#fortiazure

[tsckcyomi-archived]

"Oh my god. Lay off, okay?" (saru @ yata @fortiazure)

noticing. being noticed. accepting

Yata's mouth snaps shut at the sudden hiss from Saruhiko, his rambling coming to a sudden halt. It's not the first time that the other told him to be quiet, but he's never been this… exasperated. Or, perhaps even angry. Instantly, Yata replays the last few minutes of their conversation in his mind. Rather, replays what he was telling Saruhiko about. He talked about HOMRA, about the trip to the beach they were planning to go on together, about what they were up to today… Nothing unusual, really.

That annoying, hotheaded guy, where is he always getting his excitement from?

Ah. Well, it wouldn't be the first time that his energy it too much for someone else, and Saruhiko did stay home rather than come to the bar with him, claiming that he wanted to work on some project… Perhaps Saruhiko is getting sick? Oh man, he really was talking a lot, too, wasn't he? Even though Saruhiko might not be feeling well.

Isn't it enough if we bear with him and humour him?

" ─ … " He tries to think of something to say, now, anything. But he's just an idiot, isn't he, and so the silence hanging over them so heavily drags on for a few seconds longer. Then, a soft chuckle slips past Yata's lips as he raises his hand, scratching at his cheek awkwardly. "Oh, uhm... Yeah, a'ight. Sorry, I'll lay off. I got something to do anyway." He doesn't, not really, and Saruhiko likely knows but, well… Maybe his friend wants some time for himself to rest rather than having to listen to him talk about whatever comes to his mind. And he knows how difficult it is for Yata to shut up, so snapping at him might have been his last resort... Yata watches the other for a few moments longer as he steps towards the door, hesitating as he lays his left hand on the doorknob.

" ─ I'm gonna make some curry later on, so don't eat too much shit, yeah? I know you got snacks hidden somewhere." Then, he slips through the door without another word.

[tsckcyomi-archived]

(from @fortiazure)

An incoming text message with a video link attached comprised of... questionable watermelon destruction. An inquiry accompanies it, just as formal as the one who sends it.

"My subordinates are adamant you can't do this, but I imagine you won't care to prove them wrong."

The reply comes an hour later in the form of a video. The polished floor of the HOMRA bar comes into view, and Totsuka's voice can be heard but a second later.

"Are you sure, King? Kusanagi-san won't be happy about this." In spite of the warning, Totsuka sounds decidedly unconcerned about the impending wrath of the bartender. There's but a grunt in response, and the camera pans to the side, revealing the Red King himself sitting on the ground with a watermelon between his thighs. Anna is in the background, sitting on the couch with her hands in her lap and a neutral expression on her face. Mikoto, as well, carries a neutral if not simply bored expression, a unlit cigarette between his lips. "Well," Totsuka continues, the camera shaking as he seems to gesture widely, "King has accepted the Blue Clan's challenge, and will, as per their request, crush a watermelon with just his thighs!" The grand announcement has Mikoto frown and side-eye the man behind the camera for a moment before he straightens up with a sigh.

If this video wasn't filmed for the sole purpose of responding to Munakata's message, one might think the Red King had been coerced into doing this. The fact of the matter is that Mikoto is more than happy to accept any kind of challenge ━ especially ones coming from the Blue King.

And yet, the video proves to be rather anti-climactic. One flex of Mikoto's thighs is all it takes for the fruit to nigh explode, its pulp flying into all directions ━ staining the front of Mikoto's shirt, and the floor and furniture in his immediate vicinity. Unimpressed, the man stares at the pieces of fruit scattered around him. The camera stays focused on him for a moment longer as both Anna and an invisible Totsuka take in the scene in stunned silence. "Ah... I guess that was it, huh," the vassal then finally says, zooming in on Mikoto's face.

The video suddenly cuts off when the ringing of a bell and a "what the ━ " in the voice of a certain bartender can be heard, and it*s followed by a single message.

» you owe me a new shirt and pants. «

[tsckcyomi-archived]

🙄 (saru anna kajsflaksjg @fortiazure)

Nonverbal RP Starters -🙄 Roll their eyes at my muse | accepting

Blankly, the small girl is staring at the blue clansman standing across the street, not a single word passing her lips. Even from here Anna can feel the air of annoyance surrounding him, along with the disbelief he's feeling at finding her by her lonesome once again. Rather, finding her incapable of escaping a certain predicament once again, not stuck between the walls of a vending machine and a building. Anna isn't sure if she should be glad that it's Saruhiko finding her again or not, but... Well, he'd understand best, wouldn't he? He's helped her before… Or rather, tried to. She thinks this machine isn't as heavy as the other one, though.

Anna's lower lip wobbles as she turns her head away and instead fixes her gaze onto the grey plastic wall before her. They both know that, should he leave, her tears will flow unhindered. She is on the verge of crying already, the sheer frustration and embarrassment of her situation gnawing away at her composure little by little. The Strain knows well that Saruhiko doesn't hate her, but... If they kept running into each other like this, maybe he'd start to eventually, and she doesn't want that, either. Perhaps it'd be better if he did as he originally intended the first time and left her to her own devices. Her hands, flatly pressed against the vending machine, form into fists. It'd be scary, being alone and helpless here, but surely she'd manage until Izumo or any of the other guys find her…

The sound of heeled boots hurrying across pavement has Anna turn her head again, eyes wide. With an annoyed 'tsk' and a roll of his eyes, Saruhiko crosses the street to approach her, apparently unwilling to risk causing her to cry by leaving without a word.

[tsckcyomi-archived]

i can’t breathe ,  i can’t - (saru yata @fortiazure)

↪     𝑫𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺  | accepting

The moment Saruhiko grows stiff as a board next to him, Yata knows that something bad is about to happen. What he doesn't expect, though, his a wholeass panic attack. It's not often that the usually level-headed, distant man loses his composure. The last time Yata saw him freak out was when his father threatened to forcefeed him a mantis and light fireworks on his head, and honestly, Yata had been on the verge of freaking out himself at that time. But Fushimi Nikki is dead, and ever since then...

Why is he even thinking about that now? It doesn't matter. What matters is that Saruhiko needs his help right here and now. Grabbing onto his friend's shoulders, Yata tries to make him look him in the eye, but Saruhiko is staring at nothing in particular, eyes wide and his breathing is too fast, too shallow. He'll make himself pass out at this rate.

"Hey! Hey, Saruhiko!" Helplessly, the redhead stands before his friend with his hands hovering in front of his chest. Useless. He's so fucking useless. What the fuck is he supposed to do? Looking around, Yata stares at the people passing them by. Some look back at him, worried or confused, most don't even seem to notice what's going on. What the fuck should he do...? Taking a deep breath of his own, Yata tries to sort out his thoughts. The masses around them, some bumping their shoulders into them by accident, aren't helping. And he needs Saruhiko to calm down and just fucking breathe. Grabbing the other's wrist, Yata leads him away from the main road and to a bench in an alleyway, away from the hubbub. He kneels down before him, gently shaking the wrist he's still holding onto as he tries getting Saruhiko's attention. "Hey, hey, look. Breathe with me, okay? Just ─ breathe with me. I've got you, yeah?" Well, he doesn't really. But he's trying. Can Saruhiko even hear him if he's this deep in his panic attack? Fuck. Yata watches him a moment longer. Then, he raises the other's hand and presses his palm to his own sternum, consciously breathing deeply and slowly. Trying to show what he wants Saruhiko to do. It's weird and he still feels helpless, but... He's praying that somehow, Saruhiko realizes what he's trying to tell him like this. "You're okay, Saruhiko. Just breathe, slowly. I've got you."

[tsckcyomi-archived]

🔪 (saru miko @fortiazure)

Nonverbal RP Starters - 🔪 Point a weapon at my muse | accepting.

Mikoto never held a grudge against Fushimi for leaving his clan. The moment they shook hands, he knew that the boy wouldn't last long, and it became clear that Yata was incredibly blind to how little his best friend fit into their group ─ was blind to how occasionally, Fushimi seemed to be afraid of the Red King rather than in awe of him. To this day, Mikoto is uncertain if it's the violence he so willingly indulges in from time to time or if it's the red powers themselves. It's certainly not his mere status as a king that had Fushimi shaken up, considering how he continued to serve under another king. But, in the end, SCEPTER 4 is one of the best places Fushimi could have ended up in, and for that, Mikoto is grateful. Perhaps Fushimi despises him yet Mikoto still wishes no ill will upon him.

Frankly… It'd be a waste of time and energy.

Even now as Fushimi points his saber at him, Mikoto can't bring himself to feel a smidge of dislike towards the other. If anything, he finds it amusing, and if it wasn't so outrageously stupid, he'd even find it admirable. To think that the kid would have the guts to challenge him like this… The thought has a smirk curl the Red King's lips as he scoffs.

" ─ Don't be a brat. We both know this wouldn't end well for you, Fushimi."

[tsckcyomi-archived]

(@fortiazure) [ SHOWN ]  for receiver to purposefully reveal their scars for sender to see  (mikorei :)))

Mikoto's well aware that he's long left the premises he's allowed to traverse in as per his agreement with the Blue Clan. But Munakata must also be well aware how little that exact paragraph describing which cities with which companions he's allowed to enter in that long, long document he signed months ago matters to him. He's keeping up with everything else - they ought to cut him some slack. The blue clansmen assigned to watch him don't stop him when he leaves Shizume City behind. However, Mikoto knows they're running interference in the background anyway. And indeed, only a few minutes later hhis phone buzzes in his pocket. Kusanagi, probably. Made aware of his King overstepping, made to try and call him back. Like a dog. Mikoto ignores the calls. Instead, he lights up a cigarette and keeps walking, his steps carrying him further away from Shizume City into the neighbouring wards.

All the way to the Kagutsu Crater.

It still looks exactly the same as the first time Mikoto saw it, mere weeks after the incident. When he knew naught about kings or damocles downs. He took for granted how normal his life had been, and how much he preferred the boredom it had brought over his current situation.

Sitting down at the edges of the ruins with a sigh, Mikoto looks over the water that had gathered in the crater in silence, building a lake of seawater. Only few people tend to come here. It's lonely and peaceful, if Mikoto ignores the presence of the two men watching him from a safe distance.

Although it doesn't last. Soon enough, the two men's aura disappears, instead replaced by a stronger presence stalking ever closer. Munakata appears at his side but a second later, arms behind his back. Neither of them is looking at the other, but the Blue King is radiating exasperation. Mikoto only huffs and drops his cigarette to the ground, stomping out the weak embers.

" ─ I'm just takin' a break. I'll go back on my own, so let me have this, yeah?"

He's ripping at the edges. He has been ever since he left the school island after killing the Colorless King. Here, at least, he doesn't have to worry about accidentally destroying anything, or killing anyone by accident. Staring at his hands, Mikoto straightens up slowly - then, he decides to slip off his jacket, revealing his arms. Where before he contained the burns to his hands, they're now making their way up his arms and shoulders, fraying into his chest. Some of them have healed into ugly scars, most are relatively fresh.

"I can't control it anymore." A snort escapes him, then. "Never could, really. Totsuka was the one controllin' me."

But, well. Munakata would know all of that anyway, wouldn't he? Considering the reports he must have received from the many medical exams Mikoto is forced to undergo, from the way he knew about the workings of the Red Clan before Totsuka died.

" - 's worse now. Can't believe you still refuse to execute me." To give him a dignified end, an end that he would have been at peace at with. Only now he wouldn't be at peace with it anymore, not if Anna is at risk. "Even if it's better this way."

[tsckcyomi-archived]

(@fortiazure) ‘ you don’t have to be on your own. ’ (reisi to saru :)))

Saruhiko's expression remains neutral even as he looks up from the device in his hand. He's noticed that the Blue King made a few efforts here and there to grow closer to his clansmen, that these efforts extended to even himself. Frankly, he knows not how to feel about his superior attempting to establish some form of comradery. But after HOMRA, after all that he went through with Yata...

" ─ I much prefer it that way. And I'd appreciate if we retained a professional relationship, Captain." Being on his own, in his small world that he no longer shares with anyone, means that he cannot be disappointed by anyone but himself. He's learned his lesson by now, that he's simply not fit to indulge in friendships or the like. Too jealous, too selfish, too antisocial, too unstable. His father's shadow looms over him constantly.

Glancing down at the tablet in his hands, Saruhiko then clears his throat and carries on as though Munakata never addressed him. He came to his King's office for a reason, after all. "I'm sending you the finalized report on Mogura, the Strain that was apprehended thirty-eight hours ago. Please approve it as soon as possible so I can archive it."

[tsckcyomi-archived]

Smash or pass mikorei tho :))

A brow raises at the inquiry. For Munakata to ask such a question... The thought alone would be enough to draw a snort from the Red King. Yet all he does is lean back in his seat, head cocking to the side.

What does he want to do with Munakata?

He likes the high thrumming through his veins whenever their powers clash, the way how after each and every battle between them his violent Red is reduced to but a weak, flickering flame and he is nigh boneless... He likes the chase, the way he can so easily unnerve Munakata. Perhaps the Blue King is well aware just how much Mikoto is attracted to him.

However, as long as Munakata remains ambigious, as long as he gives him no clear sign as to what he wants, it is and always will be...

"Pass," he finally replies easily, a shrug tugging at his shoulders. "Y'got a stick up your ass already anyway."

[tsckcyomi-archived]

Mikoto blinks when Munakata releases him suddenly, rolling his shoulders briefly to release the tension created by the other's rather harsh hold on him. Would any other King have treated him in such a way, the Red King would have not hesitated to release his powers 'pon them. When it comes to the Blue King... It depends on his mood, and as of now...

"That's hurtful, even coming from you," Mikoto replies, yet his words are accompanied by a soft snort. Munakata isn't wrong, after all. If he ever bothered remembering where to smoke on SCEPTER 4 property, he'd probably still not care one way or another.

Quietly, Mikoto keeps his eyes on the other King for a few moments longer. When messaging Munakata about the clothes and demanding a replacement, he wasn't serious. Even now, he finds himself wholly uninterested in whether he will receive compensation or not. No, he came here to see if he can understand the Blue King's intentions behind sending such a... well, rather candid message.

Frankly, he doesn't think he figured out an answer at all. Munakata remains a riddle to him, and Mikoto isn't sure whether it's annoying or not.

"Guess I am." With a soft grunt, he rises to his feet and straightens out his shirt. "I'll leave you to your important papers, then." He turns, the hint of a smirk curling his lips as he steps past Munakata. Without another word, he pulls a package from the pocket of his jacket and from it, another cigarette. He's not yet left the premises when he lights it up with a flick of his fingers, placing the end it between his lips.

...Perhaps he finds Munakata's habit of deflecting rather annoying, after all.

     Reisi wishes to set the record straight. For a moment, he considers rectifying Suoh’s observation about having a break – and certainly, Reisi does give such an impression, and not unreasonably – because contrary to what others may think, Scepter 4 is not so disciplined and unfair to force their soldiers on without a moment to breathe. Even Reisi takes breaks. Or, at least, he shows his clansmen he does. Whether its by having tea or doing a puzzle leisurely… they need not know the machinations that run in tandem in Reisi’s mind.

     Although, perhaps that is what Suoh has guessed as much already.

     Reisi can think of a few consequences the moment Suoh questions it, all of which do not matter in the long run simply because he knows Suoh will always do what he wants, whether or not Reisi explicitly punishes him, or even asks him cordially to do otherwise.

      “Forgive me, but I doubt you will keep it in mind.” Abruptly, Reisi lets go of Suoh and stands in one smooth, elegant motion. A touch of power is called forth to rob the oxygen from the embers in the cigarette. A part of him had been tempted to smoke it right after taking it from Suoh. A silly and strange thought. He does not allow himself to ponder further on it. It would break the rules, after all.

      “If you’re here to demand compensation for your clothes, then I can arrange a replacement to be sent,” he finally says instead. The cigarette is lax in his fingers. He’ll wait to hand it back to Suoh. Or perhaps Reisi will keep it. Suoh owes him for taking up precious work time, after all.

      “Are you appeased, Suoh? If so, I’ve papers to tend to.”

[tsckcyomi-archived]

Mikoto's expression remains neutral while Munakata towers over him, his hands still buried in the pockets of his jacket. It'd be unusual for the Blue King to attack him without issuing a warning first, after all. Although when he crouches behind him, he can't help his brows raising in question at the sudden proximity between the two.

"I didn't know you even knew what 'respite' is. That sounds unlike you." Munakata, to him, seems like the kind of person that is perfectly happy spending the rest of his life dedicated to his work. Not to his family, or any friends or anything else. It's something that Mikoto finds a hard time relating to when he's perfectly happy spending his time with his clansmen in Kusanagi's bar or at the baseball field.

Fuck, he's relieved that the Dresden Slate didn't make him the Blue King. What the fuck would he have been supposed to do, then? Then again, he still wonders why he became the Red King, as well.

Not that he has the time to ponder on that any longer.

A soft grunt passes his lips, more one of surprise rather than any pain. As harsh as Munakata's grip may be, and as uncomfortable as his head being bent back this far is, it's only that ━ discomfort. There's something else in him, though, that screams to reach for the Blue King and rip him apart for approaching him in such an aggressive manner.

There's yet another part of him that demands him to reach for Munakata for another reason altogether, but Mikoto can't be bothered to name it. Instead, he quietly watches as Munakata takes the cigarette from in between his lips.

" ━ Yeah? And what kind of consequences are we talking about?" He figures that the worst Munakata can do is toss him into one SCEPTER 4's prison cells, and Mikoto isn't sure if the Gold King would be happy to hear about that. "If you tell me where that assigned area is, I'll keep it in mind."

Reisi does not answer him yet. Indeed, it was him that started thihs interaction, and Suoh rising to the challenge is an outcome he should have expected. Regardless, it will be an outcome he shall deal with before anything gets out of hand. It would be rather inconvenient and dangerous for a fight to happen twixt them here, and he would prefer to keep his organization out of this.

Reisi moves forward. One step. Another. He comes close enough so to tower over Suoh and peer down at him, head tilted in a way to match Suoh's gaze after the Red King tilts his own head back.

His experession does not change, though he likes to think that his gaze becomes harsher. His smile, however, remains curling his lips.

"A moment's respite inspired by my suborindates," Reisi finally says, "it was not a move to incite your presence here. If anything, I did not expect you to go to such lengths to send me that footage."

And, oh, the question aggravates him. Of course it does. Suoh, he knows, only says this to provoke him, though to what end, Reisi cannot calculate.

Yet, before he can stop himself, he's crouching down behind Suoh, bringing them closer. Very casually does Reisi grasp Suoh's hair, fingers curling amongst crimson strands, and carefully does he tilt Suoh's head back even further. Though the action seems gentle, the grip Reisi has on his hair is harsh, bringing the back of Suoh's head further to Reisi's knee so that they're all but facing each other.

"Then there will be consequences," Reisi murmurs. His other hand reaches for the cigarettte. Captures it twixt his index and middle, and pulls it from Suoh. "You are on Scepter 4 property. I do not allow smoking outside of it's assigned area."

[tsckcyomi-archived]

Mikoto's lighting up another cigarette with a flick of his fingers when he feels a shift in the air ━ when he feels Munakata making his way toward him. The beast in him roars, straining to fight against the king approaching him and simply let loose... And to consume them all. It's such a familiar feeling that it only draws a tired smile from the Red King as he waits for the other.

Perhaps it's the mere knowledge that Munakata is closeby, but even though he hasn't activated his Sanctum, Mikoto feels less worried about his powers than usual. After all... Munakata could suppress his powers with ease.

He doesn't even turn around when he hears the other man behind him, instead tilting back his head to exhale heavily and watching the smoke rise up in the air.

" ━ Yeah? You're the one who messaged me first, y'know, during your precious work hours... So don't act all innocent now, Munakata." The Blue King's name rolls off of his tongue so easily. It's quite the contrast to what he thinks Munakata feels like when speaking his name just now.

"What if I don't feel like leaving?" He can't wait to see what exactly the other King will come up with to make him leave. Or how quickly he will give in and simply put up with him.

He manages to do one stack of paperwork. One entire stack before Awashima knocks on his door.

Somehow, Reisi already knows what the problem is. A strange, burning pressure that lingers on the edge of his senses, as if he's inextricably connected with the Red King, that only grows stronger the closer he is. A testament to Suoh's power, perhaps, or something else. Something else Reisi would prefer not to acknowledge.

He did not expect Suoh to answer then visit so soon after his text. Annoyance wars with an unspeakable emotion Reisi does not wish to name nor acknowledge. He'll have to see what Suoh wants. Hopefully, it will not take as much time as he expects it will take.

He stands. Neatly files the last of the stack he is working on and sets it to the side. He pockets his phone and secures his sheathe.

"Sir," Awashima starts, but Reisi moves past her, buttoning up his coat.

"Thank you, Awashima," he says, giving her an amicable smile, "I will deal with this."

Fushimi levels a displeased look at Reisi as he heads out the door. Expected, considering his ties to HOMRA. Reisi will have to check on him later.

For now, though...

"Suoh," he greets, staring hard at his back. The smile is still present on Reisi's lips, though his eyes tell a wholly different story. He has work to do, after all. This interruption will set him back enough to take extra time to finish everything. "Your presence is unsettling Scepter 4. Unless this is work-related, I kindly request that you leave."

[tsckcyomi-archived]

Mikoto's long changed into a fresh set of clothes and retreated into his room upstairs to laze around on the couch. His ears are still ringing from the way Kusanagi yelled at both him Totsuka before looming over them as he watched them clean up. The right-hand man of HOMRA is one of the very few men who'd dare yelling at the Red King and treating him like the petulant child that he could be at times.

A ping from his phone reminds him of the reason he went and got himself into trouble with the bartender in the first place. Grabbing the device from the sidetable blindly, Mikoto blearily blinks at the small screen.

The message elicits but a snort from him, and he replies within seconds.

» that so. «

For a moment longer, Mikoto stares at their brief text exchange. He doesn't have anything to do for the rest of the day... He might as well pay SCEPTER 4 a visit. Just to see Munakata's glaring at him incredulously for coming there unannounced.

He ignores the questioning looks of his clansmen as he wanders out on the streets without a word. It takes him thirty minutes to reach the grand building, although he doesn't bother entering the premises. Instead, he settles on the curb, the smoke of a lit cigarette curling in the air. One of the blue clansmen would surely spot him and go tattle to their king. And he's a patient man, anyway.

Reisi watches it. Watches it again. Again. Pause on the exact moment Suoh seems to exert force to demolish the watermelon, split seconds before it utterly ruins his clothes and the surrounding area. He plays it again until the sound of a confused bartender fills the air before cutting off.

If a chuckle was drawn from his lips, then the only witness would have been Awashima, who lurks close by during work hours if quietude reigns. Whether she heard it, however, is a possibility he mulls over in his mind for only a second before he decides to play it once more.

It's interesting that Suoh would involve his clansmen. Reisi supposes that it is his fault for mentioning the members of Scepter 4 in his initial message.

He considers the message for a moment longer. A moment later, he sends back:

'You shouldn't have worn your clothes, then.'

A pause. Too forward, perhaps? He does not feel obligated to buy Suoh new clothes, although he does consider simply sending over a Scepter 4 uniform. But, ah, that would be inappropriate. Not to mention, he's certain a member of HOMRA will use it for unprofessional intentions.

Well, either way, he does not feel obligated to elaborate. Suoh rose to the challenge. Reisi considers requesting his subordinates to compile a list of similar challenges, then dismisses the idea. To think he would use precious time and resources simply to incite recordings and further messaging from Suoh... a silly thought.

And so, without another second spent on the matter, he tucks away his phone and focuses on his paperwork instead.

[tsckcyomi-archived]

Anna doesn't react to Saruhiko's snippy remark. He's always been terse while he was part of HOMRA, after all, and frankly… He doesn't seem to be entirely at ease around her, as well. But he still comes to help her, even if with some amount of reluctance.

" ─ I'm not stuck," she confirms quietly yet stubbornly. Perhaps Saruhiko finds her behavior infuriating, how she keeps insisting on retaining a little bit of pride. It's childish, but... Well. She just turned eleven. In spite of everything, she can allow herself immaturity.

Blinking slowly, Anna gives a small shake of her head. No, there isn't anyone else close-by that could catch her in her predicament or help her currently. It's only her embarrassment and his annoyance that she can feel clearly, every other emotion is dulled due to the distance between herself and the source. So, it's only the two of them. "...Saruhiko." There's more urgency, something akin to a pleading undertone, in her voice now. She's been here since quite a while now, her feet are hurting and she just... wants to get out.

"You need constant supervision," Saruhiko snaps out as soon as he's close enough. Annoyance reigns in his mind - though more-so at himself for pausing to acknowledge the young girl. If he simply kept going, then she would eventually be found by another member of HOMRA and Saruhiko won't have to embarass himself by expending useless effort to free her.

... At least the machine she's stuck in is smaller than last time. Though that begs the question as to how she managed to do this once again, but he doesn't bother asking it. Instead, he sighs and crosses his arms.

"Not stuck, huh?" he asks, though his eyes are now closely assessing the situation. Freeing her seems straightforward enough. Just have to apply some weight and get her to wiggle free...

"I can pretend you aren't, if you want," he drawls, not wishing to take any action until she seems comfortable with him. "Though, it's not like there's anyone around to see otherwise, is there?" He dearly hopes not. It was humiliating more-so to have more HOMRA members appear.

[tsckcyomi-archived]

For a while, Yata decides to tour around the city on his skateboard without a specific goal in mind. When he passes a pharmacy, though, he does decide to go in and get some medication. Honestly, he's still not sure if Saruhiko is actually sick, but it doesn't really matter. It's not like the other knows how to take care of himself, anyway, so Yata has to look after him as much as he can. Stomachache, headache, fever, sore throat, he better cover all the bases that Saruhiko would simply ignore.

When he returns to the apartment they share, Yata puts the medication on the counter in a well-visible spot. At least Saruhiko can't miss it there and Yata won't have to ask him directly about how he's feeling, not when he's in such a bad mood apparently. With his hands on his hips, Yata stares at the various boxes for a moment longer before he sighs. Honestly, he doesn't understand Saruhiko… Even though they've known each other for years by now. But, well, Saruhiko is just way smarter than him, and had a way different upbringing with asshole for parents… Of course there'd be some things that he doesn't get about him. Although he thought they found some common ground by now.

Instead of pondering on the issue any further for now, Yata spends the remainder of the afternoon cooking. The curry is one of his and his sibling's favorite dishes, and one that his mom taught him. Perhaps that'll help lift the awkward atmosphere in their home somewhat. The smell wafting through their apartment does make him feel better, at least, and when it's all done, he allows the dish to simmer. It should be fine if he stirs it every 30 minute until it's done, and in the meantime… He'll just chill on the couch.

He doesn't account for his falling asleep, though. Only when he hears footsteps coming downstairs does Yata stir, his gaze wandering to the other. For a moment, he forgets all about the way Saruhiko is apparently mad at him ─ and about the curry. At least until he registers its smell still wafting through the aparment.

"Oh shit ─ !!" he yells as he jumps to his feet hastily, almost knocking over a chair as he runs over to the stove top, cursing again under his breath. It better not be burnt, their budget doesn't allow for it, the one that he set for them, anyway. Peering into the curry, Yata stirs it carefully a few times. It doesn't look, or smell burnt… Thank god.

"Phew, that was close," he says with a soft snort and glances over at Saruhiko with a grin. "It's ready if you want some."

       Anger thrums beneath his skin. The outburst is sudden, unbidden, because Yata always talks far too much, and Saruhiko cannot help it, cannot hold back the aggravation that builds up and bursts. His lips are still curled into a grotesque snarl long after Yata has left him. But it’s fine. Yata and believe and say whatever he wants. It’s Yata’s problem. Saruhiko only showed Yata how he truly acts, as he always has done in the past, and Yata reacted exactly how he should have, how he always should: by leaving. It’s not like Saruhiko is a good person. Nor does he care about having friends. Nor should Yata even bother.

        “Idiot,” Saruhiko mutters. He tries to turn his full attention back to his laptop, but the image of how Yata must have looked after his outburst won’t leave him. Saruhiko didn’t bother looking at him then. After all, he knows how Yata looks when he’s hurt. Saruhiko has hurt him plenty of times to properly sear the reaction in his mind.

       But, as always, despite whatever Yata feels, he always adds something frustratingly dumb. Like how Saruhiko needs to rest up. How he needs to eat less snacks. How, despite being told to shut up, Yata still bothers to make him curry and ensure Saruhiko is eating properly. Idiot. Yata is so stupid. When will he learn that Saruhiko doesn’t…

       Saruhiko swallows. Stubbornly, he reaches for those snacks Yata correctly guessed he’d hidden away. He eats a whole bag of them. Takes another and works his way through it as he types. Yata can’t tell him what to do. The redhead’s a goddamn idiot.

       After a while, he finishes his stash. There’s no more left. His stomach grumbles. There’s so much he wants to do, and he can smell curry wafting through the crack in the door.

       Saruhiko grimaces, then stands. He shoves his hands in his pockets and makes his way downstairs. Maybe he can get some curry and leave. Easy.