sudden revelation, things were normal between you two. As much as you wanted your feelings to be reciprocated, you knew there was a line between your fantasies and reality. The way he interacted with you was pretty much how he interacted with everyone else and that is something you have come to understand. You guys were just friends, and nothing more.

Well, that’s what you thought until that one party homra threw a party in celebration for Bandou getting a C- in his Cultural Anthropology midterm that he thought he was going to fail (at this point, they were just desperate to throw a party).

Shouhei was a social butterfly with a lot of friends, so you weren’t surprised that he didn’t remain by your side after greeting you and your friends since he was busy rotating between different groups of people throughout the party.

But what you didn’t expect was him coming over to talk to you about the upcoming marketing exam while you were dancing along with one of your guy friends. But you realize that it’s just an excuse when he puts his hand on your lower back, inviting you to his room so that you guys can talk in private (but you didn’t care).

Next thing you know, you’re laid up on his bed with his face buried between your thighs.

Ever since that night, things have changed between you guys. Suddenly, study sessions in reserved study rooms would end up with you bent over the table while he thrusts into you. And if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought this was his infamous friend, Chitose you were dealing with.

But you know it’s Shouhei when you find out that you guys are exclusive (which relieves you when you remember how many pretty girls he’s friends with) and how there are times where you guys would have sweet pillow talks where you both talk about general shit like future aspirations but also some deep shit like family issues.

But things get difficult cause you guys act like you’re in a relationship, even though you aren’t.

You want to be in a relationship with him, but he’s not sure if he wants to settle down yet.

But he also doesn’t want to let you go, preferring to have you as his girl, but w/o officially being his girl.

You deal with this clownery shit for a few more weeks (cause you’re weak) until you finally decided to put an end to w/e you two have going on, and blocking him on social media right before the semester ended.

You eventually link up with another guy from uni over the summer and things go great with him and you guys return to the new semester as a couple.

You forgot all about Shouhei until you come across him with Bandou and Chitose on the hallways while walking with your man.

Shit, you just made eye contact with him, time to pretend you don’t know this guy.

But he calls out your name anyway, and asks you how’ve you been since you’ve been pretty awol.

(Even though Shouhei stopped walking in order to talk to you, Chitose and Bandou continue to walk past you. You don’t know if you should be relieved or worried).

You tell him that you’ve been pretty busy (trying to pretend that you didn’t block him on ig) and introduce him to your boyfriend.

You couldn’t help but notice Shouhei sizing up your man while talking to you. “So you went off and got yourself a boyfriend, huh?” His tone was carefree and nonchalant, but you knew better.

“Well we had some pretty good times together last semester too. Did you tell him about me?” *Cue implications of sexual (and semi romantic) relationship you shared with him to make your bf jealous and to back off*

You grab your bf’s hand and walk away from him before things can get messy.

Pretty much resorts to sending you texts asking if he can see you, and that just cause you’re in a relationship, doesn’t mean you can’t hang with other guys. Leaves you drunk messages and voicemails, begging you to come back to him, and how he thinks he fell in love with you.

First one to wish you a happy birthday text (even before your own bf) at 12 a.m. despite you not talking to him for months.

You want to save his texts and messages for memories’ sake (and that somewhere deep inside of you, you still have some leftover feelings for him) but you end up deleting it just incase your bf comes across it.

To move on is to grow.

Bandou

That one weird, quiet kid who usually sits in the back of the classroom, all bundled up in a hoodie and a dark pair of sunglasses (yes, even inside the classroom).

You initially thought he was pretty harmless (despite his suspicious apparel) since he usually minded his own business and worked alone.

But you were wrong. so so wrong.

It happened to be one of those days where the professor randomly announces some assignment in class and everyones already paired up, leaving you no choice but to partner with little miss sunshine at the back.

And that is when you unfortunately get to know him. For someone who doesn’t talk much, he’s hella loud. If he’s not cursing at every error message he receives from entering a code, he’s ranting about the smallest (and dumbest) shit you can possibly think of. But it didn’t really bother you that much until it happened.

While working through the assignment, you would feel his gaze on you. But anytime you would look up to meet his gaze, he would quickly turn away with a small smirk on his face. This goes on for a while until you finally hiss at him to stop staring at you. He immediately goes on defense and sneers at you, “Well shit, I didn’t know it was a crime to look at people these days. You should probably seek therapy if people looking at you scares the shit out of you.”

And you swear you never wanted to smack someone this bad before.

You were hoping that the assignment would be finished asap, so that you wouldn’t have to deal with him any longer. But fortunately for you, the professor decided to extend the deadline for the assignment, so that means more quality time spent with your partner. You frown, while Bandou smirks.

If you thought he was bad in person, he’s even worse in social media (you refuse to give him your number). Always sends you a message, especially after you post a selfie.

Pretty much the embodiment of texting like a straight white boy.

“Oh so you’re alone in your room now?? What are you wearing now??” *gets no responses back*

As per tradition, sends you an unsolicited dick pic while messaging you about a class assignment.

You see him without his stupid get up for the first time in a party thrown for him by his friends. And wow, he’s actually really fucking cute??? Who knew fucking Bandou would be that good looking? But alas, his annoying personality remains the same.

He tries to pull a move on you while on the dancefloor, whether it’s to give you a kiss or to have you grind on him. He gets annoyed when you reject him (again) and tells you to leave the party since you’re not giving him any action, with a (cute) pout on his face.

“Y’know, this party was held for ME. It’S MY party so I can tell people to leave whenever I want to-wait you’re actually leaving????”

And maybe it’s because of the realization that Bandou is a lot cuter than you thought, or the fact that you have grown used to his company (and advances), you’re on your knees in an empty bathroom stall, giving him the best blowjob he’s possibly ever had.

Which you ended up regretting since the next day you were met with whistles and smug smirks when you walked passed some of the guys of homra, immediately knowing why when your eyes zeroed in on a smug Bandou, who threw you a kissy face.

You were planning to ignore them and go on with your day, since this type of behavior is expected from them, but once Bandou made that infuriating kissy face with his infuriating ass face, you went straight up to them and smacked him right across his face, leaving the others stunned.

You looked at them with a raised eyebrow, silently challenging them. Chitose stepped up, about to say something, but Kamamoto grabbed him back.

Once you were sure none of them did anything, you walked right past them. Your face was heated up. A part of you was shocked that you actually smacked Bandou, that too in front of his friends. Another part of you was super embarrassed that you ended up giving that fuckboy a blowjob, which gave him the opportunity to brag about it to his fuckass friends. You don’t even know why you’re so angry, you knew this was something to be expected. Maybe it’s cause you actually found Bandou cute that night, or maybe it’s cause you lowkey ended up having a soft spot for him. Cause as annoying as he was, there was something endearing about him, especially with the way how he would nag about you being a bitch to him, but then immediately helping you with a coding problem that you didn’t understand without you even asking.

But that doesn’t matter now, since what’s done and done. Bandou Saburouta is just as much as an asshole as his friends, and you don’t want anything to do with that.

Chitose

Before you had class with Chitose Yo, you knew exactly three things about him: 1. He’s pretty much the ringleader of all the fuckboys (it makes sense since he’s a finance major), 2. He briefly considered majoring in the liberal arts field just because it had more girls (you heard this one from one of your friends who hooked up with him last semester), and 3. He hooked up with the young T.A. of the required psychology class he had to take. Needless to say, that did not end pretty.

Being a part of the campus’ social scene, you’ve always heard about Chitose Yo and his womanizing ways. He was that one guy who was always surrounded by girls in parties, eventually leaving soon with his (victim) date.

But you’ve never actually interacted with him until your Business Policy class. You weren’t surprised when he comes to class late, giving the professor a sheepish grin and grabbing the empty seat next to you.

He didn’t notice your presence until the professor called out your name during attendance. You knew you were a goner once he turned to look at you, slowly checking you out with an infuriating (albeit, sexy) smirk on his face.

It took you approximately two classes to be charmed by him, and a party to sleep with him.

You guys become fuck buddies, and you become accustomed to the “you up?” texts he sends around 3 a.m. (obviously turns out to be full blown sexting between you two).

As much as you hate to admit it, you eventually catch feelings for him. Not only is he the best dick you ever had, he is a genuinely funny and charming person.

Unfortunately for you though, Chitose is strict on his “stay away from relationships” rule. You know that if he ever finds out about your change in feelings, he will lose interest and cut all contact with you (and you honestly don’t think you’ll be able to take that), so you bottle it up and pretend not to care when you hear of him sleeping with someone else (this asshole even asked you to join him and this other girl for a threesome), or when he always chooses party and alcohol over you.

In the bright side (well, as bright as it can be), he’s at least honest with where you guys stand and doesn’t string you along. But you know that’s just bare minimum at this point.

You thought you were able to endure it all. But then that happened.

You guys were having sex when your roommate went out. And for once, he was actually being super romantic and soft with you. For a moment, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he’s finally coming around. But that all changes once called out a name that definitely was not yours.

Oh. Oh.

Needless to say, it got awkward real quick and you guys didn’t finish.

He admits to you that he called out his ex girlfriend’s name...His ex girlfriend from high school... Someone who he never got over, and how their breakup affected him a lot more than you thought.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I think you should leave.” You don’t think you can do this anymore. Fortunately, Chitose does not fight back and immediately leaves.

This guy needs a therapist, but that’s not your job.

Dewa

So heres how it goes: you know Dewa through Chitose (who you were so close to having sex with but the party you guys were hooking up in was crashed by the R.A. (it was one of those small, congested parties held in a dorm)). And you know that he’s not your biggest fan since he thinks you share one brain cell with Chitose and all of his other girlie friends (doesn’t help that you once threw up in his favorite hat during a party)

That’s fine with you cause you don’t like guys who act like there’s a stick up their ass anyway.

Dewa is a different type from his friends. Where his friends were loud, obnoxious, and brass, Dewa has a superior complex in which he thinks he’s better than everyone else (honestly with that attitude, he might as well be part of the student govt. rather than a frat house). To this day, no one knows how him and Chitose are best friends.

But you can’t deny that underneath his glasses and that ridiculous derpy hat, he’s hot. A different kind of hot from Chitose, but hot (and that you really wouldn’t mind riding him, but that’s a conversation for another day).

He’s one of the few students who actually knows what the fuck is going on in your accounting class, so you couldn’t help but swallow your pride and ask him to tutor you (unless you wanted to retake this class for the third time).

So you both agree to meet up in the campus’ library during the weekend when its more quiet than usual and there’s not that much people around, and you’re not sure how you feel about that (but it’s only an hour long tutoring session. You will be able to tolerate him for that long, right?).

So far, the tutoring session has been pretty surprisingly quiet, aside from a couple of snarky remarks from Dewa, which you chose to ignore (considering your temper and mouth, that is a feat and honestly, you deserve to treat yourself once the session ends).

You were just about to think that maybe getting tutored by Dewa wasn’t so bad until you felt a warm hand slide up your thigh (you just had to wear shorts too, dammit).

You looked up at him in shock, only to see that he’s not even paying attention to you. Instead, his gaze was locked on your exam paper, and if it wasn’t for the hand on your thigh, you wouldn’t think he was interested in you. “Wow, you’re stupid. You seriously don’t know the difference between a balance sheet and an income statement? That’s some basic elementary shit right there,” he remarks in a bland tone.

“Shut the fuck up, I already told you that I don’t fucking get this shit,” you snap back at him. But as you two were arguing, his hand keeps sliding higher and higher till you eventually reach over and stop his hand.

Only then does he look up from the paper to glance at you. “I can leave if you’re not interested.”

You take a good look at him, wondering what he’s playing at. You decide to play along, eventually loosening up and letting his hand continue its journey.

Throughout the session, he “rewards” you with a kiss on different parts of your body (from innocent places like the inside of your wrist to more dangerous places like your inner thigh), every time you get an answer right. It didn’t take that long for you both to end the session quick, immediately rushing over to his dorm.

(And boy, did he look cute moaning underneath you while you rode the fuck out of him).

Maybe it was stupid of you to think otherwise, but you made the mistake of asking him about the next tutoring session, and how you guys can grab lunch right after.

The look he gave you made you feel like utter shit. “You don’t really think I’d go on a date with a girl like you, right? I thought I made it obvious that I have higher standards than Chitose.”

Despite the angry tears threatening to drop (dammit, you promised yourself that you would never cry over a boy), you immediately slapped Dewa before quickly dressing up and getting the fuck out of his dorm.

He’s not a fuckboy like his friends, but you’re beginning to think that he’s a lot worse.

Fuck him (and this time, not literally).

Eric

Probably the more intimidating one out of his group since you don’t think you can ever recall him with a genuine smile on his face (and no, those sinister smirks don’t count). But that didn’t matter to a lot of girls, including you.

Despite his quiet and standoffish demeanor, Eric is noticed for his Eurocentric features, accent, and witty remarks.

In your eyes, he fit the look of a European prince who has come to take you far, far away from everyone else and live happily ever after (yes, you’re in college, not in middle school).

You genuinely had a crush on him when you first saw him, but never had the guts to talk to him, let alone confess, since you’ve seen him coldly reject other girls (as much as you hate to admit it, you’re not good at dealing with rejection).

But you’re pretty sure you got over him since you now share an English literature class with him (you’re not sure why he’s even in this class if all he does is sleep) and actually got to know him. Somewhat.

Whenever you would participate in class discussions, whether it would be to discuss the current book you’re reading or to speak in english, you would always hear a smartass remark or question from him, which usually ends up with you looking dumb in front of the whole class.

It especially doesn’t help that he stares you down while he calls you out on any mispronunciations you make. And you don’t think you’ve ever felt as self conscious as you do in this class because of him.

You do hate him for it but you don’t really stand up for yourself against him (he’s too intimidating and you like to pick your own battles).

And to be fair, he’s probably just being an asshole. He doesn’t really know who you are (or care).

That’s what you thought until you go to the party thrown by his friends one night.

And maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system, but you immediately snap at him when he mocks your broken English accent.

So used to you not speaking back to him, Eric couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow before letting out a chuckle. “So she speaks!” he says in a sarcastic tone. But before you can reply, he immediately leans over and kisses you.

You won’t deny and claim that you never thought about kissing Eric, you’ve had way too many daydreams with him. But this kiss was nothing like the kiss you imagined in your daydreams.

For someone who appears quiet and somewhat soft-spoken, Eric kisses rough, and it’s nowhere near romantic as you wanted it to be. His hands grip on to your shoulders tightly, before sliding over to your hips to pull you closer. You pull back from the kiss, in favor of placing kisses on his neck and collarbone.

(You didn’t imagine getting with Eric like this, but you weren’t going to let go of this opportunity, either).

He eventually pulled you into a nearby room, making sure to kick out the half naked couple that was on the bed. It wasn’t too long before he pounded into you while you were on your hands and knees.

Once it’s over, you were left staring at the ceiling while he puts his clothes back on. Without a word, he leaves the bedroom.

So much for a prince charming, huh?

Fujishima

The Soft Boy™

Double majors in animal biology and zoology to become a vet for fuck’s sake.

You start talking to him cause he’s probably the softest and sweetest boy you’ve ever met, despite his appearance.

But boy were you wrong (x2).

He listens to you attentively, offering kind words and good (generic) advice, assuring you that he’s nothing like those other boys (he’s lying, look at his friend group).

Tells you that unlike those other guys who want to fuck and dump you, he wants to get to know you and make love to you.

And everything is all fine and dandy until holy shit, you realize that this sweetheart you’ve been talking to, has a dark secret.

He’s a furry.

A. Goddamn. Furry.

Legit has a fursona in the form of an Ethiopian wolf (hint: cause its red). But he also likes dabbling into mythology so sometimes he would take the form of a lycan.

You indulge his fantasies for a while, thinking that yeah it’s weird but at least he doesn’t have a foot fetish (but it is worse than a foot fetish) and how no one’s perfect.

You wear animal costumes to sex. At first, it starts out with pretty normal costumes like a playboy bunny. Then it starts to get weird and oddly specific with wolf costumes, roleplay scenarios as animals during mating session...

Once you were finally close to getting into a commitment with him, he starts acting funny.

When you let him know that you’re not super comfortable with your eccentric foreplay, he gets offended and starts sprouting bullshit about you being just like the other girls, which is so disappointing cause he thought you would be different and actually understand his rather…unconventional needs.

Needless to say, you ended up blocking him. You needed to preserve your sanity, after all.

#k project #k return of kings #homra #yata misaki #homra x reader #mine

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mistleto-3 · 7 years ago

Text

Awakening: Part 6

When another crisis looms, Mikoto has to learn to navigate a world of Kings as a regular man.

AU in which Mikoto and Tatara survived the Colourless King incident.

Pairing: Mikoto/Tatara

2,010 words. CW for canon-typical violence, mentions of depression and other mental health issues.

Previous part | All parts | Next part

AO3 | Ko-Fi

“GET OUT HOODLUMS!”

The words were graffitied across the doors and windows of Bar Homra in red spray paint. It had been about a week since Homra had started to reform, and already the backlash had flared dramatically. Whispers had started to bubble between clansmen that Jungle might be behind getting the news out so quickly and orchestrating the harassment – they seemed to have an impossible amount of influence amongst the general population, and nobody would have been surprised if they had marked Bar Homra as a target. They just didn’t have any proof for it yet.

“Damn it, again?!” Rikio cried in frustration as he and a few other clansmen arrived at the bar and were greeted by the crude inscriptions. “Throwing stones, and graffiti; they broke the pipes so there’s no water; they put up papers with insults about Homra all around the city, and when they put an erotic photo on Yata-san’s back he almost became incapacitated…” He broke off his rant with a sigh of exasperation as Misaki shot him a glare.

Already, it had been deemed unsafe for Mikoto, Tatara and Anna to stay in their usual home above the bar, and Izumo had arranged for them to stay in a hotel for the time being until they could be sure it was safe. Mikoto had protested at first, but it was clear he was relieved – as much as everyone believed in Anna’s ability as a new-born King, they worried what might happen if they were attacked in the night. Besides, without running water, the place wasn’t really liveable anymore anyway.

“Kusanagi-san also said that Homra’s customers already received threats, those we socialise with flinch away. Already, reopening the bar would be…” Shouhei trailed off as he and the others entered the building, not wanting to speak the uncomfortable truth that everyone seemed to be thinking.

“Damn! If Mikoto-san was still King, they wouldn’t make fun of us like this!” Misaki caught himself as soon as the sentence had slipped out of his mouth, and he bit his tongue, glancing at Anna remorsefully, who was sitting by the bar eating a bowl of soup. The conversation moved on around Misaki before he had a chance to correct himself, and he hit his forehead with the palm of his hand with a click of his tongue, then went to take a seat beside Anna.

“S-sorry…” he mumbled, and Anna turned to look at him, her wide eyes expressionless.

When she didn’t respond, he continued: “I-I was just thinking… Mikoto-san was strong, extremely dangerous, and absolute. Everyone feared and admired him; following his back without wavering had been enough to make us happy. Within that space, I had always been able to do anything… but I never thought about what Mikoto-san was thinking. Totsuka-san said he nearly died because the burden was too much. So I don’t wish for Mikoto-san to still be King, I just miss how easy everything seemed back then...” He spoke quietly, despite the fact that nobody else was in earshot, and the words came out as a sort of garbled rush, as he couldn’t quite stem the flow of rambling once it had started.

“…Maybe things would not have turned out like this if it had been Mikoto,” Anna replied, equally quietly.

“Hey, Anna…” Misaki’s fists clenched remorsefully; it should have been obvious that she was worried about not living up to his legacy, and it was a bone-headed thing for him to say. “Is it okay if I tell you something a little pathetic?”

She nodded.

“I am… kinda stupid…” he confessed, and tried not to act too offended when Anna once again nodded.

“Ahh… because I’m stupid, I fail even if I give my best, and I don’t really understand other people. I probably don’t understand a thing about Mikoto-san either… I hate being left by people without me ever understanding them. Because I’m stupid, you have to tell me, or else I won’t understand, so Anna, if there is something you want to do or don’t want to do or want to have done then tell me, whenever you want!”

She smiled softly. “Okay.”

At that point, Tatara took a seat the opposite side of Anna, and Misaki’s head dropped, unsure of how much he’d overheard.

“What I think Misaki is trying to say is that he thinks you’re going to be a great King. But people outside of Homra haven’t quite gotten that message yet.”

“Y-yeah! I wanna help you, because you’re my King. It doesn’t matter if you’re not Mikoto-san – those assholes just don’t know you’re just as great as him. They underestimate you and they think you’re just a little girl, but they’re gonna learn the hard way!” Misaki suddenly seemed fired up, and he put his hand on Anna’s shoulder encouragingly, his eyes brimming with optimism.

Tatara smiled at his expression, then turned to Anna: “Kusanagi-san says he wants to speak to you upstairs.” Over the past week, Izumo and Tatara had led the operation to find out who was carrying out the assault on Homra, so Misaki suspected it had something to do with that. “Yata-chan, you should probably come too – you’re Homra’s vanguard.”

Perked up by the inclusion, Misaki followed Tatara and Anna upstairs to the study above the bar where Izumo had been working. When the three of them arrived, they found Izumo staring intently at a laptop while Mikoto sat nearby, half paying attention. At the sound of the door opening, Izumo spun on his seat to face everyone. He waited for the door to close behind them before speaking.

“Based on the intel we’ve obtained, the culprits’ objective is this: a few groups who hold a grudge against Homra say they won’t allow our revival, and temporarily joined forces.”

“So it’s not Jungle?” Tatara asked.

“Nah, thankfully it’s smaller-scale than that. Even if these groups don’t go as far as dirtyin’ their hands, they’re tryin’ to make it seem it’s best if we give up like this, as it’d also help those groups. Their means of cornerin’ us ain’t bad; all things considered, it’s difficult for Homra to stay in Shizume City. They’ll show that nothin’ good will come from bein’ involved with us, and we’ll be isolated.”

Misaki’s face fell. “They really hate us, huh?”

“There are several organisations which we hold friendly relations with who told me that they’ll maintain those. After that, we have to settle things and regain our honour. Investigations are going on – I’ve been in touch with an informant who reckons she has some solid info, and she’s willin’ to talk to us, so you should go down there and see what she knows, Yata-chan.” As Izumo spoke, he pulled out his phone to send the address to Misaki.

“I won’t let ya down!” Misaki declared, then promptly hurried from the room.

“Once we’ve got all the info, we’ll start makin’ plans for a counterattack. Everyone on the same page?”

Mikoto and Tatara nodded in agreement, but Anna remained silent.

“Anna, are you alright?” Tatara asked.

“I want to think by myself for a little while,” she said quietly.

“Okay, don’t go far.”

Anna nodded, then got to her feet and headed for the door. Mikoto let out a sigh as she left, which was the first hint of emotion he’d shown all afternoon. The tension in his neck betrayed how much he hated her being out of sight after what had happened last week. Tatara lay his hand on top of Mikoto’s in an attempt to comfort him as they watched her leave.

True to her word, Anna didn’t wander far from the bar – barely a few streets before she reached a bridge where it was quiet and there weren’t many people around. There, she stopped to look out over the water, but she didn’t take in the sight.

Mikoto had been a King just by being there – people kept saying that under his leadership, nobody would have dared attack Homra. But she was just a little girl, not even a teenager yet – who would be intimidated by that?

“I am so small… Can I even do anything?” she found herself murmuring out loud.

But she was dragged from her thoughts by a shadow lingering too close behind her – the figure of a man. She turned to see who it was, but before she could get a good look at his face, his hands were on her wrists, unshakeable. She struggled against his grip, looking around frantically for aid, but the streets either side of her were empty, and the rough, sweaty skin of her assailant’s palm was over her mouth before she had a chance to cry for help. She continued to flail, kicking out at him, attempting to claw at his fingers, but she wasn’t strong enough to loosen his grip. It didn’t even occur to her to use her aura. It had never really been powerful enough for her to use it for fighting before, and in her panic, she barely remembered they existed at all.

Within seconds, her eyes were covered with strips of fabric and her wrists were bound, and she felt herself being carried and haphazardly dumped in the back of a vehicle, probably a van by the sounds of it. Her first reaction in her panic wasn’t to be afraid for herself though, oddly enough. Instead, she was more worried for her family. What would Mikoto think, that he hadn’t protected her? What would Tatara and Izumo and Rikio and Misaki do when they heard she’d been kidnapped for the second time in as many weeks? What would her clansmen think? Most of them already had their doubts, and there was no question that Mikoto would never have let this happen to him.

What kind of a King am I? she thought as the door slammed shut.

When Misaki arrived at the address he’d been given, he was greeted by a middle-aged woman with curly hair tied behind her back – a regular informant of Homra’s. What he hadn’t been expecting was that Masaomi and Yo were already there.

“Oh, Yata-chan, come in~!”

“Y-you guys! What are you doing here?!”

Yo looked sheepish. “W-what, you ask…”

Masaomi continued the sentence for him. “We heard there were some strange attacks on Homra…”

The woman chimed in: “These two came in here with extremely scary faces, you know. They said they wanted information on the groups cornering Homra. I already located a few of the meeting points those groups use, but Kusanagi-chan asked for those, so I can’t really tell these two~.” She paused and seized Masaomi by the arm. “Though Dewa is to my liking, so I hesitated a bit.”

“Ha?!” Yo seemed affronted by her stage-whispered confession.

“Hmm… going to people outside of Homra, huh? Are you saying it would be a pain to come back?” Misaki glanced between the two fellow clansmen with a seething frustration, and the two once again looked admonished, saying nothing in their own defence.

“Chitose,” Yata continued.

“What?”

“Earlier you said that Anna is not like Mikoto-san for you, right?”

Yo paused, seeming suspicious. “Yeah…?”

“For me it’s the same. It’s obvious… I mean, Anna isn’t Mikoto-san. Anna is Anna. The way I admire Mikoto-san, and how I wanted to work under his command, it’s not like that. But I want to support Anna and protect her with all of my strength.” He straightened up as he spoke, and there was a look of recognition in the faces of his friends, as though what he’d said had resonated with them.

However, before they could reply, a notification chimed from Misaki’s watch, and he excused himself to glance down at the screen. “Sorry, a message…”

Misaki didn’t recognise the number. He opened the photo attachment.

If the brat is important to you then get out of Shizume City. The caption went alongside a photograph of Anna, her wrists bound, her eyes covered, and the muzzle of a gun pressed to her temple.

#mikototsu #suoh mikoto #totsuka tatara #k project #k fanfic #fic: breathing #fic: awakening

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emeraldwaves · 8 years ago

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Title: Don’t Look Down DJ AU Chapter 12 (Read from beginning Here or Here) Pairing: Sarumi Rating: M Word Count: 6,138 AO3 Summary: When Fushimi Saruhiko is dragged to a club by some of his co-workers, he refuses to dance, earning him the attention of the lively, up-and-coming DJ, Yata Misaki. After a heated argument, the boys go their separate ways, never expecting to meet again. Little do they know their first meeting is only the beginning of their now intertwined lives.

Full Fic Under Cut. Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for betaing!

"What the HELL is this?!"

Saruhiko jolted back against his seat the moment he heard Misaki's familiar yell echo throughout the hallway of his office. He probably should've expected this, Misaki knew where Saruhiko worked and where he lived, it was only natural he would show up to whichever place Saruhiko was at, depending on the time of day. Saruhiko had come to notice Misaki was impulsive, and reckless, so this behavior wasn't exactly out of the ordinary. Plus it wasn't like he had never done this before, Saruhiko thought, reminded of the many times he'd snuck upstairs to see Saruhiko at his desk.

But instead of answering, or turning around like he normally did, Saruhiko simply stared at his computer screen. He wasn't about to answer Misaki and start a fight in his office.

"What the hell Saruhiko, don't ignore me!" Misaki said, grabbing the back of Saruhiko's chair, attempting to turn him around, though the taller dug his feet in, not letting the chair move. "Stop...being so damn...stubborn...Saruhiko...you ass!" he grunted, tugging on the chair to get it to move.

Lifting his feet, Saruhiko let the chair swing around, Misaki falling backwards as he did. "Who let him in here?" Saruhiko called out, glancing around as Hidaka sank further into his chair, and Akiyama didn't move.

"Saru, you bastard!" Misaki snarled, stumbling forward as he grabbed his shirt, holding his phone up with the track he'd recorded with Nagare on the screen. "Answer me, what the hell is this?!"

"A phone," he stated bluntly, and watched as Misaki knuckles turned white as he clenched at the screen harder than before.

'Good'

"No," he hissed, the air coming from his lungs in shaky waves. "Idiot. You know what I meant!"

'Does it hurt? Does it make you angry?'

"Oh I'm the idiot, am I?" Saruhiko snorted and yanked Misaki's wrist from his shirt. "I'm not the one shoving a phone in my face begging to know what it is."

"I mean the song, you shithead!" People were staring now, or they were trying not to, but Saruhiko could see their eyes focusing on the scene in front of them. Misaki wasn't exactly quiet about his anger, or anything for that matter. "The song you sang with Nagare!"

"I KNEW it was you!" Hidaka said, standing up, but quickly returning to his seat when he noticed Saruhiko's eyebrow twitch in anger. "I told you..." A small whisper was heard as Hidaka turned away, Saruhiko immediately ignoring his coworkers.

"So you heard it I take it," he said, plopping back down in the chair.

"Of course I heard it you damn traitor!" Misaki yelled.

"Traitor? I don't recall signing any sort of contract with you," Saruhiko scoffed, folding his arms. "In fact, I seem to recall leaving and doing the exact opposite."

"What...the hell...Saru!?" Misaki growled again. "I...You...You refuse to sing with me, but you have no problem going to sing with Nagare?! You know he's my rival right now?! Me and Mikoto's song is going up against yours!" he growled.

"Is it?" Saruhiko hummed. "I had no idea." His voice was flat, uncaring.

"Fuck you, Saruhiko. Fuck. You. I was practically begging you to stay with us and sing with us. You know how much I enjoyed having you on my other song, why didn't you stay with us?!"

"You know why," Saruhiko muttered, not wanting to repeat himself and have the same argument over and over again.

"So you just...you just went and sang with Nagare, because you didn't like what I was doing?! You said you didn't want to sing anymore! Hell Nagare wouldn't have even asked you to sing if it wasn't for me and my song."

Clenching his fists, Saruhiko stood up, glaring down at Misaki. "Right, because it's all about you. Your song, my voice on your song. Me doing whatever the hell it is you want me to do! I never said I wasn't going to sing again. So I sang with Nagare, did you really think you'd be the only person I’d sing for?"

This was exactly what Saruhiko had wanted, Misaki hurt, angry, and abandoned by Saruhiko. Misaki had been the one to drag him into this world of music, performance, and singing, and Misaki had been the one to leave him behind. Saruhiko had never wanted this, never wanted to be a part of this world, and yet, he'd fallen for Misaki's damn persuasive enthusiasm.

"You're such a liar," Misaki growled. "I can't believe I ever thought I missed working with you. You're an asshole and a traitor!" he yelled.

"Then I guess you realized who the real me is," Saruhiko said. "You really are an idiot if it took you this long to figure it out."

"Yeah," Misaki said, his golden eyes trembling with hurt. "Guess I am an idiot." He shoved his phone into his pocket, and stormed out of the office, and Saruhiko noticed his coworkers staring as he turned his back to them, watching Misaki slowly disappear down the steps.

He'd done it to hurt him, and Misaki was so damn transparent so Saruhiko knew it had worked. Misaki felt betrayed and called Saruhiko a traitor, and he now understood the exact same emotions Saruhiko had felt when Misaki had been so willing to give up his own sound in exchange for the possibility of making a crappy song with Suoh Mikoto. Certainly, Saruhiko had sure taught Misaki.

He'd seen the way Misaki's eyes and hands trembled, the way he looked as though he'd already cried a few tears over this. Misaki was a fool, and an idiot, just as Saruhiko had always suspected.

Saruhiko knew he'd probably never see Misaki again, not that it mattered. He wasn't going to sing for him or anyone else ever again. He'd made his point, and Misaki could continue going about his life being a sellout for Homra and Mikoto.

He'd done it to hurt Misaki, and he had. It had worked just the way Saruhiko had planned. It should've been a success. So why the hell did it feel like Saruhiko's chest was about to burst from all the pain slowly building up inside his heart?

Done. Misaki was absolutely done, no questions asked. Actually, he regretted going to see the asshole. He wasn't sure what he had expected to happen, but he hadn't expected Saruhiko to be so damn cold. Did he really not care about anything? Any of the experiences they shared, or the fact they had been intimate with each other? Apparently nothing mattered to Saruhiko, nothing but himself.

It had been a week since then and Misaki was done with feeling frustrated, even if he couldn't seem to stop thinking about how shitty this whole situation was.

Clenching his fists, Misaki slammed them down on the keyboard in front him, the keys shaking with a strange sound, the notes clashing. He hated how much Saruhiko affected him, affected his music. He'd been staring at the piano blankly for almost an hour, trying to decide what to work on.

He should've been happy. There was no reason for Saruhiko to be affecting him as much as he was. Misaki and Mikoto's single had come out a few days ago, and already it was all people could talk about. The song had been been praised, and was staying on the charts. Misaki and Mikoto had already done an interview yesterday. A tour was practically guaranteed with how well the single was doing, and Mikoto's new album was projected to do equally as well, if not better. Plus, Misaki's involvement helped raise his own popularity, and people were already buzzing about what his full album would sound like. It was terrifying and thrilling, and Misaki couldn't believe it was actually happening to him.

He didn't have much time. If his and Mikoto's single continued to do well, he'd have to have a few tracks ready for the upcoming tour, and so far, Misaki had come up very short. He and Totsuka had recorded one song, but overall Misaki had nothing.

There had been a tiny, hopeful part of him which had hoped going to see Saruhiko would make the idiot change his mind. Misaki would've forgiven him if he'd apologized, said that Nagare wasn't as talented as him. Okay, he didn't need to say the last part, but Misaki would've appreciated being Saruhiko's number one.

But he wasn't, Saruhiko had made that very clear.

"Yata-san?" A knock on the studio door interrupted Misaki's groaning, and he quickly pulled his fingers back from the keyboard. He'd been spending more time in the studio at Homra, as opposed to his personal on at home, in hopes that being in a different environment would help him forget about dumbass Saruhiko better.

"Ah Totsuka-san, hi," he smiled, trying to look innocent after completely smashing the keyboard in.

"Izumo has been looking for you," he grinned. "He has some good news for us," Totsuka sang, twirling in the doorway.

Misaki immediately slammed his hand down on the keyboard, and pushed the chair up. "A tour?!" he asked quickly.

Totsuka smirked, biting down on his lip and nodding. "But you didn't hear it from me! And you know...Yata-san..." he chuckled, gesturing to Misaki's hands on the piano. "If you break one of those, Izumo will make you suffer a punishment...worse than death!" Totsuka leaned forward and menacingly waggled his fingertips.

Paling, Misaki jumped back, moving away from the keyboard. "I-I know! I just got excited!" he muttered, and yanked his beanie on, brushing by Totsuka.

"I figured, I figured, and don't worry, I won't say anything, but consider this your warning," Totsuka snorted, leading the way back to the main meeting room.

Following him upstairs, Misaki felt his heart pounding in his chest, and it took all his will to not bounce up and down on the stairs. They were going to go on tour, that had to be the good news!

In the meeting room, Mikoto sat with his feet rested on the table, rocking his chair back and forth, Kusanagi stood at the front of the room. "Nice of you both to join us," he smirked. "I'm sure Totsuka couldn't keep his mouth shut, so I bet you probably are already aware of what this meeting is about."

"Shouldn't've told 'im..." Mikoto muttered, kicking his boot back to place his feet on the ground.

"You're right..." Kusanagi sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Totsuka giggled loudly, and took a seat directly next to Mikoto. "Aw c'mon King! It was exciting, how could I resist?" He leaned forward and placed his head on Mikoto's shoulder.

Mikoto sighed and nudged him. "No one expects you to resist anymore," he grunted, shaking his head.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Totsuka pouted, but Kusanagi shook his head, ignoring both of them.

"Anyway," he began. "As you all have heard, the new single is doing well, we've been holding the top of the charts for this past week. We have been neck and neck with Hisui Nagare's new song," Kusanagi explained, and Yata couldn't help but let out a soft scoff. Any song they did would have to be better than any song Saruhiko was involved in. "Sometimes we're ahead, sometimes he's ahead, but either way, we're about set to be signed for a tour."

"YES!" Misaki yelled loudly, pumping his fist into the air. Though he quickly lowered it, looking a bit embarrassed about his outburst. "R-Right. I mean...yeah, awesome," he cleared his throat trying desperately to look cool.

Kusanagi laughed. "It's okay Yata-san, it's fine to be excited. Mikoto and Totsuka will be the headliner, but you will be a secondary headliner, rather than just an opener. Does this make sense?"

Misaki nodded rigorously, happy to even be anything. Admittedly, he would've settled for being the opener, but a secondary headliner was even better! "Yes! That's awesome!" he cheered eagerly.

"Wonderful. I'll be setting up the dates and locations in the next few days. The tour probably won't actually start for a few months, so this will give you both time to finalize your albums. Misaki, do you think you can have an EP ready by then? All you'd need is four to five additional tracks to the two solo ones you already have."

Misaki nodded, just about to jump up and run back to start on the new tracks now. "Of course I can," he smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

"Perfect. We can check back in once everything is all set, and we'll get started on promotional material, all of which will be run by all of you for approval," Kusanagi explained.

Misaki was trying his very hardest to listen, but it was a bit difficult. His mind was reeling with all the possibilities for songs he could write. New songs, songs he would sell and people would actually buy them. This was actually happening for him, he was going to be a real DJ and go on tour with Mikoto. It was hard to believe, and he wanted to pinch himself and see if he was dreaming.

"Alright," Kusanagi chuckled. "Time for you to get to work!" He saluted them, and moved away, heading back towards, his own office, while Mikoto and Totsuka stood up as well.

Misaki however, leapt up and ran to block Mikoto from leaving. Bowing quickly, Misaki let out a large breath of air. "T-Thank you Mikoto-san for this opportunity. I...I can't tell you how much it means to me, getting to work with you like this!" His hands trembled at his side, sure he was used to working with Mikoto before, but something about this made him nervous, thrilled and excited.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Mikoto grunted. "You're talented. It'll be a good tour. Work hard," he said. "Though...I don't think I gotta remind you of that, seems like you'll do it anyway." He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.

"Y-Yes, sir!" Misaki stood up, nodding quickly. Mikoto waved, and walked out of the room, followed by a pleased Totsuka, who waved as they stepped onto the elevator, disappearing from view.

Scrunching his face up, Misaki curled his spine over and shot out, as though he were a bomb exploding with excitement. He was going on his first tour! And who cared if Saruhiko didn't believe in him, Mikoto did, and that was all that mattered.

"Absolutely not." Saruhiko muttered, shaking his head as he spoke into the phone.

"Are you sure? It would pay very well," Nagare's smooth tone trickled into Saruhiko's ear, like a snake tempting it's prey. "So well in fact, you probably wouldn't have to worry about that silly little job of yours anymore," Nagare explained.

The words only made Saruhiko angrier. Why the hell did all musicians he knew feel the need to pressure him into situations he didn't feel comfortable with. He had regretted answering the call at all, but something about Nagare actually contacting him made him cave. But now, he felt like a moron.

"I said no," Saruhiko repeated bluntly. "It's not about the money."

"Mmm, I didn't think so. No, I knew for you, it wasn't about the money," Nagare hummed. "You know, I've heard rumors of Suoh Mikoto going on tour with up and coming DJ Yata Misaki."

"And?" Saruhiko clicked his tongue, not appreciating the direction this conversation was going in.

"If I have you with me, I'm sure my concert series will be far more successful than theirs," he chuckled.

"I don't care," Saruhiko said. "You can do your concert alone. I'm not interested in touring around the country to sing one song at every show."

"I'd be happy to put you on more tracks," Nagare continued. "And you realize it would be a free trip, you could see the world."

"I don't care," Saruhiko repeated. "I made a promise with myself that once I was done recording with you, I wouldn't have anything else to do with the music world."

"Well, isn't that too bad," Nagare said softly. "However, I think you'll be changing your mind."

"Doubtful," Saruhiko said, and pushed his phone off, slamming it down on the desk.

He had made his decision. He was done with the music world. He'd never wanted to be a part of it in the first place, and Misaki and Nagare dragging him in was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do.

It had been a long damn week, and Saruhiko was looking forward to going home and working on some programming, maybe getting a little sleep if he could as well. Lately it had been difficult to sleep, and he hated admitting that part of it was because he had grown used to sleeping next to Misaki, and the empty bed was a lot bigger than he remembered.

Munakata had been out all week, which had been nice, the man often did this, looking for new clients, attending technology faires, etc. But especially with Misaki's outburst, Saruhiko was happy he hadn't had to worry about any sort of lecture from the man.

"Fushimi-kun! Glad to see you're still here." Perhaps he had spoken too soon, as he watched Munakata walk down the hall heading towards his office. It was late, and all the other employees had gone home. Even Akiyama had left, even though he often stayed later with Saruhiko, partially because he was working, but partially because he enjoyed keeping Saruhiko company, whether Saruhiko liked it or not.

"Sir, with all due respect, why are you here? It's Friday evening..." he muttered.

"Ah, well I just got back from my trip," he explained, "And I left a few work things I needed to catch up on this weekend in my office, so I simply stopped by to grab it," he chuckled, pressing his glasses up on his face.

"Right..." Saruhiko muttered. For anyone else, it would've been out of the ordinary to see their boss so late on a Friday, but this was actually unsurprising. If there was one thing Saruhiko and Munakata had in common, it was the level of how much they cared about work.

"Like I said, I am happy you were here. I was hoping I'd still catch you," he nodded.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and folded his arms. "Still have more to say?"

"Indeed. I heard Yata Misaki stopped by the office earlier this week."

Of course Munakata didn't say from whom he had heard this information from. Saruhiko was convinced Munakata had to have some sort of cameras installed in the ceilings or their desks. Saruhiko glanced around the room instinctively, as though eyes were watching him.

"Yeah. He was mad about a song I had recorded with another DJ. It didn't matter though, I can record with whoever I please," Saruhiko explained.

"That you can," Munakata nodded.

"Yup."

Adjusting his glasses once more, Munakata cleared his throat. "So I take it neither of you apologized?" Munakata said, and Saruhiko simply clicked his tongue, scoffing. Sighing, Munakata stared directly at Saruhiko's blue eyes. "You know, Fushimi-kun, have you given any more thought to what we spoke about the other day?"

"I don't know how many times I have to tell people I'm not interested in doing music," he grumbled, glancing away from Munakata's intense violet hues.

"Mmm I see. It's too bad, like I said, you were quite alive on that stage, and actually it seems Yata Misaki brought a light to your life I'd never seen before. I did hope you two would work things out, but it seems I am but a dreamer."

Work things out? Work things out how exactly? Saruhiko wanted to ask, but didn't want to show any interest. Sure, he'd missed the good times he'd had with Misaki, but those were gone. The idiot was way too focused on Mikoto, and Saruhiko didn't feel like listening to it.

"Yeah, well, he's got new people to focus on," Saruhiko snapped. "He doesn't need me."

"Are you sure? Have you spoken to him? Perhaps you both need to have a good talk, and apologize to each other. Tell him how you feel," Munakata said, peering through the edge of his glasses.

That must've been some sort of a sick joke, as though Saruhiko was actually going to tell Misaki how he felt. He should've figured it out by now. And Munakata wanted him to apologize. Apologize...how the hell was he supposed to go about doing that? Misaki had been enraged, and Saruhiko really had been sick of the way Misaki constantly pushed him around, and tried to force him into awkward music situations he hated, so really Saruhuko hadn't been wrong. If anyone needed to apologize it was Misaki.

"I know what you're thinking," Munakata sighed, and placed a hand on Saruhiko's shoulder. "But the truth is, I think you both have things you need to say to each other."

Saruhiko's gaze flicked to Munakata's hand, and the older man removed it. "Anyway, Saruhiko, I hope you have a lovely weekend, and I will see you on Monday," he said, bowing to him before walking towards his office.

Saruhiko hated when Munakata got all cryptic like that. Recently, with Misaki involved it had been especially bad.

But Saruhiko truthfully didn't know what he would say to Misaki. He sucked at speaking about his feelings, and he'd been an ass...a purposeful ass. He'd only sang with Nagare, knowing it would hurt Misaki, and it had worked. Even if he wanted to apologize, it was way too far gone by now, and it wasn't like Misaki was going to magically stop worshiping Mikoto.

He was done, with music, and Misaki. There was no fixing what had become of them now.

Misaki was late, and he desperately tried to gather all his belongings, almost dropping his laptop when he went to shove it in his backpack.

"Shit!" he cried out, yanking his headphones off of the ground. His stupid room was too damn messy to find anything in it.

"Yata-san?" Kamamoto said, knocking on the side frame. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm late!" he cried out, rubbing his head as he dug through his clothes to find his hat. He tossed sweaters about, groaning when the black beanie didn't appear.

"Do you really need your hat?" Kamamoto asked, tilting his head.

"Kamamoto, do you see my head right now? I'm presenting two new songs to Kusanagi today, and I don't want to look like a total idiot!" he said.

"Uh...right..." Kamamoto muttered, and Misaki finally found the beanie wedged between his desk and the wall. Holding it up proudly, he slammed it onto his head.

"Okay Kamamoto I gotta go bye," Misaki spoke rapidly before dashing out of the door, tripping as he stormed down the stairs.

He'd been working on these songs for a little under a week now, and he wanted to make sure Kusanagi approved of the direction he was going in. He'd done some test recordings himself, and now he was ready to present them to Kusanagi and Mikoto...

If he made it to the damn meeting on time.

Swinging around the railing of the stairs, Misaki dashed out the door and down the street. He was grateful he didn't live horribly far away from the studio, and he prayed being late wouldn't look too bad on him.

Misaki actually wasn't sure how he felt about these songs. He'd spent a great deal of time moving on from Saruhiko, seeing as the last few songs he'd written with Saruhiko in mind—which was infuriating. He wished he could've done all this without the asshole's singing voice trapped in his head, and so he'd tried to write these thinking of Totsuka. It had gone...decently, he thought. He didn't want to make any judgements until they heard.

He didn't know how this had happened exactly, his strange reliance on Saruhiko. He'd written plenty of music before Saruhiko, but it had been the song with Saruhiko which had sparked his career. Maybe that was why it felt like Saruhiko was his crutch?

But Misaki knew he didn't need Saruhiko anymore. He couldn't have him anymore even if he wanted to, which he most certainly did not. He could do this without him.

Swinging the door open, Misaki ran to the elevator, pushing the up button way more times than necessary.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon," he grumbled, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

When the elevator doors finally opened, he dashed inside, and rode the painfully slow lift to the top, only to stumble out when he made it to the 9th floor. He pushed open the door to the conference room and let out a sigh of relief when he realized Mikoto wasn't actually there yet.

Kusanagi however, was casually sorting through some papers. "Ah, Yata-san, take a seat before you pass out," he snorted.

"S-Sorry," Yata muttered, collapsing into one of the chairs. "I, uh, ran to get here," he admitted. "I was running late and..." he paused, deciding not to call attention to the fact that the reason he was late because he couldn't find his damn hat.

Kusanagi simply chuckled. "There's no need to worry about it. You have to understand...Mikoto runs on his own time schedule, and since he's our best talent, we sort of just let him. So when we set a meeting for a certain time, you can almost guarantee he's going to be late.

Staring, Misaki blinked. Mikoto just showed up whenever he wanted? Misaki felt a little foolish for rushing to get to the meeting on time.

"You know you're really late when Mikoto is here before you," he said.

"Right..." Misaki sighed. "Damn...what a relief..." he puffed out his cheeks and pulled out his laptop, getting it ready just in time for Mikoto to finally walk in.

"H-Hi Mikoto-san!" Misaki said, bowing his head.

Mikoto snorted and took a seat next to him. "Kid, you don't have to bow every time you see me."

"R-Right!" Misaki said, nodding quickly.

"You got your stuff?" he asked, folding his arms and shutting his eyes, as though he was absolutely exhausted.

"Oh! Y-Yeah!" he said, pulling up some audio files. "These are just tests, and obviously I won't be singing the final products cause uh, I am not good at singing," he explained, looking to both of the older men for some sort of answer. However, both sat staring, waiting for Misaki to push play.

"Right," he nodded, taking that as his cue to start the song.

The three sat, listening to Misaki's awkward vocals. Listening now, the song felt dry and even a little flat, as though it was missing emotion altogether, and it wasn't just his singing. He glanced at the other two listeners, but neither Kusanagi nor Mikoto seemed to have any sort of expressions on their face. They both stared at the laptop, unmoving.

Clearing his throat, Misaki leaned forward once the song had ended, and pushed play on the other track. As the song rolled through, Misaki focused on the seconds as they slowly ticked down, desperately wanting it to end. Just as the first song had been, Misaki felt this song was possibly even worse. Maybe it was just his vocals?

The ending came, however, and the silence stayed. The tension was thick in the air, and Misaki could tell they didn't like it...and neither of them had said a word.

"Mm," Mikoto grunted finally. "Play that second one again."

Misaki did as he was told, and waited for the taller to say something. Leaning forward, Mikoto paused it on his own after the first few seconds. "So...what happened?" Mikoto asked, and Misaki felt his heart sink. It felt as if his heart was glass and had shattered completely, his breathing painful as broken shards pierced at his lungs.

Glancing down, Misaki clenched at his fists in his lap. What had happened? Saruhiko had ditched him, but Misaki had put it behind him! It wasn't supposed to be affecting him anymore. "I..." he muttered, his voice catching in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Kusanagi and Mikoto.

"You're better than this," Mikoto said, glancing out the window.

"I think you know it too, Yata-san," Kusanagi nodded. "You don't have to rush."

"I-I know..." Misaki muttered. "It's not that."

"It's that Fushimi guy," Mikoto said with a long sigh. "He's messing with your head."

"N-No! I already put Saru behind me!" Misaki retorted quickly.

Mikoto shook his head, and gestured towards the screen. "Obviously not," he grunted. "Look I don't know what happened between you and Fushimi, but seems to me you wanna talk to him."

"What?! Of course not!" Misaki blurted out. "I want nothing to do with the guy. I tried to get him to talk to me and he turned me down like the asshole he is!"

"Your music says otherwise," Mikoto sighed, gesturing to the computer screen again. "This was boring, basic. It's almost like you did it on purpose. Plus you sat here looking all dejected while we listened, you knew it was bad," Mikoto grumbled.

Misaki had never heard Mikoto talk so much in one go, and he was shocked quite frankly, his jaw dropping.

"It...wasn't that bad," Kusanagi urged, trying to soften the blow. "But we do know you can produce better music than this."

"You can do better," Mikoto shrugged. "It was dry. Like you cut off your emotion from yourself," he explained.

Pursing his lips, Misaki glanced away from Mikoto. For someone who rarely talked, he certainly had a lot of truthful insights. By cutting Saruhiko out of his songs, Misaki had kind of cut his emotions out. Saruhiko had evoked such intense feelings within him, and brought forth such new unique things in his music. Saruhiko was his muse in a way, and though he didn't necessarily need him to sing every song he wrote, not having the option was surprisingly stifling.

And it wasn't as though he couldn't make music without Saruhiko, he'd done it before, but this was all before he'd realized Saruhiko was completely done with him and music. He'd made it very clear when they had had their conversation, and since then writing music had been a struggle. Perhaps there had been a part of Misaki which had always hoped Saruhiko would come back.

"Maybe you need to think about talking to him again," Mikoto said, standing up to leave the room.

Sighing, Misaki placed his head in hands, but jerked up when he felt Kusanagi's hand on his shoulder.

"Mikoto believes in you, Yata-san, you'll figure this out."

Misaki tried to answer, but all he could do was nod.

"What the hell am I going to do?!" Misaki yelled, throwing his backpack on the floor as he explained the situation to Kamamoto once he’d returned home.

"Apologize?" Kamamoto suggested.

"To that bastard?!" Misaki growled. "I think he made his feelings clear!"

"Or...try and make something different?" Kamamoto suggested instead.

Misaki groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "There's no way that will work, Mikoto is going to know, I just know he's going to know..." he muttered. "I mean he figured it out right away..." he whispered.

"I mean...you've seemed really tense and unhappy the past couple of weeks."

"I'm just...stressed about the tour and the album!" Misaki retorted, but he knew that wasn't true. If anything, those things should've made him happy, thrilled and excited to work on the thing he loved, and yet, it had just been a struggle.

And maybe it was because of Saruhiko and his emotions. His music was missing something, and to Misaki whenever he listened back, it always felt like he was missing Saruhiko. But how the hell was he supposed to get that back?

Sighing, Misaki stood up and began to pace about the room. "And what if...what if I did try and go find Saru..." he muttered. "I mean what the hell am I supposed to do? I'm not going to apologize to him when he was a huge asshole to me! This is mostly his fault, for doing that stupid song with Nagare!" Misaki yelled.

"Ah...Sometimes I forget how stubborn you are," Kamamoto chuckled.

"Oh, I'm so glad this is funny to you Kamamoto!" Misaki scoffed, folding his arms as he continued to walk in circles around the room.

"Sorry, Yata-san," Kamamoto said. "I just...I think it was better when you two were friends or...whatever else you were."

Misaki froze, blushing. He knew he'd had a strong connection with Saruhiko, and not just with music. He did miss it, and him. He didn't want to admit it to the asshole, but damn did he miss him. Hell, he would've taken Saruhiko back even if he didn't want to sing anymore. Misaki just wanted him, no matter what. When had he gotten so weird and desperate?

What had they even fought about in the first place? Misaki was having a hard time remembering. Something about Mikoto? Was it really so bad that Misaki had wanted to work with Mikoto? His sound hadn't changed that much?

But Saruhiko had been so upset...jealous even.

Then it hit him.

Saruhiko was jealous. Jealous of Misaki doing a song with Mikoto, just as Saruhiko had done a song with Nagare. Misaki had felt a surge of jealousy pulse through his veins, and even thinking about it now he felt a bit angry. He'd change the song every time it had come on. But Saruhiko had been invited to collaborate with them and said no.

"Look," Misaki sighed finally. "Even if I wanted to make things better...I don't know how. Saru wants nothing to do with Mikoto. I'm not going to stop working with him...hell, I'm going on a tour with the guy, and if Saru can't accept that..." Misaki trailed off. "Plus Saru said he wanted nothing to do with music anymore, and he especially wants nothing to do with me.

Kamamoto snorted, shaking his head. "And when has that ever stopped you before?" he chuckled.

Blinking, Misaki glanced from Kamamoto to his laptop, then he glanced down the hall to his mixing room. "You're right..." he muttered.

There were so many times he'd been overly pushy with Saruhiko, that was how their entire friendship had started in the first place. It was always Misaki's job to push and push, Saruhiko needed that to do anything different in his life. All this time, Misaki had been waiting for Saruhiko to come to him and apologize, but maybe he had been wrong all along. Misaki had always been the one to go to him, so why would this time be any different? Even if Saruhiko did owe him an apology...Misaki was never going to get it if he didn't do something.

Their fight was now leaking into his music, affecting his possible career. He couldn't let it go on like this. He had to get Saruhiko back in his life. He wouldn't force him to sing, but at least...spending time together, as friends or whatever...it would be enough to keep Misaki focused and not messing up songs.

"But he's never going to talk to me," Misaki said aloud, his jumbled thoughts finally growing clearer.

"You haven't even tried!" Kamamoto said.

"I kind of did..." Misaki muttered.

"What, running down to his office and yelling in his face? That's not really an apology..." Kamamoto teased.

Groaning, Misaki waved his hand towards Kamamoto trying to brush him off. "Yeah that's the problem, after that, he's really never going to talk to me!" he exclaimed. "I mean...we both said some awful shit."

"Sounds like you both need to apologize, and you know Fushimi-san isn't one to make the first move."

"I know," Misaki grumbled, "I literally just thought that. But like I said, even if I contact him he won't answer."

"And like I said," Kamamoto continued, "when has that ever stopped you in the past."

"It hasn't...I just feel like I need something to convince him..." he muttered, tapping his chin as he looked around the room.

Glancing down the hall towards his studio, Misaki's face lit up, the largest smile he'd had in weeks. "That's it, Kamamoto!" he cheered. "I have just the thing!"

And before Kamamoto could answer, Misaki disappeared into his studio.

#sarumi #misaru #yata misaki #fushimi saruhiko #k project #k project fanfiction #chaptered #DJ AU #Don't look down

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pinkcupofcherrytea · 8 years ago

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[Fic] Bewitched [MikoMisa]

Title: Bewitched Summary: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica!AU. If possible, Yata would instead wish for more time. Character(s)/Relationship(s): Suoh Mikoto/Yata Misaki Rated: T Warning(s): Implied character death, time jumps. Author’s note: This is my contribution for the second day of K Project Rare Pair Week, with the prompt being Alternate Universe/Universe Alteration.

Yata’s board slammed hard against the concrete, its user already up in the air kicking down the colourful creatures in his way. The town was ridden with parasites, crawling around the streets in the form of green, monstrous birds or hysterically laughing foxes. They were slowing Yata down, and he’d been pissed from the start. Now he beat the familiars down with badly controlled fury, crushing them beneath the wheels of his skateboard; burning the birds feathers to ash before they disappeared in a huff of green smoke.

The closer he got to the centre of Shizume City, the more vicious creatures came after him.

Witches.

They saw the protruding flames, licking around his board and roaring in Yata’s clenched fists and scrambled closer, eager to consume.

As if he would let them.

“Beat it, Bitch-Witch!” Yata sent out a ball of fire towards the small, greyish green being standing in his way.

“I don’t have time for bugs like you!”

Mikoto-san.

His fire hit its’ target. Yata didn’t stop to pick up the Grief Seed the witch left behind, instead opting to hurry over the rooftops to reach his goal faster. Yata barely made contact with stone before he jumped to the next, buildings flashing beside him. It seemed like the whole city was spinning. And he was running against the stream.

“Dammit,” Yata swore when a new wave of desperate rage welled up, “dammit!”

This wasn’t supposed to happen!

ii.

The loud crunch when the alien-rabbit’s neck broke was wholly satisfying, yet it did not ease the pain at all. Yata still felt like falling to the ground, screaming and crying and hitting his fists on the concrete until the street was smeared with blood. But it wasn’t his own blood that needed to be spilt, and that fact alone kept him up. That, and the rigid back of Suoh Mikoto as he crushed the disgusting little liar against the brick wall.

Kusanagi stood in front of Anna, his body in the way of her seeing the white fur going red and the eyes of Kyubey losing its’ unnatural shine. Kusanagi didn’t waver, he watched it all, and the rest of Homura stood silent as Mikoto threw the thing as far as he could. They didn’t say anything, but their bodies shook with barely concealed rage, their eyes wet and jaws so clenched that it hurt.

“So it’s true, then?” Yata kept his eyes on Mikoto, even when Kamamoto started talking. “About… about the witches and-“

Totsuka-san.

Yata tore away from watching Mikoto’s shoulders – going up and down in sync with laboured breath – to look at Kusanagi and Anna. The panic and horror when seeing Anna’s pale hands clenching around Kusanagi’s dark jacket almost broke him, her red eyes wide, unblinking and staring right ahead.

She would end up like them too. They all would. They’d been tricked, played for fools. Cold still trickled in Yata’s veins from when the cool suspicion had turned into cold facts. Weeks ago, they hadn’t been made heroes.

They’d been made sacrifices.

iii.

Yata flew across the long bridge, leading right into the large school surrounded by dark trees whose shadows stretched ominously across the grass. When Yata raced past them they shrank away from the light. They disappeared completely closer to the large, white building. The school was empty; its students hiding in the City Hall, the stadium, or in their homes to escape the ongoing storm. Lucky for them. A light – an extraordinary fire – pressed up towards the dark sky. As if wanting the burn the stars themselves away.

If it was Mikoto-san, Yata was sure he actually could do it.

There.

A figure stood in front of the onslaught of fire, deathly still. One couldn’t see his features. Not like Yata needed to.

“Mikoto-san!” He cried and jumped of his board, started to run the last few metres stretching between them.

A wave of relief and happiness hit him as the man winced and turned around to watch Yata’s arrival.

iv.

“Colorless is predicted to reach this town in just a couple of days.”

Yata frowned. His baseball bat was heavy and comfortable in his hand as he looked at the visitors through narrowed eyes.

He deliberately avoided the blue-clad leader’s left side, where he stood. Without a doubt watching Yata and trying to tease him.

The leader pushed up his glasses and gave Mikoto a meaning look that he just answered with a shrug.

“So? Deal with it yourself if you want to.”

Kusanagi leaned against the wall smiling gently against the woman by Munakata Reisi’s side while listening closely. Totsuka stood next to him with his hands crossed, head tilted and a slightly worried smile on his otherwise freely optimistic lips.

“I’m quite sure we have the capacity to take care of it,” Munakata closed the file he was holding, “we merely decided to inform you should there be need for-“

“Assistance?” Kusanagi said.

“Preparations.” Munakata slides the file containing the information over the table, Mikoto doesn’t even glance at it. “And simple precaution.”

“As you might know, Colorless is known for conquering large areas. The city would be at risk should we let it roam free.” The woman’s voice was steady and cool as she gave the opposing side a condensing look.

Fushimi clicks his tongue. Yata has to rein himself in less he hits the smug bastard in his stupid face.

“Do whatever you want.” Mikoto seemed to finally have had enough and put out his cigarette on the table before throwing it carelessly to the floor. When he rose Yata, Kusanagi, and Totsuka followed behind. When he reached the door, Mikoto looked over his shoulder and smirked.

“If the witch reaches our turf I’ll burn it. Until then I leave it in your capable hands, Munakata.”

“Mikoto-san!”

“…Yata.” Mikoto’s voice was raspy, as he’d been shouting. Or as if he was tired.

(Yata could feel it. A deep, heavy weight in his bones, it all flowing to rest in the Gem placed in his pocket by the collarbone. Pulling him down.

He ignored it. Had got used to ignoring it by now.)

Finally, finally reaching him, Yata allowed himself to stop. The beat of his heart soared. His skin was damp with sweat after rushing through the city in search of Mikoto, and now Yata’d finally got here. He had half a mind to call up Kusanagi, tell that they were both waiting at the school, that they were both okay. Yata didn’t, and perhaps that was the first telltale sign that something seemed wrong. Odd. Like a fire without smoke. Like a sky without stars.

vi.

The thought of people- no, those he loved, his mother or siblings or friends, wearing a Witch’s Kiss was enough to startle the ever burning sparks inside Yata’s chest. Instead, there were now the lurking danger – the surety – that his comrades would either end up dead because of a witch like Totsuka or dead by becoming one, like the boy from Blues’.

The fact was as crushing as it was agitating.

vii.

“Mikoto-san?”

Yata steps closer, reach out a hand to- lay it on Mikoto’s shoulder? Hold him? He wanted to have Mikoto close. The omnipresent urge to be as close as possible ever so strong.

But Mikoto took a step back and Yata froze, hand still hovering awkwardly in the air before he raised it to scratch his neck instead. Yata chuckled quietly and tried to smile, but Mikoto still didn’t say anything. His shoulders sagged and he looked at Yata with inexplicably empty eyes. A trickle of fear leapt down his spine. Yata quickly erased whatever worried frown that surely graced his face with a larger grin.

“The- the witch is gone, right? The others will be here soon, I sort of ran ahead but they-“ Yata choked on his own words as Mikoto closed his eyes, his features twisting a little as if annoyed. Or in pain.

“- they’ll be here soon…” His mouth felt dry, Mikoto just stood there, the still bristling flames behind him illuminating his face.

“Yata…”

Ah, he was looking at him now. Yata took a step closer. “Mikoto-“

“You need to leave.” Mikoto sounded too calm, behind the words there were hints of strength, of ongoing battle and already predicted loss. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Yata blinked. Confused. He stepped closer and Mikoto finally – finally – touched him: taking hold of Yata’s shoulder to make him stop. To not get any closer. Mikoto was breathing hard now. Yata could feel the heat of his palms through the jumper.

Hadn’t it been so strange, Yata would’ve acknowledged the smoke accompanying Mikoto’s breath. As it was, it seemed oddly fitting with the flashing background. Mikoto looked every inch a king. As always.

“Yata.” Mikoto said again, and Yata’s head spun. Still not completely over how his name sounded in Mikoto’s mouth. Despite all this time. “Yata.” Mikoto stroke his rough thumb over his jawbone and Yata unconsciously leaned against it.

“I’m not gonna leave!” Yata reached up to grabble at Mikoto’s arm. “Why is-? What’s going on, Mikoto-san?”

Yata couldn’t help the small traces of panic starting to show. Why hadn’t the fire subsided yet? Why didn’t Mikoto-

Yata looked away from Mikoto’s face, to his hand where he suddenly held up something, something small and familiar. The realisation felt like stone. Stone in his belly, stone in his lungs, cold and hard and ugly. Mikoto’s Soul Gem, usually so intense and shimmering, was pitch black.

viii.

“Something’s happened.” Kusanagi’s voice cut through the somber atmosphere in the bar, and Yata looked up from where he’d been resting his head between his arms.

Kusanagi lowered the hand holding his phone.

“One of the Blues’ Soul Gem broke.”

ix.

“The Grief Seed!” Yata bellowed, head twisting furiously around the yard, “where is Colorless’ Seed!?”

Yata hadn’t taken any of the Seeds harvested with him. Too busy and panicked with finding Mikoto to care.

Idiot.

Mikoto just shook his head, holding Yata still with a firm grip on his shoulders.

“It’s too late,” he said, and Yata watched his Soul Gem crack, the darkness inside of it twisting and turning like dark, mindless worms.

Yata felt sick.

“No!” He took a hold of Mikoto’s shirt, stretching it taut as he pulled himself close enough to feel Mikoto’s breath against his nose and mouth. “There is a way! There must be a way to fix this somehow!”

“I’m afraid there isn’t.”

Yata jumped, turning but not letting go of Mikoto to stare in desperation as Munakata walked closer. Hand on his sword.

Without noticing it Yata started to shake his head, glaring at the advancing man with a hostile expression.

“No.”

“Yata…”

“No!” He turned back to Mikoto, his fingers turning white with how hard he held the other man’s shirt. “No.” He said, quieter this time.

He knew what happened to the guy. The guy from Blues’. No details but he didn’t need those...!

In a sudden fit of motion, Mikoto pulled Yata close and tucked his head beneath his chin. Yata’s arms uselessly against his sides first, then he hugged Mikoto back hard, pressing as close as he could. Skin against skin, Yata finally noticed how hot Mikoto was. His skin felt almost scorching against his. Mikoto had always been warm, but not like this.

Another crack, this time Yata felt it against his back where the Gem lay in Mikoto’s fist, and he clenched his teeth less he started screaming out loud. For now his mind was howling enough, and Yata’s lips were pressed hard against the thin skin just over Mikoto’s collarbone.

“Mikoto.” Yata said anyway, sounding muffled.

“I’m sorry,” Mikoto held him completely still, his hand coming up to cup around Yata’s head as the other tightened around his waist, “tell Anna that I’m sorry.”

You should tell her yourself. His mind was in hysterics, yet Yata couldn’t move, could barely think outside the feel of Mikoto’s boiling skin under his lips, the feel of strong arms around him.

The thought of Mikoto disappearing.

“It’s not over yet.” Yata got out and heard a defeated sound coming from Munakata behind him.

But Mikoto shakes his head. He pushes Yata back far enough so that he can get a clear view on his face.

“The point of no return,” Mikoto said, smiling now, his eyes black coal and red embers at his lips, “I already passed that long ago.”

Mikoto leans down and press their lips together.

Oh.

Hot, dry, holding no promises but an end in fire. Yata could forget about the pain burning against his lips should Mikoto keep kissing him, instead he was shoved back against Munakata, stumbling until he hit the other man’s chest.

“Take him away from here,” Mikoto said, and despite Yata’s thundering “NO” Munakata nodded.

“Fushimi-kun, take Yata Misaki as far away as you can.” Yata hadn’t even noticed, but Saruhiko quickly stepped closer, his eyes flickering from the fire, to Yata, to Mikoto, and to Yata again before settling on Munakata, a stern expression on his face.

“Understood.”

“You got a couple of minutes, at most.”

“Stop it! I’m not leaving!” Yata yelled as Munakata kept him from running back to Mikoto.

Without a word, Saruhiko pulled at his arm and Munakata let go. Yata tried to break free but Saruhiko’s thin arms were surprisingly durable, holding him back. The exhaustion from the sprint here, and everything that happened in the minutes between, made it hard to move. Yata was adamant to fight back anyway.

“Don’t be foolish!” Saruhiko hissed, but his voice lacked its’ usual bite, and with that he finally managed to throw Yata of his footing, and started to run in the direction of the gate. Away from the blazing inferno that only seemed to grow bigger and bigger.

Even through all the noise, the sound of Munakata drawing his sword was deafening.

“Mikoto-san!”

xi.

“Totsuka-san!” Yata cried out.

Just as the witch’s sharp teeth snapped down around Totsuka’s soft neck.

xi.

Kusanagi didn’t want him to go, Yata remembered as he was forcibly pulled away by Saruhiko. He threw Yata like a sack over his shoulder and started to run.

Did Kusanagi-san know?

They were over the bridge now, and with a practiced jump and a surge of blue power Saruhiko brought them both over to the roof of an abandoned building. For the first time Saruhiko looked back towards the school, just in time for the roaring stream of fire to explode. The school building disappeared immediately behind blazing light, for a moment it seemed like the night turned to day. Then the light sank back, dripping down from where it shot off high in the sky.

It looked like the stars were

falling.

Yata hadn’t stopped screaming since Mikoto’d let him go, now it was sharply cut of as there was no air in his lungs, no beat left in his heart. There was a fire, an explosion, then it was all quickly cut of, leaving nothing but silence and cold behind.

In the distance, Yata thought he could her Anna’s shrill scream echo in the coming dawn.

xii.

Dusk. The air started to turn chill as the streetlamps was turned on one by one. The main streets were emptying, but the alleys which Yata moved through were already deserted save from rats and one or two shady characters sneaking around. Yata moved quietly, and without missing a beat leaping up a rusty ladder screwed tight into the concrete wall. He climbed fast, reaching the roof in no time. The night was coming quickly. His Soul Gem seemed to gleam in the increasing darkness before Yata pocketed it.

He ran to the other side of the roof. Peering down, he saw the girl hiding behind a trash can. She was looking in the direction of one of the busier streets, eyes trailed on the food stands a little further down. She didn’t even notice him watching her.

With a snap of his fingers, a rod appeared. Yata took a hold of it firmly and made himself ready. The girl had gone tense, obviously noticing the sound with her sensitive ears. It was her, no doubt. Her dress was white, just about covering her thighs with lace and frills. No gloves, no shoes or hair ornaments, but a long, white tail trailed behind her, now completely stiff as she listened closely.

“Hey.” Yata said, because he was not about to do a surprise attack on a younger girl.

And even if she ran, he would follow.

She jumped and whipped her head to look at him. Her eyes wide, taking in all details while her stance immediately turned defensive. But Yata simply stared back, weighing the rod in his hand while leaning to rest on his knee, stopping just before tipping over the edge.

“Are you the Magical Girl that’s able to manipulate time?”

#krarepairweek2017 #k project #mikomisa #mikoyata #i wrote it all yesterday evening so hope it didn't turn out too...mushy?#i am/was so pumped up for this week yet i have not prepared ANYTHING because i am an idiot #tw character death #k fic #my writing

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overdrivels · 8 years ago

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Forge

For years after he has been on the run, Genji has always maintained his own sword, Ryuuichimonji. It was his greatest treasure—carefully crafted by the greatest swordsmith in Hanamura for his twentieth birthday. It was made specially to focus the power of the dragons, the material was intended to withstand fierce battles and harsh weather.

Though, as with all things, it isn’t able to withstand the stress of time. After a harrowing mission and the usual deflection technique, a stray bullet managed to catch the very edge of his sword to take off a piece with it. To the others, it’s a chip no bigger than the width of a needle’s eye, but to Genji, it may as well had been a chasm.

He mulls over it for hours and hours—if he sharpens the sword, the entire edge will be cut back and that could cost him his life (or others) if he makes a mistake in judging distance. If he keeps going as is, the chip could catch on something and it could break. His options were few, and he has missions coming up. Torbjörn had offered to fix a little too eagerly, but Genji easily deflected the offer—there were other swords he could use, no need to mind this one.

Even though that’s what he said, whenever Genji looks at his sword and sees the crack, his heart aches just a little. The glow is weaker than usual, and even though swords are not alive, it just seems so sad and defeated. It doesn’t take long for him to give in.

When Genji attempts to contact the smith, he gets a message from the smithery that the person he is trying to contact has long passed and has been succeeded by one of his disciples. When he reads the name, he hadn’t expected to know it. As a Shimada heir, there were many people who has passed him by, often just once with no reason to remember them. However, he remembers why he recognizes the name, and cringes so hard that he can feel his face cramp.

The message continues and says that his request to service a damage sword will be accepted, and to please negotiate the appointment as soon as possible. It takes him several days before he comes to term with the fact that the swordsmith is dead and not repairing the sword is not an option, and another one to accept the fact that he should probably suck it up and just go. That’s how, nearly a week later, with some encouragement from Zenyatta, he finds himself back at Hanamura, getting led around the old smithery by an apprentice swordsmith he does not recognize.

The spacious property, surrounded by wooden fences, contains the main house which seems more like a dojo or a low key temple and looks exactly as it did nearly over a decade ago. He could see the smoke billowing from behind the large house—the forges. Inside, the same calligraphy scrolls that hung on the walls were maybe more impressive than he remembered, but the long, dimly lit hallways still managed to make him feel as though he were about to arrive at a boss fight.

When the doors to the main room open, Genji half expects to see the old, silver-haired man sitting near the back center of the room on his cushion, nursing a delicate cup of tea that, when offered to him and his father, he'd never drink. Instead, he sees you sitting in that same spot, on the same cushion, drinking a cup of tea and the very first thing you do is offer him a cup and a seat.

Genji's heart aches. He is torn between wanting to cry at the normalcy of it all and running away from the altered scene from the past. The press of the sword on his back reminds him of his purpose, and so he enters. When he sits on the cushion some ways before you, your apprentice politely pours him a cup and the smell--earthy with underlying floral notes that he now recognizes as a high quality sencha--slams him back to a far-off place.

He is Genji Shimada again, youngest son of the head of the Shimada clan, self-proclaimed master of the sword and shuriken, here for another tedious lesson on the mechanics of the sword, and about to refuse another cup of tea from the swordsmith who trained his father on the art.

Except you are no old man. You wear his happi across your shoulders, and your hair is touched with gray, but you are not the solemn old man who made his sword. He could barely connect you to the child behind the swordsmith. The disciple with a perpetual shadow cast over your eyes who glowered at everyone and lashed out at anyone who mentioned the limp sleeve hanging from your shoulder. But the lack of self-loathing and anger on your features makes him think that yes, time has passed, and does indeed heal all wounds. It’s a good look for you, he thinks. Unlike before.

Genji was left to practice sharpening on a fancy blade, whose importance was lost on him, under your supervision while his father and your master leave to discuss something important in the next room. You watched his sloppy technique with growing distain until you couldn't take it anymore.

"Shouldn't do that, damages the sword," you mumbled in displeasure. Genji scoffed.

"It's fine, I know what I'm doing."

He goes back to his technique of rubbing the stone too hard and too carelessly against the edge. Heat rooted itself in your chest and began to crawl up your neck and cheeks. The sound of the sword—it’s crying—grates on your ears.

"No, you don't. You're hurting it."

"Yes, I do. This is easy!"

“No, you don’t! Give it!”

You took quick strides toward him, hand outstretched to reach for the abused blade, but he was faster and sheathed it (incorrectly with too much drag that undoubtedly screws up the work he's just done even more), and kept it out of your range.

“I said, its fine! Quit nagging!”

"It is NOT! How can you say you're a master swordsman if you can't take care of one?"

“Well, how can you smith a sword if you only have one arm?! Bet you can't even hold a sword!”

Silence rung in your ears, and then they burned.

You lunged at him, screaming. You both fought like children, biting and scratching and hair tugging and unsophisticated blows to the face. The sword was thrown somewhere to the side, forgotten. The two of you were rolling on top of the other, trading blows and headbutts and insults.

The fight only lasts a few seconds, and was broken up by your returning master who hauled the two of you apart with his iron grip. Genji's father grabs his son by the collar even as Genji fights to escape his hold because how dare you, it’s not like he did anything wrong, he just stated the obvious. And you, face red and throat hoarse, continue to yell against your master's arm about how it’s not your fault that you lost your arm, and you don’t need pity or a new one, and you hope that he suffers the same way, too.

He cringes at the memory, and clenches both fists against his plated thighs. With how he is now, it was poetic justice, he supposed. His father did scold him and force him to apologize for the incident, though he was too young and proud to understand that he was in the wrong.

Your disciple makes her exit, and closes the door behind her, leaving the two of you to discuss this job.

You eye your guest carefully, and let your gaze linger on the kanji on his chest plate and bite back a laugh. Warrior God.

"So, omnic with a sword, huh?"

Genji pulls himself back from memory lane.

"Not quite. Cyborg. My name is…Zen. Yata, Zen.” It’s better than giving his real name while he’s in Hanamura. He’s half-tempted to use his brother’s name for laughs, but he might not make it out of here alive otherwise.

You hum thoughtfully, and put down your tea. “I see. So, Mr. Yata, I understand you would like me to service a sword of yours?”

You hold out your hand expectantly.

Genji removes the sword and sheath from his back for you to take. The moment it passes from his hands to yours, he feels as though you had taken the floor from underneath him as well. So frozen by the surreal sight of someone else with his sword, he does not move.

Without noticing your guest’s plight, you tuck the weapon under your armpit, and slide out the blade with a practiced ease that forces no sound. The first thing that catches your eye--it's hard not to--is that the edge is green. Glowing green like the rings on your guest. A weapon this flashy, but practical--without even checking the signature on the tang, you knew this could only be crafted by your late master. You drop the sheath next to you and smile wryly to yourself, a small burst of nostalgia goes off in your chest.

"So an old customer of my master, huh? He must've really liked you to use this material," you murmur, eyes tracing the elegant work. The entire weapon is well polished and maintained, but also very well used. Even at a glance, you can tell that the user really cares about it.

Genji laughs a bit sheepishly and returns to his seat. The sound prods something in your brain. "Yes, I knew him for a bit. But I'm not sure about liking me."

It always was hard to tell how the late smith really felt with his stoic face and rigid posture.

You chuckle to yourself. "Yeah, even I never knew if he liked me sometimes." You tighten your grip on the worn handle. "But then, here I am, seventh generation and his successor. Life is weird, huh?"

"You can say that again."

"Life is weird."

Again, Genji laughs. And again, a more insistent nudge at your mind comes, and you flit your eyes over at the cyborg. Something far away beckons you, something involving the way he laughs. You don't know if it infuriates you or livens you.

But you have a job to do, and so you pull your attention back from the deep end. Whatever it is that you are on the brink of remembering can wait. You pull out a sheet for the floor and your tools, then get to work on disassembling the sword. There are moments when you see the cyborg’s hands twitch to help, but you easily rebuff that. Years of having only one arm teaches you how to manage without help.

Genji can’t help but feel like he wants to knock the blade from your hands as you take it apart. The sheet starts to fill with organized pieces of his weapon. He clenches his fists and tries to assure himself that you are a master of your art and he shouldn’t worry. But he does for multiple reasons.

Genji becomes more and more painfully aware this endeavor was--is—risky with every piece that comes off, and breaks out in a metaphorical sweat as he watches you scrutinize the blade. He's alert for any changes to your face, waiting for your eyes to light up in recognition, ask him where he got a sword that was custom made for the Shimada clan (even though he has long sanded away the symbol during his own maintenance), put two and two together, and announce to all of Hanamura that Genji Shimada is still alive and needs to be killed a second time because you probably still remember him as an asshole.

But he endures and you complete your assessment with the same professionalism your predecessor had shown his father. By then, the entirety of his weapon lay broken down on the floor, barely even resembling his most trusted companion.

"Based on my observations, the blade will need to be reforged, Mr. Yata," you say, putting down the last of your tools in its place. “Two weeks."

He nearly leaps to his feet. "Two—reforg—but why? Can't you just fix it?"

"This is fixing it."

Genji goes silent. He should have expected this outcome.

“You are sure you can do it?”

He realizes it too late when it leaves his mouth, winces when he sees you scowl. He already has an apology on his tongue when you interrupt.

“I assure you, Mr. Yata, I am very capable of doing so, as handicapped as I may seem.” You wave what’s remaining of your arm in the air.

“Sorry, I did not mea-”

“It’s fine.” You are more than used to your fair share of skepticism. “But if you’re unsure, how about you take a look through the workshop?”

Genji blinks. The workshop?

You grin at his silence. “Come with me.”

The workshop behind the house is full of red, hot furnaces and students in different stages of the creation process. As soon as he steps inside, his regulators at his shoulders already begin to release and hiss steadily. He wonders how you or any of your apprentices are able to work in here with such long sleeves and thick towels wrapped around your heads. He has no doubt the flames here could melt his armor if he stayed long enough.

You take off your happi and hang it by the door, giving Genji a better look at your missing arm that sticks out of your rolled-up sleeve. But he doesn’t get to see that for long when you open a box nearby and shove the contents onto your stub.

“Prosthetic…?”

You flex your newly attached metallic fingers to life and grin. “Yeah. It’s convenient. Still prefer working with my feet, but it’s bad for the students. They’ll learn it all wrong.”

Genji laughs in disbelief. Life really is strange. If he could go back in time to speak to your younger self now, he is sure that he’d get hit in the face with the stump and yelled at for thinking you’d be so weak as to give in to ‘fixing’ your disability.

You are in the midst of tying a towel around your head when his laughter distracts you again.

“This is my son, sixth. He will be under your tutelage in the ways of the sword, much like Hanzo was.”

Your master looms over the teen, who grins just as brightly as he laughs, unperturbed by the scrutiny.

“Yo, swords-guy.”

“Don’t talk to him like that,” you snapped. Genji jumped, unaware of your presence behind the smith.

“Who are you?” At least his recovery was quick.

“My apprentice.” Your master places a hand at your shoulder. You only scowl at the boy who has shown your teacher so much disrespect upon first meeting. You mumbled out your name, but was quickly overwhelmed by Genji appearing behind you, laughing.

“Got you back. From today, I guess I’ll be learning from you guys. My name—”

“Is everything all right?”

You blink slowly at the cyborg, who sounds as concerned as his synthetic vocal cords could. You muster a small laugh.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks.” You quickly compose yourself, and start with the process of introducing Genji to the workshop in order to ease his fears for his sword. It is common for sword owners to become afraid, confused, or even downright violent when the suggestion of ‘reforging’ arises. Sometimes it’s inevitable, and it’s almost like taking someone through the process of death. You sometimes just need to show the process and break it down so it’s less frightening, less emotional.

However, considering who your customer is this time, that might not be necessary. But a reminder never hurt.

“Here, we do everything from making the tamagahane, the metal”—you point to the two students who slowly pour what seems like molten lava into a channel—“to the polishing of a finished sword.”

“Master,” one of your disciples calls forlornly. “Could you appraise this?”

He watches you take one quick look at the red-hot steel on his station and ask for the disciple to pound on it. He does so and you shake your head. “Too many impurities are still in it. Keep at it.”

The student gives you a firm, “Yes, master!” before returning to work.

"Crap material, no matter how good the technique, still yields crap results," you say without prompting as you begin walking away. Genji tries not to think of the heavy implications those words could contain. “We try to keep that to a minimum, but as you probably know, recently Japan’s currently going through a resource shortage—”

He only half listens in on the explanation of the natural resource and importing situation in Japan, and how it affects your trade as his mind begins to slip somewhere unpleasant. Crap material. Crap results. A crap Shimada cast away by his crap family for his crap attitude to everything.

“Oi.”

Genji snaps his head up, ready to apologize for getting lost in his thoughts, but sees you addressing the students manning the smelting station.

“Make sure to separate the ores properly. You’re giving the forgers too much work to do.”

“Sorry, master!”

“We’ll do better on the next batch.”

“If the batch doesn’t come out right, send it over to that the arrowhead makers. They’ll know what to do with it.”

Genji furrows his brow. “Arrowhead?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “Sometimes the mixture for the tamagahane doesn’t come out the way we need it to. Rarely happens, but when it does, we send it off to someone else who can use it.”

You hold up a chunk of glittery rock. "Like this. It’s crap material to us because we're concerned about making swords and the ratio of metals. But for other things, this is perfect."

“But isn’t it too brittle for arrowheads?”

“Someone knows their stuff!”

You slap him on the back and instantly regret not using your metallic hand.

"Are you all right?" He asks, torn between checking on your injury and staying distant as to not repeat the incident. You hiss and wave your hand in the air.

“Fine, just fine. Guess something like you shouldn’t be walking around here, huh?”

He fidgets awkwardly and realizing your mistake, you wave it off.

“But back to the topic at hand. Material like this can be used by someone else. Arrowheads can afford to have a different level of steel because of their function.”

You go on to animatedly explain the subtle differences and practical uses of folded steel. Genji listens and in his mind, returns to the thought that this really is a good look for you. A little bit gray and older looking, but happier.

The rest of the tour continues on smoothly, with you demonstrating how the blade will have to be forged in excruciating detail that he’s already heard, having been here before and lectured by your predecessor. But he abstains and patiently accompanies you throughout the steaming workshop, falling into easy conversation about the logistics of sword-making. At the end of it, he has more than several dozen assurances from yourself and your students who all aim to return his sword to perfection.

The sun begins to set when he stands at your gates, negotiations on pricing, alterations, and expected turnaround long finished.

“So it’s agreed, then.”

“Yes, I…trust you to take care of it.”

You smile. “Not to worry, your sword is in good hands. But are you sure you don’t require a loaner, just in case?”

Genji waves that off. “Do not worry. I have several others. Thank you.” He bows, and you return it politely. When he turns to leave, you do the same.

“See you in two weeks, Genji.”

Genji whips around, but you are already swarmed by three apprentices who eagerly try to show off their latest creations. Despite it all, he laughs quietly to himself and makes himself scarce. He wonders if he should be mentally prepared to have the Shimada clan after him when he comes to pick up his sword.

#genji shimada #reader #Originally was supposed to be about sharpening because that's my actual hobby #but then this happened #my writing

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fuckallthegood0nesweretaken · 7 years ago

Text

Mind Games (Pt.2)

“HOMRA?” You said to yourself. “The fuck is HOMRA?”

You went onto Google and typed in HOMRA. The first thing that popped up was a bar. You didn’t look into it further and closed everything before gathering your stuff and running out of the library. Pulling up the bar on Google Maps, you quickly made your way over.

---

“What the hell was that Yata-chan!” Kamamoto yelled. “You know that if King knew about this, he’d be super pissed off! You aren’t allowed to go near her.”

“You think I don’t know that? I just needed to see if she was okay!”

“Of course she’s okay! She’s away from all of this shit!” Yata let out a yell and punched the wall.

“I’m going to the bar,” Kamamoto said. “I’m not going to tell anyone, as long as you don’t do it again. You’ll just put her in danger.”

“I just want my best friend back,” Yata said before skating away. Kamamoto sighed and trudged off to the bar. When he got there, Izumo was cleaning a glass as usual.

“Did you find him?” Izumo asked.

“Yea.”

“Was he doing what I thought he was doing?” Kamamoto nodded and Izumo sighed.

“Goddammit. King is not going to be pleased.”

“I told Yata-chan that I wasn’t gonna tell anyone what he did,” he said. Izumo waved at him passively.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t blame you, don’t worry. But Mikoto has to know what he’s done.”

Kamamoto was about to respond when Yata-chan opened the doors to the bar.

“Yo!” He said. “Can I have a soda please?”

“Sure,” Izumo said. “Right after you tell me why you contacted [y/n].”

“You told me you weren’t going to tell anyone!” Yata shouted.

“I made him tail you and made him tell me what you did. It is not Kamamoto’s fault. Now, I’m going to give your first and final warning. Do not go near her again. You will put her in the line of fire.”

“Fine! I won’t fucking approach her again! I just wanted to see if she was okay.”

“You know that she’s okay Yata-chan. We’ve been through this before. You can’t go near her. King wouldn’t like it,” Izumo said with a sigh. “Besides, we have our people watching her. If she sees you, her memories might come back and we can’t have that.”

“Why the fuck are you guys watching me? That’s super creepy,” you said from your place at the door. You pushed yourself off of the frame and walked towards them. All of them were frozen in place. They couldn’t take their eyes off of you.

“Now you can’t stop looking at me. Still creepy.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Kamamoto said. You shrugged.

“I just followed some instructions.”

“Yata-chan!” Izumo yelled. “Why the fuck did you do that!”

“I don’t know okay! I just needed to—“ Izumo cut him off.

“Not now okay Yata-chan. Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“No,” you said. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Izumo was about to insist, when Mikoto’s voice was heard from the top of the stairs. The three boys whipped their heads in that direction.

“Why are you yelling,” he said with a tiny yawn.

“Because these assholes won’t tell my why they’re following me,” you said as you crossed your arms. “I’m not leaving until you tell me why. I also have more questions for you guys.”

Mikoto’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, but he hid it well. “Get out.”

“No.”

“I said, get out. Don’t make me use force.”

“He said to get out miss!” Kamamoto said. “Please leave before this gets messy.”

“How many fucking times do I have to repeat myself! I’m not leaving until you give me fucking answers!”

“Get her out of here Kamamoto,” Izumo said. He went back to cleaning his glasses and completely ignored you. You felt a pang in your chest when he looked away, but ignored it.

“Get the fuck off of me Kamamoto-san!” You yelled. “Izumo, why are you ignoring me?!”

He froze mid-wipe. “How do you know my name?” He asked lowly. “It hasn’t been said since you’ve been here.”

“I-I don’t know. It just came to me,” you said. “But please don’t kick me out! I have this feeling that I need to be here!”

“You need to leave, miss,” Kamamoto said softly. “Please.”

“No!” You were basically in tears now and you had no idea why. “Yata-chan! Kamamoto-san! Izumo! Niisan! Don’t throw me out!”

Mikoto’s hands clenched and he walked back upstairs. Izumo busied himself by rearranging the alcohol on the shelf behind him. Kamamoto continued to push you outside, and Yata-chan just hung his head. With one last shove, you were outside the bar. The doors slammed shut and you threw your body at them. You kept doing that for a while until your body gave out. You slumped to the ground and sobbed.

#k-project #k #k-project x reader #k x reader #Izumo x reader #yata x reader #reader insert #xreader #k-project fanfiction #k-project fanfic #k fanfiction #k fanfic #HOMRA

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ridiasfangirlings · 2 years ago

Note

niki walks in on sarumi making out

Honestly this would be like a worst nightmare situation for Fushimi, as it is he probably doesn’t even want Niki to know he has a friend, much less a crush. Imagine this on one of the rare times that Yata and Fushimi are hanging out at Fushimi’s place. Niki was by recently enough that Fushimi thinks it’s ‘safe’ to be there, him and Yata just hanging out in Fushimi’s room playing games. Imagine they’ve been getting closer lately and they both have like a little kid crush going on, though neither one has said anything — Yata’s still dealing with the whole ‘how can I have a crush on Saruhiko he’s my best friend and also a guy’ thing while Fushimi is just very firmly not admitting to having any emotions toward anyone else period even as he’s becoming more attached to Yata. At one point while playing Yata tries to do some slick move that leads to him just throwing his controller and basically accidentally throwing himself into Fushimi’s lap. Fushimi glares at him and Yata sits up all sheepish, starting to apologize — and suddenly they’re both very aware of how close they are, faces just inches apart and they’re both staring right at each other. Yata finds himself staring at Fushimi’s lips and thinking ‘this guy really is pretty handsome isn’t he’ as he leans in and the next thing they both know they’re kissing each other.

They both quickly move back, staring at each other again and that just opens the floodgates and they kiss one more time, both overcome with all this overflowing emotion. That’s when the door creaks open and this ‘gyahaha’ breaks through the silence, Fushimi instantly pulls back as if burned. Niki’s standing there in the doorway, pointing and laughing as he wonders if he just got to see monkey’s first kiss. Fushimi’s cheeks are red and he yells at Niki to go away, trying to slam the door on him and Niki just smirks, teasing Fushimi for how much he’s blushing and wondering if he has a crush on his little friend. Behind him Yata gives this unsure ‘Saruhiko’ and Fushimi just yells at him to leave, now. Niki’s all don’t be like that monkey, we need to celebrate your first kiss, we should let him stay for the celebration. Fushimi’s really on the edge of panicking now and he yells at Yata to leave again, maybe even using ‘Yata’ instead of ‘Misaki’ and that’s what really gets Yata to move, scrambling for his stuff and mumbling that he’ll see Fushimi tomorrow in school.

Niki’s disappointed that Yata got away, wondering how long Fushimi’s had a crush on his cute little friend. As soon as Fushimi’s sure Yata’s gone he finally manages to get himself into his room and slam the door shut, locking it from the inside while Niki stands outside and taunts him. Imagine Yata sending Fushimi this worried text like ‘about the kiss…’, probably worried that’s what Fushimi’s upset about, and Fushimi just texts him back ‘it’s nothing, don’t worry about it’ as he sits huddled in his room with Niki laughing outside. The next day at school Yata approaches him all hesitantly and Fushimi clicks his tongue, annoyed that Misaki isn’t acting like usual. Yata feels super awkward but Saruhiko’s not mentioning the kiss so he thinks he shouldn’t either and eventually he starts just acting like usual. Fushimi never brings it up again, and he never invites Yata back to his place again either, always going to Yata’s instead without ever saying why.

#sarumi #Talking K #everybody hates Niki #poor Saru he would be so worried #certain that if Niki knows he cares about someone it'll get broken #so he just pretends it never happened #trying to convince himself he doesn't have feelings for Misaki #so there won't be anything for Niki to break

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dubredofanfics · 8 years ago

Text

Malacañang Garden

Part 2 of 5

"Oh my God. Sayang hindi ko nakita!" Rodrigo's sister, Jocellyn, laughed upon hearing his brother share about how this freshman kicked him in the groin last time.

"Seriously?" Rodrigo retorted.

"Ano ka ba? Ngayon lang ako nakarinig ng babaeng may lakas ng loob umalma sa'yo." She was so amused. "Ano nga ulit pangalan niya?" She asked. "Leni Robredo. Pero under ko na siya ngayon, gaganti ako diyan." He shared.

She snorted soundly. "Pano ka gaganti? Sisipain mo rin siya?" She made fun of him. "Hindi. Basta, mali siya ng kinalaban." He said. "Ewan ko sa'yo, basta iba pakiramdam ko diyan sa Leni nay an. Baka yan na ang katapat mo." She warned his brother.

—

It was a dim afternoon, Leni was doing an integral calculus tutorial for some extra income, Rodrigo grabbed her and pulled her to a distance.

"Huy, ano bang problema mo bigla bigla ka nalang nanghahatak diyan?" Leni squirmed.

"Sino yung lalakeng yon?" He confronted. "Anong lalake? Nagtuturo ako ng calculus, high ka ba?!" She retaliated.

"Stop it." He told her.

"Ano?!" She retorted.

"Tigil mo yan, sabi ko!" He insisted. "Ayoko ng nakikita ka ng ibang tao na may kasamang ibang lalake, baka isipin nila hinahayaan kitang magloko diyan." He followed.

"Rodrigo, baka hindi mo alam na nagtuturo talaga ako para meron akong extrang allowance kase hindi naman ako katulad mo na walang problema sa pera at walang ibang ginawa kung hindi manira ng araw ng ibang tao!" She counterted — startling him.

"Ngayon, pwede na ba ako bumalik sa tinuturuan ko?" She asked with a hint of mockery. Rodrigo grunted but he had no other things to say.

"Magkita tayo sa gate mamaya, 6PM, sharp." He stipulated. "Okay? Fine. Pwede na ako bumalik?" She agreed and walked back to her student.

—

Later that day, Leni met Rodrigo at the gate and drove her to his condo unit.

"Ganda ng mga figurines ha? Collection mo?" She asked as her eyes explored his unit. She was so fascinated with the glass figurines of animals displayed on his shelf.

"Marami na akong nadala dito, halos lahat sila nagustuhan yung pagpunta nila." He randomly spoke. Leni turned back and saw him topless and wearing nothing but his sweat pants.

"Oh my God." She cussed along with a deep gasped.

"Magsuot ka naman ng damit! Nakadamit ako oh! Para ka naming mangre-rápe niyan jusko!" She groused uncomfortably.

"Boyfriend mo ako, paano magiging ràpe?" He said sounding so offended. She refused to further respond and returned her sight to the shelf.

Rodrigo felt annoyed with how she doesn't seem to be interested of him.

"Leni." He called her and she looked at him.

"Tanggalin mo yung damit mo, mag-sesèx tayo." He told her straightforward.

"Ano?!" She was taken aback. "Narinig mo ako." He uttered with a stern voice.

This time, Leni felt so offended. She was raised conservatively and she can't tolerate such crass behavior.

"Hoy, Rodrigo..." She exhaled sharply out of disbelief that she really arrived to the point that she has to lecture him. "Hindi dahil pumayag ako sa deal mo at girlfriend mo na ako eh pwede ka nang maging ganyan sakin na kung makayaya ka diyan akala mo laro lang yung sèx." She vented out but she felt like it wasn't enough.

"Alam mo? Yung mga katulad mo yung dahilan kung bakit nawalan ako ng hope sa mga lalake eh. Yan actually yung dahilan kung bakit hanggang ngayon hindi parin ako nagkakaboyfriend." She shared on purpose.

"Jusko, Leni, ang dami mong sinasabi. Séx lang ang hinihingi ko sa'yo. Wag mo gawing big deal, I've done this to so many girls, hindi lang ikaw." He countered.

"Yun na nga eh! Sèx is not just sèx to me. Maselang usapan yun. Hindi yan yung ginagawa mo lang dahil nag-iinit ka o nangangati ka, at least for me. So kung sa tingin mo makikipag-sèx ako sa'yo, umasa ka! Hindi kase ako nagpapagalaw sa kung sino sino lang di katulad ng mga babae mo! Gagawin ko lang yon sa taong mahal ko, sa taong papakasalan ko. Yung taong seseryosohin ako. Tayo? Kasal ba tayo? Mahal ba kita? Seryoso ka ba sakin? Hindi naman 'di ba? Oo, girlfriend mo nga ako pero hindi naman totoo! Girlfriend mo lang naman ako kase wala naman akong choice at kahit kelan hinding hindi ako magkakagusto sa tulad mo! Gàgo ka kase!" She voiced out and walked out of the unit.

"Salamat sa pag-dala sakin dito ha? Ganda ng condo mo!" She mocked and slammed the door.

Rodrigo was left alone in his unit stunned by the words she threw at him. He went inside his bedroom and reflected. Getting a girl he wants has always been easy. No one has ever dared to tell him those words his entire life, every girl just wanted to get laid with him and there was never an time that a girl has rejected him the way Leni did. Despite that he wanted to get back on her, he thought that she actually made sense, Jocellyn was right, she was different, she wasn't that easy, she challenges him and despite that he wants to deny it to himself, he liked the way she's challenging him.

—

"Nireject ka?!" Jocellyn said in surprise. "Oh my God ibang klaseng babae talaga yang Leni ha!" She added and laughed at her brother. Rodrigo rolled his eyes troubled on what to do with Leni.

"Nahawakan mo na?"

"No."

"Kiss?"

"Hindi."

"Ha? Nayakap?"

"Hindi rin."

"Nakipagdate?"

"Hindi! Bakit ba?"

"Jusko, kaya naman pala. Subukan mo kayang kausapin muna, kilalanin mo, masyado kang nagmamadali eh." Jocellyn suggested and walked upstairs. Rodrigo considered his sister's suggestion.

It took him a while before he finally convinced himself to apologize to her and start all over again despite that apologizing was way way out of his character. He was triggered to do it as he couldn't stop thinking about her ever since that day.

Rodrigo: Hoy 1:56AM Leni: Anong problema mo??? 2:06AM Rodrigo: Kita tayo mamaya sa tambayan. 2:08AM Rodrigo: Hoy magreply ka 2:15AM Leni: K. 2:17AM Rodrigo: Hoy! 2: 30AM Leni: Ano nanaman!!!! Magpatulog ka naman! 2:31AM Rodrigo: Sorry 2:33AM

Drowsiness swallowed Leni but she seemed to be awakened as she read his last message. Seryoso ba 'to? Nagso-sorry ang kumag na 'to?

Rodrigo: Hoy magreply ka 2:38AM Leni: WOW NAGSORRY KA! NANAGINIP YATA AKO. 2:39AM Rodrigo: Basta magkita tayo mamaya sa tambayan. 2:41AM Leni: Ulitin mo muna yung sorry mo hahaha! 2:43AM Rodrigo: Baka i-screenshot mo pa magkaroon ka pa ng bragging rights. Matulog ka na. 2:44AM

Later that day, they agreed to meet at the school. Rodrigo finally had the chance to talk to her sensibly. He prepared himself to personally apologize to her as she won't talk to him properly until he apologized for what he said to her at his condo unit.

It did work, he finally had the chance to talk and spend time with her without them yelling at each other. He required her to meet him every lunch for them to eat together and it helped them to develop a good rapport. After a while, they started going out for lunch and dinners as well. They also joined a worshiping organization that calls for a victory every Friday evening. They became really good friends; Rodrigo, unconsciously, became slowly attached to her.

Leni continued seeing Rodrigo despite that she didn't really like him at the first place; while he only did his part of leaving her best friend alone. At some points, Leni started to appreciate Rodrigo's presence and time for her despite that she knows that what they have isn't real.

—

One evening, after Rodrigo and Leni's dinner, she told him that she prefers to walk than to ride a car. Despite that Rodrigo hates walking, he agreed — she has an amazing skill in persuading him.

"Ang lamig, balik na tayo sa kotse!" Rodrigo told her sounding so annoyed. "Ha? Hindi, okay lang yan. Kaya mo yan!" Leni replied happily enjoying the cold breeze shifting on their cheeks. She looked at him.

"Bakit?" Rodrigo asked displeased by her staring. "Lamig na lamig ka talaga noh?" She asked. "Oo, kaya bumalik na tayo sa kotse bago pa ako mamatay sa lamig dito." He replied. "Namumutla na yung pisngi mo!" She laughed. "Tapos nanginginig ka pa." She continued laughing at him.

"Saya mo eh noh?" He rolled his eyes.

They continued walking forward. Leni removed her scarf and wrapped it around him. "Uy?" He uttered. "Para di ka masyadong ginawin, sayo na yan. Sanay naman ako sa malamig." She replied and hopped forward. He looked at her and watched her leap forward. "Halika! Photobooth tayo para makita mo yung namumutla mong muka." She shouted at him from a distance. He rolled his eyes and walked faster towards the photobooth.

He sat inside the booth beside her; not mainly for photo ops but for the warmth inside. Leni dropped some bills and started to pose for the pictures. "Magpose ka naman! Pakita mo yung muka mong namumutla na." She sounded so enthused. "Kalokohan naman 'to eh." He rolled his eyes. Leni dropped another bill and posed six times. She held his cheeks, hugged him like a bear, forced him to pose and all, she was so hyper, she was so bubbly, she was so clumsy and Rodrigo was frozen steadily. After some pictures, they took the photos from the machine and Leni looked at them. She gave the other strips to him and she took the photos where she looked so funny.

"Balik na tayo sa kotse." She told him. "Ha?!?!" He yelled. "Put— papatayin mo yata ako eh." He said. "Hindi ka mamamatay, wag ka mag-alala. Masamang damo ka kaya." She pointed out and they walked back to the car.

As soon as they reached their car, Rodrigo turned on the seat warmer and drove her back to her place. As soon as she went down, he drove back to his place. Through his travel back to his place, he saw the strip of photos at the passengers' seat. He took it and looked at it. He adored how happy person Leni was and it made him like her even more but then, he preferred to deny it to himself anyway.

#ss #dubredo #rating pg

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