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cyb-by-lang · 4 years ago

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Leaning On Each Other (Remix)

This is a while later than I expected to get it finished, but here is @writer-and-artist27‘s birthday gift. She asked for a Kei-style take on this minific she wrote a while ago, so I did a full remix.

Apologies for making it a remix instead of the requested Kei's POV of this exact scene.

“I’m telling you, the difference is all in the wrist,” Kei said, holding out a kunai as though it was a katana. She spun it between her fingers as soon as her demonstration was over. “I mean, imagine this about four times as long in the handle and with ten times as much blade, but the point still stands.”

“You’d have to get me a bokken and show me directly if you want that to make sense,” said Obito, shaking his head slightly. “Rin?”

Rin shrugged, though her eyes didn’t quite leave the blade. “The blades I deal with are even shorter. I don’t really use them to stab people outside of a medical context. If you’re stabbing someone with a scalpel, something’s gone wrong,” Rin said, even as Kei made the kunai disappear into the holster on her thigh.

“Like in the flying clipboard story?” Obito asked.

“I still don’t know the actual story behind that,” Kei said.

Rin nodded along, but only smiled mysteriously when both of her friends in this conversation turned interrogative stares her way. “It’s funnier if I don’t tell you.”

On the opposite side of the couch, Kakashi made an agreeing noise, then flipped to the next page in his book. Kei didn’t know for sure what he was reading, other than noticing earlier that the cover art was entirely in grayscale and looked kind of gloomy. If Kei had been the one reading, she probably wouldn’t have paid enough attention to the conversation to know where she was supposed to make obligatory listening sounds.

Tomoko emerged from the kitchen at this point, flopping down on the couch between Kei and Obito. Kei raised a hand to keep her head from hitting the wall, and the three of them shuffled around a bit to accommodate her.

“So, done working for now?” Kei asked, silently making sure that all of her weapons were stowed. Sure, she’d left her sword at home, but no shinobi was ever fully unarmed. It was a truth universally acknowledged that a kunai somewhere unfortunate would ruin anyone’s day.

“You know me,” Tomoko replied, not noticing the shinobi weapons-check or not saying so. She leaned against Kei’s shoulder without hesitation. “Just for now.”

“That’s what you always say,” Obito said, leaning forward over his knees to get a better look at their faces. “You should’ve let us help.”

“There was batter on the ceiling last time, wasn’t there?” Rin asked. She’d only heard this story second-hand and the details changed in the telling because no one wanted to admit they’d been the one to start shit.

“That was Kakashi’s fault,” Obito said instantly. “And we were at Kei’s house, so we only got banned there, so it doesn’t count!”

“Getting banned from any kitchen still disqualifies you from going into a professional one, I think.”

“Focus, team,” Kakashi said, but mostly sounded like it was a wordier version of the iconic Uchiha “hn.” He certainly didn’t put any force behind the order.

“Okay, okay.” Kei nudged Tomoko with her elbow. “So, what’s up? Besides a clear need for a nap.”

“Nothing but the ceiling,” Tomoko replied.

“No, really?” Kei drawled automatically. “Would’ve never guessed. Congrats on your first well-timed pun, though.”

Tomoko pouted. “It got your attention, even if it’s a horrible one. So I’ll try to be punny more often.”

“Tomo-chan!” Obito said, shaking his head.

“I don’t regret it. Fight me.”

Kei considered her options carefully. A bad pun used in verbal combat came with a number of acceptable responses, but Tomoko wasn’t Hayate—who Kei would have already shoved off the couch by this point. Possibly backflipped him over the top of it, trusting his combat training to handle the landing. Tomoko needed more delicate handling.

Therefore, Kei said, “Obito wouldn’t fight you if you paid him, puns or otherwise.”

“It was a joke!” Tomoko protested, half-sunk into a combination of Kei’s jacket and the plush back of the couch. Her voice was a little muffled and pouty as a result.

And Kei occasionally pretended she didn’t know about those conversational ripostes solely to exasperate Tomoko. She wasn’t sure Tomoko had caught on yet.

From cross the table, Rin leaned forward and said, “You need to work on your delivery, Tomo. That landed pretty flat.”

“And the Earth is round and rotating on a crooked axis, sue me,” Tomoko said childishly in return, refusing to raise her head from her new resting spot. “I’m trying and I don’t wanna move.”

“It’s almost like overworking has totally foreseeable consequences,” Kei mused, her voice lilting to take the sting out of her words.

Tomoko paused, thinking on it for a second. “…Would you have me any other way?”

The answer was immediate. “Nope.”

“Good.” A smile replaced the pout. Tomoko’s habit of puffing her cheeks out to pout mostly made Kei want to poke her. “What’s up with you?”

“Not much.” Kei shrugged as best she could with Tomoko’s head on her shoulder. “To make a long story short, Kakashi doesn’t want to give input on my totally half-assed kenjutsu lesson. Obito and Rin are being good friends and pretending they know what the hell I’m talking about.”

There was a crinkle signaling the turning of a page as Kakashi went back to reading.

“Okay, just for that? Rin and I are going to talk about things that aren’t swords,” Obito said with a comically exaggerated huff. “See how you like it.”

Kei rolled her eyes. “Oh no. Traitors, et cetera.”

Rin’s smile was helplessly fond. “All right, all right. No more sniping until we get you both on a practice range.” She turned her head. “So, Obito, did I tell you what happened when Akihito-shishō caught the nurses smuggling candy—”

Rin’s tempting gossip drew Obito’s attention wholly, which was a good indicator that everyone was indeed done with the sword story.

Tomoko turned her head so that her face was finally angled up toward Kei’s. “You know I was asking about you, health-wise?”

There were times when it seemed as though Tomoko did little else. The life of a ninja was like riding a rollercoaster with a rickety, rusted track that didn’t deserve to have so many twists and turns. Especially for how unreliable it was. Their lifestyle was a major risk to life and limb.

Kei didn’t say any of that. Instead: “Yeah, I know.”

Tomoko thumped her head against Kei’s shoulder. “You’re my best friend in the whole wide world, y’know.”

“I know,” Kei said by rote. Reincarnation time buddies! Who hopefully weren’t going to destroy the universe by accidentally turning something into a paradox.

Another bonk. “Nagareboshi Café will always be open for you, y’know.”

“I know, Tomo.” Mostly because Kei had enough people in her life that she’d never forget it now. Being able to find half her social group there on a given day made the place a landmark, even if it wasn’t also a homey spot on its own.

Sounding a little strangled now, Tomoko added after a short pause, “So then, Kei?”

“Hm?”

“Whenever you need help, whenever you’re down, you can call me up, y’know. I don’t know how well I can fix things, but I’ll try. I’ll always try.”

Kei sighed. It was half from fond exasperation, but half from genuine frustration. There was always a part of her that utterly rejected the idea of pushing any of her emotional burdens onto Tomoko. Kei had volunteered practically from the start to chase whatever means of gaining power she could, all so she could make sure her precious people were safe. That was not the choice Tomoko had made. She’d never needed to, and Kei almost needed her to stay out of the blast radius.

“Tomo, you know I’m not good at asking for—”

Bonk.

Kei went silent, raising an eyebrow in a silent question as Tomoko stared back.

“Just listen, okay?” Tomoko rarely demanded direct, sincere statements toward Kei, who was equipped with a bone-deep inclination to deflect and dismiss what she viewed as excessive verbal reassurance. “No matter what happens, no matter what you end up doing, I’ll stay with you. To the end of our days.”

Kei bit down on the urge to interrupt.

“I care about you, y’know. So when you need it, let me help you like you help me. Just get that memorized.”

Kei sighed again, reaching up to pat Tomoko’s head. “I’ll remember that.”

When she could. It wouldn’t be as easy as Tomoko made it sound, but perhaps it could be, eventually.

And that was when Obito bounced onto the couch hard enough to make Tomoko briefly airborne. She landed with a surprised “eep” with her weight still mostly on Kei’s side, but turned to face Obito.

“Obi?” Tomoko said, startled.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Kei said over Tomoko’s head. It was so much easier to downplay any surprises when she could track everyone’s location within the room. Also, she’d seen Obito move out of the corner of her eye because he definitely wasn’t being stealthy.

“Your conversation looked like it needed crashing,” Obito said lightly. “It looked heavy even from where I was standing.” He tilted his head to one side, tucking his legs underneath him. “Tomo, is Kei influencing you? Are you gonna start all your conversations with puns now? Please say no.”

“It was my first try, Obi,” Tomoko soothed, reaching over with her right hand to rest against the side of his scalp. “I can try a different joke.”

Kei shifted her weight so that Tomoko ended up leaning more Obito’s way.

“I don’t know, I think the debut worked,” Rin said, settling back in at her spot. Whatever she and Obito had talked about must’ve scared him back into this conversation. She added to Tomoko specifically, “Just maybe relax a little and let them come naturally.”

“Wordplay and swordplay are both about timing,” Kei offered, “so I could probably help.”

“I can see you being a bad influence, you know,” Obito said. “Even if you’re trying to be all underhanded about it.”

“You’re shinobi,” Tomoko said, “Everything’s sneaky and underhanded! I could’ve sworn bad puns are how eye roll considering the family-friend thing.”

Obito groaned, defeated. “Kei, you had one job!”

“If she’s not making improvised bombs in her bedroom, I’m still coming out ahead,” Kei told him. “And she’s not. I think?”

“I’m not!” Tomoko said, half-frantic at the turn. “Just baked goods, like usual!”

“Oh, if that’s the breaking point,” Obito grumbled.

Tomoko frowned thoughtfully. She rested her hand against the side of Obito’s face in apology, then said, “I’ll hold off on the puns and you can have a batch of cupcakes later. Will that be better?”

This time, there was a hum of approval. Obito closed his eyes and leaned into Tomoko’s hand like a cat, mollified for now.

That’d probably last until the next time one of Kei’s friends opened their mouths. Peace reigned until the next half-joking argument in the life of Team Minato. And most of their associates.

“Can I join in?” Rin said, though she was already cramming herself into the space on Kei’s other side with a medical textbook in her lap. Kei didn’t bother wondering where she’d gotten it from; at some point, pulling a “nothing up my sleeve” routine felt like it was expected. “This looks like fun.”

“There’s cookies near the stove if you want to grab those first, Ricchan,” Tomoko said. Her chakra felt floaty with contentment. “Just to help with the studying you have there. The cookies are sugar and snickerdoodle.”

Rin’s smile widened. “Maybe later?” She still absently opened the front cover of her book, glancing at it before leaning against Kei’s other shoulder. “This feels nice right now.”

“Just make yourself at home, I guess,” Kei said with a toss of her head, settling farther down in the couch cushions. She shuffled to handle both hers and Rin’s weights before considering. “What about you, Kakashi?”

“Hn.” He instead disappeared briefly into the kitchen, out of easy spotting range thanks to the movement limitations of the human neck. “There’s not enough space for five people on that couch. There really wasn’t for four, but apparently we’re stacking like apartment blocks,” he judged when he returned, but he settled at the group’s feet and set the plate on the table in front of them all. “I brought the cookies.”

At this point, Tomoko started humming.

Rin reached forward and retrieved her cookies, passing out others at random. Kakashi demurred, returning his attention to his book, and wrinkling his nose at the thought of eating such sweet things of his free will. He was content just basking in his friends’ company.

“Just eat and relax?” Tomoko offered, passing a cookie from Rin to Obito. “We don’t have anything going on today, so let’s pass the time like this.”

Kei leaned her head back against the top of the couch, listening with half an ear to the world around her. With sight out of the way, she could focus on her friends’ contentment through her chakra sense and live in the moment.

Tomoko’s voice rose over the impromptu cookie party:

“Dream of anything;

I’ll make it all come true.

Everything you need

Is all I have for you.

I’m forever

Always by your side.

Whenever you need a friend,

I’m never far behind.”

Obito shifted and the couch dipped under his weight. Felt like he was reaching for his next dose of sugar already. The plate scraped across the table. “Could you sing that a bit louder, Tomo-chan? I want to hear.”

“Eh?” A sudden wave of shyness swept through Tomoko. “You sure?”

“We’ve all heard you sing before, Tomo,” said Kei, keeping her eyes shut. “No pressure.”

Rin’s sun-on-water chakra perked up along with her voice as she said, “You were the one to say we should relax, right?”

There was a brief back-and-forth between the boys—banter so played-out it was almost entirely fond. Amusement passed through each of them like an electric current.

Tomoko’s voice rose again.

“If the stars all fall,

When there’s no more light,

And the moon should crumble,

It will be alright.”

Being here, with these precious people, would tide Kei over through their next absence. With the life she and her friends lived, that separation was inevitable. There was always something else coming down the pipeline and eventually disturbing their peace, but that was the future.

This was now.

“Don’t you worry about the dark,

I will light up the night with the love in my heart.

I will burn like the sun,

I will keep you safe and warm.

Like the smell of a rose on a summer’s day,

I will be there to take all your fears away.

With a touch of my hand,

I will turn your life to gold.”

Kei seared the moment into her memory, to keep it like a light against the darkness still to come.

#the sea and stars #snippet #snippets #keisuke gekko #hoshino tomoko #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #rin nohara #team minato

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years ago

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True! Once again, another similarity, hah. The difference there is that Rigby is lowkey feral and gets jealous really easily. Not necessarily unreasonably jealous, only with things that can reasonably be interpreted as cause for jealousy (even a little), as well as, well, simply not getting enough attention. For the latter, she's quieter about it, unless it becomes too much, in which case she does something about it. As brash and direct as she can be, she's still not one to just up and interrupt when he's in the middle of a conversation, but when that's all over, she won't hesitate to--

Hover. She's not good with initiating any kind of affection, accept maybe a pat on the head or a hug when it's really needed. But affection of the more casual type? Maybe she'll try, like reach subtly for his hand, but she'll quickly fluster herself and retreat. So she'll just kinda stick close to him, probably half-focused on trying to figure out how to demand tell him she wants the thing u call affection pls. If he's sitting, she'll sit really close. Like really close. Barely an inch between them. And she won't say anything. Mayyybe she'll have a slight blush on her cheeks, but she'll deny it if asked and turn redder and if he, say, puts his arm around her shoulders, she'll blush deeply for sure, maybe a grumble a little, despite the fact that she's leaning into his touch and this is what she wanted in the first place.

She'll "take what she can get," so even small gestures of affection get her flustered. A kiss on the cheek has her redder than Saeyoung's hair. My goodness, this girl.

Oh, but back to the beginning: if he's talking with a stranger, or even just an acquaintance, and they are a little too close for comfort, she wont hesitate to march on over and claim him in one way or another. Grab his hand, his arm, side-hug him, etc, all whilst glaring at varying levels of intensity depending on the situation. Its one of the only times she'll initiate contact (the other times being when she's too tired/sleepy to be very tsundere. I mean hey it takes a lot of energy to be tsundere)

It's also unlikely you'll hear her say the word "boyfriend" very often. She prefers something like "partner" or "companion". "Boyfriend" makes her feel ~fuzzy things~ and she doesnt quite know how to deal with that

[417]

(Someone help this girl shes clueless omg)

Omg i forgot to add!! That ur comment at the end there! I-- 🥺🥺💕 shot through the heart! I've been hit! I'm down-!

Bdbsbshv that- i- that makes me beyond happy??? That u like my character and this dynamic that much??? (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

I almost dont have words, fr

If i get struck with inspiration when im done with hw i'll- i'll try!! I tend to get a little carried away with angst if im not careful though and then end up hating it but- as long as i stick to only what needs to happen we should be fine lol

[417]

(Also, i seem to do better with hurt/comfort than just straight angst, as i discovered yesterday, so i have that going for me)

All I’m thinking about is Saeyoung just trying to give her a kiss and she’s got her hand on his forehead trying to hold him back because, “It’s not like I like you or something like that but you can’t just kiss someone in public, you absolute utter fiend!”

Oh. Saeyoung knows that she gets flustered. He’s going to use Girlfriend so much that her head is going to spin. She’s going to try and bonk him but he’s going to run and keep doing it until A. Vanderwood stops him for you, Rigs, or B. You catch him, or C. He runs into a door because he wasn’t looking for where he was going and he deserved that.

She’s just too fucking cute. My heart is weak.

#oc #417 anon #ask #mod kait #cmc

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thelostcatpodcast · 4 years ago

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THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 5: EPISODE 5: THE DUNNERING DEMON

Released on : 5th June 2020

https://thelostcat.libsyn.com/season-5-episode-5-the-dunnering-demon

My cat was walking along a quiet hedgerow-lined road in the country, of the kind where the tarmac gives way to gravel at the edges, and passed a sign reading ‘you are now entering the village of Dunnering’.

Some bunting had been draped it.

It was a beautiful village on a green hill surrounded by rolling fields dotted with comfortingly ancient trees where birds sang just out of reach, with delightful rows of mismatched cottages leading up the hill to the stately old manor house.

From every lamp-post hung bunting and flags, on every window flowers.

It could not have been a more pretty, peaceful place.

But Dunnering was a village beset by ill-fortune, sickness, violence and, as of this morning, murder. For the village of Dunnering was cursed.

THE LOST CAT PODCAST, BY A P CLARKE, SEASON 5, EPISODE 5: THE DUNNERING DEMON

As my cat wandered up the delightful high street, he noticed a general movement of humans up the hill towards the manor house. A crowd of them. He made a habit of following crowds for the inevitable heaps of dropped food that always accompanied them.

But there was a strange feel to the crowd, less of the excitable and chaotic energy that one usually gets when something out of the ordinary has happen, and replaced with some kind of grim magnetism that pulled them all up the hill.

The crowd was full of mutterings about ‘the curse’, and ‘the demon’.

And they all walked, leaden foot, up the hill towards the manor. And so my cat held back, not wanting to get caught under any of those feet.

Then my cat also noticed one human, an old lady, walking slowly but very determinedly in a different direction. She walked over to the side of the road, bonked her stick off the helmet of the police constable, who was watching the whole parade with a bemused expression, and made him open his car door so that he could drive her up the hill. My cat leapt in to her lap, just before the officer closed the door, and immediately began purring.

The old lady said, “oh? What’s this with the purring? I don’t have any food.”

But she scritched at his head, and he settled down gently.

“Ah dear, do we have to, Mrs Lipeston?” Grumbled the officer. “It’ll get fur everywhere!”

“I’ll worry about this cat dirtying your car, when you’ve bothered cleaning it up after last night’s joy ride. Don’t think I didn’t notice!”

And the officer coughed and changed the subject.

“And if there’s anything else I can do for you, Mrs Lipeston.”

“This will be sufficient, Jason.”

They drove carefully up the road to the gates of the manor house, avoiding the crowd.

The gates were closed, and being guarded by large groundskeepers with even larger dogs. The crowd drew up to the gate, but all stopped a very specific distance away from the hardened scowls that greeted them, and absolutely none tried to push past.

The groundskeepers owned absolutely everything beyond that point.

So the crowd peeked around the edges of the gates, and over the fence, to try and sneak a look at what might be happening within.

As the police car pulled up to the side of the road, the constable asked, “Do you know what this is about, Miss Lipeston?”

“No, but I fear any business concerning Lord Dunnering will come to no good.”

“Some say he’s quite mad.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“Some say...”

“Don’t mention the curse, Jason.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Lipeston.”

“He was a good child,” the old lady began, and the constable knew better than to interrupt again. “Brighter than all the others. It would get him in to trouble, but I never had problem with him. I think what gets ascribed to madness is often an unwillingness to accept a life of rules and traditions such as run right through an ancestral manor such as this. However, at some point, as he grew into a man, it turned him inward, and dismissive of others, and I simply could not talk to him at all after that. But he grew in to a man of immense will. He had unbounded energy, a world striding ambition, and he did not suffer fools, or his family, gladly. He abandoned his inherited wealth and then went and built an entirely new fortune by himself that dwarfed that of his family. Mad? I am not so sure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the constable, opening the passenger door for her.

Miss Lipeston held my cat in her arms, and the constable helped her out of the car.

As the two began slowly making their way through the crowd to the gates, passing plenty of whispers about ‘the looney lord’, they saw a handsome lady rush up to the gates, with a clear attitude of authority, and began speaking to the crowd with a high manner. She kept looking at the Groundskeepers with a mildly-hidden mix of fear and disgust, while the groundskeepers were in turn barely keeping their disdain in check.

It seemed a common goal - of keeping the crowd out - was allowing a temporary impasse.

The dogs just snarled.

She said: “Now please, please, Lord Dunnering is a VERY private man and this is a very sensitive matter. We must ask for the GREATEST of respect in this unfortunate time.”

“That’s the Lord’s niece,” said the constable. “Turned up recently.”

“Yes, I know of her.”

“Lord Dunnering knows,” the lady continued. “Lord Dunnering knows that he can reply on your FULL support at this time.”

And while the lady was speaking, Mrs. Lipeston leaned in to the constable’s arm and continued: “Then the story takes a turn. For he took off. Vanished. Overseas, and no-one knows where, or what he did. Rumours, of course, and of a most unkind nature, flourished. He came back some five years later, with no word of explanation, kicked everyone out of the ancestral pile and filled the halls with the uncounted, not to mention mysteriously gained, treasures that he had acquired in his travels. And that, I am afraid, is where the trouble began.”

They approached the gate. The neice blocked them. The dogs snarled at my cat, and my cat hid further down in the woman’s arms.

“Uhh, excuse me but where are you going?”

“To speak to Lord Dunnering.”

“As his niece I will be handling all questions regarding the estate at this time.”

And Mrs Lipeston gripped the constable’s arm, just ever so slightly.

“Mrs Lipeston will be assisting the police today, Lady Carstarse.”

“Well, I…” Lady Carstarse began, but Mrs Lipeston walked straight past her before she could finish.

“Grace,” she said, as she did.

The handsome woman clearly wanted to follow them in, to assert authority again, but that instinct was caught in a conflict of not being willing to give up the gates to the groundskeepers. As such she just sort of stood still, and stuttered.

“Well, aren’t you going to do something?” she said.

The groundskeepers said nothing, but kept their eyes very carefully on the old lady as she passed. The dogs growled at them, and pulled at their leashes.

My cat stayed very deep in Mrs Lipeston’s arms.

And they walked along the gravel path towards the house, past withered flower beds, thick bramble, and endless cages for animals, of all sizes, now empty and overgrown.

And Lipeston was in full flow now: “Once the family was gone, he filled The Manor House with every kind of treasure, the grounds were filled with every kind of exotic animal. He hired a full staff of groundskeepers to look after this extraordinary collection. The house had never seen such success. But bad luck began befalling the Dunnering Estate. Plants would not grow, the animals began dying, there were strange sicknesses among the staff: breakages, accidents, sightings, and more”

My cat did notice a strange atmosphere in the grounds. He heard no birdsong, he smelt no trace of wildlife. He looked back, and saw the guard dogs had stayed right where they were, on the other side of the gate.

“These events became so severe Lord Dunnering became convinced that he had been placed under a curse and that he was being hunted by a demon. And a darkness came over the manor then. It radiated out from him and smothered all within its influence. He became more and more paranoid, more fearful of every tiny threat until he locked himself away inside his great hall and was never outside again. And of course, such behaviours simply fuel gossip like gasoline.”

“They say he desecrated an ancient Syrian tomb.”

“Precisely,” said Mrss Lipeston.

And with that, they entered through the vast doors of the Dunnering Manor.

And they saw just what the gossiping had all been about.

The entrance hall had been completely gutted, and replaced with an immense glass case, stretching all the way up to the now removed roof, forty feet above, and enclosing some 80% of the vast atrium.

It was a complete second, sealed, inner room. The old roof had been removed, so that the glass was exposed to the sky, with nothing breaking its smooth surface but a small ventilation port barely two feet across right at the top and right at the centre.

Inside the room the floor was filled with furniture and statuary, of Marathan, Byzantine and Zhou heritage, and more. Some of the sculpture was immense. Beds, divans, tapestries and dining tables of many styles, filled in the spaces between. Marble and bronze, wood and glass: The treasures of many worlds.

And there, lying at the centre, quite dead, was a young woman with her head bashed in.

“Oh my dear girl,” Mrs Lipeston said, so quietly, and my cat could feel her body straighten as her aspect changed, and she slew off some of her little old lady body language.

My cat gave the room a good sniff.

The constable said with a gasp: “Is that Maud Montgomery?”

“I’m afraid so,” said the detective in charge, calling over. “Lord Dunnering’s fiance. Daughter of the head groundskeeper. We’re just getting the doors open now.”

A group of medical staff and police officers stood by a complicated set of doors on one side of the glass enclosure. Groundskeepers stood around them, checking over their every action with grim expressions.

And the medical staff, even the police officers, worked with great and visible, care.

An older man was with them, handsomely dressed, entering a code into the door.

Mrs Lipeston leaned over to the constable and whispered “Uncle.”

“They do keep popping up, don’t they.”

“Don’t they just.”

The Uncle was speaking: “Double-redundancy, Time release airlocks. A fully featured quarantine with de-comtamination chamber. The, uhh, renovations were made without any expense spared.”

He looked up at what was left of the Manor’s roof as he said this. “Which of course were entirely Lord Dunnering’s privilege to make, and we have supported him in every way. There.”

The heavy doors unlocked with a hiss of escaping air, and the medical staff went in to check on the body, lying still in the centre of the room.

My cat, sitting in Mrs Lipeston’s arms, got a good smell of the escaping air.

When the uncle saw the body through the doorway he turned away, holding his hands to his face.

“Oh it’s too awful,” he said. “They were to be wed this Saturday.”

Just then the niece bounded in from outside, out of breath, clearly having made the decision that it was more important being there than at the gates.

She saw the body, and held her uncle’s shoulder.

“It is a tragedy, Uncle Freddie.”

“We put bunting up all over the village,” said the sobbing Uncle.

Mrs Lipeston asked, “And why all this?”, gesturing at the great class enclosure.

It was the niece that responded.

“I’m afraid Lord Dunnering is... sensitive to outside contagion, and demands everything go through two weeks of quarantine before being let in to own sanctuary. He built this entire chamber for his fiancée so she could pass her time in quarantine in comfort. When the quarantine period was finished, she would have been transferred to his own quarters so that they could have been, finally, together.”

“How did they meet?”

“The two struck up a relationship while she worked around the house, doing groundskeeper duties. She would sit by his chambers for hours, apparently. She was an incredible solace to him. Such a lovely girl, surprisingly so. We thought she might finally bring him out of himself. It is so tragic.”

Mrs Lipeston said, “I might need to speak to the groundskeepers too at some point.”

“Uhh, be careful,” said the niece, speaking more quietly now. “They don’t mix well with... locals. The Lord brought them in after working with them on his travels. They are insular, proud, and fierce.”

“The story I tell,” said the uncle. “From my great-grandfather, about how their people fought in some war or other. They faced an invading force ten times their number, and over days of battles broke that number down to less than half. Extraordinary fighting. But when the invading force finally overwhelmed them, and stormed their settlement, they found every last one of them dead. Facing capture, they had killed their own rather than face dishonour. I would be careful.”

“Nevertheless,” said Mrs Lipeston, and moved over to the quarantine doors.

The groundskeepers all watched as she approached, and she made a point of catching one of their eyes and holding his gaze.

Some of the police officers were speaking:

“It’s the curse. It’s got to be.”

“It is a crime,” said the detective in charge.

“But how could it have been done? There’s no way in, and no way out?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it.”

“No human could have done this.”

Mrs Lipeston interjected: “Has Lord Dunnering been informed of the death? We should speak with him.”

“Lord Dunnering don’t want to see anyone,” came a booming voice from behind them.

Heavy steps sounded from the darkened hall that led to the East Wing and the hunched form of the Head Groundskeeper emerged into the space, and stood, blocking the corridor.

“Mr Montgomery.”

“No-one.”

And the other groundskeepers joined him, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Mrs Lipeston approached, leaving the others behind.

“I can not offer you solace, Mr Montgomery,” she said. “But we will catch who did this.”

“Was the demon.”

“If it was a demon, then we will catch a demon. May I pass?”

Mr Montgomery did not move, and a couple of the groundskeepers leaned in and they spoke quietly for a moment.

Eventually he said, “Ma’am.” and he reluctantly stepped asideAnd Mr Montgomery reluctantly stepped aside, and then led them in to the darkness of the East Wing.

“I am utterly sorry for your loss, Mr Montgomery.” Said the uncle as they walked.

And Mr Montgomery cleared his throat so aggressively at that no-one spoke at all the rest of the way.

There was no lighting in the corridor, and it was lined with towering statuary and other treasures, piled high on either side. The deepening shadows loomed over the party as they walked in to the East Wing.

The corridor emerged to show another huge glass enclosure had been built, and filled the space. It was all in darkness, covered in drapes and curtains, save a single beam of bright sunlight from the ventilation port at the very top.

A man stood there just inside wall of the glass room, almost in silhouette, and watching them approach.

“Mrs Lipeston, it has been a long time.”

He was gaunt, he did not fit his clothes, he was pale, and his body was almost completely still. He had none of the vitality of the world-striding young man she had known, he did not have the squirling pestilent energy of the sick, nor even the floating unreality of a ghost, only the cold grey blankness of death, and it bled out from him to fill the entire room, the entire wing, and it poisoned everything it touched.

“Miss Lipeston, it has been a long time.”

“Yes it has, Philip.”

And he held in his arms a small, hairless cat, of the type popular in Northern Africa and the Middle East, and it hung limply from him, it’s shallow breaths showing through its ribs, with barely enough energy in it to raise its head, which lolled forlornly over his wrist. Its pale, bare skin stretched and stuck to its master’s until you could barely tell where one started and the other finished.

Lord Dunnering then looked at my cat, which was sitting in Mrs Lipeston’s arms, looking all about with some interest, and the merest trace of a wince could be seen on his brow.

Instinctively, almost unconsciously, he reached for a handkerchief, and began waving away imaginary cat hairs from around him. He caught himself doing it, and then began self-consciously rubbing at smudges on the glass wall with the handkerchief, as if to cover his mistake up.

The hairless cat in the Lord’s arms languidly raised its head enough to see what was going on. But Its heavy lidded eyes were barely even open.

Some smudges the Lord could not budge, no matter how hard he rubbed. He snapped when he realised they were on the outside of the glass.

“Mr Montgomery I have asked you repeatedly to ensure the cleanliness of the quarantine. Increase the rota. This place must be clean!”

“Yes, sir.”

Lord Dunnering caught himself again, and straightened, taking a half step back. It was clear he was finding himself doing this sort of thing more and more.

He took a deep breath, put the handkerchief into a waste receptacle, and gathered himself.

Calmly, the Lord turned back to the gathered crowd.

“I asked to be alone.”

“I’m afraid this is a police matter, Lord Dunnering.”

“And then why is she here?”

“We must ask you some questions.”

“There is nothing to say.”

“Your fiancée has been murdered,” said Mrs Lipeston.

“It was the demon.”

“Take this seriously.”

“It is the curse.”

“Philip!”

“The curse takes everything!” he spat, suddenly wrathful, with that old energy passing fleetingly across his parchment face. “Oh, at first I did not believe it, in my arrogance, as staff fell sick, animals began disappearing, began dying. You never could solve those deaths could you, Mrs Lipeston.”

“No, Philip, I could not.”

“But still I careened blindly on. Then my own pets were lost. I came back to this manor with three sibling cats, Mrs Lipeston.” and he stroked the pallid, lone creature in his arms. “By the time the second one was taken from me I could not deny the truth any longer: I was cursed, and it was killing everything around me, so I retreated here, to this sanctuary, out of the world, so I could keep what I loved safe.”

And his face passed in to shadow, and any trace of the old Lord that remained was entirely gone.

“But it did not work, for now the curse has taken my beloved. Even here, even with all I have done, the curse follows with me. The demon will come for me, will come for every thing I love. There is no escape. Leave, for there is nothing here. Not any more.”

He turned away from the glass then.

“Mr Montgomery, you are relieved of duty, you may do as you wish.”

And Lord Dunnering retreated from the wall, back in to the darkness, absently stroking his withered pet.

“Be careful with your cat, Mrs Lipeston. They don’t last too long round these parts.”

And then he was gone.

They walked back towards the Entrance Hall, towards the light.

As they walked, the uncle shook his head with worry. “I am concerned this could send him over the edge entirely, and we’ll never get him back, right-minded and competent again.”

“It is a terrible tragedy,” agreed the niece.

Back in the entrance hall, the body of Maud Montgomery had been brought out of the quarantine, on a stretcher and covered, and was currently waiting for the coroner to remove her to the hospital.

Mr Montgomery knelt by the stretcher’s side, and held the body’s hand.

He placed it back, gently, beneath the cloth and then rose.

“Well,” he said. “What’ve yer got?”

“We are following up a number of leads at this moment…”

Mr Montgomery scowled at him, shook his head, and stormed off.

“Have you checked the roof?” said Mrs Lipeston, and pointed up at the ventilation port.

“It’s too high, it’s too small. We’ve discounted it as a means of ingress.”

“Discount nothing, Detective.”

And the detective sucked in sharply. “Fine,” he said. “Officer: send three men up.”

And, as he ran off, Mr Montgomery and a couple of the groundskeepers stood at the East Wing corridor, arms folded, and glaring.

While they were climbing towards the roof, my cat wriggled in Mrs Lipeston’s arms and the old lady let him go to the floor, where he began sniffing around the doors of the opened airlock.

Forty feet above them, long wooden ladders were stretched out over the gloss roof, as they tried to attach to the support of the ventilation apparatus without touching the glass itself. This entire edifice was designed by someone who wanted it perfect in form, with no care as to how hard it was to access.

Police officers banged and wobbled their way along the ladders to reach the ventilation port. They checked it thoroughly, then reported down that there was no evidence of tampering at all.

Then one of the officers almost fell off the ladder. In the Entrance Hall they all looked up at the figure half dangling off the struts, then clasping himself very tightly to the ladder.

The detective called up, “are you alright? What happened? Report!”

“I’m sorry sir. I’m sorry. But I think you are going to need to see this, sir.”

“What is it?” asked the detective “what is it?”

“Footprints, sir.”

The officer was brought a tablet so he could beam an image down to the detective.

And the image told its story. Close to the ventilation port were two large, non-human footprints next to each other. They neared half a metre long, with complicated claws around their outside and, one on each foot towards the front, was the round outline of a large sucker.

“My god.”

“Like a squid or something.”

“It is the demon! It used the suckers to climb straight down the glass walls and do for poor Maud. We have to tell the Lord!”

They ran back to the East Wing.

Mrs Lipeston followed, silenced by the evidence of the footprints.

Back in the East Hall, The Lord looked at the footprints, then put his hand upon the glass and bowed his head.

He said, “My love, my love.” Then he collapsed, putting the cat down upon a table where it melted to the surface like custard. He said, as he sobbed into the floor “I have cursed you too.”

And then two large thumps were heard above them, coming from the darkened roof. Then two more, towards the back of the house.

“Footsteps!”

“The demon is still on the roof!”

The Lord grovelled on the floor “It is come for me. At long last, it is come for me.”

Mr Montgomery stood tall and said: ‘If it leaves footprints, it is real. And if it is real, you can put your hands on it. And I will lay my hands upon this demon.’ he pointed at the detective. “Bring everyone!”

And they rushed, all of them, the family, the police, the hangers-on and the groundskeepers, out into the grounds, carrying clubs and whatever was to hand, leaving only Mrs Lipeston and Jason the constable.

They looked into the glass case and the Lord lying there.

“It is not unheard of for someone to be so convinced of their own guilt that they create their own punishment. But could that self-destructive will become so strong as to manifest physically? To actually become real?”

“I don’t rightly know, ma’am.”

“You should probably go with them, if only to ensure they do not harm each other.”

“I think you might be right.”

“And Jason,” she added as he started to leave. “Do be careful of yourself out there. Just in case.”

“I will Mrs Lipeston,” he said, and ran off.

Mrs Lipeston left the East Wing slowly, and met my cat as he walked back from the Entrance Hall. She lent down and scritched behind his ears, speaking distantly, mostly to herself.

“I don’t know. I just… don’t know. I am not so foolish as to dismiss the existence of demons. But I’m not so sure it is monsters that do things like this. Let us say: Trapping the lord in a cage would most definitely benefit some of those outside of it. Something doesn’t smell right, and I am sure you sense it too, little one. Go on. And be careful.”

My cat ran off in to the halls.

My cat walked down the shadowed corridors of the vast manor house, lined with the relics of ancient worlds, and things more unimaginable, all towering over him.

Faint noises echoed in the halls: movements in the shadows in the corners of eyes. My cat was used to reading the endless activity of the city at night, but he was not used to the almost complete stillness here, and so found it hard to interpret it.

So he mostly ignored it, for he had a scent to follow. He was following the strange mix of smells he had found all around the tragic sanctuary of Maud Montgomery.

Outside the quarantine, he had smelt all of the usual country smells of village people but also stranger smells, chemical smells - smells he only knew from certain parts of parts of the city.

When the airlocks had opened he had smelled Maud, sweet and sad, coming from her clothes, from everywhere she had touched, but could not make out the scent of any other person. What he did smell coming out of that airlock door, that had so peaked his interest, was the very faint smell of an animal.

And it was this smell he was following right then.

He followed them down stairs, past kitchens, well passed where the statues began to thin out, with the smell of this animal getting stronger and stronger, and onto a corridor right on the edge of the manor house.

There was a bang! And a scrape!

And my cat hid beneath a statue, as one of the groundskeepers walked by, come back alone from the hunt, and constantly looking behind him.

My cat followed him.

And, at the very end of the corridor, the groundskeeper unlocked a door with three locks and went in. My cat snuck by before he closed the door and went in too.

And there the strange mix of chemical and animal was strongest mixed in with the sweet, sad smell of Maud Montgomery.

It was a small, plain bedroom, and the groundskeeper was lighting dark candles and incense of the kind to ward off dark spirits, filling the air with the smell of chemicals.

Then, in front of a small book case, he put down two small bowls, pushed the case aside, and revealed a small cubby hole, filled with blankets, soft lights, and a tabby cat curled up tight right in the corner.

And a cloud of cat hair spilled out of the cubby hole. The cat had been there a long time. And the tabby cat shuddered – it was absolutely terrified.

The groundskeeper filled one bowl with water, one with food, patted the poor creature on the head, and then left, locking the doors again.

Alone again my cat rose and, very carefully, before he revealed himself, made a thin high yowling noise.

The noise said ‘I am just passing through, and I pose you no threat’

And then he stepped out in front of the terrified creature, and waited for the animal to accept his presence.

But it would not leave its hiding hole. It kept checking on the windows, at the grates in the walls - all of the places a demon could get in. The terrified cat checked all around the skirting boards of the room. It all made perfect sense from my cat’s point of view - it was checking for any gaps.

As far as this poor cat was concerned, if he left this hiding place, the demon would get him.

My cat stayed small and gentle so as not to scare the cat any further. My cat purred and moved slowly to calm the animal and, eventually, my cat approached, sat down next to it, and began licking its fur.

This was Maud Montgomery’s cat, hidden away so that the curse that killed all the other animals would not get to it. It said a great deal that the cat was hidden, rather than given away or left with relatives. Maud was clearly a lady who was not going to give up her cat. This animal was loved, and had been cared for. It is possible that the cat had already sensed that something had changed, and that Maud was never, ever coming back again.

My cat gently groomed the poor creature. And when it was calm, they settled down and napped with each other, just for a little while.

My cat left the animal sleeping and happy a little while later, stopping to eat a bit of the food first. My cat knew the killer of Maud Montgomery now, and he had work to do.

It was the dead of night now. The halls of the Dunnering House were silent and still. And my cat paced through the East Wing to the great glass wall of Lord Dunnering’s quarantine.

The glass shone in the moonlight, smooth and clean.

The Lord was long asleep, the hunting party long since returned empty-handed, and the house closed up for the night.

My cat approached the glass, and he yowled.

And, slowly, out of the shadows withered the hairless cat, its head barely lifted from the floor, its limbs swaying like noodles.

It came and sat on the other side of the glass, its shoulders like knitting needles through the skin of its back.

They stared at each other.

And then the hairless cat straightened its limbs, its eyes narrowed to points, it rose up and sat regally. It opened its mouth and called out in a coarse, breathy hiss. But it was not addressing my cat. It was looking behind him.

Where, out of the darkness, two more hairless cats approached, stalking, like panthers.

The cat behind the glass cocked his head just slightly, as he watched. He showed his teeth, and hissed.

My cat backed away from the hunting pair, towards the glass.

One of the hairless cats circled round to cut him off, rubbing up against the glass to close that escape route, and leaving an oily smudge.

My cat had nowhere to go.

The two hunting cats closed in.

And then two nets came down upon them.

Mr Montgomery and the constable came out of the dark, holding on to the nets.

The cat within the glass howled a shrieking howl with its feet up on the glass wall, unable to do a thing.

Mrs Lipeston called for the lights to be turned on.

Mr Montgomery leaned in close to the cat in his net, and he said “I got my hands on you.”

The captured cats spat and yowled.

Lord Dunnering himself walked bleary eyed towards the glass.

“What is the meaning of this!” he said.

“We have captured the murderers of Maud Montgomery, Lord Dunnering,” said Mrs Lipeston.

The lord rubbed his eyes awake and saw.

“My cats.... Those are my cats! They did not die!”

“No. I imagine it would be relatively easy to live in the roofs and basements of this manor without being detected.”

“They are the killers? But this is ridiculous, Mrs Lipeston! You are making a fool of me! Of Mr Montgomery! Of Maud!”

But Mr Montgomery said, “i’d hear her out.”

“Fine!” said Lord Dunnering, looking at his long-lost pets struggling in the nets. “So tell me: HOW did they commit this murder?”

And Mrs Lipeston took a deep breath, and began:

“It was a simple plan, really. Jason, could you fetch me a chair. Thank you. Last night, the cats waited for the poor lady to fall asleep, then one blocked the filtering system bringing air IN to her quarantine - most probably that one, and you may find some slight scorching on one side of its body, as the machinery can get hot when blocked.”

Jason checked, and confirmed a slight reddening on one side of the cat.

“The other then simply sat on the ventilation port above and their smooth, hairless skin created an airtight seal on the glass. Then they had simply to wait for the oxygen, in what was now a completely sealed room, to run out.

“Poor Maud woke up eventually, choking and already dazed from carbon dioxide poisoning, and fell hard upon a marble statue and quite bashed her head in. Dramatic, but unnecessary, for she was doomed as soon as they sealed off the air.”

“And what about the footprints?”

“Ah,” said Mrs Lipeston, who was finding her rhythm. “The footprints were caused by these cats sitting on the glass while they waited for the lady to sleep. When a normal cat sits down they leave a bundle of hair, but these ones, they leave only an oily smudge of their sweat. The footprints were simply the oily residue of their hairless skin imprinting on the glass the outline of their seated forms, which can easily be mistaken for the footprint of a much larger beast’s footprints.” Then miss Lipeston leaned in. “Those suckers some were so sure helped them walk down the walls were, my dear lord, the oily outline of their hairless ani.”

She said this with some relish.

“But why would they do this?”

“Greed. Selfishness. Covetousness. Do not think that such desires are purely human inventions. They had the Lord and wanted him alone, so they began a campaign of destroying anything that would take the Lord away from them. This was the beginning of the curse. Then they hid in the roofs and grounds of this estate and attacked anything they saw as a threat. Other animals, new pets, staff and now, rising to human murder, the future wife of Lord Dunnering, Maud Montgomery: the biggest threat they had faced so far.”

Lord Dunnering was silent for a long while.

“My god,” he said. “My god.” he had his hand to his head.

“Well,” said the detective. “We shall take away these murderous animals immediately.”

And the Lord said “Stop! They are mine, and I will do with them as I please. Put them in quarantine so that they may join me in two weeks. These cats were my everything, and I thought I had lost them. Now I find them returned, and will not have them taken again, for they are all I have now. So this is done. The curse is complete, and the demon has found me. Leave my estate, you are all of you no longer welcome.”

And so they left. They closed the gates and went down the hill to the village, leaving the manor house behind.

And my cat had a very nice evening on the old lady’s lap, in front of her fire, as she told stories to her very patient friends of the many other mysteries she had solved. And they drank very large glasses of red wine.

After a day or so, the cat moved on, walking through the strangely quiet village on his way out.

It still was as bright and cheerful as ever, but it was not the same.

Some of the bunting lay coiled, higgeldy-piggeldy in the street where the wind had blown it down and no-one had picked it up.

And, on top of the hill, the manor house darkened and was shuttered up, its ground left to wild, its unused wings closed up and left to rot, and deep at its heart, three cats wrapped themselves around a man, alone, and lost, deep in an unfathomable darkness of his own.

THIS HAS BEEN EPISODE FIVE, OF SEASON FIVE OF THE LOST CAT PODCAST, CALLED ‘THE DUNNERING DEMON’, WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY A P CLARKE

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING

Links:

https://apclarke.bandcamp.com/album/the-lost-cat-podcast

thelostcat.libsyn.com

twitter.com/LostCatPod

thelostcatpodcast.tumblr.com

facebook.com/lostcatpodcast

soundcloud.com/a-p-clarke/sets/the-lost-cat-podcast

#CAT #lost cat #thelostcatpodcast #lostcatpodcast #podcast #audiodrama #horror #comedy #murdermystery #transcript #dunnering #demon

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the-caboose-be-loose · 6 years ago

Text

Using the Ticket

As I said on AO3, I wrote this mostly before the festival chapters. If you like how I write rev!mabel then you should check this series out because I get similar vibes from Nagatoro which is pretty much why I made this

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Nagatoro relaxed on the sofa, one arm behind her head for support as she tapped her phone with her other hand. She was searching the internet, not really looking for anything, just occupying some time. Her connection was dodgy for a few seconds, so she shot a sidelong glance at her Senpai.

Despite her presence, his focus was intent, fervent even. While his back was turned towards her, she could practically see how his eyes flicked back and forth between the bowl of fruit on the table afore him and his canvas, his hand similarly flicking his pencil swiftly and precisely to capture every detail.

A smile crept across her face, simultaneously happy to see him so enraptured and desiring to interrupt. They often came together.

She opened her mouth, ready to call to him, but stopped, her smile growing as the fingers behind her head flexed. Nagatoro scratched gently against her scalp, her eyes tracking upwards to Senpai’s hair. She wasn't really sure if she was imitating what she wanted him to do or what she wanted to do with that scruffy mess. She opened her mouth again, ready to chastise him about combing, but stopped again.

Why was she hesitating? Nagatoro couldn't explain it to herself. She just liked how this moment felt. The quiet simplicity of it as she flopped onto her side and watched him sketch. It was something she'd learned to appreciate, even if he wasn't sketching her. He’d sketched her before while she was awake and probably also when she’d napped. That was gross, but endearing in a ‘Senpai’ sort of way.

They did have an odd relationship. With all her teasing, with all his patience. Nagatoro could hardly blame him for indulging a bit in some creepiness. It wasn't like he was just taking a pic with his phone to jack off to. No, Senpai would take the time, the effort, to sketch a picture-perfect drawing of her just to admire, though maybe missing a few particular details.

Or possibly including them, and then maybe he'd jack-off to it. Or maybe a memory of it after he, embarrassed, destroyed it. He was such a creep, she knew he'd do that sort of thing. That he'd done that sort of thing.

Nagatoro blushed, now grinning wildly at the idea of her Senpai doing such a roundabout act just to get his rocks off. What if he drew her nude? She could just see him: Red-faced, awkward grin, weak eyes. Adjusting his glasses with one hand while his other shivered as he drew her naked despite her fully-clothed inspiration.

She held her hand to her face, feeling the heat radiating off of it just as shame hit her heart. Those thoughts… were bad. Just because she sort of wanted them to be true didn't mean they were. Maybe that was why she liked Senpai. That he made her want him to be bad because he was so good. Well, that and that the teasing was fun.

Nagatoro scratched her cheek, still staring at his back as her grin fell into a grim frown of introspection. Why did this nerd put up with her with all that teasing? Why didn't he tell her to fuck off? Why wasn't he making a move if he was willing to let it happen? She'd back off if he'd ever sounded really serious about it.

Yeah, she bullied him. And people often have trouble dealing with bullies. But… didn't she bully him in kind of an obvious way? Like, not that she didn't enjoy teasing him, but wasn’t it clear that she wanted it to be HER doing the teasing? A sort of understandable bullying because she didn't really mean it. Different from how her friends did it: Their words, their actions, filled with a more malicious mockery hers never carried.

That was probably it, she knew, scratching her cheek more irritably. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes as she accepted the fact that her Senpai probably couldn't tell the difference between her teasing and her friends. How could he? What, from his perspective, was the difference?

Really, when it came down to it, what was the difference between Senpai’s brand of creepiness and her own? Method, certainly, but the end result was the same: Creepy. He was weird in his way and she was weird in hers. Her lips warbled as she continued to stare at him.

“Um,” Senpai muttered, tilting his head away from his canvas, though not enough to see her. He hesitated, then whispered, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Nagatoro answered, instantly annoyed by her own annoyance.

He'd probably heard her sigh few seconds ago. Then probably worked his courage up to check on her. She rolled her eyes, frustrated that she couldn't keep her own complicated feelings to herself. He might not know what was bothering her, but he was of course going to ask:

“Is everything alright? Or, um, I mean, is anything wrong?”

Nagatoro narrowed her eyes, now annoyed by his concern. Not because she didn't like it in particular. More that she didn't like the distance his questions had.

There was an irritating caution in his voice. A hesistance that spoke to the gap her method of affection created. Her gaze shifted to the side, staring at the fabric of the couch while she grumbled incoherent words to herself. Gibberish that let out some of her frustration.

“Nagatoro?"

He was looking at her now. A fact she sensed, her eyes turning accordingly. He immediately looked away, a typical blush spreading across his cheeks. She harrumphed quietly, her gaze falling to his lips since he wasn't looking at her. She felt some heat of her own and grumbled again.

Sitting up quickly, Nagatoro grinned when her Senpai snapped his attention back due to the motion. His eyes immediately wandered away again, but she felt his concern in that brief moment. It might have even grown from before, what with her bizarre actions.

He adjusted his glasses. “Er, uh… are you okay?”

Nagatoro regarded him silently. She cocked her head, thinking about her own thoughts the last few minutes. She could tell this was a chance to say something snarky. A chance to mock his concern, knowing it wouldn't stop him from showing it again, unlike if her friends did the same. It was that knowledge that made her say something different instead.

“Senpai,” she started, her voice low and even. He jolted nervously, his spine straightening from the usual slouch, almost like he knew what she was about to say. “I have a ticket.”

“T-ticket?” He adjusted his glasses again, even though they hadn't moved.

“The do-anything-you-say ticket. Remember?”

“Wha-?”

Senpai looked confused. Nagatoro could feel her own eyes widen, steady and unblinking, locked on his and seeing every flick they made to her before the inevitable and instant flick away.

“From the nipple-poke game. I won. And I got the ticket. Remember?”

“...”

His flush grew and he adjusted his glasses unnecessarily yet again. She knew he remembered before her reminder, sometime during those flicks. She also knew he was wary of what she'd ask.

Nagatoro opened her mouth, but found her voice failing her. She closed it and looked down. Her fingers rolled into her palms, scratching the couch as she formed fists. She was nervous. Nervous like he was. Being honest with herself, she'd probably never felt closer to him, at least in mood. She could make them closer in another way with just a sentence, though.

She looked back up, a forced smirk on her face and ready to slyly command him. But she faltered since he was watching her. Likely for just a moment, but it was the moment she'd looked up. She mouthed her demand without any sound.

“Wh-what?” he asked, confused.

Her mind fritzed, any prior confidence gone. A myriad of other requests span through her mind. Coverups for her embarrassingly honest desire. All feeling inadequate even as she knew them convincing, simply because she only wanted to admit what she really wanted.

“Kiss me.”

The room stilled, like a vacuum had sucked away all the air. She saw in his eyes that he flinched, but his body didn't move. He was too shocked to react physically. His mind was quickly running into overdrive and Nagatoro realized he was going to think this was a prank.

It wasn't though. She opened her mouth again, panic spreading across her face. She had no idea what to say. She was suddenly terrified at the fact she'd asked what she asked and she had an out by pretending it was a prank. But it wasn't though.

“A-are you s-scared?” she stuttered, instinctively falling back into teasing as the burning sensation spread up to her ears. “Never k-kissed a girl, have you? Virgin-Senpai…”

Nagatoro noticed she was shivering. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but it was hard with all the shuddering. Senpai’s eyebrows had furrowed. He looked angry, frustrated. It was cute in a way, but frustrating for her as well since she had no idea what he would do. She wanted to say something more, something to push him over the edge she couldn’t pass herself.

Senpai stood stiffly, turned his body to her and took an equally stiff step in her direction. Another followed. Then another. Nagatoro looked up as he approached, the false-arrogance on her face falling as her heart thumped loudly.

Senpai’s lips wiggled tensely, as did his hands at his sides. She couldn't see them at the moment, but Nagatoro knew they would be doing that. It was a helpful thought, distracting from the painful wait as he slowly and jerkily bent over. His eyes were closed, so of course he bonked her forehead with his like an idiot. She could’ve moved back to dodge it, or held a hand between them to block it, but she kind of wanted it to happen.

It made her giggle, her eyes closing as she held a hand to her mouth. Just that little bit of ineptitude was exactly what made this moment so perfect. She heard her Senpai flinch with a slight shuffle of his feet and she knew he was going to pull away. So she grabbed his collar before he could.

Tempted as she was to pull him to her, Nagatoro instead leaned up and kissed him. She missed his lips, of course, since her eyes were closed, hitting his chin by accident. Her nose bumped his mouth, which gave her a direction for her second kiss.

They were soft, albeit dry. He could have at least licked them to moisten up a bit. He didn't even kiss back really, his lips meekly flexing against hers.

Still, Nagatoro felt herself lingering a second or two longer than she intended. It was nice. Relieving really. She finally moved away, sighing contentedly as she released his shirt. It wasn't an ideal kiss by any means, and yet that somehow made it exactly such.

Senpai wasn’t perfect. He was far from perfect. Very, very far from perfect. And that was what she liked about him.

Because even though he was so far away from what society considered perfect, he shone in his own particularly imperfect way. His awkwardness, his art, his earnestness in both (the former so cutely comical), it was what made him him. And that kiss was exactly what she'd expected knowing all that.j

Senpai fell forward, his hands landing on the couch to support himself. Nagatoro twitched backward, suddenly alarmed at the prospect that they were about to kiss again. He didn’t, which should have been obvious considering her prior thoughts. Instead his knees gave out and he fell back onto his shins, his head down and a hand to his glasses, keeping them in place as his butt settled between his feet.

She noticed her breath had quickened, though it was slowing now as she watched him. She was simultaneously relaxed and stiff, everything about what just happened swirling in her mind in both good ways and stressful ones. She nibbled her lip, unsure how to proceed in all this confusion.

Then she realized her legs were open, and Senpai was kneeling between them. He wouldn't look up her skirt, but teasing him that he would was a way out of the growing awkward silence. A sly grin appeared on her face, the drop of sweat on her temple evidence it wasn't sincere.

“I-” Senpai said, interrupting her before she could speak. “I… didn't, um… kiss you… you kissed me…”

“...what?” Nagatoro asked, staring at the top of his head. In a way, she was relieved he wasn't looking up since she wasn't sure how to react to whatever expression he had.

And, of course, he looked up right as she thought that, sending a shiver through her whole body. Her muscles tightened and heat shot everywhere through her. There wasn't anything especially odd about his gaze, just that typical earnestness

Wait. That was what was odd about it. His awkward earnestness, focused on her as it often was, except those other times she hadn't just kissed him. So, there was something more to it now. Something more, well, earnest.

He, he wanted her. She'd known that for a while now, but, again, that had been before she kissed him. Now, in this moment, he wanted her and he knew she wanted him. Nagatoro was a billion percent not ready for this

She reached up and pressed her hand to his lips. “I ch-changed my mind. I mean, pff, haha, I was joking. I was gonna ask you to…” her brain stopped working, “a-ask you to… um…”

Nagatoro didn't have a backup plan. Because she hadn't had a plan to begin with. Because this was exactly what she wanted. She was just too stubborn and contrary to admit it. She realized she was looking to the side and turned her gaze back to him. Senpai wasn't looking at her either, but that changed when her hand fell.

There was silence. Then a hum. He’d leaned in and given her a peck, then he'd tried to flinch away with embarrassment. Nagatoro was having none of it, following him in a tackle. She even clenched his head, fingers running into his hair as she furiously mashed her lips to his. He didn't respond at all, his own lips stiff.

She shot up straight, suddenly feeling that she'd jumped the gun. “I-I... .”, she started. She had nothing. Nothing but the crazy back and forth this situation was sending through her mind.

“Do you want to see a movie!?” Senpai screamed. “I mean, tomorrow!”

It reset things, returned sanity. Nagatoro let out a heavy breath, feeling herself settle with it. She looked down to see he’d winced an eyed open while the other twitched nervously closed. It was pretty brave by Senpai’s standards, looking at her after he'd asked such a bold thing. Especially after she'd aggressively tackled him.

“As long as we sit in the back,” she said mechanically. She blinked, only realizing she'd spoken after the fact.

“People pick those seats a lot. And tomorrow’s kind of soon-”

Nagatoro grabbed his chin and forced it towards her. She'd already agreed, so she was going to roll with it. She leaned in until her eyes were less than an inch from his, feeling almost dead-looking since her desire ran the full circle of emotions with maddening speed. That might have added to the seriousness of her words.

“Pick the most boring movie you can. With the fewest people.” She paused, a wildly heavy breath going in, then out, of her.

Nagatoro paused again, her eyes spinning while also focused. On his lips, of course. She impatiently pressed her own to them, feeling again that meek return. A better response than the second, at least.

She couldn't help it. Lame as he was at this, she legitimately wanted to make out with dumb, nerdy boy for at least an hour. She'd teach him. She'd teach him and by the end of things she'd want to kiss him because he'd be damn good at it. In addition to all the reasons she was doing it now.

“N-n-nagatoro!” he yelled, shoving her away.

She bounced against the couch, then froze. It'd been a longer kiss than intended and she'd pushed him to his brink. She'd gone a bit… well, honest to herself, completely crazy. Her Senpai wasn't looking at her, but she still felt his attention in every way besides sight.

Craaaaaaaaap… she'd given herself away pretty hardcore just now and there was no getting over the embarrassment blazing through her.

Nagatoro stood as rigidly as Senpai had earlier and ran to the door, throwing it open and racing through it. She jogged all the way home, ignoring her vibrating phone and her parents greetings, diving into bed and swirling the blankets around her. Suitably comfortable, she finally fished out her phone.

There were a bunch of messages, as per usual, though about half of them were from her Senpai. They started apologetic, as if it'd been his fault everything had happened, then they were appreciative, maybe praising her as an apology. He was such a nerd. She squirmed in her cocoon, hoping what she'd read next would progress like she wanted.

A movie time. Midday, and on a Sunday. Not uncommon for their age, but they were in high school. She didn't recognize the movie name, and when she looked it up it had pretty bad ratings. It was a decent enough choice given her parameters. Sheeee was probably going to have to do what she said she'd do.

Saying was easier than even thinking about doing it. Like, she'd surprised herself today, but that day she'd have to hold to a promise that she had plenty of time to think about. Definitely not easy.

Still, she mentally cocked her head. She could just imagine Senpai flustered as he had searched up movie times while he tried to work out when would work. As he worried over whether she'd be busy at the time he picked as if they couldn't work around it. Heat in her cheeks, she grinned and searched the movie times herself.

Sunday was suddenly too far away. There was a matinee showing at 1PM tomorrow. During school hours, which Senpai would obviously oppose. But what was truancy versus making out with her? And when he put his foot down on that idea, she'd be able to talk him down to a less radical meeting on school grounds. Classic bargaining.

With an eager smile, Nagatoro sent the message to her Senpai. It faded, the warmth of her happiness making it less wild. She brought the phone to her chest, a quiet giggle escaping her. It vibrated with his response and she wiggled about, hesitating to look.

She kind of hoped he'd go with her truant plan, because why not go big after all this tension? Nagatoro knew him, though, and that wasn't going to happen. Balling herself around her phone with fangs prominent atop her lip, she settled in to work Senpai down to at least skipping class.

#please dont bully me nagatoro #embarrassed kissing #this has been hilariously unpopular on ao3 #i dont think this manga is very popular...

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