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sabraeal · 8 months ago

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If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 6

[Read on AO3]

Written for @claudeng80, who has been waiting longer than a month now for this birthday fic, and who has indeed beta'd this birthday fic as well, for we long ago passed the point where we pretend with each other that our final drafts are our first drafts. And though she cannot and will never see those first drafts because that is a layer of vulnerability on par with peeling off my skin to show off my bones, she can at least see my seconds drafts. Where she will then promptly tell me that I am missing a crucial word in a sentence, and maybe I should consider a comma or maybe a whole ass period, or possibly learn to spell words the way the god or at least the Oxford Dictionary intended. Because that is what friendship is all about 🤣

The problem is: it feels like too much.

The suitcase had been a given, of course; Chizuru only had the one, a gift from Father on her twelfth birthday, meant to be used on the single vacation he’d set aside time to take her on. Even after six years, the flower decals still looked like they’d been applied yesterday, pink a vibrant cherry blossom, only the dint on one corner to serve as proof it had ever been used. Disney World might have only lasted two days before a work emergency had them hopping the next flight back home, but at least the Orlando baggage carousel had left its mark. It’d been a happy reminder of better days when she’d been living out of it for those few weeks, unsure of where she would land— or whether she ever would.

It’s only— she hadn’t thought it would be full. Chizuru wouldn’t call herself a light packer by any means, but the event’s only three days, at a hotel that is possibly twenty minutes door-to-door, at least when school’s in session. It hardly seems like the sort of thing that calls for a suitcase filled to the brim. Above the brim even, if she were gutsy enough to take Kimigiku’s costume out of the garment bag— which she isn’t. It’d been heart-pounding enough putting Sen’s paper-wrapped kimono in there, let alone something with parts and pieces and things that could very easily scatter under her bed skirt and be lost for eternity.

Which brought her tally to one suitcase (over laden), one garment bag (to be treated with care), and the small travel pack she’d slung over her chest (overstuffed), gone over a half dozen times each, pared down to the barest bones, and still, still—

She can’t possibly take up this much space. Even in Shinpachi’s Range Rover, it’s too much. Maybe if she tried again, this time—?

3:15, her lock screen reads, a little snowflake sitting beside the 33°F below. Haah, with a four o’clock check in, there’s no chance of her whittling her luggage past the basics. Not unless she want to be late, and if she’s late, then—

Then everyone will be waiting for her. All of them clustered at the bottom of the stairs, watching the time tick down as she tries to decide if she really needs an extra pair of underwear or another package of hair ties. Just the thought threatens to have her break out in a full-body rash.

With a steeling breath, she adjusts her travel pack and rolls out to the hallway. A proposition that would be easier if not for the wall-to-wall carpets in the hall, but Chizuru manages to steer her suitcase competently enough, drawing up to the stairs with enough confidence to survive the six sets of eyes sure to turn her way—

Only to find two instead. Not waiting on her either— no, Yamazaki’s got his head bent close to Hajime, hands shaking with emphasis as he hisses, “I don’t care if he’s done hours before anyone else, I’m not getting in a car with him.”

“I was not insinuating that I would make you,” Hajime intones with weary patience. “I merely wanted to mention the likelihood of Souji being the first of our companions to finish with his preparations.”

“And I’m telling you that I’m not—”

It’s not on purpose; between fight or flight, Chizuru’s legs have chosen freeze, and she’s perfectly resigned to stand statue-still up here, silent and just out of sight. But her suitcase chooses to make it known to everyone in the major metropolitan area that one of its wheels is not perfectly situated on the landing. It tilts, the aggrieved wheel letting out a plaintive squeak— and that’s all it takes for Hajime’s eyes to narrow, slanting up to the top step.

“Good afternoon, Yukimura,” he says, oddly pointed. “It seems you are ready to head to the hotel.”

“Ah…” Her suitcase clunks down the next step with her, wheels spinning. “Yes. I just, um…”

Have to survive these stairs, she swallows down, gritting out a smile instead. She tries to lift her case and garment bag all together, but—

“Yukimura.” Long, well-clipped fingers wrap around the side handle, quite literally taking the weight out her hands. “Would it be alright if I handled this for you?”

“Oh.” Yamazaki’s not a tall man, not by any measure, but in the dim light of the stairway, he looms, and it— it flusters her, free hand fluttering uselessly between them. “I-I can’t possibly ask you to—”

“You’re not.” Hajime hovers at the bottom of the banister, a strange sort of lightness in his voice. If Chizuru didn’t know better she might call it…bubbly. “He is.”

“O-oh.” She stares down at the hand still clenched around a handle, willing each finger to release knuckle by knuckle, so slow it feels like someone else’s hand entirely. “Then…thank you, I guess.”

Yamazaki spares her a nod and a terse, “No problem,” right before he lifts her suitcase and—

And rams it right into the floral wallpaper.

“Nice,” Hajime hums, appreciative.

Yamazaki’s still flushed when he glares down, snapping, “I don’t see you helping.”

“And get between you and serving hime-sama?” Hajime’s not one to smirk— honestly, he’s not much on smiling either, save by millimeters— but a corner of his mouth trembles as Yamazaki tromps down the last few stairs, stormy as one of their winter squalls. “I would never.”

His jaw doesn’t so much open as fall, working, as if he needed a good running start to get his next words out. Chizuru simply slips around his side, asking brightly, “Have you been waiting long?”

“We were just discussing who we thought would be next in finishing their preparations,” Hajime tells her, not really answering her question. Experience tells her that means ‘a long time.’ “Although Shinpachi could fit the seven of us in his vehicle, we would more comfortably divide into three and four amongst two cars, and since I have a perfectly serviceable sedan”— Chizuru’s confusion must show her face, since one look at her has him hauling to a stop, coughing to clear his throat— “I mean to say, we were waiting for our third.”

“Oh.” She blinks, glancing between the two of them. “I guess that’s me?”

“So it seems.” There it is, that tremble at the corner of Hajime’s mouth, threatening to curl. For a moment, she’s certain it will, but he turns his head away, casting a speculative look down the hall. “Should we wait to take on another passenger, or—?”

“Better not risk it.” Hajime half-turns toward Yamazaki, disappointment palpable, and he adds, “Oh come on, Nagakura has the bigger car.”

“That doesn’t mean we should—”

Whatever Hajime means to say is lost in the tangle of boy and bag clattering down the stairs, the struggle so loud Chizuru’s ears still ring even after it’s over.

“Oh hey,” Heisuke says, cheerfully emerging from the tumble. “You guys haven’t left?”

Yamazaki blinks. “Not…yet…”

“We were just discussing if we should wait,” Hajime says. “Since Shinpachi’s vehicle might be preferable to the remaining passengers.”

“Nah, those guys are gonna take forever to get ready. Sano has a whole bag just for his freaking hair! And not only that, but him and Shinpachi have been fighting for the last ten minutes over who owns this styling gel or whatever, which like, who cares? But still” — Heisuke stops to catch his breath— “You got room for one more?”

Yamazaki and Hajime exchange looks. Just what exactly they’re saying, Chizuru can’t even begin to guess.

“Well,” Hajime hums, bemused. “That does handle one problem.”

“Fine.” Yamazaki sighs, hefting a bag over his shoulder. “Let’s just go already.”

Despite all her fretting, her suitcase fits easily into the back of Hajime’s Elantra, slotting into the last spot in the trunk with little more than a twist and a lift. It helps that all Heisuke has is a duffel, crammed into the corner with all the care of a dirty sock being returned to the hamper.

“Don’t you have costume parts in there?” Yamazaki manages around a grimace; one that only deepens at Heisuke’s shrug.

“It’s fine.” He gives the bag one last good shove, wedging it firmly against the side. “I just threw it together. And Sano says he’s gonna bring all the sticks or whatever—”

“They’re boffers,” Hajime interjects, “technically.”

“Yeah, that.” Heisuke claps him on the back. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Hotels have those iron thingies, don’t they?”

Both eyebrows hitch up to Hajime’s hairline. “You know how to use an iron?”

Heisuke’s face crumples in confusion. “Well, no. But how hard can it be?”

Plenty is the answer, though Chizuru’s in no mind to give it, not when she’s preoccupied with trying to hang her garment bag on the hook over the window. Yamazaki and Hajime had made it look easy, but hers just keeps sitting wrong, taking up too much space and—

“You can take the front.”

She blinks up, half spilled out of the back seat, right up into Yamazaki’s concerned frown. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, if you wanted. It’s probably, er, nicer than having to share the back with—” his gazes darts over her head, to where Hajime patiently coaches Heisuke in the proper way to treat his personal items— “anyone.”

Her hands fly up, waving between them. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly! I can’t have you sit back here with my bag in your way.”

“We have bags back there too,” he reminds her, leaving the ‘and we’re definitely making Heisuke deal with it’ unspoken. “It’s only fair for me to make the offer.”

“Ah, I suppose…” She runs her fingers down the seam of her garment bag, considering. “But really, I’ll be fine. I’m sure Hajime would prefer to have you as his copilot!”

His mouth furrows, the perfect counterpoint to the storm brewing on his brow. “Yukimura—”

“All done!” Heisuke bursts onto the bench seat beside her, quivering with the same energy as a dog wagging his tail. “We gonna get this show on the road soon?”

Yamazaki’s mouth pulls too thin for a sigh to slip through; instead it all rushes out of his nose, coming to an abrupt halt when he glances down at her. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to change seats?”

“Hey! What’s up with this thing?” There’s not a lot of Heisuke, but what there is stretches across the seat, reaching out to give her garment bag one good tug. It’s like magic— one minute it’s shoving a shoulder across her seat, and the next it’s tucked into the handle, laying flat against where the door would be. “There, all set.”

He settles back, utterly nonchalant, as if he didn’t realize he’d done anything exceptional at all. Chizuru fails to stifle a laugh.

“Yes,” she says, giving Yamazaki one of her brightest smiles. “I think I'll get along just fine.”

“Woah? This is the place?” Heisuke jabs a finger toward the glass doors beneath the portico, duffel slung over his shoulder. “You sure?”

“Of course it is.” Yamazaki steps into the revolving door, suitcase clattering at his heels. “Haven’t you seen the campus hotel before?”

“Well, like, not up close,” he admits, following him through. “But this is nice. Like nice-nice. Are you sure they’re gonna give us discounts on a place this swanky?”

Chizuru has to admit, she’s thinking the same. From the outside, it didn’t seem like anything much— just another brutalist building squatting on campus, only with better parking access— but on the inside…

“Is this marble?” she murmurs faintly, nervously mincing across the floor. A hundred dollars for the weekend seemed like a steal when she’d thought it’d have the same level of amenities as a Holiday Inn Express. Now it’s practically highway robbery. “And the chandeliers…?”

“Satsuma Estates has been very kind to our organization since it started,” Saito informs them as he emerges from the door, his own suitcase coming to rest at his heels. “Most of their meeting spaces are influenced by traditional Japanese aesthetics, which meets our standards for a desirable location, and on their part, we are regular, respectful customers who—”

“We hold our biggest events during the part of the fiscal year where there isn’t much in the way of guests.” Yamazaki’s mouth slants, almost sly. “Spending New Year’s Eve on an empty campus in the middle of nowhere isn’t exactly on anyone’s bucket list.”

“So we get to have this place all to ourselves?” Heisuke eyes a vase that could have been just as at home in the Forbidden Palace as it was in a hotel lobby. “And they don’t have a problem with us running around in our costumes? I mean, with the swords and everything?”

“Boffers,” Hajime reminds him at the same time Yamazaki sighs, “They’re just foam.”

There’s a look that passes between them; a weary one, at least for Yamazaki’s part, though Hajime…well, Chizuru could hardly pretend to be an expert on the minute changes that marked a shift in his moods. But if she had to hazard a guess, she might say…amused.

“The more regular players typically bring foam or rubber replicas, with little intention to use them outside of aesthetic accuracy.” Hajime nods his chin toward a plastic pipe leaning against the front desk, both ends thickly padded and wrapped in what looked like duct tape. “New ones or the more…martially oriented roles usually elect to use boffers. Regardless, any weapon paraphernalia is inspected and registered at check-in.”

“They are also not allowed to be drawn outside the designated bounds of a scene,” Yamazaki adds, not a little stern as he surveys the crowd. “Personal combat sequences usually require advanced warning as well, since they have to prepare an area especially to accommodate—”

“Hold up. ‘Personal combat sequences?’”

“Duels,” Hajime clarifies.

Heisuke’s eyes pulse wide. “Duels? Really? We can have one of those?”

“As honor demands.”

“Woah.” There’s a new level of respect in Heisuke’s eyes as he scans the room. “And everyone follows the rules?”

“Yes,” Hajime says as Yamazaki grunts, “Mostly.”

Another look slings between them, though this time Chizuru doesn’t mistake the censure in Hajime’s stare.

“They say we’re better behaved than a regular convention,” Yamazaki allows, begrudgingly. “Or at least, we smell better.”

Heisuke blinks. “Smell better?”

He huffs out something in the neighborhood of a laugh. “You don’t want to know.”

“Should we get in line?” Chizuru eyes the crush creeping toward the front desk, barely contained by the black tape borders. “It seems like there’s already a bit of a wait to get through…”

“Jeez! That’s a lot of people!” Heisuke startles, like he’s only just noticed. “I thought this was supposed to be small?”

“Our usual group is around twenty to thirty members.” Hajime casts a speculative look over the lobby. “But for our weekend events, it can easily double.”

“Dude, this is definitely more than double—”

“Why don’t we check into the event first?” Yamazaki juts his chin toward the hall past the lobby, tightening his grip on his bags. “If everyone’s out here, then there can’t be much of a line there.”

Heisuke’s mouth clicks shut with a shrug. “Sounds like as good a plan as any.”

The event’s check-in is down the hall from the real one, just inside the first exhibit hall they come across— nearly empty, just like Yamazaki said, the number of people loitering around denser behind the tables than in front of them. For the two boys who are best known as the only ones in the roommate agreement who possess some sense of caution, there’s no hesitation, no moment for them to take in the currents of the room and pick the best course— both beeline straight for one of the tables, lining up with all the ease of habit. Chizuru follows after them, not on their heels, like Heisuke, but taking in the size of the room, in how there’s a few people clinging to the corners, their conversations hushed but curious as they pass.

There’s a mountain of a man in front of them, made larger for how the seams of his button down strain at the shoulders to contain his hunch, and she can’t shake the feeling that it’s familiar. Especially when he stands, unfurling head and shoulders taller than all of them and—

“Yamazaki.” The man doesn’t so much speak as rumble, like far away thunder, turning to them with a warm smile. “I see you did bring your friends after all.”

“M-Mr Shimada,” Chizuru gasps, heat flooding her cheeks. “I didn’t even—?”

Recognize you, she nearly says, but he’s wearing the same button down and slacks he does behind his desk, looking every inch like the professor he is. Or at least, will be, once he’s made the jump from adjunct.

Think you’d be here is more accurate, but the longer she considers the idea, the less improbable it seems. He’s a history professor after all— the kind that keeps replica swords mounted on his office wall, right above the pictures of his wife and kids. An active kendo instructor at the campus gym too, plus a dozen other martial arts she can only half remember the syllables of. She’d already seen him do demonstrations with live steel at the freshman orientation fair, dressed up in a kimono and hakama. And when she thinks about it like that, it’s honestly more surprising that he’s the only one from the department here.

A chill shivers up her spine. He’s the only member of the department she sees. That doesn’t mean he’s the only one in attendance. Her eyes skitter out over the hall, searching for stiff shoulders or the lingering scent of Marlboro—

“He’s brought quite a few friends this time.”

Chizuru startles, but it’s not an expletive that’s been dragged over gravel— no, it’s the reedy voice of the man behind the table, a wide smile pulled across a face as dainty and delicate as a doll’s. And yet when those large eyes fix on her— not the same shocking green of Souji’s, but something softer, mossier, more natural— there’s no innocence behind them, just the ceaseless churning of a great machine.

“Though I see not all of them have made it yet.” He rises, half out of his seat and hand outstretched. “I take it this is…?”

A narrow set of shoulders steps between them. “Heisuke!”

The man blinks, impossibly long eyelashes batting against porcelain pale cheeks, but his smile doesn’t lose any of its shine. “Ah, yes, of course, Heisuke. How nice that you’ve decided to join us. I’m Keisuke Ootori, one of the game masters.”

“Thanks for having me,” Heisuke says, so easy, and— and it would be nice to be like that, to be so confident of being welcome that pleasantries don’t turn oddly personal; that saying hello doesn’t come off as desperate. “It’s my first time doing this whole LARP thing!”

“You don’t say.” Keisuke’s mild gaze slants toward Yamazaki, mouth hitched at a corner. “Well, any friend of Hajime and Susumu’s is a friend of ours.”

“Su…Susu…?” Heisuke blinks, rolling his eyes to stare at Yamazaki. “…Mu..?”

“Don’t start.”

“Now, you were playing…?” A finger runs down the binder in front of him, stopping with a victorious tap. “Matsu Yoshitora, the beastmaster.”

“He’s lion clan!” Heisuke leans over the table, practically quivering without a tail to wag. “Because that’s my fursona.”

“Oh.” There it is again, that little wobble at the corner of his mouth, that dart of his eyes to where Yamazaki stands, hands clapped over his face. “Isn’t that nice.”

“I don’t know him,” Yamazaki says through his fingers, ears blazing bright red. “He just followed us in.”

“What Heisuke means,” Hajime interjects with beatific levels of patience, “it that the lion is his favorite animal. At least out of the options presented in the player’s guide.”

“Ah, I see.” Teeth peek through his smile when the game master turns back to Heisuke, fingers knitted over his binder. “You know, one of our other players has a whole functioning tengu suit. I think you might get along.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Yamazaki grumbles, but it’s too late, Heisuke’s already nodding his head, saying, “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds cool.”

“It sure is. Technically impressive too. Now, if you have weapons”—his hand sweeps out toward the table cozened up to his, and the girl behind it— “Marie can take care of their registration.”

“They’re not here yet,” Heisuke hurries to tell him— and as an afterthought, her. “They’re in the other car.”

“If you can describe it, we can get the process started.” The girl— Marie— smiles, but it doesn’t have the same warmth as Keisuke’s. It’s perfunctory, precise, and certainly satisfies Heisuke, since he slides right over and starts trying to gesture dimensions. But still, Chizuru can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s something cold beneath that polite smile, something pointed about the way her eyes avoid anything past the midline of the tables—

“Now, you”— Keisuke’s angles sharpen, teeth flashing behind his smile— “must be Hime-sama.”

Conversation careens to a halt, even the restless murmurs from the corners of the room pressed into silence.

“Ah…um…yes.” Chizuru shuffles a hesitant step closer. “Chizuru. I mean, I’m Chizuru”— he only smiles wider at her blush— “I’m playing Doji Kaoru.”

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Chizuru.” He presses a gallant hand to his chest, a sparkle lurking in the corners of his eyes. “And Kaoru. We’ve been waiting a long time to do something with Hime-sama…”

“O-oh! Really?” Her stomach knots itself before hurtling to her throat, bile sour on the back of her tongue. “I’m sorry— it must be so much trouble to— I can always play someone else if it’s going to ruin—”

“On the contrary, Chizuru! You saved us quite a bit of trouble. Especially poor Marie here.” He jerks a thumb toward where she sits, studiously ignoring their conversation. “But on that note— once we’ve wrapped up with check-in, I’d like to talk to the three of you.”

“U-us?” Every hair stands on end. “Are we in…in trouble?”

She could pass out just considering it. Her name’s barely gotten crossed off the list, and already she’s being called in to the principal’s office to explain herself. If only—

“No, no, not at all. In fact, the opposite”— he laughs as he leans in, lowering his voice to a stage whisper— “we’d like you to raise a little trouble.”

“O-oh.” She clasps her fingers to keep them from trembling. “Okay? I guess.”

“We’ll discuss it in a bit.” He settles back, tilting his chin toward the table next to him. “Now if you have any weapons to register, you can—”

“I don’t.”

His words grind to a halt. “You…don’t?”

“No.” She blinks, fingers clenching painfully tight. “Is that…bad?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, the warmth still radiating from his smile— but there’s a sharpness to it too. An edge an unwary finger could cut itself on. “That’s perfect.”

“Hey, Shinpachi! Sano!” Heisuke bolts like a dog let off his leash as they round the corner to the lobby. There’s more than a few people that stand head-and-shoulders above this crowd, but no-one besides Harada shines bright apple red under the light, hair so glossy and soft Chizuru wonders just what he uses for conditioner. “Look! I got this cool bracelet.”

His wrist thrusts out right under their noses, fluorescent green so close their eyes nearly cross just trying to look, but Shinpachi just pushes it out to a visible distance and grins. “Sweet, bro! Where do I get myself one of these babies?”

“Around the corner.” Heisuke puffs out his chest, free hand hooking onto his hip. “There’s a girl handing them out. Look, Chizuru’s got one too, and—”

“Do they really think I’m going wear that?” Souji doesn’t so much arrive as appear, gone one moment and holding her wrist the next, like the neighborhood cat that only winds itself around her ankles when she’s throwing out old chicken bones. One finger slips beneath the pink band, tugging like he hopes it’ll give. “I’d rather cut my wrist off.”

“If you’re not having fun,” Yamazaki sniffs, “you can just go home.”

Souji’s sneer hones to a point. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, nerd.”

Yamazaki’s jaw works, breath so heavy Chizuru’s half worried it might steam, but before he can manage to marshal anything beyond ‘you—’ Hajime replied, “Yes, the bracelet is required. It marks us out as participants in the event, as well as informs security at a glance that any weapons on our person have been registered and approved by the game masters.”

“Wow, really?” Shinpachi blinks, prodding at Heisuke’s band. “Is there some sort of chip in there or something? RFID or whatever?”

“Er, no.” Yamazaki scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s just the color. Green means he’s only got one registered.”

“Blue is two,” Hajime offers, flashing his own wrist. “As I wear both tachi and tanto.”

“Oh!” Chizuru blinks down at her pink band. “What about mine?”

“You do not possess any weaponry,” he tells her, tone taking a surprised lilt. “Either visible or concealed.”

“What?” Yamazaki catches her wrist up in one hand, long fingers feather-light across her pulse, and he blinks at the band like he’s never seen a red paler than fire engine. “You didn’t bring anything?”

“I…” hadn’t known that would be an option. “Is that bad?”

“Ah, no.” His eyes meet hers, pulling wide before his fingers flinch, both hands and gaze skittering away from her. “Just…unorthodox, maybe.”

“I just thought…Kaoru is a courtier.” She shies beneath a shrug, cheeks flushed. “That means that she would put more weight on her words rather than, er…”

Hajime nods. “A good character choice, Yukimura. One that may also have complicated consequences, depending on the sort of story the game masters would like to tell.”

“Oh.” Her throat squeezes, the first prickle of tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” A hand falls gently onto her shoulder, fingers tightening in the barest squeeze when she dares to glance up. Yamazaki may not be one for smiles either, but there’s a faint one clinging to the corners of his mouth now, both amused and— and something else. Fond, maybe. “You’re with us, Yukimura. Experienced players live for complications.”

It’s warm where his hand presses to her, even through her coat, and her tongue tangles trying to find the right word, to find the compromise between thank you and I’m sorry, but—

But Souji saunters right up between them, flicking the band at Yamazaki’s wrist. “Hey, if all these colors are supposed to have some meaning or whatever, what’s with the lame ass purple?”

Yamazaki snatches his hand off her shoulder, cradling it against his chest. “What if you just—?”

“It means that he keeps up to the event maximum,” Hajime informs him mildly. “Concealed.”

Harada frowns, considering the band. “And just how many is that?”

“Five.”

“Woah!” Shinpachi takes a half step back, Heisuke quick to follow suit. “That, uh….that’s pretty impressive. Do a, uh…lot of people do that, or…?”

“No, it’s special dispensation,” Hajime clarifies casually. “Only a handful of players ever display the responsibility and mastery of play to earn the right.”

“No way!” Heisuke suddenly no longer shrinks from but stretches toward Yamazaki, an eager grin tugging at his lips. “Dude, are you like, really cool?”

Souji sniffs. “Only if hell has frozen over.”

For once, Yamazaki doesn’t rise to his bait, merely shaking his head. “No, no. It’s really not that big a deal—”

“Uh-huh.” Harada crosses his arms, one corner of his mouth curling toward a smirk. “And just how many people have a band like yours?”

He hesitates— too long, since Hajime is quick to offer, “Three.”

Yamazaki flushes under the sudden spurt of attention turned his way. “Saito would have one too, if he wanted it! It’s just— shinobi carry knives!”

“Lots of ‘em, apparently,” Shinpachi mutters, impressed.

"That's not--!"

“Ah, hey, Chizuru…” Harada turns to her with a sheepish look, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You know, the bunch of us already checked in here, so uh, why don’t you guys go on up?”

“M-me?” She blinks, on hand resting against her chest. “B-but…”

It’s habit to turn to Yamazaki, to leave space for him to air his own thoughts, his own opinions drawn from forethought and experience, but—

But he’s too busy stumbling under the hand Shinpachi claps to his back, looking like he’d like the carpet to swallow him whole.

“Ah!” Her fingers squeeze tight. “Um, yes. Sure. I’ll…get on that.”

The line’s smaller than it was when they first arrived; no longer a crush of people and garment bags and boffers, but a more subdued queue. It’s in no way quick— it moves along, but there’s time to idle between their forays forward, Heisuke pressing Hajime about clans and combat and conspiracies while Yamazaki surreptitiously checks his phone. Never for long, just a click on and off of the screen, like he’s waiting for something, and—

“Next, please.”

“Yukimura,” Hajime intones, utterly serious. “It is your turn.”

She jolts up from her suitcase, eyeing the open desk. “O-oh! Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you all from—?”

“Next customer, please!” another clerk calls from further down as the cluster of people in front of her walk away, polite smile already tacked in place. “Please approach the desk when you’re ready to check in!”

“That’s us,” Yamazaki says, skirting his suitcase wide as he steps around her. “We’ll wait for you when you’re done.”

“Don’t look at me,” Heisuke says, even as she does. “I’m just here for the company. Sano and Shinpachi already handled my room.”

“A-alright.” Hand wrapped tight around her suitcase handle, she rolls forward, knees barely trembling. “H-hello. I have a reservation?”

The receptionist smiles down at her. “Can I have your name?”

“Chizuru Yukimura?” She rises onto her toes, neck craned to watch the woman key her name into their computer, as if that might somehow help her find it. “I should have a single—?”

“Single…? Oh, hm.” The receptionist sits back in her hips, stymied. “I’m actually seeing one of our queen suites?”

A chill races down her spine. “Ah, no, but I— it definitely was supposed to be a single.”

At least it was when she booked it; it was the only thing she could afford, even with the discount. And even then—

“Oh! I see.” A couple clacks across the keyboard brightens the receptionist’s smile by a couple of watts. “It seems you’ve been given a free upgrade to one of our deluxe suites!”

Nothing good comes for free, Father’s voice blares in her ear, they only want to hide a cost you would hesitate pay. Her stomach twists, cold seeping up her throat. “F-free? I don’t have to, er, sign up for anything, or…?”

The receptionist relaxes with clear relief. Chizuru wishes she could do the same. “Yes, completely for free, at no extra charge!”

It’s impossible to swallow past the lump in her throat. “W-why? Did I do something…?”

“It doesn’t say on the reservation.” Her shoulders offer up a scant shrug under her blazer. “We must have run out of single rooms.”

“But…” It’s worse this way, she wants to say, the words clawing in her throat. Because I didn’t earn it. “I…”

“Yukimura.” Yamazaki steps up beside her, furrowed brows already aimed over the counter. “Is everything all right?”

“A-ah, yes!” Chizuru drops her heels, shuffling back from the counter. “It was just…something with the room…?”

“Ms Yukimura received a free upgrade to her reservation,” the receptionist replies cheerily. “Give me one moment, I’ll activate your key.”

“Free upgrade?” He blinks down at her. “Is there something wrong, or—?”

“No!” It’s ridiculous how much of a scene she’s making— anyone else would have just received it with a smile, happy to have gotten the extra mile out of their money, but here she is, half faint, making a mountain out of a molehill. “It’s fine, really.”

The corners of his mouth bite deeper into his cheeks, unconvinced. “Are you sure? One of us could always—?”

“Here you go, ma’am— 1204.” The receptionist hands over a small envelope, two keys nestled inside. With one glance at Yamazaki, her smile slants, angle all-too knowing. “Enjoy your stay. Next customer, please?”

He frowns, knuckles blanching where they grip his bag. “Yukimura—”

“It’s fine!” Her teeth grit down in a smile. “Really, it is. Let’s just get settled in.”

The elevator doors ding in distress as Harada wraps his whole hand around one side of them, refusing to let them slide shut. “Are you sure you don’t want one of us to come with you? It’s not that far out of the way.”

It’s four floors at least— her twelve to their eight— and with how the halls stretch across this landing, the lobby central to the rest of the rooms, it’s impossible to say how far of a hike. “No no, it’s fine. I can handle finding it myself.”

“We’re not worried about your sense of direction, Chizu.” Shinpachi crosses his arms over his chest, forbidding. “But what if someone gets weird with you while you’re wandering around up there?”

“Of course that’s your problem with all this,” Souji snorts, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Chizuru gets an upgrade and suddenly you’re all acting like there’s lions trying to split the lame gazelle from the herd. What’s the problem, think someone’s going to make eyes at her getting ice if she doesn’t have at least three of you to scare ‘em off?”

“This is serious,” Shinpachi spits. “There’s a lot of people in this place right now—”

“A serious waste of my time.” With a desultory wave of his fingers, Souji stalks off down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “Chizuru’s already said she’s fine. Call me when it’s time to eat.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Harada hums, his too-kind eyes looming over her. “If you don’t feel comfortable, it’s fine for one of us to—”

“No, I’m okay, really.” Chizuru lets her mouth pull wide, hoping her smile is more confident than she is. “You guys need to get your stuff settled. We can meet up later for dinner.”

Harada hesitates, struggling against another distressed ding. “I don’t know…”

“You have your phone, don’t you?” Yamazaki drags his glare from Souji’s back to where she stands, softening. “You’ll call if you need to?”

“Ah, yes!” It takes a moment to fish her phone from her bag, opening and closing zippers as Harada slowly, by inches, loses his struggle against the doors. “Right here!”

She waves it, lock screen bright in the car, and Harada loosens his grip. “As long as you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.” The words echo behind closed doors, her stomach rolling as the elevator lurches upward. She glances down at her screen, just in time to see it flash 20% at the corner before going black. “I think.”

It’s the toots that startle her as she creeps down the hall, suitcase wheels rattling across the close-textured carpet, the loudest noise she’s heard since the elevator doors closed behind her. Her grip tightens around her garment bag, weight shifting back on her heels, ready to turn tail and run, but—

But it’s her. The tooting, that is. Or rather, her phone. Embarrassing how long it takes her to think of it, really, but she does, slipping it right out of the pocket she’d tucked it into. 15% it reads now, but that’s not what draws her attention, not when there’s a notification with Sen’s smiling face beaming beside it. did you make it?

The breath rushes from her lungs, half-sigh, half-laugh. Two steps away. Thanks for asking.

It takes an improbable amount of minutes to manage those two-steps, however. Maybe Harada could have made it in one— or Shinpachi, even— baggage all happily come to heel, card in hand, but Chizuru has to trip over hers first, juggling garment bag and suitcase and half-unzipped travel pack until she realizes she can just put her phone away to free up that critical hand. Even still, there’s rustling and shuffling to trade one flat slip of plastic for another, the envelope half bobbling out of her hands before she manages to prise one of those little cards free.

And then, with a wave of her hand— well, a couple of waves, trying to figure out just how to place the card before she just presses it to the pad at the handle— she’s in. Except—

Except it’s not a bedroom. No, it’s a small living area, couch and TV and a half-wall of a kitchenette, a few chairs scattered around. Chizuru toes off her shoes, parking her suitcase neatly beside them, and peers into the next nearest door— bathroom, the glass enclosed shower tucked into one corner and a huge tub beside it, big enough to fit at least three of her inside without touching. She pads her way across, tiles cold even through her socks, and opens the other door, leading out into—

The bedroom, finally. The queen suite with what has to be the largest queen she’s ever seen.

Her fingers fumble her phone from its pocket, flicking past the lock screen straight to the camera—

Only for, anyone swallow their tongues yet?🤭 to flash right across the top of the screen.

There’s no costumes tonight, only a dinner! Tomorrow will be our first opportunity to be in character Though I don’t think anyone will be swallowing their tongues when I’m dressed as a boy 😅

Chizuru clicks back through to the camera, tapping the screen to focus, but—

“Are those leaves?” She blinks, first at the screen, and then, as she lowers it, the bed covers. Which, as she suspected, is littered with…some sort of nature. She steps close, pinching one velvety piece of detritus between her fingers and murmurs, “Petals?”

Well, she can’t have that.

boo have some confidence!!! you look super cute in that jinbei i bet *someone’s* heart will flutter at the very least

Her neck swivels, this way and that, trying to find someplace— anyplace— where it’s safe to put down her phone, hopefully close to hand, and— ah, there it is, the bedside table. She sets it down, turning back to the bed with a shake of her head. To think, in a hotel as nice as this one, they had just let someone track in half the outside with them.

It takes her a moment to find the trash can hidden beneath the table, but after that, it’s just a matter of goading all the plant stuff off the cover and into it. A bit more work than she thought she’d be putting into settling it, but it’s worth it to have a clean place to sit when Sen asks, is your room nice?

Very!!! I reserved a single, but it seems they had run out of them, so they gave me a free upgrade 😱 The room’s huge! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed this big!

With a proud grin tugging at her lips, Chizuru takes a quick picture of her newly cleaned covers and sends it off.

omg LOOK at that 😱😱 a real princess bed for hime-sama

Ah, she hadn’t thought of that. Her heels hook around the bed frame, knees cradled up against her chest, and— and Yamazaki might find that funny too, wouldn’t he? Hime-sama having her own palatial accommodations. It’s nothing to flick open his thread and attach the picture, thumb hovering over send—

the only question is who is going to warm hime-sama’s bed 😏

Heat floods her cheeks. What do you mean?

i hear what happens in feudal japan stays in feudal japan you have any idea who you’d like to share with 😏😏😏

I thought princesses didn’t have to share beds

😩 you’re killing me

It’s not new, being teased like this— about this even, not when she lives in a house with six men and a solid half of them only begrudgingly allow themselves to be clothed. But Sen won’t be placated with a blush and stuttered denial— no, once she gets a whiff of romance, she doesn’t know how to give up until she’s got it clenched between her teeth. And unless she wants to pick out one of the guys as her, er, target, well…

It’s funny though! When I got here there was stuff all over the bed

Distraction is the only way out.

stuff?? like…fluids??? gross 🤮 pls tell me you called housekeeping

No, no fluids thankfully! Just some leaf stuff I handled it myself! It took me a while, but I finally got all those little petals off 💪

leaf stuff? petals??

A knock startles her, enough that she finally sees 8% hovering in the corner, her screen flicking over into power saver mode.

“One minute!” she calls out, rummaging through her bag until her fingers catch on the charger cord, tugging it out—

And half of her travel bag. The knock comes again, no more insistent, but Chizuru’s sure it sounds impatient.

“Ah, just another minute, I just have to”— miss the outlet at least twice before she gets it seated— “do this—”

Her screen lights up, the charging icon taking the place of the percentage, and it immediately toots with, where are you staying again?

She has just enough time to dash off, Satsuma Estates, before the knock comes again, and she yelps, “Coming!”

She hurries over, nearly tripping on the corner of her suitcase, but she gets the door open.

“Good evening, Chizuru,” Hajime says, once she does. “It’s time for dinner.”

#yamachi #hakuouki #my fic #modern au #college au #if the mind is willing #LARP au #okay this chapter was not as MUCH unlimited OC works as anticipated #mainly because Chizuru's anxiety alone managed to triple my word count #so uhhhhhhh good for her i guess #but next time should be yamazaki POV. with LORE. and OCs #huzzah

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ravendruid · 2 years ago

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Be In My Eyes - Chapter 19

You can read the previous chapters here or on AO3. [ Sorry this is so long :') ] Summary: Keyleth, Vex and Pike head out to Glorious for a much needed girls' night where they play games and meet a new friend.

Glorious was already packed and loud when the girls arrived, partially due to the rope at the bottom of the stairs closing the access to the dancefloor on the first floor. Thankfully for them, Vex’ahlia spotted a stray empty tall table in a corner not far from the bar. It wasn’t the biggest table, but they could all easily fit around it. Gilmore was serving students behind the busy counter, his dark hair tied into a braid decorated with purple and golden beads that swung around as he moved. He wore less opulent clothes than usual, having opted for a purple flowy shirt and khaki pants, something that would allow him more freedom of movement for the night. Not far from him was another man, younger in looks, maybe around the girls’ age, if not just a couple of years older, serving the other half of the bar patrons. He had dirty blonde hair tied into a ponytail and wore a tight black long-sleeved shirt with jeans. There was a charm to his smile and attitude that gathered a lot of fawning patrons of all genders to his side of the bar, something that he seemed to be reveling in.

Vex offered to pay for the first round of drinks, and from where they were sitting, Keyleth and Pike witnessed the biggest charming competition as their friend tried to flirt with the new barman—probably trying to get free or discounted drinks—at the same time as he tried to flirt with her. When she returned to the table, holding three drinks, her expression changed drastically to annoyance.

“Here are your drinks, ladies.” Vex set the glasses on the table harder than she intended, making Pike’s beer spill a little as her friend grabbed the glass.

“I take it that didn’t go according to plan?” Pike asked, licking the spilled beer from her hand. Vex’s look was all the answer she needed, so she raised her glass above the middle of the table and tried to diffuse the situation. “Cheers!”

“To girls’ night,” Keyleth tried with a soft smile at Vex, who shrugged her shoulders and clinked her Margarita glass with her friends’ drinks.

“To no dumb boys.”

“Speaking of dumb boys,” Keyleth looked at Pike and Vex with a raised eyebrow. The girls looked at her, confused. Keyleth wasn’t one to start a conversation about boys—mostly because she was scared it would turn against her—so the fact that she had willingly brought up the subject was suspicious. “What’s the deal between you and Scanlan, Pike?”

“What?” Pike almost fell off her seat at the question. “Nothing. We are friends. Not even friends, really. Just… I don’t know. Roommates? Why do you ask?”

“Oh. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That’s all.”

“How does he look at Pike, darling?” Vex’ahlia asked, turning her attention to Keyleth so quickly she feared her friend’s head was about to detach from her neck.

“W–what? I don’t know. It’s… not the same way Percy or Grog does... I think?”

“You think?” Vex pressed on, leaning in closer.

Pike stifled a chuckle, patting Keyleth’s arm next to her. “Scanlan hits on anything that moves, Keyleth. He doesn’t have serious intentions, and I don’t want the same thing he does.” She replied reassuringly.

“What do you think his intentions are?”

While Pike was kinder and more gentle with Keyleth’s innocent questions, Vex wasn’t always able to hold it in as well, so as the last word left Keyleth’s mouth, Vex snorted into her drink, spilling some over herself.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, cleaning up with a napkin while Keyleth burrowed in her chair in embarrassment. “I forget how naive you are sometimes.”

Keyleth gave Vex a dirty look and opened her mouth to reply, but Pike interrupted them before they started arguing, “It’s sex. Scanlan is only interested in sex, Keyleth.”

The redhead looked back at her friend, who refused to meet her eyes. Keyleth knew that was the answer, but she never truly believed Scanlan would do something like that to Pike. He was charming and kind to her, always ensuring their roommate had someone to walk with her at night, especially when he couldn’t do it himself. Yeah, sometimes he had questionable actions, like spending the night out or bragging about his latest hook-up to Grog in the living room for anyone to hear, but Keyleth had never seen him do anything untoward to Pike.

“What about you and Percy,” Keyleth heard Pike ask Vex with a glint in her eyes. She adjusted her position in her seat, her stomach growing heavier and heavier with anticipation of any questions they might have for her about Vax—not that they had any reason for it. Keyleth and Vax were just friends… or were they still?

“Oh, dear,” Vex sipped on her drink with a smirk for a dramatic pause. “Percival is… complicated.”

“You’ve been hitting on him,” Keyleth’s words spilled out of her mouth without noticing. She quickly grabbed her drink, trying to hide the blush that formed on her face as Vex and Pike stared at her in disbelief.

“I mean…”

So Keyleth was right. Vex had been hitting on Percy.

“Has he said anything?” Pike asked, more at Keyleth than at Vex.

“No. He’s pretty clueless,” Vex replied, annoyed, drinking again.

Keyleth snorted into her drink, remembering the conversation she and Percy had just a week before right outside the bar. For someone so smart, Percy truly was clueless on what concerned romantic interactions if he really hadn’t noticed how openly Vex flirts with him. Even Keyleth had seen the touches on his arms and shoulders, the winks and smirks. And Gods, the way Vex speaks at him, explicitly putting any amount of sexual innuendo on her words so often that Keyleth has had to leave the room to splash her face with cold water on many different occasions.

“Do you like him, or are you just looking for sex?” For the second time that night, words spilled out of Keyleth’s mouth before she could do anything about it.

“Keyleth,” Pike gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What?” She kept a straight face, hoping it would be enough to fight the embarrassment.

“No, I get it. It’s okay.” Vex replied with a soft smile, yet Keyleth felt like she had fucked up badly. “I don’t know. Percy is nice, but I don’t think he’s looking for something casual, and I’m not ready to be in a relationship right now.” Her smile faded and an uncomfortable silence fell on the table.

“We should play a game,” Pike tried to lighten up the mood after a few minutes of Keyleth and Vex just looking around everywhere and avoiding eye contact with each other.

“What game?”

“How about truth or dare?” Vex suggested with a glint in her eyes. Pike nodded immediately, excited about the idea, but Keyleth was reticent about it. She had never played truth or dare, but she knew about it from hearing other girls talk about playing it in high school, who somehow seemed to trade more kisses than secrets.

“How are we going to play that just us three? Don’t we need boys?” Keyleth asked, trying to hide her nervousness as she remembered some of the vivid descriptions she had heard.

“Usually, yes. And an empty bottle, but we can switch things up a bit,” Vex replied, looking around. “Besides, there are plenty of boys and girls—” she winked at her friends “—to pick from in the bar tonight.”

Vex’ahlia wasn’t wrong. The bar was still packed with questionably responsible half-drunk college students, so it probably wouldn’t be hard to complete any dares that involved strangers. Keyleth wasn’t sure how comfortable she was with the idea of initiating conversation with someone she didn’t know, but, at the same time, Keyleth knew if she only picked ‘truth’ her friends—no, just Vex—would catch on to her game and start asking riskier questions that she might also not feel comfortable answering.

“What if we don’t want to complete a dare or answer a truth?” Keyleth asked nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

“Easy, you just drink a shot,” Vex answered matter-of-factly.

“That doesn’t sound bad,” Pike agreed.

“But we only have three shorts each, so you need to ration them.”

Oh. That definitely changes things. Maybe Keyleth should give in and answer whatever questions Vex had on her sleeve. How bad can they be?

“I’m in,” Pike cheered, jumping out of her seat and walking to the bar. Vex followed her, but Keyleth stayed behind to make sure no one would steal their table.

The girls returned a few minutes later, holding three shot glasses each. Once they were fully seated, Keyleth jumped from her seat and walked towards the packed bar, not really having a preference for who served her. Luckily for her, Gilmore’s aide spotted her very quickly, and, like a moth to a flame, he quickly darted over, throwing a partly wet rag on his shoulder and completely ignoring a few patrons that stood between Keyleth and him. Now that she was closer to him, his features were more evident. Keyleth noticed he had different colored eyes, one blue and the other hazel-brown, his smile was even brighter and more charming up close, and the tight shirt hugged his strong-looking arms, broad shoulders and well-defined pectorals—not that Keyleth was interested, or really paying attention.

“Hello there, beautiful,” The man greeted her. His voice was deeper and huskier than Vax’s—why am I comparing him to Vax?—but it had the same hint of sultriness he sometimes used with her. Something about him made Keyleth think that he was equally, if not more, dangerous than Vax.

“H–hi,” Keyleth greeted, fumbling with her feet.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?”

“Uh—” Keyleth looked around at the bar, pretending to think for a moment when, in reality, she was searching for Gilmore. Unlucky for her, he was jam-packed with people trying to get drinks on the opposite side.

“I’d like three shots of t–tequila, please?”

“Sure thing. May I see your ID, please?” The barman winked at her. Keyleth was taken aback. That was the first time she had been asked for her ID for alcohol—not that she had bought alcohol many times before that.

“Oh… Sure,” Keyleth searched her purse and pulled out her ID, handing it to the man with shaky hands. He looked at it for a second, then looked back at her, making Keyleth shift nervously in her spot. She didn’t have anything to hide, she was of drinking age, and the ID proved it, so why was she so nervous?

“Here you go,” The barman returned her card with a smile and turned around to prepare the shots. Keyleth took the chance to look around the bar again, biting her lip. Gilmore was mixing a cocktail not far away from them now, glancing at the barman from the corner of his eye and then at Keyleth. When their eyes met, she offered him a soft, nervous smile and a wave, and Gilmore replied with a brighter smile and a wink.

“Here you go, sweetheart. Anything else?” The barman’s voice caught her attention again, and Keyleth shook her head in denial. She paid for her drinks—making sure to leave a nice tip—and was about to try to grab all the glasses when she had a change of mind.

“Actually,” Her voice rose slightly. The man hadn’t moved yet, still looking at her with that charming smile he had been throwing her since she approached the counter, so he nodded to signal she had his full attention.

“Do you have a tray I can burrow? I’m usually clumsy and don’t want to break any glasses.”

The guy threw his head back with a laugh and grabbed the closest tray. He placed Keyleth’s drinks on it as he chuckled and slowly slid the tray across the counter to her with a smile.

“Here, just make sure you bring it back later.”

“Thank you—” Keyleth hesitated, looking at him in confusion. He hadn’t told her his name yet.

“Kashaw. And you’re welcome, Keyleth.” He replied with yet another wink before he turned around, wiping his hands on the towel, to greet another patron.

Keyleth stood in her place, blushing, taken aback for a second before she realized her friends were probably waiting for her. How did he know my name? She thought as she walked back to the table, carefully holding the tray so she wouldn’t spill anything, only to be greeted with a raised eyebrow from Vex and a knowing look from Pike.

“Well, well, well,” Vex started, sipping her margarita. “This night just got ten times better.”

—

“So, truth or dare,” Vex supported her head with her hand, one elbow on the table, as she looked at Pike. The girls had briefly come up with some rules and adaptations for the game: they would ask the questions clockwise—which worked perfectly for Keyleth since Vex was on her left—and they had three chances to refuse to do a dare or answer a truth.

“Truth.”

“Let’s start easy, shall we? Do you have a crush on someone?”

Keyleth tried to relax, but Vex’s idea of ‘easy’ was still anxiety-inducing to her. What if Pike asked her the same thing? What would she say? The logical answer was no, but would it be true? Keyleth technically did not have a crush, but she was still pretty confused about her feelings. Just the previous weekend, Keyleth was dealing with the fact that she might like Vax a bit more than she should, but after he had been so cold to her all week, did she still feel the same way? She still thought about him a lot, still felt a chill in her stomach whenever she saw him, her legs still trembled when he touched her—which was so rare now—and her voice still wavered when she talked to him. Most of all, Keyleth still felt the tingle in her navel when she was in bed at night, thinking about his soft dark hair or the warmth of his arms around her. She missed him so much, yet, at the same time, she was so mad at Vax.

Keyleth was so buried in her thoughts she didn’t hear Pike’s answer to Vex’s question. Nor did she hear the other two calling her with worried looks. It wasn’t until Vex reached across the table to shake Keyleth’s shoulders that she realized she had blacked out.

“I’m sorry,” Keyleth apologized with a blush.

“Are you okay?” Pike asked her. Keyleth nodded and offered a smile.

“What did you say?”

“I was asking you, truth or dare. It’s your turn.”

“Uh…Truth.” Keyleth braced herself, silently begging Pike not to ask her if she had a crush on someone.

“Do you really like Anatomy that much? You’re the best in class. Even better than us pre-med students.” Pike giggled.

“Oh,” Keyleth’s shoulders slumped from relief. She chuckled lightly and replied, “No, I hate it. I’m only taking it because, for some reason, it was mandatory for the first semester. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try my best.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Keyleth,” Vex joked. Keyleth nodded and sipped her cocktail before her smile disappeared, and she turned to Vex. She was pleased to see her roommate shuffle nervously in her seat. Oh, how the tables turn.

“So, Vex…” Keyleth paused to take another sip, and Vex tapped her black-painted nails on the wooden table. “How did you manage to get Trinket in the dorm? I thought pets weren’t allowed.”

Vex snorted and gave Keyleth a look as if asking Really? That’s what you want to know?

“I had special permission. I have paperwork for it.”

“Yeah, but… are they legit?” Pike piped in. They were technically breaking the game’s rules, but Vex didn’t seem to mind it so far.

“Of course they are legit, Pike.” Vex feigned offense. “Do you think I would forge authorization to have Trinket? I would get caught so fast.”

“He’s a pretty huge dog,” Keyleth pointed out, to which the others nodded in agreement. “So, how did you get the paperwork? He’s not a service dog, right?”

Vex shook her head and fumbled with the remaining salt on the rim of her margarita glass. “It’s a long story. I’m not too proud of some parts, but I did what I had to do. I couldn’t just leave him…”

Vex finished the rest of her drink in one go, setting the glass back on the table with a sigh. The girls didn’t push for her to continue. They had a feeling it was a story that their friend wasn’t ready to share yet, and even though she hadn’t technically replied to the question, Keyleth let it go.

“Alright, your turn, then.” Keyleth gestured her glass to Vex, who smirked maliciously at Pike.

“Let’s up the game a bit, shall we? Truth or dare, darling?”

“Truth,” Pike replied, bringing her beer glass to her lips as she waited.

“Are you a virgin?” Vex’ahlia leaned in her seat, whispering loud enough so only the three could hear. Pike, however, choked on her beer so loudly that a few eyes turned to them. Keyleth dismissed them with one hand as she slapped Pike’s back with the other.

“I—” Pike looked around, canvassing the tables nearby. Seeing their occupants seemingly buried in their own conversations, Pike relaxed her shoulders and shook her head at Vex.

“No way,” Vex gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Pike!”

“Oh, wow.” Keyleth was shocked. “I thought—and Serenrae?”

“It’s not that strict. We can have some fun.” Pike justified. “Besides, it wasn’t that long ago.”

“When was it,” Vex leaned in, curious.

“Oh, you need to get me way more drunk for that, Vex’ahlia.”

“I need to be way more drunk,” Keyleth shuffled in her seat nervously.

The girls started laughing, and once it subsided, Pike turned to Keyleth.

“Truth,” Keyleth answered, not even allowing the question to slip from Pike’s lips.

“Why do you wear that necklace all the time?” Pike pointed at the golden leaf dangling on Keyleth’s chest. “I know it’s usually covered up, we don’t get to see it out often, but I’ve noticed you putting it inside your shirt all the time in the mornings.”

“It belonged to my mom. She gave it to me shortly before she left.”

“Oh,” Pike’s hand searched for hers, squeezing reassuringly. Keyleth waited a moment, expecting more questions, but no one else pressed on, so she turned to Vex. It was sudden, but Keyleth still caught a look of understanding before Vex schooled her expression back to neutral. She knew something probably bad had happened to the twins’ mother from what Vax had led her to believe previously, but what exactly was still a story left untold.

“Truth or dare?” Keyleth asked her friend.

“Gods, this is getting serious. Dare.”

Oh shit. Keyleth wasn’t ready for it. She had no idea what to dare Vex to do.

“Uh… how about—” Keyleth looked around, examining her surroundings. The movement at the bar had decreased, and only the new guy—Kashaw, he had told her— was serving students. From the corner of her eye, Keyleth noticed Gilmore crossing the rope leading to the floor above and a group of people patiently waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “—you go to the bar and get us free drinks?”

“Easy,” Vex scoffed. She threw her hair above her shoulder and sauntered toward the bar, exaggeratingly swaying her hips.

Keyleth and Pike watched Vex with bated breath as their friend leaned over the counter, strategically placing one elbow on it to hold her chin. They didn’t need to have the right angle of sight to know that Vex was trying to squeeze her breasts to make them somewhat more prominent in the white lacy bralette she was wearing. The girls weren’t surprised either when Kashaw’s gaze drifted down slightly, only for him to lean over the counter with a mischievous smile. Vex’s finger drifted towards his covered chest, drawing circles on his black shirt as she spoke. Whatever she said, it must have been the right thing because he threw his head back into a laugh and nodded at her. Kashaw then turned and started preparing drinks, placing a margarita and a draft beer on the counter in front of Vex, who thanked him with a wink before she returned to the table, exaggeratingly swaying her hips now that she knew he was looking at her backside.

“And here you go,” She announced, placing the glasses on the table. “I noticed you still had a lot, Keyleth, so I didn’t get you another.”

“Wow,” Keyleth was both surprised and not. She knew her friend was bold enough to try and flirt for drinks, but she hadn’t seen Vex successfully in action. “T–hat’s fine.”

“You need to teach me your ways, you minx,” Pike joked, downing the rest of her beer and setting the empty glass aside.

“One day, I might.” Vex sipped on her margarita and her gaze fell on Keyleth, who jumped in her seat.

Oh no. This isn’t good. Keyleth thought, scrambling to take a sip of her drink.

“Let’s switch things a bit, shall we? Keyleth, darling. Truth or dare?”

“But… the order?” Keyleth swallowed hard.

“Like I said, let’s switch things around. Truth or dare, darling?”

“T—truth?”

“Do you have a crush on my brother?”

Well, shit. Keyleth looked at Vex with wide eyes only to realize both girls were staring at her—Pike’s mouth was agape and Keyleth was pretty sure she was holding her breath. Keyleth’s hand started shaking slightly around her glass. She glanced over at the table, trying to come up with a plan. She didn’t want to answer that question. She didn’t know how to answer that question. She hated being asked something and not knowing the answer. It had always made her feel stupid—which she knew she wasn’t. Her mind twisted with possible answers—Yes. No. Maybe? I don’t know!—but none of them seemed satisfying enough. For once, Keyleth couldn’t give someone the answer she knew they wanted because she didn’t know what exactly they were expecting. Did Vex want her to say yes? Then what? Would she be happy with the answer? Would she be mad at Keyleth? What if she replied with no? Would Vex believe her? No. She wouldn’t. Vex would think Keyleth was lying through her teeth.

Only after her fifth time scanning the table for answers did Keyleth’s eyes land on the three shot glasses in front of her. Fuck it. She thought before she grabbed onto one and downed it without a word. Her hand wavered in front of her chest for a moment as she avoided eye contact with her friends. Against her expectations, she didn’t hear gasps or groans, so when the glass finally hit the wooden table, she let herself look up at Vex, who was leaning back against her chair, gloating.

The air thickened between Keyleth and Vex’ahlia so quickly that Pike shuffled uncomfortably on her chair. The dark-haired girl didn’t say anything, but her body language and her eyes spoke louder than any words.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Vex announced, grabbing her purse. Keyleth was sure it was probably just a figment of her imagination, but she could swear Vex’s gaze had softened just as she glanced at Keyleth before she left the table. Once alone, Keyleth dared a glance at Pike, who shrugged and gave her a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, Keyleth,” Her voice was kind and calm. “Whenever you’re ready to tell us, we will be here for you, no matter the answer.”

The games ended there. Once Vex returned from the bathroom, they noticed that the rope leading to the dancefloor had been taken away in what clearly was a sign that they were free to go upstairs. They drank their shots and grabbed their glasses, turning towards the stairs, but just as they were about to leave, Keyleth lingered back to grab another drink.

“Hey,” Kashaw greeted Keyleth as soon as she was within earshot. Gilmore was nowhere to be seen, and the movement at the bar had died, so he had just been cleaning and organizing things behind the bar.

“Hi,” Keyleth greeted him back, sitting on a stool at the counter.

“Not in the mood to dance?”

“Nah. Too clumsy,” She giggled to herself.

“Would you like a drink?” Kash grabbed a bottle of tequila from the shelf behind him.

“Uh… Do you have anything without alcohol?”

“Designated driver?” He asked, setting the bottle back on the shelf and grabbing a tall glass instead.

“Something like that,” Keyleth replied, not wanting to get into more details.

“Fair enough.”

Keyleth watched the barman’s movements with rapt attention, not so much out of fear for what he was concocting but more out of curiosity. She had considered serving tables and bartending when she wasn’t sure if she could afford college on her own, but her clumsiness spoke louder, and thankfully for Keyleth, her father had no issue helping her pay for tuition. But she was still interested in learning about different drink-making processes, so she watched Kashaw pour ice in a tall glass, bring it over to a series of taps where the beer was drafted, and pull a handle that started pouring a clear, bubbly liquid onto the ice. He then grabbed a bottle from underneath the counter that Keyleth couldn’t read the label and poured a syrupy red liquid into the glass. To finish, Kashaw squeezed a few drops of lime juice, stirred it with a long spoon, and added a cherry on top. The process looked easy enough that Keyleth felt she could recreate it at home if she knew the ingredients.

“Here you go,” He presented the light red drink to her, handing her a straw.

Keyleth took a sip from it and immediately smiled. It was sweet from the syrup, tangy from the lime, and bubbly from the soda. She loved it.

“What is this?”

“It’s called a Shirley Temple. It’s just soda with grenadine and lime juice.”

“Wow, that sounds easy to make. It’s really good.”

“Why, thank you. I poured all my blood, sweat and tears into it.” Kashaw joked, giving her a charming smile. Keyleth laughed and grabbed her wallet, but he waved his hand in front of her.

“On the house. Just… Please don’t tell Gilmore.”

“Oh. Are you sure? Can I at least tip you?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. No need for tips either. Just talking to you is enough.”

Keyleth’s cheeks flushed. She still didn’t trust his mischievous look, but something about him enraptured her.

“Please,” Keyleth insisted, taking her wallet out of her purse, “at least let me give you a small tip. For coffee tomorrow?”

“Why don’t we go grab one together, then?”

Keyleth wasn’t exactly the best person at hiding her emotions, especially when she was caught unaware, so she knew right away that her face had just given away all her deepest secrets. Kashaw laughed again, contemptuously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Unless you’re busy, of course,” He added, leaning down on the counter. He was closer to Keyleth, close enough that she could see rays of golden amber around the iris on his hazel eye.

“No–no. I mean. I…am not. Busy, that is. Sure—” Keyleth fumbled with her wallet. “Coffee sounds nice.”

“Here,” Kashaw grabbed a napkin and a pen and wrote down a number, signing his name below it. “Give me a call or text me tomorrow morning to set up a time. I’m free in the afternoon.”

“O–okay.”

Keyleth folded the napkin carefully and placed it in her wallet, which she put back in her purse. Thankfully for her, Kashaw was soon called over to the other side of the bar by someone looking for drinks, so Keyleth took the opportunity to grab her drink and leave, hoping she could find Vex and Pike without issues.

“There you are,” Vex’ahlia waved at Keyleth from the top of the stairs. “I was about to go look for—Keyleth, are you alright, darling?”

In the blink of an eye, Keyleth was pulled aside into one of the alcoves to a white couch with purple and gold pillows. Vex and Pike surrounded her, both looking concerned. Keyleth couldn’t understand why they were staring at her. She felt fine. Except maybe for the fact that Kashaw had just asked her to have coffee with him and given her his number. Was he flirting with her? Is that what that was?

“Keyleth,” Pike called her, pulling on Keyleth’s arm so she could bend lower.

“I’m…”

“Did something happen downstairs? Did someone hurt you? Do you need me to go get Gilmore?” Vex prompted, setting aside her drink without a thought.

“No, I’m okay. No one hurt me.”

“What happened?”

“I think I just got asked on a date?”

“What? Darling, you’re not making sense. Sit down,” Vex pushed her onto the couch, placing a cluster of pillows behind Keyleth’s back. She then sat on one side of Keyleth as Pike sat on the other.

Keyleth took a long sip of her drink before she repeated the conversation with Kashaw to her friends, partially sad she didn’t have alcohol when she needed it the most.

“No way,” Pike tried to hide her amusement.

“Did–did he ask me on a date?” Keyleth looked for confirmation.

“Oh, yeah, darling. You got yourself a date,” Vex replied. Keyleth thought she would have been happier for her, but for some reason, Vex was looking at Keyleth like she was about to smite her in place.

It wasn’t Keyleth’s fault that Kashaw had asked her to get coffee with him. She hadn’t done anything to earn it, had she? They had just talked, barely even did that, in fact. To think about it, he had been looking at her weirdly ever since he first saw her. Did he have that planned all night? Did she fall for his charming trap? No wonder Vax didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Keyleth was too naïve to see when she was trapped by a charming smile. She hadn’t even noticed Kashaw had been flirting with her. Keyleth was just trying to be nice to him. Wait. Keyleth hadn’t noticed Kashaw had been flirting with her… now that she thought about it, it was kind of obvious. Does that mean that…? Has Vax been flirting with her, and she’s just been too naïve to notice it? Oh shit. Keyleth’s mind ran through all the moments they spent together, all the touches and gestures. The gifts and smiles. The looks… the goddamn looks he gives her. Oh no. What have I done?

#critical role #cr fic #vox machina #vaxleth #modern au #college au #be in my eyes #shoutout to Vividsketches for guessing correctly what was going to happen in this chapter xD #I've been cackling like a maniac while writing this chapter because of that xD #I'm sorry this took so long and that it's so huge. I hope it's worth it :')

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