#nagumo fanfic

[angstigone]

(A/N): hello there lovelies,

this is mostly a gift to @akifordessert for tolerating my silly thots.

WARNINGS: mostly crack, fake-dating, fake-infidelity, mention of murder and fore, sexual tension, ooc! nagumo, ooc! hyo, she-her pronouns/afab character.

«my dear, I do hope that you won't think me nosy» said mrs. moriyama, the gossiper of the neighborhood, while sitting down on the sofa in your living room.

she had come inside with the offer of baked goods, although you knew it'd have meant a good hour of your time lending ear to her weird neighborly conspirations.

«mrs. moriyama, you could never be nosy» although your feelings veered onto the opposite.

still, the downside of being in an undercover mission was that you didn't act onto your own wills and wants, but instead you did everything for the good for the mission.

comprehended being nice to ladies you couldn't stand.

«well, it could be... it could be a sensitive topic».

you wondered whether it'd be that she had noticed mrs. kaori a few houses down sneak sugar in her muffins for the bake sales or if she had finally caught onto the fact that the tall and lanky man she always described waving at her was a tree.

«either way, it'll do us little good if I don't get it out, immediately».

and gently holding out her hands for your own as if she was a concerned sister, she sought out your gaze and ushered.

«are you cheating on your husband with your neighbor?».

the words didn't properly hit you till after a few - incriminating - minutes in which the old lady just went through her own conclusion as she shook her head both judging and soft as if she was definitely aware that you were a cheater but for your own reasons.

«oh, well, I can only understand you, my darling» except her tone didn't imply pity at all «... with a man that works such long hours and a bride so young... although back in my days, if I had been caught by my husband doing such a thing...».

«I am not... cheating on my... husband» although your acting skills were better, you couldn't help but be slightly taken aback by the accusation «... especially not with our... with my neighbor!».

the old lady didn't believe her a single bit as she promptly accused further.

«but... I... I saw him... he's pretty touchy, isn't he?» she brought forward «... and he does visit you often, doesn't he?».

«simply as he's concerned about hyo spending so much time away and leaving me alone».

the justification came out of your mouth convincingly enough and you accompanied it promptly with a good amount of judgement of your own.

mrs. moriyama had at least the decency to fluster lightly.

«... as for being touchy, yoichi is especially touchy with anybody. I don't think I am any special».

now, the woman looked less convinced and more embarassed: better striked the iron while it was hot.

«if you see malice in our interactions, mrs. moriyama» you got up from the sofa swiftly as if bitten, feigning a genuine hurt «... it must be in your eyes».

hook and sunk.

the old lady blabbered unconvincingly as if she couldn't believe that she was wrong for once, and to give her even less of a chance, she grabbed the muffins from the ground and went to pick them in the kitchen as if feigning to be busy.

to leave the woman no other option.

«... I apprecciate your words, but I think that it'd be best if you went back home, mrs. moriyama» keeping a civil relationship with your neighbor had been a request of the mission, but you doubted that such a ground was salvageable, and it was better to have the old lady feel too ashamed to ask any further inquiries. especially when it was right.

«oh my dear, it wasn't my intention to offend you».

«and you didn't, mrs. moriyama» except your tone lingered on the exact opposite «... but I think that both hyo and yoichi would find offense into such a thing».

«oh, I shall apologize and...» but by now you had managed to drag the lady to the entrance and with a promise to contact her once you felt 'easier' you promptly chose to slam the door in her face. for good measure.

you had crumpled against it with a breath of relief when a familiar laugh came from the stairs of the household.

«... ugh, we have such lively neighbors».

«don't even start, nagumo» you felt an headache brewing into your mind.

«oh, I thought I was yoichi just a few moments before» the complacent asshole appeared as he sat himself halfway through the stairs with a meaningful 'oomph'.

of course, he had been spying onto the conversation while mooping around the house.

«... weren't we friendly enough to be thought as lovers?».

«don't let it get into your head» you pointed out, promptly moving into a defensive stance. technically nagumo yoichi was your ally. technically speaking as every conversation with him felt like a sparring session «... it was a lady with catharacts that said it».

«well, even with her terrible eyesight she could tell that you and I were perfect for one another».

«she said no such thing» you should have known better than to let the trained hitman get underneath your skin; it had been all he had wanted since you had joined the order. unlike him and his squadmates, you lacked the distinct ability for killing but were an expert spy who prided yourself onto a perfect control. you were just right for recon and undercover missions.

as long as you weren't paired with the main annoyance, nagumo yoichi.

«hhm, she implied it».

«I don't think so».

«I do».

he had gotten up from where he stood and now he had come to where you had moved to collect the traces of the small afternoon tea. his closeness always created a series of mixed feelings into you and you couldn't deny that in part what mrs. moriyama had said had been true: nagumo was excessively friendly and touchy with you, a thing that terrorized and thrilled you.

there was a slice of danger in every way that nagumo moved; it wasn't just the fact that this man could have easily killed you with a child's toy, but he held himself in a way that was too friendly and yet, not close enough.

he treated you like his newest toy, on top of that, and you didn't enjoy the thought of the lack of control that came with this.

it had startled you when you had seen him while on the mission when he had introduced himself - in disguise - as your newest neighbor, before coming into your house when hyo had left for 'work' and ask you why you hadn't been partnered.

"I am better than that oaf at disguising".

you didn't think that in the years in which you had worked together under the order, you had ever noticed him that evidently pissed, as he had cornered you into your own house. it had you feeling like a prey and the whole emotion was burning in both embarassment and something else that you refused to discocern.

"that clown" hyo had said after nagumo's appearance while he feigned to read his newspaper as a proper husband "... always putting his nose where it didn't belong".

but this time it felt personal. to you.

«... hhm, still» he had come close enough that one of his hands was quick to gently caress your cheek, tenderly enough and yet to you it felt like a slap.

when had he come so close to you... without you noticing it?

for god's sake, you were meant to be a renown spy! and here you were acting like a skittish housewife.

the end of this mission couldn't come any faster.

«you aren't helping with the rumors» you shot back with an annoyed glare. or at least you fixed one on your face «... I told you not to get involved. there must be a reason if hyo was chosen in your pla...».

his hand was quick to push itself onto your mouth. it could have wrapped around your throat.

you might not be at his level in a fight, but you knew how to hold your own, had he actually fought against you. instead, he acted like a petulant child.

«don't remind me» he hissed as if he was seething with such a thing «I wanted to be your husband».

"dear heart, hold still".

you knew that nagumo was as trained as you in reading micro-expressions. anything could have given you out.

«and yet, it was me who was assigned».

never had you been gladder for hyo's intervention as the man closed - loudly - the door behind himself, and you used the startlement to duck your head and distance yourself from nagumo.

how close had you been to...

«... also why did mrs. moriyama stop me on the way to get in to apologize?» he raised an eyebrow as you came to his side, graciously grabbing his jacket to keep up the feigned appearance fo a domestic bliss .

nagumo's gaze might as well be a bullet aimed at your head.

no wait... it was a few centimeters higher... it was aimed at hyo.

«did the old bitch finally crook?».

«you won't like this» you spoke, instead, ignoring his crassness «... she just came here to accuse me of cheating on you. with nagumo».

hyo's eyes fell onto you and then back onto nagumo.

«I wonder where she got that idea».

«so, you also agree that I'd make the best husband, don't you?» nagumo had to obviously brush it in.

«... I have seen the state of your laundry» now that was smething that you were definitely curious about, especially in which occasion such a meet up had happened between hyo and nagumo's laundry «she's better off with me».

«boring» nagumo simply pouted, as you instead brought the matter at hand back.

«what do we do about mrs. moriyama?».

«I thought murdering her was off the table» you brushed off hyo's attempt at humor «not sure. what did you tell her?».

«that she was seeing things» but you doubted that'd be enough although the woman had been genuinely embarassed in the moment «still, I know she'll prod».

«what if we simply... let it happen».

both you and hyo turned to nagumo with honest confusion, as he simply smirked while slumping onto your sofa.

«you could become a widow and I could...».

«would that involve my death?» hyo said bewildered.

«this is a fucking undercover mission, not the fucking sims» you shot back «no need for fucking plot twists or shit... I... we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if you had stayed in your lane».

«this whole situation wouldn't have happened at all, if I had been allowed to be your husband, instead of that brute!»

«I think I want a divorce» hyo promptly muttered as he moved to the kitchen and from the sound of it, you heard the liquor cabinet being opened.

not that you could blame him.

on his own, nagumo had this shit-eating grin on his face, much to your aggravation and annoyance.

«if he gets a divorce, do I get you, by the way, sweetheart?».

you better figure out a way to poison your supposed lover.

you definitely wondered whether mrs. moriyama had any pointers in that department.

[moominsuki]

12 DAYS and 20 HOURS WITHOUT YOU w/c: 5.1k - ; NAGUMO YOICHI x F!READER

✎ᝰ he’s a nuisance & you should be glad to be rid of him… so why does your heart ache for him so much? OR the part two in which you finally address your feelings for your hanger on ex.

࿄ ! warnings — porn WITH plot, MINORS DNI, piv, very explicit smut, unprotected sex (wrap up ppl), cunnilingus, fingering, female reader, nagumo is sexy and you will fall in love so pls keep that in mind.

/ note. i should be revising for my exams but instead i wrote this for a man who is severely underrated. it’s gonna be a nagumo fall. enjoy this anywho :P (ps. can be read as a standalone fic)!!

13 days. that’s how long it had been since you had seen nagumo. you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t eating you up inside.

after your small spat (if you could even call it that) you wrongfully assumed he’d be somewhere in your bedroom the next day when you hadn’t seen him on your couch. you were just about ready to scold him for having his feet all over your satin pillowcases.

only when you trudged upstairs, your bedroom was exactly how you left it. the door ajar, a small breeze from the window. pillows not askew. your sleepy kitten lounging on the covers.

at first, you considered yourself relieved. “good riddance,” you grumbled to yourself, falling atop the blankets and sighing, hands brushing at your pet. the chirp of the cicadas eats at your eardrums. has your home always been this quiet?

“whatever. knowing that idiot, he’ll be back in a day or two… now what to do…”

unfortunately for you, nagumo’s unprecedented drop ins had become part of your daily routine. you don’t become aware of the fact until it’s been exactly 4 days and he still hasn’t shown his face. it had already struck you as odd on the second day, let alone the fourth.

“why do you even care?” you ask yourself, standing under the hum of a sweltering shower. why do you care that your ex hasn’t come around to lounge in your home and bother you? in fact, isn’t this a good thing? the first few times it happened, you were irritated beyond belief - telling the man to get lost, locking your windows and doors only for nagumo to show up despite your barrage of insults, whether that’d be in your kitchen or on your couch or even in the shower (the image of seeing a naked nagumo after all this time was truly something, though you’d never admit it to his face, instead opting to throw a hard bar of soap at him and to which you then had to tend to his aching back after he so called “wept in pain.”) so why did he now decide to just ghost you?

“typical,” is all you can think, drying your hair off, eyes lingering on the razor he left on top of the toilet.

day five comes around. a good day at work with a cute man asking you out renders nagumo forgettable. you’re glad your brain decides it’s high time to forget about him. day six, seven, eight, nine. it’s extremely bearable. you start to see him in your dreams on the seventh day - exactly a week since he just up and left. “that’s normal,” you muse. you dream about people that aren’t in your life all the time. he’s no different.

the night of day ten falls. you’re incredibly exhausted, and you’re regretting making plans on saturday with that somewhat attractive man who works across the street. “it’s no biggie. it’s just one day till the weekend and i can cancel.”

you’re nodding off into your dinner. the warm smell of char siu and noodles doesn’t do much to keep you awake.

then you see him. dark brown eyes and a goofy smile to match. it makes you jump so hard you spill half the content of your meal down your shirt. nobody’s there. your cat sits at the leg of your chair, licking the sodden mess off of the ground.

the gravity of the situation dawns on you. you really really miss nagumo.

ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ

day eleven comes and goes and the twelfth drags, as do most fridays. that guy who asked you out the other day offers to drop you home when you’re standing outside. it’s warm out and you think a walk would be good for your head. you don’t decline his offer.

the man asks about you and confirms the details of your excursion, and you politely affirm, answering all his questions and asking them back just the same. “he’s not much of a talker,” you think. you’re not used to that.

by the time you’re home, you just want to pass out. you look around your kitchen, living room - heck, even the bathroom for safe measure, just in case you-know-who decided to drop by. the sound of metal clattering has you running to your bedroom, ventricles pumped. not that you cared… you’d act super cool and nonchalant if when nagumo drops by again. it’s all in vain, anyway. it was just your cat jumping onto your vanity. you shoo her away. your heart falls like a crescendo from loony tunes.

who exactly were you kidding? you had long dropped the facade that your heart wasn’t yearning for the idiot, and you wonder how he’s doing when you settle into bed. it would be unlike him to die in an unforeseeable accident, and he would never succumb to a death on the job. another looming realisation dawns on you.

he’s ignoring you.

you groan into your pillow. it’s not like you could really call him (you totally could, and it’s not because you noted down the digits of two of his burner phones, definitely not) without outing yourself. don’t forget the phone works two ways. forget it. you have a date tomorrow.

saturday comes. you get up relatively early. (un)fortunately for you, it’s a miserable day out, contrasting the beautiful weekdays that had passed.

your date texts you in teasing and sweet fashion and the pre-typed out message that consists of grovelling, apologies and more grovelling sits at your fingertips. fuck it. you can’t stay wound up over a man who probably didn’t want you in the first place.

you get ready very early, and you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, all done up in a silk to do and the accessories to match. it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper date. a few flings here and there, sure, but this seemed real. like a sure thing. similar to when…

!creaakkk!

your cat meowing and dropping things around in your bedroom has you standing up right, casting aside your lipgloss and running to shoo her away.

“honestly, ponyo, you’re such a drama queen-”

the words die on your tongue at the sight before you. nagumo sits at the edge of your bed, kitten fidgeting in his arms. he looks you up and down, and then he sends you an earth shattering smile, eyes crinkled.

“hey stranger. long time no see!”

your mouth opens and closes as he gets up, and ponyo leaps up and away when he places her on the ground.

“do you think she missed me? i think so. with the stuff you feed her, it’s inevitable-”

“are you serious?!” is all you can say, exasperated, gasping. nagumo’s eyes widen, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“don’t tell me you’re still mad at me? don’t make me get down on my knees and beg because-” the man gets cut off again as you all but throw your arms around his frame, face in his shirt, a little shaky. if nagumo feels the wobble of your body, he doesn’t mention it and a hand comes to rest at the small of your back.

“so can i assume that you’re not mad at me anymore?” you shake your head, and nagumo chuckles, nose pressed into your hair.

“i wasn’t mad at you,” you say, muffled into his shirt.

“oh? tell me more,” and you move your face slightly so your cheek is smushed against his shirt, eyes pointed away from him. though, you can already feel the expectant smile on the corner of his lips and you want to slap him. kiss him? both.

“i was mad at myself. and i was going to apologise for what i said but you basically ghosted me… for almost three weeks.”

it’s quiet for a moment until the man laughs, guffaws even and it emanates through his chest. you huff and step away from him, back turned away.

“ok, it’s not that funny. you can stop laughing now!”

“sorry, sorry. i’m done, i promise.” nagumo walks from behind you to step into your line of sight. “and technically, it’s only been… i wanna say 12 days and 20 hours.”

you deadpan. then you roll your eyes. “you were counting?! you’re unbelievable!” and he just pouts at you. eyes wide and shiny. you don’t admit to him that you’ve also been doing the same. that day’ll come.

“i mean, i would’ve come around sooner buttt! contrary to popular belief, i’m not so socially inept to not give you space. although, i was starting to think you were replacing me with that loser at that law firm. i want to say his name is hajime-”

“okay, not even close-”

“and what kind of idiot takes their woman out to a sushi bar on the first date. and he drives a toyota camri. he’s lame.”

“…first of all, i’m not his woman. how did you know i was going on a date tonight? and how do you even know what car he drives?”

“…let’s not sweat the details. that dress is new, right? haven’t seen it before. looks beautiful on you-”

“so not only were you spying on me but you were ignoring me?!” you fist the man by the collar of his coat and you just loll your head onto his chest. “were you always this crazy when we dated?” you hum and he laughs again. like he knows you’re addicted to the sound and how it makes your tummy ignite into something worse than flames. his hands find their way into his pocket and he shrugs.

“probably. but you liked it.” you don’t bother to contend. nagumo grabs you by the wrists, and takes a good look at you. his deep eyes follow the sliver of gold against your collarbones, all the way down to the hemming of your dress. it makes you feel hot under your heart shaped neckline.

“like the dress. like it a lot. wouldn’t waste it on some shitty sushi and cheap sake, though.”

“well it’s not you taking me out tonight though, is it? it’s…” you think for a second. you can feel the laughter blooming in his chest and you try to fight your way out of his grasp, though it’s in vain. nagumo laughs so hard that the pout on your face starts to pop into a smile and it’s infectious enough that you laugh too.

when the laughter inevitably dies down, you and the dark haired man share a look that you encompasses all the thoughts and emotions that have been swimming in your head the past long few days. he’s still holding you by the wrists, your fingers crinkling against the loose material of his shirt.

nagumo says your name, more so to himself as his tattooed hands stay wrapped from the width of your jewellery clad wrists down to your forearms.

“you’re being awfully touchy to a woman who’s supposed to being out on a date in a few hours,” you say, just above a whisper.

he hums at that, pulling you in further by the elbows. “i guess you’re right. you could always tell me to go away, though. wouldn’t be the first time.”

you groan audibly and he shoots you another grin that climbs its way into the wrinkles of your brain. “what do i have to do for you to not bring that up? and don’t make me get on my knees and beg-”

“damn, that was my first choice too!” you roll your eyes. he’s still holding you. your palms are flat against his chest. “i suppose i could call it even if…” nagumo pretends to ponder for a moment. you try to shove him with as much power as you can on the man.

“if you don’t just come out with it-”

“kiss me.”

the speed at which your eyebrows almost shoot into your hairline is unprecedented. you try to read his face for any sign of playful unfairness, but you’ve known him long enough to read the softness of his eyes.

your hands fist at his shirt again and it’s your turn to laugh at him, head thrown back. he pouts in response.

“you’re unbelievable,” and before he can retort, you lean up on your tip toes to do as he asked. he’s exactly how you remember, all those years ago. warm, sweet, slightly intoxicating. the sigh you release is shaky and he swallows it whole. the width of his palms immediately let go of your arms and find purchase on your waist and your hands travel all the same, resting on the planes of his face and neck.

the kiss is over before it started and you don’t even get a chance to breathe before nagumo is back on you, pulling you in by the hips, tongue slipping in comfortably like you’ve always been this way. and you give in, your body adapting to years old muscle memory. it’s like you’re almost a decade younger all over again, and your brain turns to mush when nagumo gropes you, grabbing all the parts he can to get impossibly closer to you.

you almost don’t notice the way he throws off his coat. and the fact that he’s trying to get you onto the bed. almost.

you protest in a breathy whine, breaking apart from locking lips. “we-i can’t. my date-”

“sucks. he sucks. i’ll take you wherever you want. buy you everything you want. just let me have you.”

you’re too out of it to even give a snarky answer, grabbing nagumo by the neck and pressing your lips to his own once more. he grunts, lightly pushing you both down onto the pillows.

he breaks apart from the kiss to lave more around your jaw, with one heavy hand resting on your cheek while he bruises on your neck, clavicle and the top of your breasts, all heavy and imposing. you writhe in his touch, and you can’t help the fact that your thighs start to rub against each other to soothe the heat arising in your core.

as perceptive as ever, nagumo quickly notices and makes fast work of placing his leg between your own, and you can’t help but breathe out a winded “yoichi.”

he groans, smirking against your collarbone. “missed hearing you say that.”

you huff, pushing his hands down the curves of your body. “don’t push your luck, nagumo.”

he chuckles, unfazed, and smooth, deft fingers climb under the hem of your satiny dress. he hikes your dress high enough to see a flash of damp cotton panties.

he presses a digit against your clothed clit and you can’t control the way your head falls against your pillows, mouth falling open as you whine out his name again.

nagumo halts all movement though, pushing himself backwards to lean further onto his knees off the bed. you practically jump up, confused and stupidly horny.

“strip for me.”

you narrow your eyes. he shoots you a saccharine smile, and you don’t bother to banter with him, getting on your haunches and pulling down a thin strap on either arm, and shimmying out of the garment. you can tell by the elated shock in nagumo’s eyes that he hadn’t expected you to comply but you throw the dress in his face, and he shakes it off faster than you can adjust yourself on top of the bed covers. he’s already crowding over you, face mere centimetres away.

“sorry, you can’t be the only one having your fun,” you tease, leaning up to kiss his nose and it’s his turn to not take your bait, but maybe it’s because he’s too enamoured at the sight of your naked body after all this time. a tattooed hand reaches up to grab a handful of your boob, pinching slightly at your nipple and the other makes it descent down to the hemming of your panties. his fingertips dip into the front, pushing the material to the side and he groans when he can see the way your pussy clenches over nothing.

“you’re so pretty,” he sighs, and you watch the way he touches you, featherlight and it has you writhing, inching closer to feel more of his touch.

“patience, baby.” nagumo throws off his shirt, and you take in the expanse of his never ending tattoos. your hand reaches up to touch the one on his stomach and he smirks, albeit warm and slightly teasing.

“got a few new ones a couple months back,” he all but whispers and you hum.

“i like them,” you state, matter of factly and he pushes your hand away to lay on his stomach between your legs.

nagumo’s face presses into your belly, and you push a few fingers into the dense strands of his hair. he kisses you at the belly button, paving a wet path down to your moist underwear.

he noisily smooches on your panty clad clit and you wordlessly protest in embarrassment, groaning and whining while he smiles against you. though, you’re quick to stop complaining when he pushes your panties to the side and breathes you in, kissing your uncovered pubis. now you’re frantically trying to push him away instead.

“you’re so shameless,” you fuss and nagumo doesn’t say anything. he only pushes your legs further apart to accommodate him.

“can i eat you out?” he asks and you raise a brow, face flushing. he shrugs, “i wanna hear you say it.”

you want to insult him for trying to fluster you in his own weird way but you’re also stupidly, ridiculously turned on right now that you can’t be bothered to play this cat and mouse game.

your hands cover your face and you mumble ever so quietly, verbatim: “please eat me out.”

“can’t hear you, sweetheart. come on, you can’t possibly be acting all shy. my face is literally in your-”

“just please eat me out!” you say, exasperated and incensed by the burning desire to have his mouth on you.

nagumo doesn’t mess with you any further but he can’t help the snicker that escapes him. you’re also ready to call him names and berate him, unfortunately being the hot head that you are, but it’s a useless act because nagumo already has your pants down your legs and strewn across the room somewhere, and he’s immediately pressing a sloppy, wet kiss on your love button.

a strangled “yoichi!” escapes from your throat and you’re already helplessly weaving between the strands of his black hair. it only goads him on further, and your head struggles to keep itself up when he thumbs at the hood of your clit, lifting it up to suck at the bundle of nerves. you become one with the plush pillows beneath you once again.

nagumo’s tongue soothes and pokes around, sucking and kissing at all the sensitive parts of your flower. he lifts one leg up higher to allow him more access, and you lock your fingers on top of his hand that grips ardently at the tender skin of your thigh. you have no time to react when you feel two fingers press into your cunt hole, and you chant his name like a mantra, gasping and almost tearful from the way he feels.

you can feel his dark brown eyes on you, and he stops tasting you to bite your inner thigh. you yelp, and he lulls over where he indented you with his teeth.

“you’re close, right? want you to look at me when you cum,” is all he says, and you don’t get to reply when he’s back sucking your pearl into his mouth, pressing his fingers against a certain spot inside you that has your legs trying to close in on themselves around his head.

“f-fuck, ‘ichi, i’m gonna cum,” you moan, and per his request, your eyes stay on his own, and you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, the applied pressure stopping you from falling back and losing it.

“say my name like that again,” he groans, and you don’t fail to notice the way he grinds against the bed ever so slightly. “come on, baby, you’re almost there-”

“hnngh, fuck, right there ‘ichi, ‘m cumming-,” you gasp and a flash of white behind your eyes renders you temporarily paralytic, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opened in an ‘o’, and the grip on nagumo’s hair tightens. he keeps a firm hand on your thigh, and your heart would burst at the romantic gesture of him interlocking your fingers together at literally any other time, but he doesn’t stop his assault on the spongey spot inside you until you go limp and you practically have to pry the man off of you.

nagumo’s no sadist (to you, at certain times) so he stops, pulling back and watching the way your chest heaves and the way you glisten between your upper thighs. you don’t register that he’s next to you again until you feel nimble fingers touching on your lower belly. you open your eyes to look at him, and the full blown lust in his eyes makes you choke a little bit.

you grab his hand off your stomach to kiss his fingertips, and then you’re clambering on top of him, palms splayed against his decorated chest. you feel the thickness of his hard cock pressed against your wet core, and you grind against the strained material of his trousers. nagumo grunts, head falling back slightly as he immediately finds purchase on your ass.

“you’re hard,” you assert, and he laughs a little breathlessly and it breaks off into a moan when you press down on him a little harder.

“i guess i am,” he rustles, squeezing your lower curves to push you against his stiffness. “you should let me put it in.”

“oh? is that so?” you say, taunting the man as you slide up and down his neglected cock that’s begging to be released from its confines.

“yeah… wanna fuck you, baby.” nagumo’s all heavy eyelids and suave lips as he gazes up at you, hands all touching all over you. you’re heating up from his languid touches, and you’re cursing yourself for already being so raring to go after he ate you to his heart’s content.

“okay,” is all you say, and you shimmy backwards to undo the man’s bottoms, unbuttoning his pants and helping him kick them off till he’s left in tight gray boxer briefs. your eyes find the damp patch on the front of his shorts, and you softly finger the head of his cock through the cloth. nagumo grunts, sighing your name when you waste no time pulling down his underwear to reveal him in all his glory.

“didn’t that hurt?” you wonder out loud, more to yourself if anything, and nagumo realises you’re referring to the tattoo above his pelvis, only shy of the dark trail that nests above his erection. he places a hand over your wandering one and he chuckles.

“a little. nothing i can’t handle.” you make a noise of something, and you lean down to kiss him very gently and so very close to where he wants. nagumo groans, and he reaches down to pet your hair.

“another time,” you wink, biting your lip. nagumo smiles, raising a brow and he looks like he wants to ask you what you mean but you’re ahead of the curve and you’re settling back up on his lower body, your soaked heat brushing and sliding against his cock. he’s putty after that, head in the clouds as he feels the drench of your lips rub against the hardness of his cock.

“tell me you want it,” you say, and you stop looking down to where you’re almost conjoined to meet nagumo’s eyes; his face contorted to something readable only to you. “or, you know, you could just cum like this.”

nagumo moans at that, and he sets a heavy handed grab on your ass. “don’t remember you being such a tease, baby, sh-shit.”

you croon at his words. you don’t stop the ministrations of your grinding and the raven haired man beneath you barely puts out until the slick of your cunt hole catches the mushroom shaped tip of his cock.

“fuck, i want it, baby, want you to cream on me-” and you don’t let him finish his vulgarity because you grab him at the base of his cock and settle yourself right on top of him, inch by inch.

nagumo hisses, and his iron grip on your hips doesn’t subside until he’s all the way inside you. you both simultaneously moan in relief when he’s by the hilt, and you can practically feel him all the way in your throat.

“fucking missed this so much,” he keens, and you feel him raise his knees to accommodate to you better. you slowly get the rhythm going, grinding and gently bouncing on his dick and you’re delirious at the way his pubic hair brushes against your swollen clit, and how you can feel the slap of his weighted balls against your ass.

nagumo plants his feet on the bed, refusing to loosen his grip on you and you can’t even bring yourself to care about the bruises that’ll stay depressed into your skin. you move one of his number decorated hands to grab at your chest, which he complies with and the other stabilises you against him so that he can thrust into you at a steady pace.

“so, so good,” you whine, almost falling forward by the jolt of nagumo’s body. you plant both arms on either side of his head, tits bouncing in his face, going back and forth against his open mouth that tries to catch a pebbling nipple.

taunting words leave his mouth as he watches you try to keep up. “feel good, baby? shit. tell me how it feels, y-yeah? you like it when i fuck you like this, huh?”

you clench around him tighter. “hnnngh, so fuc-fucking good, ‘ichi.”

you lean down on your elbows, and while he bucks up into you, his eyes don’t stray, and when your lips follow the sharp lines of his jaw and press on his jugular, nagumo angles his head so you can sloppy kiss him on the mouth.

it’s like that for a few moments until he stops to throw you off of him, and you’re ready to whine and complain, but he’s already on you again, this time on top.

“gotta take my time with you,” he breathes, and he finds a new position, this time pulling your left leg over his shoulder and spreading the right one to fit around his hips.

“is that code for you were gonna cum too fast?” you giggle, and nagumo doesn’t grace your playful ribbing because he slips back into you and your once teasing laughter breaks off into a deep moan of pleasure.

“don’t make fun of me,” he says, feeding his cock into you at an achingly slow rate, “hurts my feelings.” and you want to call him embarrassing and silly, you really do, but your heart is on your tongue and nagumo overcrowds every part of your senses.

nagumo leans over you, and grinds himself inside your compact walls. his face is in the crook of your neck and he teethes at the tender skin. you throw a callous hand in hand to satiate the hunger in your belly.

the unrelenting pace in which he fucks you is downright insane: all you can think about is him, all you can smell and taste is him. when you open your eyes, he’s looking down at you, holding and stretching you open, spitting not-so-sweet nothings at you. you worship him all the same, crying out his name, begging him to take you harder and faster, nails raking across the width of his back.

“you’re s-so, hah, shit, you’re so gorgeous,” he moans, “not gonna last, f-fuck.”

you’re almost there, teetering on the finish line, so nagumo ever so slightly adjusts his position, and he presses his cock head against that point inside you. you’re weightless in his hold, writhing when he reaches down to rub taut circles against your puffy pearl. it’s enough to make you sob, gasp and cry out a throaty “‘ichi!”, back arching, toes curling.

nagumo takes a hardened nipple into his mouth, bruising against the creamy flesh of your tits. his speed and movement becomes sloppy, rushing to the edge, the echoes of skin slapping against each other. your tearful face and your short winded begging (“cum inside me, yoichi” and “want you to fill me up”) in the midst of your intra-climatic hue are enough to get him to empty out hot inside of you, his eyebrows furrowed and an o-shape taking over the soft shine of his mouth.

you pull yourself up by the hand on the back of his scruff to kiss him wetly, tongue and all and he takes it, moaning and cursing out your name while pushing his seed deep inside you.

it’s quiet except for mingling, heavy breaths and the creak of your bed when nagumo falls on top of you. you squeak in protest, trying to push the lug of a man off.

“get off me you big idiot!” you squeal, and you feel his body shaking while he’s closed in on you.

“you’re nice and warm,” he sighs, “think i could stay like this for a good, couple of hours.”

you scoff. your hand reaches up to pet at his damp hair. nagumo smiles against your clavicle.

“do you think i still have time to go on that date?” you say, all forlorn and nagumo’s head shoots up, in which you laugh at the way his face contorts. he grumbles, and he eases out of you slowly. you hiss, but the grin on your face stays all the same.

“you think you’re so funny,” nagumo dryly contends and you sit up, kissing him on the nose.

“what can i say? learnt from the best,” you reply, just to the point where only he can hear you.

you think he’s so ridiculously easy (you won’t ever tell him that) when he returns your grin, and grabs your face to kiss you, all over you cheeks and lips.

“damn right, baby, damn right.”

EXTRA, EXTRA - read all about it:

“by the way, what did you mean when you said i owed you one?”

nagumo pulls his head from your chest, tv blaring and illuminating his puzzled, adorable expression, a piece of popcorn dangling from his mouth. his face turns blank as he ponders. then it’s like a lightbulb switches on above his head.

“oh, i fed ponyo and let her out onto the balcony but that old man saw me and i convinced him that he was seeing things so he wouldn’t call the cops… you’re welcome!”

“you did WHAT?!”

࿄ ! — all rights reserved © MOOMINSUKI 2024. please do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend my work outside of tumblr. this is strictly prohibited.

[akimoroll]

fridays are supposed to be fun but you were having one of the worst days of your life—you missed the bus this morning, coffee spilled on your newly purchased white blouse, sent the wrong file to your boss, got scolded because of it and the list could go on.

you were relieved when you finally set foot at home. a whole weekend of resting and catching up to your favorite ongoing shows awaits you. however, the universe isn't finished with you yet. you were in the middle of preparing dinner when you realized that you had forgotten to pick up an important ingredient on your way home.

nagumo appeared out of nowhere, you’re used to it by now. he was about to open his mouth to annoy you but stopped after seeing you on the verge of tears with your lips quivering.

so cute, he thought.

“who hurt my baby?” he cooed, pouting as an attempt to hide his sly grin.

he chuckled when you pouted back. he took you by the hand as he sat himself down on the couch, making you sit on his lap sideways, “tell me all about it.”

he watched your face while you passionately yap to your heart's content. his fingers gently moved through your hair as it trailed down your back, occasionally squeezing your waist while the other rested on the side of your thigh.

he gently tucked your hair to the side as he planted soft kisses on your neck and across your shoulders, humming against your skin, musing, “is that so?”

“aw, that’s too bad.”

“uh-oh, tell me more.”

“you poor thing.”

as you became increasingly ticklish, you fumbled your words.

“are you even listening?” you snapped at him.

he paused and leaned back, smirking as if he had accepted a challenge. he began listing off everything you just said in the same order while making silly impressions of you, “did i miss anything?”

one thing about him is he listens and it’s hella attractive.

feeling a bit better, you wrapped your arms around him as you softly murmured against his lips, “i missed you.”

“i missed you too,” he whispered in between kisses.

he swiftly maneuvered you to lay on the couch, causing you to squeal. you reprimanded him, “yoichi, i’m making dinner.”

“what are you talking about? my dinner’s right here.” he retorted, causing the two of you to end up having delivered pizza for late dinner.

[ladybyakuya]

| THAW + GAKU. 

+cw. — fem!reader, biker au, biker!gaku, biker!nagumo, uzuki, akira, kashimo are mentioned, background uzurion & taroaoi; no fluff or smut so idk what to mention except, heavy pining, tension, first meet, and flirting. Will there be more? Lets see? 

+wc. —1.2k 

+syn.— oya? A new face in town? A new trophy to win? Perhaps. . .

+notes. — thought too much about biker!gaku while listening to Tough by l d ray and now i’m here.| redirect to blog navigation.

Gaku always ties his ace hand bandages on both hands all by himself while the spectators watch him do it, slowly surrounding him like a bevy of stars, boys and girls alike thinking what if he needs help, what if he picks one of them but he never picks someone from the crowd to do it. It is a holy ritual for him, a gesture of good luck before he secures a win against the rival gang but tonight as he spots a new face among the crowd and that too in the rival gang he can not help but wonder who might you be! 

He sees you hiding behind one of the top bikers in the rival gang, Rion Akao clutching onto her arms like it is a last stick in the sea to survive, eyes lingering all over the place with a downpour of worry and fear. Why did Akao-san bring you here? Or were you that curious that she could not dismiss your demand? Did you throw a tantrum? Oh my my! Are you the tantrum-thrower type? Kei who is standing by his side notices how Gaku’s hand movements have ceased while doing his silly habit for what he calls “a holy ritual.” 

He nudges Gaku’s elbow saying, “Oye focus.”

“Huh?” was all Gaku yielded from his chest looking at Kei and then looking at you asking, “Who’s that? Never seen her before.”

“That’s Rion. You truly need those eyes to get checked.” While Geku’s eyes still watch you from the gaps of the crowd, his eyebrows pinch at first; then he turns his head towards Uzuki exclaiming with a tone of taunt laced underneath, “Really now! You have eyes only for Rion-san but no one else, huh?” as he leans over the engine of his bike and everyone in the crowd vocally swoons in unison at his stance which certainly makes you notice that particular crowd surrounding a biker on the opposite side of the road.

Uzuki’s eyes go flat like a heart monitor of a dying patient. He can’t put up with this now! Literally can’t.Not again. The visible annoyance on his face does not go unnoticed by Gaku and hence, he decides to salt and pepper it as the announcement starts to blare, “Everyone! clear the path. The race is going to start soon. Everyone! clear the path The race. . .”

Today’s crowd is not that rowdy so Kashimo does not have to hurt his throat and lungs much. Sometimes he has to take medicine but that happens on special days, like when there is a race match between Taro and Uzuki. 

As the crowd disperses, Nagumo gets ready for his race against Gaku. The former holds his helmet in his hands as Rion whispers in his ears. Nagumo laughs as Rion steps away with a serious expression while he laughs before stating,” Sure. Sure. I will take her on a ride for sure,” looking at you. 

“I will not wear a helmet though.” You demand. One of Nagumo’s eyebrows jumps; not that Nagumo is reluctant to your choice yet feels the urge to look at Rion. Her expression does not help him much. 

“No. can’t do. Safety first lady.”  Nagumo chimes.

Now the road is occupied by the two bikers who are about to race against each other. Most of the crowd had stepped back to the pavement alongside the road. Gaku still has not completed his ace bandage, which is spotted from where Kashimo is announcing. He was just about to ping Uzuki about it but things take an unexpected turn.

Standing among the crowd, you laugh at Nagumo’s silly antics while Rion scolds him. Gaku glances at Kei before he extends his arm towards the other side of the road. The unified commotion of the crowd dissipates gradually as you finally lay eyes on him. You see the guy opposite Nagumo swallowing, the movement of his Adam’s apple is painfully visible. It takes a while for everyone to understand who is he pointing at.

Rion and Kei exchange looks. While Kei lets his fingers skim through his hair in disbelief a smile tugs up along Rion’s lips. “Go on. He is harmless,” says she swatting her hand making your lithe grip let loose. You look at Aoi who is standing beside Taro holding his hand because Rion saying ‘harmless’ is not the kind of gauging you can easily rely on. Aoi smiles at you while Taro just nods. Now, what’s that supposed to mean? You look at the biker on the opposite side of the road who is still waiting, extending his hand out towards you. 

You sigh, just once but with the silence that got clustered in this place within a few minutes your sigh sure sounds heavy. You cross the road, stand in front of Gaku, and grace him with a two-second eye contact before holding those dangling bandages. You tilt your head and inspect. There is not much to be done, except wrapping the tape around his fingers and the thumb part has already been done. It is a good thing that you knew otherwise it would be so embarrassing. Maybe he would instruct you or show you how to do it on one of his hands so that you could do the other. You secure the wrapping with the velcro ends it had. Your ears pick up a question, “Are you new around here?”

Gaku gives you his other hand with a tape coming out of his pocket. You look at him with a surprise washing over your face, lips visibly apart as your eyebrows pinch. Is this guy for real? “No. Not really,” you say inserting the loop over his thumb. You need a sort of support to achieve the tight binding it demands. A part of you wants to avoid any sort of skin contact not because he is a stranger or an acquaintance of an acquaintance but because you would like your boundaries to be protected. So, you scoot forward a little letting his fingertips rest on the leather jacket yours,  the left side where your heart resides, while holding his wrist that has already been wrapped. You start to wrap the tape around his wrist then diagonally when Gaku notices how even your heart beats. It makes him nervous. 

“What will you be doing after this race?” Your movement pauses for like two seconds and then you continue. “Are you free?” Gaku can feel your heart rate. It is not calm anymore. You tie around his knuckles, then move to wrap in between his fingers one by one taking your time while the grip on his wrist grows firm. You can feel his pulse too. It is throbbing like an old light in the attic.

“Am not,” you utter, sticking the two ends of velcro one over the other. Glancing at him once you get back to the other side of the road getting behind Rion like you did before but this time not holding her hand or Akiras who is smiling and giving you looks. 

“That was an odd display of . . . affection?” The mike is alive again. Gaku looks like he just has his pants. 

“You really need to teach him some manners Kei.”  Gaku voiced. 

Uzuki lets out a chuckle offering the most humble response, “Now why would I do that?”

[wannabepoeticischiya]

You swore that he made it his vow to have a reminder of his existence for your every waking moment. That you wouldn’t spend a day without saying his name or cursing it to the wind.

ao3: for affection, for acceptance pairing: nagumo x f!reader genre: romance wc: 1.6k status: one shot

Everyone in the JAA knew you as the doll.

The living, breathing, epitome of a doll.

A cold-blooded killer.

The executioner without mercy.

A human born with no emotion.

Life hasn’t always been easy for you. To be born in a family of importance meant that you had to grow into somebody worthy enough to be important. To be recognized meant to have a hundred thousand impossible feats under your belt. To be accepted meant that you had to give up all that you were, change every angle, every vision, so you could fit into their ideals. To have been all of that at the same time meant that it left no room for anything else.

No room for sadness, nor happiness.

No room for affection, nor adoration.

No room for warmth, nor love.

No room for you.

So, who does this guy think he was? To shamelessly flaunt his undermining achievement in front of your face as though he held the world in the palm of his hand. Brazen that he was, given that he could easily boast about something you could do with your eyes closed with hands tied behind your back. That he could smile so freely like he did not just brutally murder ten people with nothing but a tiny Swiss knife.

He rose the ranks quickly, far too fast for your liking given that he was a transfer from those wimpy spy department kids. And each time he got closer to where you stand, his smile would glow brighter and brighter… until one day, it shone far more brilliantly than the sun itself.

And you hated that, more so than when your boss would rush you to get the job done a day earlier.

It didn’t deter him in his advances. Why would he relent when he knew you from when your family and his were neighbors? When he would pull at your hair and stare curiously at how your face would never contort to anything beyond that blank slate. Or from when he’d lick your ice cream to see if it tasted different from his despite it being the same flavor. When he’d barge into your room so early in the morning and demand to play with him.

He was a child. An annoyingly obnoxious entitled child.

Even now, as you transcend past a decade and a half into your lives, he remained that same child.

Unrelenting. Motivated in the best way, a pest in the worst.

You swore that he made it his vow to have a reminder of his existence for your every waking moment. That you wouldn’t spend a day without saying his name or cursing it to the wind.

He never left, serving as the sole reminder of all that you’ve forsaken to reach where you are now. Yoichi, the fiend. Yoichi, your neighbor. Yoichi, your first friend.

Many times did he push you to the edge. If he asked you where you were, you’d say you’re at the end of your limit. If he asked you where you live, you’d say in the state of annoyance. If he asked if you how you were, you’d say you’re better off knowing he’d hit the grave early.

Then one day, he asked… if you felt anything for him.

And for the first time in nearly twenty long years of getting on each other’s throats, you found no words to say.  

If he asked you about your feelings, what would you say? How would you look at him? Show him the puzzle of words that you yourself found difficulty piecing together.

Many times did he provoke you into doing something, whether it would be through aggravating you to assault, or by giving you these vague questions that leave you pondering them over for days without ever knowing the correct answer.

You wanted to believe you were smart, that your intellectual capabilities were above average—or better, above his. Yet here, in this space between annoyance and familiarity, a sickeningly fragrant flower had begun to bloom… and you didn’t know what to do.

Raised to assassinate, trained to kill. That’s what you were: a killer. There was nothing more.

Was that so wrong? To live life like a machine. It seemed like common sense to you. Because no one ever taught you otherwise. No one gave you a different way to live, showed you a new path to take. Breaking your heart for every life you took looked right. Killing your happiness for the sake of others seemed noble. Giving it all up for the greater good was for the best, wasn’t it?

There was nothing beyond you except for the eyes of a murderer. There was nothing more. So why does he look at you like that? Like you were trapped and drowning, and he wanted to get you out. Like there was an entire world waiting for you behind this wall of ice. Why does Yoichi look at you like that?

You wanted to ask him. Desperately so… why? Why do you look at me, as though you could love me?

And for that one rare moment, you snapped.

Why? You’d say, letting the years of pent-up frustration and sadness fall in rivers of silver. You didn’t understand... yet, in your heart, there was no denying it.

From way back to when you were children, Yoichi had already reached his hand out for you to take. He never left because he knew, even back then… that he was the only one you had. That you’d be lost if one more thing was going to leave you, that you’d drown and never come back if you had to give up another thing for the sake of another. If you had to choose from two equally important things: your happiness or the world?

Perhaps he wanted you to be a little more selfish. To put yourself first for a change. Because you’d spent so long asking others what they want… he wanted you to ask yourself what you want. And he’d be there to pick up the pieces of a world in ruin if he gets to see you smile.

And it unnerved you so, that it took you over a score to see him. To look to him in a different light. All that he did for you, and all that you did to him when all he ever wanted was for you to see yourself. To have you love your soul… and if he was lucky, maybe you could learn to love him, too.

The universe answered his life-long wish, so it seemed.

---

You had the biggest crush on him.

Him. Nagumo Yoichi. Your next-door neighbor from your childhood days. The one who egged you into aggravated assault. The guy who'd take a thousand bullets for you. The one who'd shamelessly dress up as a girl to get you out of infiltration missions. The one who had all the patience in the world. All the happiness in the universe could offer.

Nagumo who could have had anything in the world, anyone he wanted, all at the snap of his fingers... yet he chose to stay beside you.

You had the biggest crush on Nagumo Yoichi, your husband.

Now, there was a big difference in loving someone, and having a crush on him.

Six years you've been together. Six long years, and even still, you find yourself staring at him when he's across the room. Trailing your eyes in the fiery warmth of his wake. Feeling like a thousand fireworks are exploding in your stomach, the rhythm of your heart going a beat faster, the songs they sing submerged in saturated adoration that it leaves you blushing like a high school girl.

He makes you giddy and nervous that it leaves you looking back and forth to your reflection in any shiny surface to see if you look alright.

Whenever you go out, whether it's for official business or a date, you'd struggle to find the right outfit—the perfect choice of clothes because you want to look your best for him, to have him think that you're pretty. And if you could, you'd spend forever styling your hair until every strand will never dare to go out of place ever again.

If the phone rings, the small flickering fire of hope burns into a blazing inferno, lighting up the sky with the hopes that it's him who's calling you, that it's him who's texting you.

When he's close enough to touch, near enough to hold, you just want him to lean in and kiss you.

There was no denying it, you have a crush on your husband.

And when he meets your stare, and he smiles, like there was nothing that could ever compare to you, you’d think to yourself that you’re at the luckiest you’ve ever been. Because you had him, and he had you. He loves you… and you love him.

Even now, as he sits so boyishly on the sofa, with his legs spread out so far it leaves no room for anyone else, you just can't stop staring at him.

Thinking to yourself that out of every soul in this infinite universe, you get to be his wife.

You married that guy.

Yoichi who’d dive to the depths of the sea to save you. Travel to the ends of the universe if you asked him to. Tie a lasso around the stars and bring them all to you. Count the grains of sand, tally every heartbeat that has echoed since the dawn of time, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to tell you how much he loves you.

You married him. Yoichi… your husband, the man at the center of your planet-sized crush. You married him. He’s your husband.

They love us, you said to him back then at the day of your wedding.

Yet he simply looked to you, I love you.

And there was nothing in this world that could ever be greater than that.

it's short bcz i'm so stressed, 11 quizzes in a span of 4 days is so... evil 😭 I legitimately do not know what kind of turn this took but it's there

[mirrortouchedsea]

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY @transactinides MWAHHHHH here's 4.7k words of a Shinobu character study just for youuuuu.

CW for bullying. I also would like to note that the appellations are not quite what they are on the wiki just because it is pre-canon so I figured it would show the original distance between him and everyone else so do naught @ me about this one. It was intentional. I did post it on ao3 in the link above but you can also just read it under the read more :3

---

He clutches at his froggy plushie as his mom walks him down the hall. It’s Shinobu Sengoku’s first day of elementary school and he is so nervous, but his mom says it’ll be okay. He can make friends here! Maybe they’ll like frogs too. He wonders if there will be any frogs on the playground he saw outside. 

Okay Shinobu-kun, it’s time for me to go, are you going to be okay? His mom crouches down in front of him and Shinobu wants to cry. He’s never been without his mom before. He would have to go to school…alone? He shakes his head. His mom laughs and pulls him into a hug. It’ll be okay, Shinobu-kun, I’ll pick you up at the end of the day, okay? Okay… 

His mom ruffles his hair before standing up to leave. Shinobu just stands in the doorway until the teacher pulls him away and shows him to his seat. His froggy plushie is still in his hands and he pulls it closer to his body. Are the other kids looking at him? Oh no…they’re judging his froggy… 

He looks away from the rest of the children in the room and puts his plushie in his backpack. He’ll still be there, he tells himself. Mr. Froggy won’t leave him alone. Of course he wouldn’t! Shinobu had to be brave for Mr. Froggy and his mom, so he gets back in his seat and listens to the teacher as class begins. 

--- 

By the time the fall holidays roll around, Shinobu knows that the other kids don’t like him very much. It took two weeks before someone stole Mr. Froggy and another three weeks for someone else to start calling him names. Shinobu wasn’t sure what the names meant, but the other kids would laugh at him and it wasn’t the type of laugh people did on TV when the hero slipped on a banana peel. He’s stopped trying to talk to the other kids during recess. 

When his mom asks if he’s made any friends, he finds that he can’t tell her the truth. He doesn’t want to hurt his mom’s feelings, after all. Of course he has friends. He starts making up stories of him and his friends’ exploits on the playground, but it feels hollow and lonely. What was he doing wrong? The other kids ran around and screamed on the playground but Shinobu is a quiet kid. Maybe being quiet was wrong…? But he felt bad when he yelled if he wasn’t excited. Why was it so hard to make friends (and why can’t he tell his mom he doesn’t know how to make them)? 

Around the winter holidays, Shinobu discovers ninjas. It’s one of the tokusatsu shows where they get saved by a lone ninja. The ninja never revealed his face but Shinobu felt a strange sense of sameness with the character. He was alone so much, just like the ninja. He could be cool too! He starts begging his mom for ninja stars or at least a cool headband like the ones on TV. On the playground and around the house, he does ninjutsu moves and his mom and teachers smile at his antics. 

He gets a ninja costume for Christmas and doesn’t take it off for days. It’s his favorite gift under the tree and he wants to show it off to everyone who will look. In January a kid on the playground shoves him in the mud and Shinobu no longer wears it to school. 

--- 

When he enters the next school year, Shinobu hopes things will be different. Maybe his class will be different and he’ll be able to talk to someone about how cool ninjas are! He’s running down the hallway, hands in front of him in one of his ninja arts poses. He was still learning what they meant but he was pretty sure this one was for stealth. Well, as stealthy as he can be running down the hallway at school. The teacher still yells at him for running in the hallway. 

Just like last year, Shinobu tells himself he will be brave and make friends! The person sitting next to him wasn’t in his class last year, so he introduces himself and does his ninja hand signs. The other kid smiles and says they should play together at recess! Mission: success! 

Shinobu can’t stop grinning as he eagerly awaits for class to end and recess to start. Does this other kid like ninjas? Or maybe he likes tokusatsu, which was okay because Shinobu liked tokusatsu too! He’s practically bouncing on his way to the playground before remembering he should wait for his new friend. He skids to a halt next to a slide and has to keep from looking too excited. 

The other kid arrives quickly and Shinobu quickly finds himself asking so many questions about ninjas and if they liked them. Did you know that real ninja weren’t like what they show on TV? Who’s your favorite ranger? Mine is the yellow one. She's so cool! The other kid places his hands on Shinobu’s shoulders to get his attention. Was he being too overwhelming again? The other kid says something about how Shinobu seems nice but…he doesn’t think they’d be good friends. Sorry about that. 

Shinobu wipes the tears from his eyes but says he understands. The other kid says thank you and apologizes again before running off to the playground with his other friends. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. At least this kid was nice to him about it. It could always be worse. 

Shinobu starts bringing his froggy plushie to school again, talking to it like he imagines normal people talk to their friends. Mr. Froggy has such interesting answers, telling Shinobu about the pond and the other animals that live there. There are even frogs who are ninja and protect the little pond community! Shinobu promises Mr. Froggy that he’ll protect the pond too, and he starts catching small bugs and feeding them to the frogs on the playground. The other kids tell him that it’s gross to hang out with frogs. At least the frogs listen to him talk about ninjas. 

--- 

Second grade! Shinobu knows by now that the other kids think he’s too weird to talk to. Some of them are nice to him when they do group projects but he knows they try to keep their distance. Between naming the frogs that lived on the school grounds and running around pretending to be a ninja, it wasn’t hard to understand that people found him… odd. He couldn’t understand why, because running around like a ninja was super duper fun. It wasn’t any different than his classmates pretending to be pirates or superheroes from their favorite anime series, was it? 

For a few months that year, there was a popular ninja anime series everyone enjoyed but even then, nobody would play with him. He watched them attempt the ninja arts and tried to correct their form but they just made a face and told him to go away. Was he wrong…? Didn’t they want to make sure they were doing the right signs for what they wanted to do? 

He had even been excited to talk about the anime with the other kids, he tuned in to the new episode every week as soon as he got home from school even! But still, everyone avoided him. Sometimes he could tell one of them would feel bad for rejecting him for the millionth time and would let him play but they never seemed as into it as he was. They always did ninja art: invisibility and ran away after a few minutes. 

--- 

Three more years go by and Shinobu is in middle school. He’s used to the loneliness now, often sitting in a corner at lunch by himself, going over his secret ninja skills and talking to the frogs he’s taken care of over the years. It hurt but over time he found ways to push it down and he managed to make it to middle school. Being almost 11, his parents stopped indulging his ninja obsession and tried to introduce him to other things but nothing could ever replace the great and wonderful ninja! He’s been poring over every book he could find at the library about them, and even started to talk like them. It is most befitting of a noble ninja to speak properly and clearly, and so he does. 

The librarian was the closest thing he had to what one would consider a friend. She laughs at his jokes and plays along with his imagination, she even shows him how to make paper throwing stars, which are very difficult to aim but very fun to throw anyway. He fills his room with paper ninja stars and turns them into all sorts of things, even giving them to his classmates to try and make friends (despite telling himself that he was okay by himself, he still longed for someone to connect with). He often found them in the trash at the end of the day. 

At night, after a particularly rough day at school, Shinobu cries. He doesn’t know why, but the tears start running down his face and he can’t make them stop. Who can he even talk to about this? Mr. Froggy, why is it so hard to be alone?

---

By the end of middle school, Shinobu is telling everyone he wants to become an idol and inspire other people to love ninja as much as he does! Even though ninjas should stay in the shadows, he’s willing to go on stage and represent them to the world! He’s even been accepted to Yumenosaki Academy so he has a real chance to make it as an idol! 

His classmates and teachers tell him it’s a pipe dream and to keep his expectations low. Yumenosaki has been on the decline for a while now so what good would it be to enroll there? Maybe if Shinobu had been born thirty years earlier (but someone like him would never make it as an idol anyway. A ninja idol? Who would care about that?) then he’d have a chance, a small one, but a chance. Well, it’s not like any of them would stop him from applying to Yumenosaki, and Shinobu would finally get to meet some new people, maybe he could make some friends too! 

---

Shinobu’s first day at Yumenosaki is…well it was interesting, to say the least. It was very overwhelming, seeing all of the different idol groups, and so many of them didn’t seem interested in him. There were Knights, which were too cool for Shinobu (he decided to maybe admire them from afar, but they were not people he could see himself getting along with), fine, which seemed to be the leader of the school and way out of Shinobu’s league, and Trickstar, which were not actually recruiting members, but they were on stage performing and showing off the things they’d learned about being idols and what was in store for the prospective students. Compared to how his middle school classmates had talked about Yumenosaki, it seemed like it was anything but falling apart. Which was great! But… 

Shinobu clutches at his ninja stars, holding them close to his chest. He wants to try and talk to someone at one of the booths, but it was too intimidating! Everyone is so loud and the music from the speakers makes it hard for Shinobu to gather his thoughts. He knows he’ll have to get used to it if he wants to become an idol, or learn to deal with it, but the auditorium was not doing him any favors right now. 

Someone grabs Shinobu by the shoulder and he jumps. What’s going on?! 

Are you okay, they ask, and Shinobu looks up at the stranger, dark red eyes creased in concern at Shinobu. Oh, I’m fine, please do not worry about me, uhh… Morisawa, Morisawa Chiaki. Thank you, but please do not worry about me Morisawa-dono. You looked like you wanted to sit down, do you need some air? Shinobu thinks for a moment. If this Morisawa was offering, well Shinobu was not going to deny that getting away from the crowd would be nice. He nods and Morisawa guides him out to the hall, the music becomes quiet and Shinobu feels like he can breathe again. 

I don’t think I caught your name, you’re one of the new first years correct? Yes, my name is Sengoku Shinobu. Nice to meet you Sengoku! Have you figured out what unit you want to join, I’m the leader of Ryuseitai and we’re looking for members, our audition is next week if you want to try out? Oh, that would be… There’s no pressure, Sengoku, but I think you’ll make a great idol! 

Morisawa leaves and Shinobu stays in the hallway, almost awestruck at the older boy’s statement. Did someone…other than his parents believe in him? Well, Shinobu did get into Yumenosaki to begin with, so he has that going for him, but still. He isn’t used to the feeling in his chest, his heart flutters and his thoughts running a mile a minute. Someone who didn’t even know him believed he could make it as an idol. 

Shinobu makes up his mind to attend the Ryuseitai auditions next week. He should go find Morisawa and ask what he needs to prepare, but he freezes as his hand hovers over the doorknob. What if Morisawa was lying? Plenty of kids in Shinobu’s middle school did that to him, inviting him to play and then chasing Shinobu off when he tried to join, why would Morisawa be different? Shinobu wants to curl up in the corner, but he really should go to the Ryuseitai table. Maybe there will be someone else there he can talk to. 

Okay Shinobu, you got this! Just open the door and look for the Ryuseitai table! Shinobu opens the door and tries to shut out the rest of the noise. He doesn’t want to get overwhelmed again and have to leave. If he wants to be an idol, he needs to get used to the loud venues! Despite his whole body shaking, Shinobu spots the Ryuseitai table in the corner, Morisawa is sitting with another boy with blue hair (why does it look like the other boy just walked out of the shower?). Shinobu breathes in and tries to slow his heartbeat down before making his way over to the table. 

Oh, Sengoku! Are you feeling better? Yes, thank you very much Morisawa. Ah, chiaki is this who you were ‘talking’ about? Yes it was, Sengoku, meet Kanata Shinkai, Kanata, this is Sengoku Shinobu! It is ‘nice’ to ‘meet’ you shinobu, are you ‘thinking’ about ‘joining’ ryuseitai? Y-yes, I was just wondering about the audition process! 

Morisawa digs around under the table for a second as Shinobu tries not to make eye contact with Shinkai. Shinobu thought the other boy being there would relieve his stress a little, but something about him feels strange (the irony here is lost on Shinobu). 

Alright! Here we go, you’ll have to prepare one song from this list and tell us why you’d like to join Ryuseitai specifically! Don’t worry, it’s nothing difficult so you should be fine! 

Shinobu looks at the list and notices that many of the songs are theme songs from various tokusatsu shows. Well, at least he recognizes several of them, but they’re certainly strange choices for an idol unit. Shinobu takes another look at the table, looking more closely at the unit logo and decorations. The table is covered in tokusatsu merch; stickers, buttons, pencils… that makes sense actually. Shinobu goes back to the song list and scrolls until he finds the theme song from his favorite ninja anime as a kid. That would be the best option and he can show off his ninja moves for it! 

Did you find a song you know? You have a week to prepare, we’ll have auditions here next week after school so don’t miss them! Shinobu nods and makes a mental note of that. He should actually… it’s in his phone now so he’ll definitely remember to show up. Now for his practice! 

--- 

It takes Shinobu too long to figure out how to sign out a practice room for himself (so many of them are already booked for unit rehearsal it’s hard to find one for audition practice) and he’s trying to catch up on his lost time when another boy knocks on the door. Huh? I thought I had the room to myself…de gozaru. A-ah, sorry if I’m interrupting, I know I’m such a loser but I’m lost and someone pointed me this way…were they lying to me? What are you looking for, I’m just practicing for an audition so you can sit down if you’d like. The other boy is tall with light brown hair and looks so nervous Shinobu feels bad for him. The brown haired boy trips over himself as he sets his bag down on the floor. I’m not even sure how I got into this school, I thought I applied to the general course but I couldn’t even do that right… sorry that’s not your fault at all I should just shut up now. Oh, it’s alright de gozaru, would you like to practice with me, maybe we could join the same unit? I’d rather die than be an idol, the attention is too much for me and I’d just look like a fool. 

Shinobu thinks for a few seconds on what the boy said. He can’t exactly drop out of the idol course but Morisawa seemed like he would be accepting of anyone who joined Ryuseitai, so maybe Shinobu should invite this boy to auditions. At least, maybe Morisawa could guide him in the right direction. He finally speaks, I think you would be great as an idol uh… Midori, Takamine Midori. Right! I think you’d be great as an idol T-takamine-dono! You don’t need to lie to me, I really just want to curl up in a ball right now anyway so I’ll leave you alone and you can just pretend like I’m not here. Uhm, my name is Shinobu Sengoku by the way! De gozaru. It’s…nice to meet you, Sengoku-kun.

Shinobu doesn’t really want to be watched while he practices (though he knows at least Morisawa and Shinkai will be watching his audition… he should get used to people watching him), but Midori doesn’t seem to want to move from his spot on the floor. Shinobu turns his music back on but turns the volume dial down to where he can just barely hear it and maybe it won’t disturb Midori. And one and two… 

Shinobu pants, the last note barely registers in his mind as the music is so quiet but he’s happy with how his performance went! He’ll be ready to hit the ground running tomorrow at this rate! He looks over at Midori, who fell asleep on the floor some time during Shinobu’s rehearsal. What time even was it? Oh, it’s quite late his parents would be worried and Midori’s probably were too. Hey, Takamine-dono, it’s late and you should probably go home. O-oh, I didn’t realize I fell asleep, now how am I going to sleep tonight, and what about my parents, oh I’m really worse than garbage, sorry for intruding on you uhm, do you know the way out? Shinobu slings his backpack over his shoulder. I think I remember where the exit is de gozaru, we can walk together if you want, I don’t mind. I’ve already wasted enough of your time, just give me the directions. We’ll be going the same way, it’s really not a big deal if I walk with you. 

Shinobu turns the lights off and makes sure the door is locked before turning back to the hallway. So, you didn’t mean to be in the idol course, but do you have any units in mind that you want to join? The silence is awkward but Shinobu wants to try and make friends this year. He will make friends at Yumenosaki Academy if it kills him (well, that might be a bit too much, but he would like to have someone to talk to at lunch at least). Ah, I got overwhelmed at the sign up event, so I didn’t get a good look at any of the units that were recruiting… Oh, it’s okay I did too, but this nice senior at the uh, I think it was called ‘Ryuseitai’ booth helped me calm down, maybe you’ll like him, and he said the audition would be pretty easy too. Did he, well I haven’t sang before so I don’t know if I could even pass that, let alone dancing, it’s just too much for someone like me. Don’t talk like that, you can practice with me, we can audition together, like friends! I really wouldn’t want to impose on you any more, Sengoku-kun, it’s fine I’ll just get kicked out and go back to being a normal student somewhere else. Shinobu frowns but doesn’t say anything back. He really wants to be friends with the other boy, but it seemed as if Midori was trying to keep his distance. 

Before Shinobu knew it, the two of them had made it to the front doorway of the school. I know you don’t want to be an idol but I hope you’ll consider my offer, de gozaru, I really want to be friends with you Takamine-dono! Midori turns away from Shinobu and doesn’t say anything, just walks away. Well…they’d see each other tomorrow, right? Shinobu sighs before heading back to his own home, going over how he’d tell his parents that he was late (he wonders if they even noticed how late he was coming home from school). 

---

Midori comes back to the practice room the next day and mumbles under his breath that he wouldn’t mind auditioning with Shinobu, if they were doing it together it wouldn’t be so embarrassing. Shinobu smiles wide and they start talking about what each of them will be preparing for the audition. Midori isn’t familiar with the types of tokusatsu shows that Morisawa put on the audition list, but after spending some time listening to them on youtube, they find one that sounds easy enough to learn in five days. Shinobu is already pretty confident in being able to sing his selection, so he starts by finding the lyrics for Midori and going over them section by section. They spend most of the afternoon just learning the song, but by the end of it Midori has it down with only one or two slip ups. Shinobu’s stomach growls and the two decide to call it for the day and go home for dinner, but Midori promises to come back so they can learn simple choreography together. 

As the audition draws closer, both Shinobu and Midori are making decent progress if Shinobu can say anything! They can do simple choreography, steps and light movement while singing and not losing their train of thought. It should be good enough for the audition, at least Morisawa didn’t seem like the type of person to be mean if they did get rejected, which was about all Shinobu was going to ask for at this point, but he had a good feeling about everything! Takamine-dono, I think we’ve got a pretty good shot at our audition de gozaru! You think so Sengoku-kun, I keep stumbling over that one part before the chorus, I don’t know if they’d accept someone as clumsy as me, maybe I should just give up now… Don’t talk like that Takamine-dono, you’ve made a lot of progress, and I’m sure they’ll recognize your potential! You don’t have to hide how much you hate my performance, Sengoku-kun, it won’t hurt my feelings. I’m being honest though, I really think you’re doing great Takamine-dono. 

--- 

The day of the audition arrives and Shinobu is shaking. He’s been practicing so hard for this moment and it’s finally here! Midori is next to him, and Shinobu can feel Midori shaking a little bit too. It’s nice to know that he’s not alone. The judges are only Morisawa and Shinkai, the two Shinobu met on the first day, and the only other person auditioning with them was a boy with black hair and dyed red streaks who was bouncing his foot in a way that just made Shinobu’s nerves worse. The boy with black and red hair was called in first (Nagumo Tetora was his name. Shinobu wonders if they’ll be able to become friends too) and then it was just Midori and Shinobu in the hallway. I’m so nervous, Takamine-dono. You’ll do great Sengoku-kun, you are way better than I am, I’m sure you’ll get in. Don’t talk down about yourself Takamine-dono, you’ve put in a lot of work too and I’m sure Morisawa-dono and Shinkai-dono will see that! 

The door opens and the black haired boy steps out, sighing in relief. Good luck, you two. Shinobu hears his name called from inside the practice room and Shinobu gives Midori’s hand a squeeze for good luck before walking in. He’s shaking, but takes a deep breath. This is what you’ve been practicing for, Sengoku! You can do it! He hears Morisawa’s voice cheering him on in his head (Morisawa’s mouth isn’t moving when Shinobu hears the encouragement, but Shinobu can sense the words coming from Morisawa anyway). Shinobu begins his song, trying not to forget his choreography as he goes, but there’s still a misstep halfway through that causes Shinobu to stumble. Don’t let it get to you, Sengoku, just keep going, Morisawa’s voice echoes in Shinobu’s head. 

By the time Shinobu finishes, he’s panting and his legs could just give out at any moment, but he did it! He made it through with only a few mistakes! Morisawa and Shinkai clap and stand up, congratulating Shinobu on a job well done and Shinobu feels his heart soar. His efforts paid off! Morisawa and Shinkai tell him to send Midori in, which Shinobu agrees to do. 

Takamine-dono, it’s your turn! Shinobu has to drag Midori into a standing position. I don’t know Sengoku-kun, I don’t think I’m cut out to be an idol, I should just go lay in a hole outside, at least I wouldn’t be bothering anyone. Takamine-dono, I believe in you, I think you can be an idol de gozaru. Shinobu all but drags Midori over to the door and pushes him into the audition room, giving a smile and a thumbs up before gently closing the door again. He sighs and sits next to the black haired boy who is twiddling his thumbs. 

I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, but my name is Sengoku Shinobu, it’s nice to meet you! Nagumo Tetora, the other boy says without even looking at Shinobu. Well, that’s fine. If they get into Ryuseitai together, they’ll have plenty of opportunities to get to know each other so Shinobu doesn’t worry right now. Why are you auditioning for Ryuseitai, Shinobu asks to fill the silence. He can tell exactly where Midori should be in his routine despite the wall muffling some of the sound. They have a minute or so left. Tetora’s face flushes. Well, I uh, I got rejected from the other unit I auditioned for, and this one was the only one still doing auditions, and you? Morisawa-dono invited me to after helping me out with something on the first day. Tetora laughs and the door opens, Midori calling them both inside. 

Shinobu stands in between the other two boys as Morisawa and Shinkai go over their notes from the auditions. Despite being first years, they had so much potential and all three of them were accepted into the unit. Shinobu feels lighter than air (he knows that a unit can have a maximum of five people and only the three of them auditioned, that doesn’t go over his head, but still) and when Morisawa and Shinkai pull them into a big group hug, Shinobu thinks he’s finally found his place. Even if Midori and Tetora protest against the gesture, Shinobu wants to frame this memory forever. Practice starts tomorrow. 

[zmzebra-writes]

ES Rare Pair Week 2024 Day 5: The Beach

Title: It's Called a Warrior's Bond Relationships: Hiiro Amagi/Tetora Nagumo Summary: Tetora and Hiiro fight more than each other before going to see the sunset at the beach. Sunset confessions silly style.

Neither Hiiro nor Tetora thought too much about their relationship. After school, they would go to Karate Club, and then go to ES because their clubmates got too scared. If they had an overlapping off-day, they would meet up and train together across the city. They had a bond of two warriors powered by their rivalry to improve.

That’s all it ever was. Which is why both of them were unsure what had everyone around them so confused.

Arashi liked to tease Tetora about his frequent outings with Hiiro. “So are you going with anyone special to the beach?”

“Nope! Just Hiiro-kun,” replied Tetora as he packed his bag with the necessities, “We plan to stay there until sunset. We’re going out for dinner after watching it.”

“Just the two of you?” Arashi gave a mischievous smile.

“Yep! Just us.”

Arashi sighed. “How romantic~.”

Tetora froze with a shake, bag half zipped. His face turned red. “It-it’s not a d-d-date, Narukami-senpai! It’s just, it’s just a training activity! For Karate Club!”

Arashi hummed. “Mhm. And tell me where the rest of the Karate Club will be during this?”

Tetora fiddled with his hands as he quietly spoke. “... They can’t keep up with us so they want us to do our intense training away from them.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason you want to spend time with Hiiro-kun alone?” teased Arashi, “You two have spent an awfully large amount of time together recently?”

Steam flowed out of Tetora’s ears as he became more flustered. “We, we’ve just had a lot of shared free time lately! All a coincidence! Who knows when the next one is!”

“Is that really all it is?” Tetora was looking so cute, Arashi felt like pushing further.

Tetora opened and closed his mouth, but no real words came out. Embarrassed beyond words, Tetora grabbed his half-closed bag and ran out of the dorm.

‘Hmm. I wonder if I pushed Tetora-kun too hard…’ she thought to herself with a hand on her cheek.

Hiiro was not exempt from nosy friends either. 

“What do you mean you are already going out with someone else this Saturday?” asked Aira, “For the entire day, too?”

Hiiro nodded his head. “Umu. Bucchou had the day off from idol activities as well so we are going to train until sundown.”

Aira groaned in frustration. “Ughhh… It feels like every day off we’ve had lately, you go off to hang out with Nagumo-senpai. Don’t you see him enough at school?”

Hiiro shook his head. “Since Bucchou is in charge of the Karate Club, he has a responsibility to stay and look out for the younger members and thus we cannot fight as intensely as we like. The other members are frightened by our fighting.”

“Can’t you just fight using less deadly force?”

Hiiro shook his head again. “How can we improve if we don’t give our best in the fight?”

Aira gave Hiiro a flat look for a minute before sighing. “I suppose there’s nothing I can do then. Enjoy your date with your boyfriend or whatever.”

That last sentence made Hiiro jump. He had seen enough dramas with Aira to know what that meant… “Boyfriend?!”

Aira looked confused at Hiiro’s over the top reaction. “Huh?”

“What do you mean boyfriend? You don’t happen to mean ‘my friend who is a boy’, right? Or do you mean my l-love-l-lov…..” Hiiro broke down into incomprehensible stuttering.

Aira stifled a giggle at the sight. Hiiro seemed distressed enough it felt cruel to leave him there though, so Aira patted him on the back to reassure his friend. “It was a joke, Hiro-kun. I don’t actually think you’re dating Nagumo-senpai.”

Hiiro’s face stayed red. He pouted.

“You just keep hanging out with him so much that it’s like you’re dating,” explained Aira.

Hiiro looked at Aira with a raised eyebrow. “But we spend a lot of time together and you aren’t my boyfriend.”

It was now Aira’s turn to be flustered. “O-Obviously! We are friends and unitmates! Of course we spend a lot of time together!”

“But we’re not boyfriends.”

“That’s why I said it as a joke, Hiro-kun! A. Joke!” Aira felt it was unfair of Hiiro to turn his joke on him in this way.

Aira huffed. This is what he gets for trying to be nice. “I’m going to go hang out with Kohakucchi instead! He’ll appreciate me.”

Hiiro waved goodbye. “Have fun with your boyfriend!”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Despite the interference, both boys made it to the beach and had a fulfilling training session. Sand flew everywhere as they fought on the unusual terrain. A few people saw the sandstorm in the distance and decided to visit the beach tomorrow instead. 

Exhausted from a workout gone well, the two boys sat on the sand to admire the sunset as they drank their waters. 

“Nothing manlier than two guys watching the sunset after a fierce battle, right Hiiro-kun?”

“Umu!”

“And to think Narukami-senpai thought there was something weird about it.”

“Hmm?” Hiiro tilted his head.

Tetora realized his mistake. “Ah, I mean, um. It’s not that important!”

“It sounds like it bothered you,” said Hiiro, “Is your relationship with Narukami-senpai alright?”

Tetora sighed as he rubbed the back of his head. “It’s not really that serious. She was just teasing me about how often we spend time together.”

Hiiro nodded in understanding. “Aira did the same to me yesterday. He told me to have a nice time with my boyfriend.”

Something about the word had Tetora’s heart skipping a beat and his face felt warm once more. 

“Hmm? Did I say something wrong?”

“Ahh… it’s just that word is a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?” Tetora looked away from Hiiro’s face.

“Which word? Boyfriend?” 

Tetora let out a squeak. 

“... Boyfriend.”

“Stop it!”

Hiiro finally understood Aira’s joke. “My boyfriend, Tetora-kun.”

That last attack had Tetora turning red from head to foot. He fell back first into the sand as he covered his flushed face with his hands.

“Bucchou!”

Tetora fizzled out on the sand as Hiiro futzed over his side asking if he was okay. After a few moments, he was finally able to speak. “Words can hurt, Hiiro-kun.”

“I’m sorry, Bucchou, I hadn’t realized the word was so powerful.” Hiiro had actually, but like everyone else before him, found the reaction worth the attack.

Tetora scowled from the sand reading Hiiro’s mind. He knew Hiiro wasn’t as ignorant as he made himself out to be. “How would you like it if I turned it on you and called you my boyfriend, Hiiro-kun?”

Hiiro silently blushed bright red and fell from his knees to sit on the sand. 

“... I wouldn’t mind it,” he eventually mumbled in an attempt to prove the word had no power over him.

Tetora somehow flushed redder. “Huh?! You do know what a boyfriend is, right?”

Hiiro nodded slowly.

“A boyfriend is a person you go on dates with and hug and k-kiss and, and other lovey-dovey stuff!”

Both of them blushed deeper as Hiiro slowly nodded again making a strange expression.

“So!” Tetora felt out of breath for some reason despite having never moved from his spot. “What do you mean by that?!”

Hiiro glanced away as his lips formed a strange shape: not quite a smile, nor a frown as they fidgeted.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?!” asked Tetora, stressed out of his mind.

Through pursed lips, Hiiro quietly spoke. “...That sounds nice.”

It was as if a balloon had popped as Tetora felt all his stress flow out of him like air. “I guess you really are my boyfriend now, Hiiro.”

Hiiro felt warm at Tetora’s words. “And you’re mine, Tetora-kun.”

Tetora covered his face and resisted the urge to kick Hiiro for making him feel this way.

[mirktea]

One Last Puff

a short fic of Nagumo’s yearly custom for the last 8 years.

“one bottle of sake and a pack of cigarette please.”

Shin who currently man the counter eyed the tattooed man suspiciously.

“i didn't know you smoked, Nagumo-san.”

“occasionally.” the man shrugged lightly. The look in his eyes is darker, not a trace of his usual playfulness in view. Sakamoto, who was observing not far from the counter only stared at his old time friend.

“wait, Nagumo.” Sakamoto rummages under the counter searching for something. Nagumo heard the clinks of two shot glass that Sakamoto took out from under the counter as he handed it to him. “for sharing, if you need to.”

Nagumo chuckled. “with who?”

“if not with her, just think it as my representation as I can't visit her.”

“are you visiting your girlfriend, Nagumo-san?” Shin asked teasingly. “nah, just an old friend.” the dark haired man only shows a strained smile and left the store.

after walking a few steps from the store, Shin heard a thought.

‘just a dear old friend…’

————

He sat there, back resting on her tombstone. he poured the sake to both glass he got from Sakamoto. One glass he put beside the flower, the other one he gulp down immediately, starting his yearly custom.

Minutes turns into hours. He's there when the sun was right above his head, and still there now that it was replaced by the moon. his cheeks flushed a little, but his eyes as dark as ever. the bottle of sake was empty but his head was still full.

full of regret. full of anguish.full of what ifs. full of her.

it's the 8th anniversary of Rion Akao's death. it's the 8th year he's done this. it's the 8th time he spent a day by her grave. it's the 8th time he let his tears falls freely.

if Shishiba or Sakamoto saw him now, they will award him for talking the least sentence in a day as he usually talks their ears off.

as the night turns colder, Nagumo was on his last cigarette. he light it up, head as hazy as the night. he can't differentiate the smoke from his cigarette and the night fog. he mumbled “one last puff…” as he ihale it and turn off the cigarette. he got up, picks up the shot glass and empty bottle, and turns away.

“see you next year, Akao.”

[zero-heather]

Originally it was HiMERU instead of Hokuto but i remembered his doctor looking scientist card thing and was like "perfect".

Edit: added one

[fierce-little-miana]

The good news is I have finally finished the first draft (with its notes and all) of the next chapter of The Twins (just 6 months late 😱).

I need to re-read it, put it through Grammarly and edit it on Ao3, and I should be able to post it. It should be available this weekend or at the beginning of next week.

Sorry to everyone trying to follow this story (if you are still there), but yeah the good news is there is more coming shortly and it is not abandoned!

[herringstrait]

One of the things I ordered for the next chapter just shipped. Should tally up how much money I've spent for this fic so far. Anything for Nagumo ig.

[akimoroll]

coated biscuit sticks.

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x reader — college au

fem reader. slight enemies to lovers. fluff. suggestive. minors dni — wc: 2.1k

part of a series on ao3

“Oh, hell no.” Your roommate cackled as she stood beside you, looking around your desk.

You turned to her, “Should I be worried?”

“Well…” she pursed her lips, “he is a bit of a menace and popular at that.”

You snickered, “Ooh, scary.”

“Just…” she trailed off, “be careful.”

You chuckled and continued writing your notes, “It’s not like I’m gonna hang out with him. It’s just… peer tutoring.”

She walks over to her side of the room, “Whatever you say, babe. You’re a big girl.”

You watched her from the side before speaking, “So, you’re friends with him?”

She hummed, sitting on her bed, “Same circle but we’re not close,” she gasped, “You know, this might actually be a good thing for you!”

You gave her a questioning look, “Elaborate.”

“It’s your senior year. Live a little! I’m sure he could help you with that.” She grins, her eyebrows dancing.

You huffed, rolling your eyes, you continued writing, “I am living! And like I’ve said, just tutoring.” you reiterated.

That was the plan.

So why on earth—so early in the morning, in an empty study lounge—is your back pressed against the door by Nagumo with his tongue down your throat?

You place your hands on his chest as you try to push him away but he’s so much taller and stronger than you. You feel him smile against your lips. This insolent prick.

He leans down to your level with his hands cupping your cheeks. He’s so careful not to strain your neck. His gentleness made you give in, you let yourself melt into him. His kisses were soft and slow, it tasted sweet— chocolate? Oh, those coated biscuit sticks.

He always had those on him. You want some?

No, thank you.

Why not?

Not that you didn’t like it. But for some odd reason, you were hellbent on not having that scent on you— his scent, to be exact.

You have a keen sense of smell and upon meeting Nagumo, it blurred the line between it being a blessing or a curse to you. He always smelled like chocolate: when he walks in and sits across from you, when he opens his bag, when he talks to you—

And also that time when you spaced out and watched him eat the thing slowly, the way it lingered on his lips before he took a bite, the way he licked his lips. But he then smirked and you were flustered that he caught you shamelessly staring.

Now you could taste it. So much for not trying to smell like him.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath. Your eyes flutter as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. His hands running down from your shoulders to your wrists, taking the straps of your backpack along, he drops it to the floor. And when he intertwined his hands with yours, your brain nearly shut down.

“We shouldn’t do this.” you pant.

He chuckles breathily against your skin, “You’re right, we shouldn’t.” he murmured. But he doesn’t stop— biting off the button of your blouse, he takes it from his mouth and puts it in the back pocket of your jeans. He kisses further down your collarbone, leaving moist prints, sighing against your skin.

“I- Ah- I’m serious.” you stammer.

He grins, “Mhm, I bet you are.” he mumbled, before claiming your lips again. He then takes your hands and places them on his shoulders.

He deepens the kiss, pressing his body against yours. You squirm as his tattooed hands travel your back.

You ache for his touch for a split second when you feel his hand leave you.

Click.

He locked the door behind you. After realizing what he’s up to, you pulled away, “Yoichi!” You warn him quietly.

“I didn’t know a kiss could unlock first name privileges.” He teases, tucking hair strands behind your ear, he then twirls his fingers with the ends of your hair.

Just a week ago, you were so adamant on how you should address each other strictly by last name, because according to you: “We’re not friends. I’m just here to tutor you.” He inwardly chuckles at the memory and how he’s looking at you right now, enjoying the view— face flushed, hair out of place, blouse half undone, lipstick ruined. And it was all because of him.

He was intrigued by you from the start, like a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. You didn’t laugh at his antics, didn’t smile at him once, never answered any questions outside tutoring. But at some point, it did annoy him—how much of a stuck-up you are—so much that he made sure his presence shall be known for the next following days.

You kept seeing him with his smug grin and his fuckboy outfits, it made you cringe— in the halls, near your dorms, in the cafes you go regularly to, he was everywhere.

It really didn’t bother you that much, not until he started talking to you outside of tutoring. He didn’t care if you were alone or you’re with your friends, he would come and say hi or say something out-of-pocket so casually that he’d start conversing with your friends too, and they teased you endlessly about it.

But he’s so hot! Are you blind?!

I’ll take him if you don’t want him.

Did you not see the way he was looking at you?

God, you are dense.

And then his friends started approaching you too.

Have you seen Yoichi around?

Hey, you should come to the party tonight. It’d be fun.

Oh, you can’t? That’s too bad.

You see, Nagumo wouldn’t shut up about you.

You have become so annoyingly aware of his existence that the one time he didn’t show up for tutoring, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t focus in class. You were subconsciously searching for him in crowds. You passed by places you’ve seen him frequently. You even passed by his frat house despite it not being your route. You even went the extra mile and asked his friends pretending you bumped into them. Your routine was in shambles that day.

Just when you’ve finally talked yourself out of it and had given up— you saw him off-campus, stepping out of a car, with a girl in the driver seat. She was so, so pretty with her turquoise hair and looked so cool smoking a cigarette. She honked at him as he watched her drive off. He then turned around with hands in his pockets, beaming as soon as he locked eyes with you.

Insecurity started creeping in, you panicked and ran off. When you finally reached the dorms, you were relieved that your roommate wasn’t there. You wouldn’t know what to say if she asked why you’re so out of breath like you were fighting for your life. It felt so unlike you, like you were in a state of malfunction. It maddened you to a degree that when he met you for tutoring this morning, he felt it radiating from you.

He was seated across from you, stealing glances your way as you occupied yourself with a book.

“Rough night?” he asked in which you didn’t answer, you didn’t even move a muscle.

To make things less awkward for you, he ripped a piece of paper from his notes and started writing: Are you mad? He gently slid it across the table.

You don’t know what has gotten you but you had an urge to write back: Why would I be mad?

Pleased that you wrote back: Idk, that’s why I’m asking.

I’m not.

He held back a chuckle. You’re not very good at lying.

You glared at him after reading his response. How could you tell? You’re probably good at it.

He snickered a little too loud. Curious about me?

You scoffed quietly and wrote: Definitely not.

He snorted from holding back his laugh— I heard you were looking for me yesterday.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. I wasn’t.

He stared at you for a moment too long, amused. He wrote: So my friends were lying?

I didn’t say that. You put down the pen a little too hard.

Liar, liar.

You scoffed quietly, pointing at his work sheets.

But he was persistent— Were you jealous?

You pretended you didn’t see the note. He annoyingly tapped on it, making you roll your eyes— I have no idea what you’re talking about and I don’t care. You wrote with force, visibly getting angry.

He covered his mouth, uncontrollably laughing in silence. He wrote: Lying again LOL

You ignored him again but he didn’t back down— You think she’s pretty?

Without thinking you snapped at him, “No!” Your voice vibrated through the room.

You were both surprised, “I mean yes! I mean—”

A satisfied grin flashed across his face as he witnessed such a reaction from you.

Embarrassed, you rose, stuffing your bag with your belongings.

“It’s not what you think,” he explained, still smiling, leaning forward from his seat.

“I don’t care. I didn’t ask.” You zipped your bag and stomped towards the door.

Just as you were about to reach the exit, he grabbed your arm. You snatched it away, leaving you with the ghost of his touch.

“Does your girlfriend know you like chasing random girls?” You berated him as you fully faced him.

“You’re not a random girl.” His voice low as he moved closer, towering over you.

You stepped back but he was quick to block the doorknob with his hand.

“She’s my sister,” he paused to think, “Adoptive sister, actually. If ever you’re wondering why we look nothing alike.” he says with a faint grin.

Your chin dipped down as you leaned against the door. Embarrassed by the stunt you pulled, you couldn’t look at him.

“It’s okay.” he cooed. So cute, he thought.

You stood unnaturally still after the realization that he’s standing so close to you. You couldn’t even form a witty remark, the proximity was overwhelming. You could feel his breath faintly fanning over you making your face heat up. You were speechless.

Despite your annoyingly unsmiling demeanor, he admired your intelligence and the way you carried yourself. Although he felt like you were light years away from being out of his league, he wanted to try for fun.

But something about the slight flush of your skin, the smell of your shampoo, the sound of your breathing, your chest heaving, the shape of your lips, and how you’re standing directly in front of him, so close he could touch you. He wanted more than just try and more than just fun.

You looked so pretty, so delicate and— “God, you’re so beautiful.” he blurted out.

Your eyes widened by his confession. You didn’t dare to look at him. What the hell is he on?

He swallowed, “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You unintentionally wetted your lips.

“I’ll stop if you say so.” he mumbled.

But he knew full well he wouldn’t be able to stop once you let him.

You finally looked at him—and holy shit—he’s more handsome than you remember. He looked like he could ruin your life and you’d happily let him. Your breath hitched as his face moved closer, dark brown eyes looking at you expectantly.

He uttered your name and it felt like your heart was going to burst by the sweetness of his tone, “Anytime now.” he whispered, lips hovering yours.

“Hm?” He gives you a peck on the cheek, still playing with your hair.

What?

“Right! First names- I-” you stammer, “I was just- uh- I was…testing it out?” You grimace, feeling stupid by your answer.

He tilts his head to the side with a satisfied grin. He looked down to reach for your hands, placing wet gentle kisses on your fingers. You watch him, mouth slightly open. His eyes never leave you.

He lets go of you as he removes his jacket, wrapping you in it. “Sorry for…” he trails off, pointing at his chest to mirror yours, he smirks.

He then hears you laugh for the first time. And oh boy, he was in awe by how it sounded and the way your eyes crinkled, like he was basked under the sun. He needed to see it, dying to hear it again. And he knows it, he knows damn well he’s finished.

You lock eyes with him in silence for a moment too long. He suddenly felt shy around you. You cleared your throat making him avert his gaze. He picks up your bag.

You watch him intertwine his hand with yours, voice laced with mischief, whispering, “You wanna test it out someplace else?”

♡

[stierhai]

Yaobikuni Holds Her Breath

Characters: Kanata, Chiaki, Madara, Tetora

Endless Vide/Mech pilot AU.

Cross-posted to ao3 and dreamwidth.

Kanata finds himself at the edge of the water again, dim light and the lullabye hum of machines his companions. He breathes. Frost eddies in the air in the shape of his exhale, whilst the water agitates below. Sits. Slips one leg, then the other into the tank and remains there with his legs dangling beneath him, the water tracing ripples anew in the wake of his movements. "Splish. Splash." The dark shapes beneath say nothing back.

Two planets and 617,000 kilometers ago a live battle had meant stagelights, song, and dance.

Now, Europa's cold surface sings violence with the live broadcast activation, war machines revving. Tetora's voice crackles over the comms, "The Black Flame is the mark of effort! Ryuusei Black, Nagumo Tetora!" Black Flame towers to its full mechanical height over the ice-crust and snow.

"The Red Flame is the mark of justice! Ryuusei Red, Morisawa Chiaki!" Across the battlefield, Hero Protagony poses. In the privacy of his cockpit, Tetora rolls his eyes to the sound of Chiaki's laughter. Time was, he'd stopped resenting the sentai poses as lame. With the added bulk of the mech, massive cables pulling the metal frame into place to imitate its pilot and stunt combat swapped for the real thing, his opinion reverted.

He still takes a combat stance of his own, though.

The music starts in, an old-world recording of Ryuuseitai. Singing is optional, but Tetora still mouths the words to his parts. Colors Arise! Now, I’ll raise up a blinding beam of light— and with the flick of a switch, Black Flame is covered in its namesake, radiating heat as he launches forward to slam into the Protagony at speed.

Chiaki has a shield waiting to meet him and Tetora grins. Way to go, Morisawa-senpai. They've choreographed it well— perfectly timed to satisfy the audience and to let them go home in one piece. No fatalities, no major repairs. Unlike certain other earlier incidents— berserking, people pulled from cockpits unplanned, and censored broadcast after censored broadcast. Ryuuseitai was given Europa because they could be counted to keep the image clean, and know how to keep to choreography. Sparks fly out, firework-bright against the void sky for a moment before momentum wins against the minimal gravity and Black Flame propels them both forward. Snow explodes outward and evaporates in the same moment, steam all about them and he swaps his visuals to infrared in the mist that wreathes them now.

He pauses for it to clear, before comes Chiaki's return volley. When the combat can't be seen, there's no point.

No return volley arrives.

Seconds tick past. He loses his place in where he should be in their predetermined routine. Thirty seconds gone now and in the mist heat signals multiply while Hero Protagony's bulk has dissipated to nothing. Tetora blinks hard, but the readings don't change. His screen tells him he's alone in a sea of angry blips. His heart speeds, he whirls around, and the sensors berserk. The guitars in Colors Arise continue to scream electric chords at him— the stage now real as the one then. His every nerve shouts, forget the plan, go on the defense, go on the attack, do something—

Ice fissures beneath his feet. Creaks and hollow thuds build to a shattering eruption, and the glacial shelf falls away. The abyss swallows him whole. Red dyes his monitors completely, as Black Flame is no longer surrounded but inundated. Panic chokes him and he yanks at the controls. Unlike Kanata's Meteor Abyss, Black Flame wasn't designed for undersea combat; he can feel icy liquid seeping in past the rubber soles of his boots. Up to the ankles. Knees, thighs, his chest all underwater, the deluge coming fast.

His hands are off the controls now, but he doesn't use them to struggle with his bindings— mech fighting jolts the cockpit too much for the pilot to be safe in any other position than firmly strapped in. He peers down into the wavering image of his own numb hands moving beneath the water, LCD panels blurred and are rendered unreadable and unreliable by refraction but still he can see the red warning signs of something in there with him.

There's nothing else for it.

Water up to his nose now, tilting his head back to take the last few breaths he can, he kicks hard from his seat to shatter the casing on the emergency self-destruct. So much for no damage to the mechs. But without hesitation, he slams his closed fist on the button, despite the shards he's unleashed in the watery cockpit. His head goes under entirely. He can only feel his stung numb useless limbs in abstract and he shuts his eyes against the glass floating in there with him.

The countdown starts, slow seconds and blaring warnings that sound like the reality of an alarm echoing through a dream as Tetora begins to drown.

He doesn't know how long he's suspended there, in the unreality of his breath held until his throat spasms, saltwater with a sulfuric edge flooding in. His body is heavy with water weight, his mind light-headed from lack of air. He waits for— there! That jolt! The cockpit shifting sideways, ejection launch ready, pistons work and reliable hydrolics jostle the cockpit and then it tears free.

He is thrown from Black Flame. Water leaks from everywhere and the cockpit's pod crashes loud with impact, bounces, and goes skittering across the ice. Cuts open and leak. Tetora's eyes open, wearily, but he views the world through the black haze of oncoming unconsciousness. He coughs weakly, water seeping from his mouth.

Black Flame stands tall and still before him, high and dry and fully-functioning, lights and sounds blaring out an emergency. Get back. Evacuate.

It doesn't make any sense.

Less sense still, Shinkai-taichou's presence. He kneels down to put his damp hands on his cheeks, thumbs gently working open Tetora's mouth. His eyes water and Kanata's wavering shiloette abandons delicacy to shove in the rest of his fingers, like to force Tetora to disgorge all his chest took in. That isn't what he does, though. Instead, his other hand drives his jaw shut over the digits, grinding teeth into skin until it breaks and blood seeps a raw iron taste into Tetora's mouth.

"Swallow, Tetora…" Shinkai-taichou's voice floats down to him, as if from a great distance. And, more by instinct than of his own volition, he does. Only then does Kanata release.

As his vision finally gives in to darkness completely, the last thing he sees is Kanata swinging himself into the empty space where the cockpit had been. Impossibly, Black Flame's steel frame shuts itself around him with a spray of wet gore and rises.

—

Chiaki keeps both his hands anchored tight to Nagumo's in the hospital room. Kanata, damp, drips in the second seat beside him.

Another sudden mechanical failure, the flashing suicide lights on Black Flame as it threw its pilot out on the ice without warning— Nagumo wasn't the first to have it happen. Not by far. And now, he lay as another body in a another bed with a nasal canula and oxygen pumped into lungs flooded with mystery fluid from drowning in a bone-dry cockpit.

Kanata had finished out the battle, swapping in and calming the mech as medical crews pulled Nagumo in from the sub-zero wastes. Black Flame was ensconced in its hangar bay, diagnostic crews looking for what caused its fraudulent signals. He wants to trust the ES doctors, he really does. He'd grown up in a hospital bed, his fate in their hands and they'd carried him through. He'd decides to believe in them, even knowing this isn't the first time. There were others that had made it before. Takamine had been fine too, after his incident. He had left though, Shinobu travelling with him as support whilst he gets used to his new posting training the understudies— until he decides if he wants a replacement or to come back.

Anyway, Nagumo will be waking up soon. Experience says so, Tetora's tougher than he gives himself credit for. And as Chiaki isn't scheduled to beat up his mech on camera, he's staying here and waiting until he does. He takes in a deep breath and laughs loud enough to not hear the beeps of Nagumo's heart-rate over the sound of his own voice.

"Fuhaha! Chin up, Kanata! Imagine Nagumo's face, seeing his hero looking so blue!"

Beside him, Kanata's brow furrows in confusion as he slowly metes out a reply, "But… I am. I am Ryuusei Blue?"  He doesn't sound sure.

"Yeah!" He reassures him.  Kanata hasn't appeared in battle in a while, but that doesn't change his position in the unit!  "But we're not on stage right now."

"Hmm. . ." Kanata considers it. "If we're not 「on-stage」then . . . I'm not a hero."

Chiaki refutes him, "You don't need to be so humble! When Nagumo's up, I'm sure he'll agree and praise you as the coolest, most reliable hero there ever was!"

"I do like 「praise.」

"Right! So accept it!"

"But… . . . Why am I being 「praised?」 His wide eyes look at Chiaki, searching.

Unease begins to filter in.  Whatever got Tetora might have gotten Kanata too.  Maybe he should refer him to the doctors as well?  But that's a thing to worry about later.  In the moment, he answers, "Since you took over his fight, the medical crews were able to see him right away! You saved him, just as much as the doctors did! And his Live ranking won't even drop, since you put on a wonderful show. A clean battle with cool flourishes and with no dirty work. You were a perfect, reliable hero!"

"Oh. I did?" He looks pleased. "Thank you, Chiaki. I'm 「happy」. To be Tetora's hero."

"You're a hero's hero! When he wakes up, he'll tell you himself."

"When will he wake up?"  Kanata looks about, like he's expecting a second Tetora other than the one dead asleep on the bed to pop up and thank him.  "I 「want」 to see Tetora."

Chiaki has no immediate answer. The pause lasts just long enough to be awkward, before he lets go of Tetora's hands to take Kanata's and guide them to take his place holding Tetora's.  Finally, Kanata seems to recognize who is in the hospital bed.  Kanata gives a watery smile and leans to rest his head on Chiaki's shoulder, and Chiaki scoots in closer.  All their hands clasped together, they settle in to wait.

—

Madara leans over the rail in the mech bay. Down below, he can see Tetora's boots and not much else of him as he works on Black Flame's electric insides, denuded of its armor. The mechanic's bag beside him spills over, wrenches and calipers, laid on bare metal across from wet towels with soft pink stains. Absorbed in his work, he doesn't notice Madara's heavy footfalls on the catwalk above.

"Heeeeey!" He calls down. "It's Tetora-san! ☆ You're up and at 'em!"

Tetora emerges with a smooth slide of the wheels. "Ossu~." He gives a casual salute with oil streaking his gloves, a sodden towel still in his grasp. "What's up, Mikejima-senpai? Do you need something for Zarathustra?" He sits up to wring the towel out into a bucket murky with dark liquid, and tosses it aside with the others. "Gotcha! I'm pretty much done with diagnostics. Until the cockpit gets put back, not a lot left to do. I'll go carry this all over!"

Madara descends the stairs as Tetora shoves tools back into place and hefts them. He hadn't needed them, but it's as good an opportunity to get Tetora alone and away from cameras as any. "Aren't you a good boy, Tetora-saaaan? Sure, come on, Zarathustra is this way!"

He leads him over and as Tetora makes to set the toolbox down, Madara yanks him by the wrist into his own mech and seals up the entrance behind them as the tools spill over the catwalk with a clatter. Whoops. ☆

"Hey! What's the big idea?" Tetora protests, wincing as he tugs his arm free.

Madara lets him go but takes his place, blocking the door release latch. "Haha! Now, now that no one is around— you're a good kid! You don't want to worry your seniors, riiiight? Okay! Let it all out, vent all your frustrations at Mama! Fuhahaha!"

Tetora, cornered, looks more exasperated than scared. "So you're where Morisawa-senpai got that laugh. He told me what he used to be like, but s'hard to believe he'd come up with that over-the-top problem personality all on his own," He shakes his head, "Even if he's tryin' to imitate his beloved tokusatsu heroes. It's 'cuz of yours."

Madara shrugs, expansive. "Right! Incisive! Here's the problem, ab origine. But that means he's only seeing my surface." He grins, showing his teeth, "Really, I'm a scaaaaaary guy who is willing to do whatever it takes to keep the people I love safe." He looms now over Tetora, taking full advantage of his height, his broad physique. "So you understand me, right, Tetora-san? You, who has also chosen to walk the path of a villain, because he can't become a hero!"

With folded arms Tetora says, "You can just cut to the chase."

"What happened with Kanata-san?"

Their eyes meet. For a long time they stare each other down, but Tetora averts his gaze first. "I dunno, Mikejima-senpai. I blacked out."

Madara scrutinises Tetora, same as he scrutinises his own memories. Stacks of reports, highlighting the myths of their homeland and the bad things that have occurred since Europa became the homeland— papers that were more highlighter yellow than not. Kanata, made his leader again. Kanata there just in time to save Tetora, Kanata there at the hospital wing, Kanata pouting and avoiding answering him. Kanata asking questions he ought to know the answers to. It's discomfittingly like viewing the world through crossed eyes, double images that overlay when he focuses: the Kanata when they were children at the Shinkai compound, the Kanata walks on his own, his human legs firm on solid ground.

Tetora's hands have blood in the cuticles and under the nail beds, the ES uniform boots have left a trail of dilute red in the patterns of his treads behind him. Tetora's downcast gaze sees the same thing, and Madara decides it's frustration that he sees in the cast of his jaw.

"Haha! Is that so!" He puts a hand on Tetora's shoulder and squeezes, a gesture that's meant for comfort but he never has been good at controlling his own strength. "Tell me if you remember anything, Tetora-san!" And he slaps Tetora companionably on the back, and leaves Zarathustra's cockpit, closing it up behind him.

Tetora registers he's being shut in a moment too late and Madara only hears the edge of his voice calling after him, protesting, as he goes without so much as a glance back.

—

In the guts of Midori's old mech, Tetora inhales deep. With his eyes closed, his brain narrows down the scent to sea salt, lingering. His nostrils flare confirming it's only air, even as his brain insists on calling back to what it was like to drown.

Eugh.

He opens his eyes. The torch beam cuts a circle in the dark. Where it lands, it could be rust flaking at the edges of the valves. Only one way to be sure and he had his tetanus shot kind of recently. He hoists himself up, face lifted close, and licks.

It's the same stuff he tasted before, when Kanata bled in his mouth.   So now he's left with a hard dilemma: what gives?  He saw Kanata crushed in his mech, he's found Kanata's blood in Midori's, he talked to Kanata literally yesterday about dripping all over the breakfast table and getting the rice soggy.  He'd check other mechs from older incidents, but he needs to lift a card for higher clearance. If he's still hallucinating, does he go back to the ES doctors that keep finding everyone "fine" after everything?  Mikejima-senpai didn't react to him scrubbing blood out of his mech but Mikejima-senpai wouldn't.   Maybe he should get that bucket back and see if Chiaki screams.   He's weak to spooky stuff so even if there's some grand conspiracy, Morisawa-senpai would give it up right away

He lowers himself down from the bar he hangs from, clambering back out of Midori's mech, Mascot, landing with a soft thud.  In the hangar now, he hears he's not alone.

Shinkai-taichou's voice echoes off the steel walls, magnified to distortion.  Tetora looks down through the beams to see him standing there nude, pale, and a puddle of water at his feet.  Hustling, Tetora takes the stairs at a run, two steps at a time.

"Shinkai-taichou!"  He calls down.   "Shinkai-tai...chou...?"

His steps hesitate when Kanata turns to him, and there's zero recognition in his eyes.  He's been singing, but there's no words.   It's like whale-song, indescribably sad.  Condensation has formed on the silicate faux-glass roof above him and a steady drizzle falls on him alone.

Before he can take another step forward a doctor appears and Tetora stows himself behind a concrete pillar before he can be seen.  The doctor hustles him off and Tetora watches them go, a dripping trail left in their wake. 

Okay, he's got to talk to Morisawa-senpai. Whatever is up, those ES doctors know. They cannot trust them.

—

Chiaki pounds on the door to Kanata's quarters— always kept locked. A fine discovery! It's good that Kanata has figured out privacy, and discovered he enjoys some time to himself!

It is making inviting him to the beach more difficult than he had figured on, though.

Chiaki calls out, "Kaaaanaataaa! Beach day! Come on, we're going out! Beach day time!" The big inflated beach ball sitting in the hallway behind him will make the point just as much as his voice, if Kanata looks through the viewport.

". . .Europa beaches are 「cold」." Kanata's green eyes appear through a slit and Chiaki internally celebrates.

"Hahaha! Where was this attitude when I tried to get you out of the school fountain, way back when?"

"The 「fountain」 had water. Europa is all 「ice」."

"Not this one! Pinky promise! Heroes never lie!"

The door opens a crack and behind it Kanata is visibly pouting in his darkened quarters, backlit by a dim stack of aquarium tanks behind him. Still, he's opened the door, and that's what counts! "Where…? Show me."

"Okay! Close your eyes!" Chiaki puts his hands over Kanata's, which Kanata doesn't seem amused by.

"Chiaki . . ." Kanata warns, hands reaching up to remove Chiaki's.

Chiaki rebukes, "Don't look! A hero has no fear of the unknown!"

Kanata sticks his tongue out, but keeps his eyes closed as he pulls Chiaki's hands away fully. Chiaki grins at his sightless face, and puts his hands on his shoulders to steer him down the hall, leaving the door to slide shut behind them, auto-locking. They traverse until Chiaki stops at a VR training room and yanks the door open. He gives a gentle shove to push Kanata into the room, and Kanata's eyes open in surprise as his bare feet sink into warm soft sand.

Inside, Chiaki has used his clearence to wreck the training room perfectly. Speakers sound seagull cries, and water tank footage plays on one wall, ocean dunes displayed on others and clear blue earth skies above. Sand bags meant for weight have been spilled to make their own beach, stacked high enough to prevent the mini-lake he's flooded on the far-side of the room from spilling into the hallway beyond them.

Kanata, wondering, trails into the room and Chiaki unbuckles and kicks off his boots in nearly the same motion, and begins to run. He grabs Kanata's wrist as he goes, and takes him with him to the water's edge. Kanata has replaced shock with giddiness and goes running with him, keeping pace as they jump into the shallows. Their faces mirror each other's, grins wide.

Chiaki turns to face the wall of simulated water, and shouts, "Moooom! We're home! Your precious boys came home, back to your big blue arms!"

Next to him, Kanata echoes, "We're home~".

The only waves are the ones they create sloshing about. But they create plenty, Kanata immediately submerging himself to the waist, down on his knees in the water and Chiaki remembers now to run back for the beach ball. He serves it up and starts a ruleless game, the two of them declaring how it is they're winning now, calling out move names as they serve and catch. The sky-blue earth sky fades to twillight orange and even Chiaki is left a bit winded from their play, exertion more a glow than an ache. The awkward tension he's felt with Kanata recently has dissipated in the water entirely.

Now, if ever, is the time to ask.

Chiaki leans back on his elbows on the shore, and does. "Do you know what happened with Tetora?"

Kanata doesn't show any bewilderment. He turns to look at Chiaki, and his mouth twists out of a smile. His expression is now all resistance.

"In the footage, there was something weird. You piloted it, right? But the cockpit was already gone," Chiaki elaborates.

"…"

"Tetora didn't just eject himself, Black Flame's not built to throw him to freeze on the ice. All the piloting mechanisms, the cockpit all come out too! How did you do that? You were there in the footage, it wasn't remote piloting."

Silence stretches between them and Chiaki can't do anything but keep going.

"And Tetora threw up water after, even though he never got submerged. Like it came from inside!"

Kanata finally responds. "Chiaki. . . No. Don't ask." He stonewalls.

"So you do know!" Chiaki rises, ready to begin a speech. Surely, if Kanata shares his burden, then the two of them can tackle it together. They're stronger together. The five of them were Ryuuseitai— he'll tell their juniors, and it will all work out!

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a human shape in the water tank footage. He twists to see it, to make sure no one's fallen into the reservoir— a hero's words are important, but their deeds more so! But as he sees the shape fully, he recognizes it.

Kanata.

Chiaki's mouth hangs open and he starts to ask a new question, turning to look at the Kanata at his side but in Kanata's eyes is determination as he puts a palm against Chiaki's mouth to stop him from finishing even the shape of his name. Shaking his head, voice slow and soft as ever, Kanata tells him, "I. . . don't want you to get 「replaced」 too." Chiaki realises now that he hears not just agitation in his voice, that's concern. Kanata's eyes fix above the entrance, where an ubiquitous security camera sits placidly recording everything.

He's watching the wrong place.

A moment later, the door beneath it swings open, and another Kanata stands in the doorway.

Oh, Chiaki realises.   This is a nightmare.

—

"Morisawa-senpai! It's the ES doctors!"

"Wait— ES is being infiltrated by evil scientists?" Chiaki's voice edges into excitement at Tetora's announcement. "Are you sure? We have to let Tenshouin know right away!"

"No. It's not going to be news to him." Exasperation. "We are the evil orgainzation. Again."

". . . In the past, Tenshouin has definitely used us for selfish gain. But he always acts for gain— he's always been the lesser between two greater evils. Like Crimpro! You remember Crimpro! If we're pawns, he's got an opponent, or at least a goal! Until we know, we can't move against him."

"Stop defending ES."

Chiaki does not stop. "You haven't been compromised? I had a nightmare, too. If we are being studied, or experimented on, or there's brainwashing, it could be a quarentine measure from—"

"We're fine! We're all fine. You remember what Takamine-kun said, right? Before he left."

Chiaki's voice fades. He does.

"Yeah. Kanata got him out of Mascot. And never got out after. S'what all the claims have in common— he saves us, then doesn't save himself."

Chiaki finishes then, understanding. "—It wasn't a nightmare!" A beat, rearranging the pieces in his head. "Tenshouin wants idols everywhere." Softer, now. "Even here. Even if here comes at a cost."

Madara clicks stop on the tape Tetora had passed him, ejecting it. He watches Kanata's face and no surprise shows, just a knowing unhappiness.

They've figured it out.

In the story they grew up on, the myth their religion fed them with every meal, the Shinkai blood and flesh had been panacea. A curse had come from the far flung heavens and crashed into earth, bad things that flowed into the land and into people's blood. Bad will and bad health had followed, until the people had given a distant ancestor to the sea and then torn him apart with their teeth and took him into their bellies. An ancestor's song had soothed a cursed people.

Now, they lived on an ocean in the far flung heavens. Kanata's blood painted the mechs, his voice rang in the all hanger bays, as they lived shut up in a metal colony, far below Europa's waters. Of all the places they could have settled, it was here. An otherworldly ocean, the place most likely in the world to sustain life— a world that might have sustained the same things that made it to Shinkai land, after the meteor. Of course, it wasn't even coincidence. Eichi wasn't a believer, but he was supremely practical. He must have seen exactly what Madara had, in the reports of the Europa pilots behavior. He'd seen bad things, and if he hadn't, Keito had.

Kanata doesn't deny it, his jaw set defiantly.

A God after all.

Madara stares him down. Then, his shoulders slump. He confesses, "I wanted you to get to live as a person."

Kanata looks down, sorrowing. He knew and so he had hidden it. Madara has finally been allowed into his ever-locked room; all secrets between them vanished away. Madara approaches, to hear his voice better, over the hum of the oxygenating and purification machines. He takes his seat at Kanata's side, and Kanata leans against him. Their two sets of legs dangle into the water below. Their gazes settle below the gentle ripples, where drift the dark shapes of Kanata's own body, repeated and cloned. A fate Kanata had taken on all his own.

After a long beat, Kanata starts, "I know. . ." He looks up once more, meeting his eyes. His voice has rare steel in it, a martyr's determination. "But. . . I 「want」 you to live."

—

It is hard, being leader. It is hard, keeping secrets.

It's been hard since that rotten emperor had come to him, three of his bodies explaining in turn the world he'd remade in the shape of his dream of eternity. Mass-produced idols, he said, rows of bodies floating behind him.

"Welcome to the club," Eichi had purred to Kanata, before giving a breathless little laugh. Kanata had shoved him back but the other two Eichi hadn't even deigned to stop him, relaxing against each other, enjoying the show. Eichi, back up against the tank, had barred his blunt teeth, and made his offer:

He'd thrown plenty of bodies to Europa before Ryuuseitai. Europa had a curse that ate through minds and hearts, and now thanks to his Majesty the Emperor's schemes, they'd be familiar hearts and minds. A Tetora, taking his frenzied teeth to his own wrists. A Chiaki, laughing alone to phantoms. Break one, send another. A fact, and a threat-- no, Kanata couldn't tell anyone.

So Kanata had made his choice. New Captain, now and forever. His awful, lonely choice.

And now, Madara at his side, he'd keep making it. He'll paint every mech's insides with his own iron, talismanic, until Europa is 「safe」.

Madara is good at plans. Madara is good at schemes.

And what is an emperor to a God?

[homango]

Es una época bastante antigua.

Aún se tiene mucho miedo en fantasmas, espíritus, demonios; son reales y no solo cuentos de viejas.

Aunque son pobre, Nagumo, Suzuno y Afuro han aprendido a vivir con calma y felices; aunque no tienen muchas cosas y su casa parezca que se va a caer en cualquier momento.

En realidad están intentando remodelar la casa, pero Nagumo está enfermo y es demasiado terco como para querer admitirlo; Suzuno lo cuida mientras Afuro trabaja, así que el rubio pasa todo el día fuera de casa para cubrir los gastos.

Está demasiado cansado, pero no quiere parar.

Está demasiado cansado para ser fácilmente poseído, y lamentablemente tuvo la suerte de no morir cuando el demonio dejó su cuerpo.

Abrió los ojos con confusión, ¿Qué ha pasado de repente? Su cuerpo duele, la cabeza duele, siente como si estuviera durmiendo, cómo si su cuerpo no fuese suyo.

Todo está borroso, y se dió cuenta que está de pie fuera de casa.

Siente algo extraño en su brazo izquierdo, así que volteó a verlo. Cuando se dió cuenta que era sangre lo que veía, soltó un grito de horror, cómo si la herida fuese de él.

Cayó al suelo, mirando su brazo, está lleno de sangre hasta arriba, sus manos tienen algo... Extraño, está tan asustado que no sabe lo que es, pero también está en sus uñas.

Tiene miedo, mucho miedo, así que grita por Suzuno, por Nagumo; pero nadie llega.

No sabe qué es lo que está sucediendo, ¿No había estado antes cargando bolsas de carbón? ¿Por qué ahora estaba aquí?

Él se levantó aterrado, entrando a la casa con estrépito. Otro grito salió de su boca, uno helado y de dolor.

Suzuno estaba en el suelo, encima de Nagumo, hay demasiada sangre alrededor, la mayoría viene del hueco en el pecho del albino.

Él no puede ver si hay algo por el estilo en Nagumo, quien también está muerto, porque Suzuno estaba llorando sobre él cuando lo atravesaron.

Hay recuerdos borrosos en la mente de Afuro con ésta imagen, ¿Pero cómo es posible que él le haya hecho esto a ellos? ¡Él los ama! ¡Esto no es posible! ¡Esto no puede estar pasando! ¡Esto es una mentira! ¡Una pesadilla! ¡Una horrible pesadilla y ya quiere despertar de ésta mierda!

No ha despertado, aunque han pasado meses de esto; aunque ha intentado morir, ese demonio se lo evitaría cruelmente.

Se cubrió el brazo, porque con cada mirada viene un recuerdo; no es capaz de ver lo que le hizo a Suzuno y a Nagumo.

Solo... No lo soporta, se ha ido del lugar y no planea volver.

Aún está muy cansado, más que antes.

[kiyamahirotoff]

So here's the deal...

This was supposed to be the last day of teams' polls buuuuuut… I realized that the OG FFI had also teams for Uzbekistan, Saudia Arabia & China but they never were used, not even in game.

Zato: You should add the chinese team, so Ryou votes for the two cute girls on the team.

Ryou: A) It's just one that I like, and her name is Xiao Lau, you rude a**wipe, and b) it's not the same thing as you with Alice and Gabriella. Or Izumi and Kazemaru.

Izumi: Ryou! You promised not to tell!

soooooo, while these three keep bickering, the question here is:

Am I petty enough to delay any further this prolly annoying thing?

Ayame: Yup, you definitely are. Actually, I would rather call you another thing, but this is s'posed to be rated E

You suck Ayame… but anyway the answer is YES, YES I AM!

nah, just messing with ya.

Ayame: but he truly is an annoying petty pri*k

*I would rather have Aphrodi, Nagumo and Suzuno as Japanese representatives, but I'll stick to the original teams for now.

[nanaosaki3940]

Feels Like A Family [Sakamoto Days]

I'm currently working on my next chapter and decided to share a small snippet of it... Please let me know if you liked it or not... 

Fanfic Name: Love In The Line Of Fire [Sakamoto Days]

Pairing: Yoichi Nagumo X OC

Nana's POV

I walked down the bustling street, my hand securely holding the small, warm hand of Hana, my cheerful five-year-old niece. The summer sun bathed us in a gentle, golden glow, casting long shadows as we made our way toward a popular dessert shop known for its delectable treats. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional bark from dogs being walked by their owners.

“So, Hana-chan, what kind of dessert are you in the mood for today? Ice cream? Cake?” I asked, glancing down at Hana with a warm smile.

Her wide, innocent eyes sparkled with excitement as she pondered the delicious options.

“Ice cream! I want strawberry with sprinkles!” Hana replied cheerfully, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

Her excitement was infectious, and I found myself grinning in response.

"Of course. We'll get the biggest ice creams they have…" I promised, imagining the joy on her face when she would see the towering scoops of her favorite flavor.

As we continued our walk, Hana suddenly pointed excitedly at something ahead.

“Aunt Na-chan! Look at that big dog!” she exclaimed, her voice high with delight, her tiny finger was directed at a fluffy, golden retriever that was trotting happily beside its owner.

“Yes, Hana-chan, it’s a very big dog. Maybe we can say hi to it on our way back…” I suggested while chuckling at her excitement, picturing the scene of Hana petting the friendly dog and her face lighting up with pure joy.

The sidewalks were crowded with people enjoying the pleasant weather. Vendors lined the street, selling everything from fresh flowers to colorful trinkets. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, mingling with the aroma of street food being cooked at various stalls.

As we approached the dessert shop, the bustling crowd momentarily parted, revealing a familiar face striding towards us. It was Nagumo, easily recognizable in his signature brown trench coat, a printed shirt peeking out from beneath, and black pants. His long rectangular-shaped suitcase, undoubtedly filled with his assortment of weapons, was slung over his shoulder with a casual air.

“Yo-chan?” I called out, my voice tinged with surprise as I spotted him.

“Hey, Nana-chan! Fancy meeting you here!” Nagumo greeted, his trademark grin spreading across his face, radiating his usual infectious energy.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my eyebrows raised in curiosity as we closed the distance between us.

“I was actually heading to your place to meet up with Sakamoto-kun. But since I ran into you, I’ll stick around and we can go back together…” Nagumo replied in an energetic tone, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Did you come here to talk about the Death Row Inmate assassins?” I questioned further, a hint of concern in my voice.

“Yeah…” Nagumo responded, nodding his head solemnly, though the gleam in his eyes remained.

Just then, Hana tugged gently on my hand, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Who is this, Aunt Na-chan?” she asked, her innocent voice breaking the moment.

“This is Yoichi Nagumo. He’s a friend of mine and your dad’s…” I explained with a smile, introducing her to Nagumo.

“And who might this lovely young lady be?” Nagumo asked, his grin widening as he crouched down to Hana’s level, making sure to look her in the eye.

“I’m Hana! I’m my Daddy’s daughter!” Hana giggled, introducing herself with a bright smile that could light up the room.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hana-chan!” Nagumo responded, extending a hand dramatically, his grin widening even further.

“Nice to meet you too, Uncle Yo-chan!” Hana grinned back and shook his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his with an endearing enthusiasm.

Immediately, Hana's cheerful demeanor meshed seamlessly with Nagumo's playful nature, and seeing that brought a smile to my face. Nagumo had always had a special talent for connecting with kids. His blend of cheerfulness, playful energy, and undeniable charm made him irresistible to children. They found him fun yet safe and harmless, a figure who could effortlessly bring joy to their day. Women, on the other hand, were naturally drawn to his magnetic personality, while men admired his effortless confidence and charm, often wishing they could emulate his captivating presence.

I understood that feeling all too well. My first encounter with Nagumo occurred when Taro first got into JCC. Back then I was only 8 years old while Taro and Nagumo were 14 years old; they were just 6 years older than me. At that time, Taro was just beginning his training to become a professional assassin, and through this journey, he formed a fast friendship with Nagumo. Through Taro, I came to know Nagumo, who quickly became a significant presence in my life. He was everything one could admire: charming, charismatic, funny, witty, incredibly handsome, and endearingly cute. His boundless optimism and ever-present smile created a magnetic aura that drew people in effortlessly.

Nagumo's friendly and approachable demeanor made him popular among his peers and endeared him to those younger than him. His quick wit and humor kept everyone entertained, and his genuine kindness won the hearts of many. It was no wonder that children adored him and women found him irresistible. His ability to make anyone laugh with a quick-witted comment or lighten the mood with his infectious smile had always captivated me. It was easy to see why people were naturally drawn to him.

As a child, I had admired him from a distance, and as I grew older, those feelings blossomed into a quiet, persistent longing. I had been infatuated with him, and over the years, that infatuation matured into a deeper, more profound love. Even now, standing next to him as he effortlessly bonded with Hana, I felt that familiar flutter in my heart. Despite the years that had passed, my feelings for Nagumo remained as strong as ever, a constant, unspoken presence in my life.

His charming presence reminded me of countless moments from our shared past. His ability to make anyone laugh with a quick-witted comment or lighten the mood with his infectious smile had always captivated me. Watching him now, I was transported back to those days when I first realized just how special he was. He was more than just a friend of Taro’s; he had become an indelible part of my life story, someone who had always been there, quietly shaping my dreams and hopes.

And now, here he was, effortlessly winning over Hana, just as he had won over everyone else in his life. It was a poignant reminder of why I had fallen for him in the first place, and why those feelings had never truly faded. His presence was a testament to the enduring nature of my love for him, a love that had stood the test of time and continued to thrive in the quiet corners of my heart.

Nagumo and Hana continued to chat animatedly as we made our way to the ice cream parlor, their laughter filling the air. Once inside, the shop owner greeted us with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with delight at the sight of us.

“Oh, what a cute family you are! You make such a lovely couple with your adorable daughter!” the shopkeeper remarked, looking between the three of us with a beam of approval.

My face turned crimson upon hearing the comment. I felt a rush of heat spread across my cheeks and quickly opened my mouth to correct her.

“O-Oh, we're not actually—” I began, my voice wavering slightly from the unexpected embarrassment.

But before I could finish, Nagumo, ever the opportunist, cut me off with a mischievous grin.

“Thank you! Yes, I'm quite lucky to have such a young wife and cute daughter!” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders with an easy familiarity before winking at me.

“Yeah! We're a happy family!” Hana giggled, catching on to the playful ruse as her eyes sparkled with delight at the game Nagumo was playing. “Daddy, can I have extra sprinkles on my ice cream?”

“Yes, anything for our dear Hana-chan! My sweet daughter!” Nagumo responded, his voice full of mock seriousness.

He tickled and hugged Hana gently, making her giggle louder, her laughter bouncing off the walls of the dessert shop. I stood there, flustered and at a loss for words. My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to find the right thing to say, but all I managed was a small, awkward smile. The shop owner's eyes were full of warmth and affection, completely convinced by Nagumo's and Hana's playful act.

As we ordered our desserts, I couldn't help but notice how natural Nagumo seemed in this role. He exuded a warmth and charm that made it easy for others to believe in the illusion he had created. His dark hair and eyes matched Hana's so well that it was no wonder the shop owner had mistaken them for father and daughter. With my presence completing the picture, it was easy to see why she had assumed we were a family.

“Here you go, a big strawberry ice cream with extra sprinkles for the little princess…” the shopkeeper said, handing Hana her treat with a fond smile.

“Thank you!” Hana exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement as she took her ice cream.

Nagumo and I both received our own desserts and coffee and he, in his usual generous manner, took care of the bill before we made our way to a cozy spot at a small table. Throughout the entire interaction, I could feel the amused glances of the other customers, and it only added to my flustered state. Sitting down, I couldn't help but glance at Nagumo, who seemed entirely unbothered by the whole situation.

“Enjoy your treat, everyone!” the shop owner called out as she returned to her work.

Hana, her face lighting up with delight, dove into her strawberry ice cream adorned with colorful sprinkles.

“This is so yummy!” Hana exclaimed between giggles, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

“I'm glad you like it, Hana-chan!” Nagumo replied warmly, casting a fond glance at her before turning his playful gaze toward me. “Nana-chan, you were positively adorable back there, all flustered and blushing.”

“Yo-chan, you really shouldn't have played along like that. It was embarrassing!” I chided, a slight frown betraying my lingering embarrassment as my cheeks retained their rosy hue.

“Oh, come on, Nana-chan. It was harmless fun!” Nagumo chuckled, tousling Hana's hair affectionately as she giggled along with us. “You should have seen your own expression! And besides, Hana-chan seemed to get a kick out of it.”

“Yeah, Aunt Na-chan! It was so funny!” Hana chimed in, her laughter bubbling with infectious joy.

“But you have to admit, we made quite a convincing family…” Nagumo teased with a mischievous smirk.

“Still, you didn't have to... to...” I huffed, crossing my arms and searching for the right words.

“To what? To acknowledge how lucky I am to have such a beautiful young wife and an adorable daughter?” Nagumo interjected playfully, his grin widening. 

“Stop teasing me, baka!” I scowled, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

“You two are funny! Just like a real mommy and daddy!” Hana added with a wide grin, clearly amused by our banter.

Despite my initial embarrassment, I couldn't help but smile at Hana's innocent comment. The warmth between us was palpable in that quaint confectionary shop. As Nagumo and Hana continued their playful interaction, a sense of contentment settled over me. For that brief and sweet afternoon, sitting together like this, we truly felt like a family.

As I leisurely sipped my coffee, I observed Nagumo and Hana engrossed in lively conversation, their laughter and chatter creating a warm ambiance around our table. Nagumo, with his characteristic charm and animated gestures, was deep in conversation with Hana. He asked her about school life, her friends, and her hobbies, and in return, regaled her with amusing anecdotes about her father Taro Sakamoto during their days at JCC. Hana, wide-eyed and fully attentive, hung on every word, finding immense amusement in learning about her father's youthful antics.

Notorious for the intricate tattoos adorning his whole body, Nagumo even showcased a few to Hana which were on his arms and neck, sharing stories behind some of the designs. His playful side emerged as he performed magic tricks with his dice, deftly making them disappear into thin air, leaving Hana marveling with wonder.

Nagumo possessed a natural affinity for interacting with children, a skill that seemed effortless for him. Not everyone could engage with youngsters as effortlessly as he did. Beyond his knack for connecting with kids, Nagumo genuinely enjoyed their company. Whether it was indulging in sweets together, sharing stories, or simply engaging in playful banter, he thrived in their presence. It made me reflect on what kind of father he might one day become. I couldn't help but imagine him as the epitome of a cool, fun-loving dad—someone his children would undoubtedly adore. His inherent warmth and ability to create joyful moments would undoubtedly make him a cherished figure in his children's lives. It was a thought that filled me with a sense of certainty and warmth.

Contemplating Nagumo's future, I couldn't shake the question of whether he would ever find it within himself to settle down and create a family of his own. His career as a professional assassin, aligned with both JAA and the Order, presented formidable obstacles to such aspirations. I reflected on my cousin Taro's experience—he had made the difficult decision to exit the assassin world in order to build a family with Aoi. Their journey underscored the sacrifices and challenges inherent in balancing a life of danger with the desire for domesticity.

In contrast, my parents had boldly chosen to defy the odds, navigating the perilous waters of their profession while choosing to marry and eventually bring me into the world. Their decision to start a family despite the risks spoke volumes about their love and commitment. I had always felt their affection deeply, and their words of gratitude for having me in their lives were a testament to their unwavering devotion. I cherished the bond we shared and considered myself fortunate to call them my parents.

Turning my thoughts back to Nagumo, I couldn't help but ponder his stance on relationships and marriage. He was a different case altogether. From what I knew of him, he had never ventured into a serious romantic entanglement despite his charm and affable nature. While he had casually dated during his tenure at JCC, those interactions had never progressed beyond the superficial, likely due to the inherent risks of his profession. His profession as an assassin imposed significant barriers to forming lasting attachments, and I wondered if he harbored any desires for a more settled life.

The thought gnawed at me—did he envision a future that involved settling down and sharing his life with someone?

Presently, Nagumo remained single and unattached, with no apparent romantic interests or crushes on the horizon. If there was someone he fancied, I believed I would have been aware of it by now. And yet, despite the passing years, my own feelings for him had not waned. I still harbored a deep affection, nurtured from the innocence of childhood. Now, as a young woman, I found myself contemplating whether it was time to disclose my feelings to him.

I had grown since those innocent beginnings of admiration when I harbored a childish crush. My experiences had shaped me into a mature individual, and I knew Nagumo must see me differently now—a woman rather than the girl he had once known. If he didn't, then it was up to me to make him see me in a new light. I resolved to take the initiative in altering his perception. The thought emboldened me, stirring a resolve to confront my feelings and perhaps take a chance on love with Nagumo, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead.

The question lingered in my mind like a persistent whisper, echoing through the depths of my thoughts. If I were to muster the courage and convey my feelings to Nagumo, would he reciprocate? Could I dare to hope that he might accept me as more than a friend—a potential girlfriend, even?

It wasn't merely a matter of summoning bravery; it was about navigating the uncertainties that accompanied such a confession. Nagumo, entrenched in a perilous profession as an assassin, had forged a life defined by danger and unpredictability. His world was a stark contrast to the stability and security that traditional relationships often required. Would he be willing to venture into uncharted emotional territory, to explore the possibility of intimacy and commitment with me?

My heart fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. I had known Nagumo for years, watching him navigate life with his characteristic charm and wit. Yet, beneath his affable demeanor lay a complexity that intrigued and, at times, perplexed me. Would he view my confession as an unexpected revelation, or had he perhaps sensed the undercurrent of affection that had lingered between us?

I replayed our interactions in my mind, searching for signs—subtle hints that might indicate his feelings toward me. Had there been moments when his gaze lingered a fraction longer, or his smile held a deeper warmth? Or had I been projecting my own desires onto our friendship, seeing what I wished to see rather than what was truly there?

These questions swirled within me, intertwining with memories of shared laughter, meaningful conversations, and the undeniable bond we had forged over the years. If I were to take the leap and confess my love, would it risk our friendship, or could it potentially blossom into something more profound—a partnership built on trust, mutual respect, and a shared journey through life's uncertainties?

The thought both excited and terrified me. Yet, as I contemplated the possibility of revealing my feelings to Nagumo, I knew that uncertainty was an inevitable part of love. Perhaps, in embracing vulnerability and expressing my truth, I would discover that our connection ran deeper than I had ever imagined—a bond resilient enough to weather the challenges that lay ahead.

"Nana-chan, my dear wife?" Nagumo's teasing voice interrupted my reverie, his smirk pulling me back from my thoughts. "Looks like you're lost in deep contemplation. What's brewing in that pretty little head of yours?"

"Nothing much…" I sighed softly, a smile tugging at my lips as I took another sip of coffee before glancing affectionately at Hana, who was immersed in her delight over the ice cream. "I was just thinking how much Hana-chan is enjoying herself here."

Noticing a smear of ice cream lingering at the corner of Hana's lips, I reached out instinctively, gently wiping it away with my finger before casually licking it off. Nagumo's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected gesture. In response, he theatrically smeared a bit of cream from his pastry near his lips, turning towards me expectantly.

"Honey, could you do me a favor and wipe this off?" Nagumo's request was playful, his pout exaggerated, eliciting an eye roll and a playful scoff from me.

"Handle it yourself, hubby…" I retorted playfully, tossing a few napkins in his direction.

"Aww, Hana-chan, see how mean Mommy is?" Nagumo exaggerated further, continuing the playful charade.

"Yeah! Mommy, stop being mean to Daddy!" Hana chimed in, giggling mischievously as she joined the game.

"Okay, you two, enough!" I laughed, pretending to scold them both, before reaching out to playfully pinch their cheeks simultaneously.

Our laughter filled the air around us, creating a warm, lively atmosphere in the cozy confectionery shop. As we bantered and teased each other, I couldn't help but revel in the joy of the moment. Despite the teasing and the playful dynamics, there was an underlying warmth and closeness between us. It felt almost like a glimpse into what a real family might feel like—filled with love, laughter, and genuine affection.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow over our little tableau. Hana's laughter echoed in the background, blending with Nagumo's teasing banter. In that moment, surrounded by sweetness and laughter, I couldn't deny the fondness that had grown for Nagumo over the years. He had become more than a childhood friend; he was someone who understood me deeply, someone who brought lightness and joy into my life.

As we enjoyed our treats and shared moments of lightheartedness, I couldn't shake the lingering thought—the possibility of what could be if I dared to express the feelings that had been quietly simmering within me. It was a daunting prospect, yet one that held the promise of something beautiful and profound.

But for now, I was content to bask in the warmth of our playful camaraderie, savoring the simple pleasures of being together in that cozy corner of the world, where laughter flowed freely and love lingered in the air.

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