#rare open eye sumida

[lenzoli]

sumida

[musicallisto]

clara my dearest role model, clara my devoted friend, clara my delicate muse... i am sending this right as i'm finishing the final chapter of romancing mister bridgerton on audiobook, so forgive me for being so inexcusably brief </3. might i request one of these 💿 lovely surprises with literally any f1 driver, i want to see a violent characterization of these loser men from my most respected author friend yuki tsunoda? i am, in all things, horribly on brand.

· · · · ♡ EXILE (yt22)

… starring yuki tsunoda x f!reader ... based on exile by taylor swift ft. bon iver ... 1.2k words ... in which yuki tsunoda, fresh from his formula 1 debut, returns to a tokyo both familiar and foreign, where ghosts and feelings still linger. ... i really hope you enjoy this my darling olive!! when i saw i had pulled exile out of all songs i freaked out a little,, this song has gotten me through a lot so i had to pay homage </3 happy august 1st to those who celebrate!!!

"I can see you staring, honey

Like he's just your understudy

Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 comes to Tokyo, always brings her heat with her.

More than the temperatures, it's a joyous sort of effervescence that coils around the street corners, trickling down like the first monsoon rains. Day after day, Tokyo attires itself in the most festive of summer colors, until all of a sudden all the festivals, open-air markets, and traditional dances flood the city like budding poppies. Here, rows upon rows of sunflowers sway to the soft breeze in Kiyose; over there paper lanterns float off into the night sky over the Sumida river, each cradling an unspoken wish.

To Yuki, August is always the best time to return to the capital. Or rather, the second best; nothing beats the cherry blossoms of late April, but late April is home for Imola now, and it's been years, really, since he last saw the sakura of home.

He doesn't mind the heat—he never did, and his Japanese friends joke that he was already a fiery character before his time in the West made him brazen. He's always glad to be back home over the summer break. Even more so since he debuted in Formula 1 six months prior.

It's Yuki's first time returning to Tokyo since he started racing with AlphaTauri, and one of his increasingly rare visits to his homeland. He's been eagerly anticipating the break; to recharge, certainly, and most importantly to meet with his family. In the cloudy skies the plane traverses, Yuki can see his elders' crinkled eyes, beaming with pride as he, the picture of practiced humility, answers every question about the sport, about Italy, about the world he made it big in. It matters not they won't understand much about racecars, or the FIA—he's coming home aureoled in a gladiator's glory. Honor to his family, to the Tsunoda bloodline! He smiles to himself as the plane touches down on the tarmac.

Yet as Yuki steps into the urban jungle he's so ardently missed… he finds the city changed. Not transformed, entirely, but… almost misplaced. As if street names and trees and playground slides have been shuffled over his time abroad, all of them still there but in a disposition unknown to him. Sure, he is a child of the suburbs, and Tokyo a fidgety creature—maybe Italy's stone roads have eroded his memory. But wasn't there an old laundromat on this corner, on which the papier mâché dragons would cast fantastical shadows as they snaked down the street? And the brand new KFC—this was a pet store, where he'd press his nose against the glass to watch the colorful fish and guinea pigs until his mother forcibly dragged him away.

This is still home, he tells himself to soothe the unease away. Things change, but they don't leave you behind, he repeats as he checks his phone to make sure he's going in the right direction.

They're all little details. Like when he stops at a food vendor's cart and has to repeat his order twice, taken aback by the sound of his very own mother tongue coming out of his mouth. Six months without speaking Japanese to another person, other than the odd calls to his parents, have left his voice chalky. The woman looks at him for a brief second, quizzical, but hands him the sugary buns; he thanks her, seamlessly this time, and it's all back to normal. Yuki Tsunoda is home.

They're all little details until they aren't. Until he turns on his heels, biting into the snack, and catches sight of her.

It's unmistakable, and it's her. Even with the facemask, it's the same silky hair and smooth skin, same little bounce to her step, and even the same linen pants she used to wear in high school. Tokyo's immutable certainty on the other side of the street. Y/N.

Yuki stops dead in his tracks as their eyes meet, thirty feet away, and a flash of recognition has her almost recoiling, but she holds firm onto the hand she's holding and stays immobile. A man's hand; he's a little taller than Yuki, black hair in a neat middle part and dark eyes distracted by an advertisement on a screen. Wearing nice clothes, sunglasses hanging from his neckline, shoulders relaxed but holding Y/N with the casual affection of a man who cherishes a great treasure.

Yuki's throat dries up. He thinks about reaching out—to say what? Giving her a polite wave—but what for? High school confessions play in his head, back when he loved her as zealously as he raced, and when her laugh ringing in his ears, more than the trophies and the European circuits and the million-dollar contracts, was his only belief.

"So when do you plan on coming back?" she'd asked him the last time they'd ever seen each other, sitting on a park bench that cherry petals flecked.

"Eight months to a year, maybe," he'd answered after a little while, knowing there was no return once he said it.

"Eight months?" she'd exclaimed, disbelieving. "Yuki, I can't… I don't think I can go eight months without seeing you."

"I don't think I can ask you to do that, either," he'd said, sounding sadder than he'd wanted, though he had rehearsed the moment over and over in his head.

She'd stared at him wordlessly, her incomprehension feigned. She knew what he was about to say, but pretended not to. He'd wished she'd piece it together on her own, admit it to herself so he wouldn't have to say it out loud, but…

"I think it's best for both of us if we just… go our separate ways. I don't want to hold you back, and you deserve to be happy here. With someone who's here with you."

You are among the twenty best in the world, Yuki, had told him Franz Tost after some F2 race he couldn't remember, when news had broken out into the world the Japanese rookie would be AlphaTauri's shiniest, newest addition. It's rough getting here and it's only gonna get rougher staying here. The engineers may cut out what's slowing you down… but you need to do it too.

"All right," was all Y/N had said, her eyes glassy. Steel. Dignified, like he'd always known her. Like he sees her right now, staring at him from the other side of the street.

Her new boyfriend taps her shoulder to show her something in a shop, and she turns her head, breaking eye contact with Yuki. Up the road, the lights turn green, and a flock of cars of all shapes and colors buzz past, invading the crosswalk and hiding the couple from view.

Twenty seconds later, when the street is quiet once more, and Y/N eagerly turns her gaze from her boyfriend to the opposite sidewalk, she finds moms pushing strollers and well-behaved Inus on leashes, but no trace of Tsunoda. A flame, gone in a flash. Her heart drops.

She squeezes her boyfriend's hand, and they keep walking.

I'm not your homeland anymore, so what am I defending now?

You were my crown, now I'm in exile, seeing you out

I think I've seen this film before

So I'm leaving out the side door"

… tagging @retvenkos @heliads @faerieroyal (the f1 girlies🥺)

… masterlist here

[fictionalardy]

SYNOPSIS

Niragi is taken to a psychiatric hospital after a suicide attempt and Chishiya is his therapist.

SAVE ME

Chishiya cleaned up his office. Today he was supposed to get a new patient, a special case. It was his first time there, but he had visited many other facilities before. Actually, he was not supposed to come for a few days, but the night before he was pulled out of the Sumida River by a couple. This was, according to his records, his fifth suicide attempt, but Chishiya was almost certain there were more.

Chishiya's office was always sterile and clean, many patients didn't like it, a few even panicked because it reminded them so much of a hospital, usually forgetting they were in one.

A little later than agreed, a soft and hesitant knock sounded. Chishiya opened the door. "You must be Suguru Niragi" Chishiya's voice had no emotion, a ploy he had taken to test how his patients would react.

The person in front of Chishiya was taller than him but seemed tiny due to his head being tucked in and his hands playing with each other. When Chishiya didn't get a response, he stepped aside a bit and gave the bespectacled man room to enter. "I'll take that as confirmation" Niragi entered hesitantly and glanced around unobtrusively. Chishiya, however, had been doing this job for a bit and was watching him closely. The taller one seemed to relax at the sterile sight which was rare.

"Sit down" the blond closed the door and sat down at his desk, where soon a dark blop sat in front of him.

"My name is Shuntaro Chishiya, I prefer to be called simply Chishiya. What can I call you?" Chishiya didn't even expect an answer but was surprised with a soft, slightly slurred "Niragi.”

The corners of Chishiya's mouth strayed towards his eyes for a brief moment before he regained his composure and continued to speak neutrally, "I am a person who always speaks their mind Niragi, and I will now explain something to you," after a small pause he continued, "I am of the opinion only speaking people can be helped. If you don't want to talk to me that's okay, but then you are wrong with me. I don't want to waste your time or mine, if you don't want to talk to me, I can give you the contacts of my colleagues who are specialized in non-verbal therapy, but I can't help you in that case."

Niragi looked aghast. It was the first time someone had told him this directly what to expect. Others would have felt mistreated or would have run out immediately, but Niragi recognized a certain care in Chishiya's words. The blond had chosen this job for a reason.

The bespectacled man’s gaze softened, and he nodded before startling himself slightly as if something had occurred to him. "Okay... I'll talk to you" his slightly nasal, soft voice rang out.

Chishiya only noticed now that Niragi had a cold, but after a couple minutes in freezing water, it was no surprise. The smaller one was pleasantly surprised and smiled slightly, "Very nice. I think it would be best if you first tell me what you want to reveal about yourself so far. I have your records, but I wouldn't want anyone to just read my life story."

And so, Niragi spilled. Not much and not long, in between he got lost in his thoughts, but for now Chishiya was satisfied. When the game designer, as Chishiya found out, fell silent they still had a few minutes left.

"How about some kind of 20 questions? One asks a question and we both have to answer it unless it's too uncomfortable. Agreed?" Niragi nodded.

"Very well. I'll start. Hmmmm, favourite song? Mine is Superbase by Nicki Minaj" Chishiya had barely spoken when the usually quiet man burst into, for him, loud laughter.

"I-I'm sorry but t-that's not what I was expecting." He continued to chuckle quietly behind his hand. Chishiya thought it suited him and he set his sights on bringing that laughter back to life for good.

When the black haired calmed down he spoke, "I like We are by OneOkRock" his voice had returned to the soft whisper.

"Good taste I see" To Chishiya his words didn't mean much but Niragi was shocked. The last serious compliment he had received was years ago.

♠️♦️♣️♥️♠️♦️♣️♥️

A few weeks had past. Niragi had completed half of his stay already and felt better than ever. Far not well enough to be left unsupervised with sharp objects but fine enough to tell Chishiya what happened freely. He cried a lot but laughter weren’t too rare either.

Sometimes Chishiya would hug him, and he would calm down. Other times the blond would tickle him until he couldn’t breathe no more because of laughter. He felt light and relieved in his therapist’s presence, couldn’t wait for the next appointment to spill more. Every time he revealed something to Chishiya he came to understand the flaws in his thinking. Even though it was tough to speak sometimes the blond always waited patiently till Niragi would form sentences, not allowing other ways of expression.

Chishiya was pleased with Niragi’s progress. Every time the black haired laughed he would smile involuntary and tried his best to cheer him up when he cried. Normally Chishiya wouldn’t touch his patients much but with Niragi it felt so natural. He even smiled more which creeped his colleagues out.

“What’s with you lately, Chishiya?” Kuina the sexy secretary asked.

“What do you mean, Kuina?” He mocked her.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been in a conspicuously good mood lately. What girl is it?”

“Girl? Firstly, Kuina I’m gay you know secondly no one. I work all the time, remember?”

Suddenly she gasps. ”Is it a patient of yours?!” Now she squealed “How cute!”

“The fuck Kuina? That’s illegal and I know you know that too” The blond sighed.

“You didn’t deny it though” she smirked.

“Yes, I didn’t Kuina” Kuina was shocked. She just meant to tease Chishiya, she never expected him to really like someone a patient on top.

“W-what are you going to do about it?” She asked carefully.

“Nothing” Chishiya answered dejected.

Their story ends here…

Or does it?

[zacharyja]

Independent Excursion - Academic Reflection - Sanja Matsuri

We made our way there in Asakusa and I was extremely surprised by the sheer number of people at the station as soon as I got off, but it only got worse as we got closer to the Senso-Ji temple. Sanja Matsuri is often considered the largest and most hectic Shinto festivals in Tokyo. The festival consists of roughly 100 portable shrines dedicated to Shinto gods paraded through the city, it also often attracts a massive crowd and is definitely a once in a lifetime sight to see. I really enjoyed the festival and it was pretty amazing to see so many people gathered in one place all there for the same thing. There was even mini Mikoshi (portable shrines) and drums that allowed children to have a chance to participate in the festivities, which was very cute to see. The dedication to the festival and the community gathering was something that you rarely see in the United States, and is something I wish we had more of, as this type of city wide gathering really brings the citizens together and makes the town not feel so big.

After reading through and analyzing "Script and Score, Revisiting Nelson Goodman at Sanja Matsuri - Japan", I got a better understanding of the background behind the festival, as well as the inner workings of Sanja Matsuri in general. This article brings up a sort of Myth about the beginnings of Edo, the predecessor of Tokyo, which detail the events of three fisherman pulling up a an idol of the goddess of mercy, Kannon from the Sumida river. After many attempts to return it to its proper place, it always returned back to them so they took it as a sign to found the Asakasa shrine in Kannons honor (Lucas). The day before the festival actually begins, the Mikoshi are fitted with the Kami, and are prepared for the festivities in the following days. Seeing these Mikoshi, or portable shrines that are carried by about 30 individuals at a time, parading through the streets honestly opened my eyes to the workings of a very foreign religion. In the United States, I do not get much access or exposure to Buddhism or Shintoism and have honestly never seen any form of these religions being practiced until coming to Japan. It was honestly a huge culture shock to see so many people all practicing and being involved in a religion that I had known so little about before taking this trip, and the sheer dedication of these people to march through the streets for hours at a time in the heat in honor of their religious beliefs made it seem more real to me as I've only really heard about these religions on paper. Another point that is brought up in the article is the use of sound by the festival people, as there is constant chanting, drums, and flutes being played at all times, which can be a bit overwhelming but is also a crucial aspect of the matsuri (Lucas). Another point that the author brings up that I did not really expect to be interested in was the nature of those holding the Mikoshi, as well as those pushing and leading them. The Mikoshi bearers have to remain relatively light on their toes, continually bouncing up and down rhythmically to the beat of the drums and chants, and none of them actually have to worry about directing the Mikoshi on the path. This job is instead left to the pushers and leaders, where the pushers make calculated nudges while paying close attention to the leaders to maintain the desired direction. The leaders walk backwards and face the group, indicating the desired directions with a fan, where different movements and directions of the fan indicate sideways movement and going straight (Lucas). I had no clue that there was so much to the movement of the Mikoshi, as I never thought to consider that there must be so much planning and forethought going into this type of thing to ensure that everything goes according to plan. Looking back at the videos I have I can definitely see the pushers and leaders and am able to understand why they are doing what theyre doing now because I know the inner workings. Overall I really enjoyed my time at the Sanja Matsuri, and I only wish that I had read the article before hand so I could have appreciated it a bit more and had my questions about it already answered.

Works Cited

Lucas, Ray. “Script and Score: 6 : Revisiting Nelson Goodman at Sanja Matsuri – Japan.” Taylor & Francis, Taylor & Francis, 26 Oct. 2018, www.taylorfrancis.com/chapters/edit/10.4324/9780429432125-6/script-score-ray-lucas.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary: Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs of the gods in the wind. 

(Loosely inspired by ‘Your Name’, aka Kimi No Nawa, featuring Haikyuu’s own pretty Tokyo boy)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s rare to see young men like you buying flowers for their mother’, the florist comments offhand as she wraps his order of yellow chrysanthemums in paper. 

Akaashi smiles, accustomed to the friendly florist by now. ‘I guess I’ve always had a partiality for flowers’, waving to the florist as he leaves to head to Shibuya to meet Bokuto for Izakaya. He’s running late, but Bokuto doesn't mind, hooting good naturedly at the comedy show playing on the television in the rundown bar. 

‘Agaaaashi, you made it!’ Bokuto rises from his seat to give him a jovial fist bump. 

‘Of course I did’, he responds dryly. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me from my appointment with you’. He spends most of dinner listening to Bokuto’s recent exploits both with the national team and MSBY. Excitement still sparkles in the older man’s eyes as he recounts each and every match he’s played in, and Akaashi idly wonders how it is that Bokuto seems to have managed to pack on even more muscle in the short span of a month, the last time they met up was to see Bokuto off at the airport for the World Cup. 

‘You should have continued playing volleyball in university’, Bokuto crows in between mouthfuls of yakiniku and beer and Akaashi shakes his head at the refrain he’s so used to hearing from his senpai.

‘I wouldn’t be able to maintain my grades if I wanted to take volleyball seriously in university, plus there’s no guarantee I’d even get off the bench’, he answers self-effacingly. 

‘But you have the best tosses, Akaaaaaashi!!’ Bokuto declares, his words slightly slurred, and Akaashi wonders if he should start to inch Bokuto’s beer away from him. After consuming far too much barbecued meat (Bokuto took the liberty of ordering twice of what Akaashi would normally order, waving his protests off by stating grandly that he’ll take care of the bill, he’s the one working after all!), Bokuto slips into a food-drunk stupor, happy to listen to his anecdotes of university life, and he takes the chance to ramble on about his advanced Japanese classical literature course that he finds far more fascinating than his class on modern literature to his best friend. 

They stumble out of the izakaya when the line outside grows far too long to be ignored, Bokuto draping a heavy arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, the red tint on the tips of his ears betraying his slightly tipsy state. As they stand at the traffic light patiently waiting for the light to change from red to green, Bokuto turns to him and grasps his shoulders in his large, warm hands. 

‘I’m really proud to have you as a friend, Akaashi’, Bokuto tells him seriously. ‘And I’m going to prove to you that I can be the best ace so you can be proud of me too’. The molten gold glimmering in Bokuto’s gaze fills him with far more warmth than any alcohol could possibly achieve. 

‘I’m already proud of you, Bokuto-san’, he answers, his earnestness resounding in every word of his short declaration. Bokuto beams at him in response and bounds across the pedestrian walkway in approximately three strides, ignoring Akaashi’s chiding to ‘look before you cross the road, even if you have the right of way!’

Many things may have changed since high school, but some things still stay the same.  

His dreams take a strange turn that night.

He’s back in the Fukurodani gym with his teammates, but it’s not accurate to say he’s with them - rather, he’s watching his past self from afar, seated on the bench, a wrist guard on his right arm. He doesn’t remember ever injuring himself enough to warrant a wrist guard at any point during his high school volleyball career, but it’s probably just another oddity of being in a dream.  

‘I wish your wrist was feeling better, Akaashi. I miss your tosses already’, the pout in Bokuto’s voice pronounced.

‘It’s just for a while - I’ll be right as rain tomorrow!’ he hears himself say cheerfully - but that doesn’t make sense either. No one in their right mind has ever described the way he speaks as cheerful, and the rest of his teammates glance over at him curiously. Then his past self awkwardly tucks his legs under the bench, ankles crossed almost as if he’d like nothing better than to fold himself away with all the cloth vests they use for practice – but that doesn’t make sense either, he doesn’t even know why he’s behaving like some fish out of water. While volleyball doesn’t come naturally to him as it does to someone like Bokuto-san, and there are times he feels like he’s struggling to swim upstream, his fingers still itch to toss a ball up into the sky in a perfect arc even now. 

‘I told you, I don’t get what you insist on waxing lyrical on him being a star you can’t help but follow,’ he hears her voice chime in his consciousness, inexplicable though her presence in this scene may be, he hears himself answer - ‘just be patient and watch’. 

Anahori, their substitute setter tosses the ball up in the air and it’s a good toss, he will give him that, but it’s still not quite as high a toss that Bokuto likes. Bokuto runs right up to the net to leap into the air, back arching to slam the ball to the ground with such force that it’s a commanding full stop punctuating any doubts about his place on the team as its captain and ace. 

‘You see! When he plays well, he's like a supernova, shining with a light so bright it almost blinds my eyes.’

‘Waxing lyrical again, Keiji-kun?’ He can hear her tease him gently. ‘Go on, carry on with your celestial metaphors’.

‘How about a shooting star then’, he replies, amused. ‘If a shooting star shot up from the earth instead of falling from the sky.’ 

‘You sound like you like the guy. Are you sure you don’t?’ She asks. ‘You sure sound like you do.’

What?!

His legs are tangled in his sheets when he thrashes awake, mouth open in a gasp for air. That was a new twist in his collection of dreams, the first time he’s dreamt of something other than that phantom girl’s life in months, but even when the dreamscape doesn’t even feature her, she still manages to invade his dream. 

Worse - his dreams are now edging into territory he hasn’t mapped out in years. His teenage infatuation with Bokuto-san died a natural death after he realised that he’d mistaken his admiration for the ace for romantic feelings. Besides, there was no way Bokuto-san would ever be in love with him, not when he’d chosen to devote the next decade of his life to his sport. So why are his dreams dragging him deeper into a labyrinth of memories that aren’t even his own?

‘Why are you squandering my pocket money in a maid café of all things’ he says, sounding uncharacteristically put out. But then again he would be annoyed if anyone managed to drag him into the pink and white monstrosity his dream has deposited him into.

Bokuto’s happily seated across from him (or rather, his past self), exclaiming ‘ooh - isn’t the ketchup art on this omurice amazing, Akaashi? They managed to capture my hair so well!’, and to his horror his past self nods encouragingly and only laughs when Bokuto whines about not wanting to destroy this ‘piece of art the maids took so much time to create’ by eating the damn omurice. 

‘Don’t be such a killjoy, Keiji-kun’, she giggles. ‘Look at him, he’s having such fun, and besides, your day will reset so your money won’t be wasted anyway!’. 

Bokuto, distracted by the catchy beat of the J-pop song blasting over the speakers, is cajoled by a trio of pretty maids to join them on stage to dance along with them. He pops his hips to the beat of the music, throwing up cheesy hand signals with such gusto that it makes him (yes, present day Keiji) want to smile. 

But his past self evidently hasn’t lightened up yet, because he hears himself say crossly – ‘You do realise this is a waste of time when we could be doing something more useful like homework, especially since  Bokuto-san and I already spend most of our time training?’

‘Oh Keiji-kun, life is too short to be spent worrying like that. Because before you know it, you’ll grow into an old man who doesn’t know how to have any fun’.

‘I have fun’, he says petulantly, a faint sulk in his voice. 

‘Oh really? Then stop worrying and live a little. Maybe you should take a leaf out of your beloved Bokuto-san’s book – look how much fun he’s having!’

Bokuto clearly seems to be having the time of his life because now he’s prancing around the stage playing some silly game with the maids. 

‘I told you, I don’t think of him that way.’

‘And I’ve told you I’ve borrowed your skin for far too long to know when you’re not telling me the whole truth, Keiji-kun’, she sing-songs. ‘You wished for more time with him, didn’t you, so aren’t I doing a good deed by helping you figure out what Bokuto might like to do with you?’

‘Bokuto-san doesn’t have spare time on these things – and you’re just making an excuse to explore cafes in Tokyo at my expense!’ 

‘Two birds, one stone. Don’t be pedantic, Keiji-kun!’ 

The next time he’s back in one of those dreams, he finds his past self dressed in a blue yukata along the Sumida river, tugging Bokuto away from the takoyaki store. He remembers Bokuto dragging him away from the rest of the team on a quest to buy some snacks at the food stalls set up around the park, insisting that his stomach’s growling too loudly to wait until the fireworks display is over ‘come on, even you can hear my stomach at this rate, Akaaashi!!!’ – but that’s where the dream starts to diverge. 

‘If you queue for takoyaki, we’re going to miss the fireworks, and you don’t want to miss that, do you Bokuto-san?’ he says, hand firmly on Bokuto’s yukata sleeve. 

‘That’s right! But shouldn’t we join the rest of the team? They’ve got a spot by the river just over there!’ 

‘We won’t get there in time with this crowd – come on! If we hurry, I know the perfect spot to watch the display’, weaving his way through the crowd to shimmy up the trunk of a tree and settle himself comfortably against a large branch. 

‘Woah – Akaashi! I never knew you could climb trees!’ Bokuto calls, sounding impressed.

‘Well, don’t stand there, come join me!’ 

The tree creaks ominously as the larger boy scales its trunk, branches already heavy with red lanterns groaning in protest as he settles himself in the branch opposite Akaashi. And not a moment too soon, because a collective gasp ripples through the crowd along the river as the night sky explodes into rainbow hued fiery streaks.

‘It’s amazing, Akaashi!’ Bokuto hollers with his face tilted up to the sky. 

‘You’re amazing, Bokuto-san’, he says fondly, reaching over to bump Bokuto’s shoulder with his fist and the older boy beams at him, the sheer delight in his smile brighter than the fireworks in the sky. There is a sea of stars in his eyes, and Akaashi wants to shrivel in shame at the way his younger self looks like he’s mentally planning to pirate a boat to cross the straits to Bokuto’s heart. 

‘There is no way I’m going to do that’ he hears himself say, sounding mildly cross. 

‘Eh – it’s cute. ‘sides, doesn’t he look so happy’ he hears her say, sounding overly chipper. 

‘You could spend your time instead learning how to play so Bokuto-san won’t pout when you sit out of practice and you wouldn’t have to pretend you sprain your wrist every time we swap.’

‘Are you mad? Do you really think they won’t think something’s up when I can’t even do a simple serve?’ 

‘Fine. You have a point’, he answers begrudgingly. 

‘Of course I do. Come on Keiji, live a little. Enjoy your time with the lodestar of your life’.

‘Can you not say things like that?’ he says dryly. 

‘It’s your fault for reading so much Shakespeare to me!’ she replies with a grin in her voice.

He texts Bokuto the minute he wakes up. ‘Bokuto-san, apologies if this seems weird, but do you remember if we ever climbed a tree when we watched fireworks with our team?’ 

Bokuto takes a while to respond, but that’s to be expected, it’s his mornings are usually filled with practice and conditioning. But when he does respond, his text makes Akaashi’s brow curl. ‘Nope, but sounds fun! What’s up Akaashi!!’ 

Akaashi drops his head in his palms. Good to know he’s not losing his grip on reality at least. 

But his sleep for the following weeks continues to be filled with dreams in the same vein. 

He dreams of scenes that have never taken place in real life - him challenging Bokuto-san to ramen eating competition, the older boy winning handily of course, crowing like a child when he slurps the last mouthful of tonkatsu broth - ‘eh Akaashi, eat faster!’, him dragging Bokuto-san to the arcade near school, demolishing middle schoolers in endless games of dance dance revolution (there is no way he is actually able to move like that in real life) and losing far too much money in claw games - ‘Akaashi I really want that toy pleaseeee’ - and even he would admit it’s absolutely adorable if not for the fact that he can’t explain why these dreams keep invading his head like a wildfire that refuses to die. 

‘I honestly don’t understand you’, she says and again, why on earth is she in this set of dreams - she doesn’t belong in them -

‘What exactly do you not understand?’

‘If you like him that much, why aren’t you jumping at the chance to hang out with him? All you do is nag me about how I’m wasting his time, I’m wasting your time, but I don’t understand -  isn’t time meant to be spent on the people you love? Unless you’re confusing love with admiration, because yes, I get that you admire his talent, but you don’t seem to have all that much patience for spending time with him outside of school.’ 

‘I suppose I do like him, but…’

‘Finally you admit it, but I don’t like the sound of that word.’ 

‘It’s nothing’, he finally says, and she huffs in annoyance, clearly wanting him to explain but he stubbornly refuses to say another word. 

His past self is skidding down the hallway with Bokuto hot on his heels yelling ‘Akaaashiii you owe me a Yakisoba bunnnnn’ when he hears an almighty crash behind him. As he spins around, Bokuto’s sprawled on the floor, papers and books scattered around him. The older boy grimaces as he sits up, grabbing at his ankle in pain. 

‘Bokuto-san, are you ok?’ he cries, running back towards the older boy. 

‘I might have twisted my ankle. Argh this is bad - prelims are just next week!’ Bokuto groans, clutching at his ankle desperately. 

‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine tomorrow, trust me’, his past self says with complete certainty, and flags down a passing student to call for a teacher. 

‘Look what you’ve done now. Are you happy with yourself?’ he hears himself say accusingly. ‘Everything might reset tomorrow, but look - he’s hurt himself today. Is this what you’ve been trying to prove to me?’ 

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’ he hears her say, her voice watery. ‘I didn’t think -’ 

‘Of course you didn’t, you never think about the consequences of your actions, do you?’ he says, glass shards in his words. 

His dream fades to black. He never hears her answer. 

His sleep remains relatively undisturbed for the next fortnight, just in time for his mid-term exams which he aces, even his course on classical Japanese literature. He’s relieved of course, because his final year grades matter most when it comes to recruitment, yet there’s a part of him that’s buried deep between ventricles and pumping flesh that childishly wonders what his dreams are going to show him next.

His wish is answered when he opens his eyes to an ocean of stars, white pinpricks of light against the vast tapestry of the purple night sky. His head is pillowed on tufts of grass and the wind whispers against his feet.

The sight takes his breath away. 

He’s a born and bred city boy, and he knows from experience it’s near impossible to see stars in the city sky amidst light pollution and masquerading satellites.  

‘Is this your way of apologising?’ he asks, his voice wry. 

‘Is it working yet?’ he hears her ask, an uncharacteristically timid note in her voice. He laughs, a fond sound, and he can hear her huff a breath through her mouth. ‘I am sorry though, Keiji. I never meant to hurt him’. 

‘It’s fine, no damage done. Besides, I was thinking about what you said.’

‘Me? About what? I know I’ve said plenty to you so far’, she says curiously. 

‘About Bokuto-san’, he supplies, and she stays silent, waiting for him to go on. The stars twinkle down at him, and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine the galaxy reaching down to lend him its infinite strength. ‘You were right about how…I felt about Bokuto-san. I thought what I felt for him was something more than it really was - now I’m starting to realise I just admire his strength, and I don’t see our paths ever converging, especially if he’s going to chase his dreams of going pro all the way’. 

‘You don’t have to chase someone else’s light when you’re brilliant in your own right’, she says gently. 

‘Thanks’, he answers thickly, as if the word feels a little awkward in his mouth. 

‘So -’ she pipes up, and he can tell she’s trying her best to paper over the sudden lapse of silence. ‘Will you tell me stories about the stars, Keiji?’

He laughs fondly, raising a hand to catch the stardust from the sparkling constellations overhead. ‘I could tell you the story of Andromeda, chained to rocks as a sacrifice to satisfy the cruel demands of the sea monster?’ 

‘Ugh no gory stories, I want a happy ending!’ 

‘It has a happy ending, I promise. Just be patient and listen, okay?’ 

Akaashi wakes up before his past self can finish telling the tale of Persues’ rescue of Andromeda from the jaws of defeat. It’s barely three in the morning, but he knows it’s futile to try to go back to sleep. He wanders to the window, and wonders whether the lone star hanging in the cloudy sky is merely a satellite in disguise. 

Against his better judgment, he dials Bokuto’s number. 

‘What’s up, Akaashi!’ he hears the older man mumble sleepily, sheets rustling. 

‘Was it obvious I had a crush on you in high school?’ he asks plainly. If seeking closure is what he needs to end this slew of dreams, then he’s going to do it, never mind the embarrassment thick in the blood in his veins.

‘Huh?’ 

Akaashi’s pretty sure he can hear Bokuto blink rapidly. ‘A crush on you’, he repeats, and for good measure he adds - ‘sometime in your third year of high school’. 

‘Ehhhh…’ Bokuto’s voice trails off over the phone. ‘You did?’ 

The sigh that trips out of Akaashi’s mouth is worn, weary. ‘I did’, he confirms, embarrassment writhing in his belly. 

‘But you stopped right? Just before I graduated? You started becoming distracted after Spring High and I thought you were just worrying about university entrance exams.’

‘I suppose.’ And Akaashi should really get a grip on himself but his dreams have been doing a number on him so to his horror, he starts to ramble. ’ It’s probably the lack of sleep, but look - this sounds really stupid but I was having a lot of really weird dreams and I don’t understand what’s happening but I’m hoping getting this off my chest helps me get some more sleep and I hope you don’t think I’m completely weird and don’t mind still being my friend -’

‘Woah, ‘kaashi, slow down! You’re overthinking again - what, you think I’m not going to be your friend anymore?’ Bokuto booms, laughing widely. 

‘Uh. I don’t know?’ 

‘Relax! I’m flattered, but I think it’s a good thing we never went out! You were already so stressed dealing with me in high school Washio used to joke about your hair falling out, but I’ve changed! Now I’m just an ordinary ace!’ 

‘Bokuto-san, I don’t think anyone would call you ordinary’, Akaashi interjects, rubbing circles against his temple. 

‘You know what I mean!’ Bokuto laughs, the sound so round and boisterous that it makes Akaashi quirk his lips up in affection. 

‘Yes, Bokuto-san. Anyway, sorry for disturbing your sleep.’ 

‘Anytime, Akaashi!’ They bid each other goodnight, and the relief he feels after the call settles on his chest like a blanket, and he falls back to sleep. 

Taglist: 

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

[profanehero]

King’s Water

Ever since the fall of the American-Japanese Embassy; Katherine Parler had one question on her mind; and one question only.

How do you kill gold?

Do you break it down and break it apart? No... No gold could be reformed and melted. It would always come back together.

No.

You had to drown it.

A bullet-proof jacket, state of the art that would do more than just protect her from bullets. It would protect her from shock, from fall, from debris, and obviously from cold and from the son... It weight a good ninety pounds alone.

Forty-one kilos. She was never one for translating to the metric system.

She packed light, as she suspected would be needed of her if she wanted to draw out her intended target. Wearing a skin-tight combative top, skid-resistant leggings and opera-length compression gloves... She knew how helpless, and bare she looked under her coat... She knew that danger and finesse was the last thing that came to mind when people saw her.

Katherine Parler-  Banshee... Looked soft, unprepared... Defenseless.

And that was entirely what she was supposed to look like as she walked through the various alleyways of Toyko. She had been living in Japan by herself for nearly six months now...

The intent had been to stay in Japan as long as she could to adopt Hiroki, and try to live that normal life she had always wanted... The normal life free from pressures to use her quirk, free from someone else’s want to see her powers put to their fullest...

But Alloy followed her back.

So it was with great trepidation, and great maternal instinct; that one night when Hiroki was safely in the infant ward of a hospital in Mustafu that she donned her costume and took to the streets without her weaponry. She even left them purposefully in her equipment safe in her apartment... Everything that Banshee has officially registered to use with Japan’s government could be checked off at her house.

If her skulking around didn’t draw the attention of her stalkers... The note on the fridge written in English would.

Sumida Aquarium: 8:30 pm Penguins

Sure enough that’s where she went. She walked right up into the line, costume and all, bought a ticket and slowly made her way to the penguin exhibit... Where she waited, speaking to the occasional Aquarium employee.

Katherine had reservations about using the common Japanese people’s inability to say ‘no’ against them, but she needed to stay with someone official until she was asked... Politely... To leave at nine o’clock sharp- when the Aquarium closed.

She didn’t make any move to stay past then, and started moving to the exit... Watching the lights of the guest walk-ways as they clicked off one by one.

And then she saw a figure in a heavy suit, heavier than she had ever seen him wear before- he must have been cold in Japan. It was now solidly winter...

Alloy didn’t have the same smiling, controlling face that she had half-expected he’d don. Instead his expression was that of thinly veiled irritation hidden behind confusion.

His eyebrow raised in a silent question... Which he then proceeded to cut through by actually using his voice. “Yo...” he looked around. “... Now, if you had wanted a date; you have my number. You could have JUST texted me.”

A few seconds later Katherine had side-stepped into an employee’s only section and took off running.

“Okay. Fine. Not a date. I can take a hint.”

Soon she could hear the tell-tale signs of his pursuit into a hallway. The back employee walk-ways were lined with grates. Grates that likely couldn’t deal with the pressure of three metric tons on the surface area of a foot.

She turned around just in time to watch Alloy stagger over his own shoes as he ditched them to pursue her... Which he had gotten much better at since she had made the mistake of recommending Land of the Lustrous to him. Soon his feet were a molten trail of gold and he was basically figure-skating down the smooth concrete walkway- but it wasn’t long before she could turn the corner into a much larger expanse. A large aquarium warehouse...

Frankly, aside from a few obvious distinguishing sets of equipment it looked like any other warehouse. Wooden crates of roughly similar sizes were stacked up atop pylons and scaffolding. Large unassembled sheets of thick glass were stacked by each other against one of the walls- but the majority of the center space inside the warehouse was, in fact, taken up by unused tanks, tables, and oddly shaped crates, coolers, boxes- anything else that didn’t have an immediate place to go.

He was coming- he was coming... Under the desk.

Performing a quick tuck-and-roll underneath a desk and behind one of the boxes crammed in there.

Soon the sloshing sound of Alloy entering became apparent. After moving around to make sure there was no other way of escape the villain slowly resumed walking- his feet turning to flesh once more as he paced around.

“... I know you’re in here, Kit-Kat...” he paused, coming to a stop as he examined the walls with various pipes and valves. He let out a despondent snort. “... Katherine. I don’t like playing hide and seek.... Do I have to start breaking things?”

No response. Banshee noticed her hand was clasped over her own mouth.

A loud clatter, and the sound of a crate being thrown across the room.

“I guess so.”

In no time at all Alloy made quick work of many of the boxes of tools, and equipment on one side of the room- he didn’t even have to transform his entire side in order to lift it all- he just used the entirety of his hand like a god damned battering ram and tossed the things around like pillows- stomping down on crates like they were toothpicks.

But Katherine kept an eye on him, a close eye and made sure he had turned just far enough to dart back to the other side of the room... And of course her running meant she was heard- but this time that was the point. She was already halfway to the metal ladder up the side of one scaffold, dodging a well-placed pressure-gauge and wasting no time to breathe as she recklessly scaled up the ladder.

She saw his hand pull the ladder from the scaffolding- which was built-in mere seconds before she rolled over to the top and began searching- frantically for a spot on the hanging beams on the ceiling to get a good purchase... Finally she gets a break-- a hanging lamp a few sturdy scaffolds away.

With no time to loose and the scaffold behind her beginning to collapse like a card house- she ran forward and jumped, grabbing onto the hanging lamp and turning her head and opening her mouth to brandish the one weapon she always had with her- her quirk.

“TARNISH AND DIE-” but the threat fell through deaf ears as the box thrown at her was torn through a hateful red slash of threats- but bellow her Alloy seemed to look on in horror.

There came a creaking noise- and for the first time since she had jumped- she took a second to look at the lamp-- it was starting to give. Below her was a large, half-filled aquarium filled with fake reefs and water.

In a singular cartoony moment Katherine looked up at the light again, then looked at Alloy who actually looked worried just long enough for the sound of metal snapping to echo through the air as Katherine and the light fell into the slowly filling aquarium.

“SHIT! KATHERINE!”

Alloy rarely ran- but he ran this time- human sized feet-cracks in the pavement behind him as he merely hit the glass with a fragment of his strength- washing he and the entire warehouse in a gush of saltwater.... And broken glass...

Okay. He should have thought that last part through for a split second he couldn’t see anything in his eyes.

And  great, something got stuck around his neck-

Wait.

After a moment of sudden realization Alloy’s stinging eyes opened just as the shock collar Katherine’s new costume tightened itself around her neck and activated, sending him tumbling to the ground as his entire body seized.

He was covered in salt water... And in the middle of an aquarium. In actual clothing- so even if he could take the time and shake water off his body- it’d still cling to the clothing fabric.

She was never in trouble...

This was her plan.

A moment of sputtering on the ground and he was staring up, trying so desperately to morph into a more advantageous form- but to no avail, the shock collar activated again.

Maybe... Maybe if he just... Didn’t fight for a moment... he could lure her into a sense of complacency.

“How are you-- not..?”

“Coat... It’s made from an entirely conductive metal thread on the exterior... But my suit’s interior, and my Jacket’s interior; completely shock-resistant... Courtesy of Doctor Patrick Rawlings.”

For a moment he saw red. “I’m REALLY getting sick about hearing that man’s god-damned... name...” Alloy said as he began to push himself to his feet. He held out his hand and watched as his skin... Turned liquid and the pain returned... But it wasn’t from the shock-collar, in fact, Banshee took it off of him.

He could... Try and change form, but only seconds after the change started he felt his chest tighten and his breathing seize-... Like a heart-attack.

“... What did you do?”

“... I gave your heart a jump-start... Your ability to change forms relies completely on your ability to breathe less via your skin... Well. Really hard to do that if you have arrhythmia.” Banshee bent down to him. “You won’t ever be able to use your quirk without hurting yourself ever again.”

Moments later the sound of police-sirens from outside could be heard.

“Hail to the queen, Alloy.”

[izumitate]

moonbound

kurodai week day 3: partners in crime

A space opera AU! Featuring scrappy Nekoma pirates, a decade long enemy-ship, and Daichi’s readiness to fight everybody in the galaxy. Content warning: contains mentions of violence and bodily harm.

Kuroo can feel his knuckles blanching white as he clutches at the armrest of Shibayama’s seat. His navigator is leaned so forward he looks like he might pitch right into the console at any moment, but Kuroo doesn’t want to disturb him while he’s calculating their best escape route with only his eyes, seconds before they need to make a decision. Ahead, the towering spires of Kamomedai’s financial sector stand jagged and crystalline, and will come away barely untouched when their ship finally collides with one of the armored glass walls and shatters into space debris.

“Lev, pull up! Pull up!” Kuroo hisses when he can’t take it anymore, but his pilot just laughs.

“It’s fine, captain! Not until Shibayama says so.” He turns them effortlessly around the next ‘spherescraper but continues his low course, skimming the skyline.

The only thing on their tail right now is the persistent first cruiser that caught them speeding out of the slums, but Kuroo knows from the klaxons sounding outside that it’s only a matter of minutes before an entire police battalion takes after them.

“Okay,” Shibayama finally says, pointing at the next monstrous crystal obtrusion on their right. The magnitude of its size is a step up from the others; must be a central bank for the planetside elite. “Lev, put on a burst of speed to get to the other side of that bank, and once you’re there, ascend as fast as possible. There’s a ton of floating condos up by the stratosphere, but you can handle it, right?”

“Of course I can!” Lev punches the accelerator and they shift violently forward, careening around and out of sight of their pursuer. He does exactly as Shibayama says, taking them almost vertical as he slams their ship up, up, up as fast as this engine can take them – which reminds Kuroo that they need to get a patch job done as soon as they’re back in the rogue quadrant – even as the sound of patrollers gathers behind them.

But Shibayama is right, as usual, and when Lev takes them into the overladen golden clusters of the floating apartments that only the richest can afford, their tiny ship flows through the maze of arches and gardens with ease, Lev’s skills weaving them without trouble out of the tangled airpark. They take the chance to finally put on the thrusters and break out of Kamomedai’s orbit while the police are mired in the gilded complex below.

Once free, Lev gives the rest of them a brief warning before putting on speed, so they’ll be well on their way to another star system by the time the police leave the planet. That, combined with the best cloaking system that underworld credits can buy, should keep them safe long enough to make it back to home base.

“We’re free and clear, team,” Kuroo calls to those below deck. By now Akane and Kai should’ve gotten Inuoka’s scrape taken care of; it was a minor injury, which means they don’t have to bother stopping by any outpost on their way back. “Headed home.”

“Sounds good, captain!” comes Akane’s voice echoing against the steel walls before she begins scolding Inuoka for getting up too quickly. Yaku’s voice joins the din and soon the whole ship is clattering with noise again, just the way Kuroo expects it to be.

Outside, the barren expanse of space between here and the safe haven of the unbound territories is comforting, as is the quiet. Nothing but stars to light their way back.

--

Nekoma calls the ramshackle colony of Spring Heights their home, though during most cycles their ship is home enough for the crew. Spring Heights is the most ironically named planetoid on this side of Andromeda, and it’s a hub of underworld activity. Kuroo rarely takes a job before first running it by his information network planetside, because who knows what kind of nonsense you could get embroiled in alone with some unknown party in the outer reaches. This is a lesson he learned long before he had his own people, when he was still a kid running jobs for some two-bit privateers who’d survived on luck instead of smarts. A broken leg, a crater canyon, and three gunfights later, Kuroo had realized he wasn’t working with anyone he hadn’t chosen himself anymore.

Nekoma is the team he built from the ground up with Kenma, who is the only thing more constant in Kuroo’s life than the call of the endless dark, the cosmic dust in his veins. He trusts them with everything, and it’s part of the reason why he never decides alone whether to take on a new job. This time around, he gets word from Johzenji that there’s a job specifically requesting to employ Nekoma; it comes down from Misaki, so Kuroo’s tempted to take it just on principle, but that’s the kind of messy thinking that gets people shipjacked even if she’s one of the most reliable info brokers he knows.

He agrees to meet the client out at Sumida Outpost, located on the outskirts of snake country because he knows that even though Daishou hates his guts, and even though he’s a dirty, thieving bastard, his territories are always well-defended and nominally hospitable toward others of their profession.

As usual, most of the crew stays behind under Kai’s command, busy with everyday tasks like sprucing up the ship and fencing their goods. Kuroo takes their secondary ship with Kenma, Yaku and Yamamoto, and they head off for the grungy, scorpion-ridden tavern Yaku favors at Sumida.

Even before they land Kuroo gets a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it’s different from his flight instinct. There’s a spark of danger in the air, though he could also write that off as the dissatisfied static that always buzzes around dry, end of the road towns like this.

The tavern is dimly lit as always, and filled with the sounds of cards shuffling and deals being made. The smell of tobacco and ale and burnt meat hang heavy in the air, and it’s difficult to see through the veil of smog as they make their way toward their usual corner table next to the blown out window. The person seated there is staring out at the dunes that stretch on and on in gray and tan bands to the horizon. Kuroo can’t make out any details of their client’s face until he’s close enough to touch.

“Hello, captain. It’s been a while,” says the calm, terrifying voice of Imperial Vice Admiral Sawamura Daichi a split second before the air clears and Kuroo can make out more than his silhouette shrouded in tavern smoke. It doesn’t speak well to Kuroo’s preservation instincts that his first thought is damn, just as hot as I remembered and not danger!!

“Shit,” Yaku curses, hand jumping to his gun faster than Kuroo can say a word. At least one of them is still on it. Yamamoto shifts immediately in front of Kenma, fully prepared to shield him from any harm with his own body. But even though Kuroo’s body is reflexively poised to spring away, his heart remains steady. The Imperial Navy might be the scum on the bottom of a comet hopper’s shoe, but he’s known Sawamura for over a decacycle now, and he knows that the man would never initiate an attack against one of Kuroo’s subordinates unless he had made certain to kill Kuroo first. There’s a degree of integrity in him that most Imperial officers don’t possess.

Sawamura makes no move to stand or draw to fire; instead, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. Around them, activity in the tavern continues, no one disturbed by this turn of events the way Nekoma is, which Kuroo supposes either speaks well for the situation, or it means everyone in the building is going to die. Even out here in the boondocks, the name and face of one of New Miyagi’s best military commanders is known and feared, so why isn’t anyone else surprised to see him?

“If it helps put your mind at ease, Yaku-san, I came unarmed. You can check if you want.” And he looks down at his waist, folding his hands casually atop his head. Yaku wastes no time flipping open Sawamura’s coat and patting him down.

“He’s not lying,” Yaku says, but one hand remains at his holster and his eyes never leave Sawamura even as he backs away. “But I don’t trust him yet.”

“That’s fair. But I didn’t call you out here to hunt you down,” Sawamura tells him. He gestures at the bench on the other side of the table. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. I actually really do have a job for you.” No one moves.

“Forgive me if I find that a little unbelievable, vice admiral. Seeing as the last time we met you gave me a good bonk on the head for my troubles, and strafed most of the left side of my ship right off,” Kuroo says mildly. His eyes flick down to watch the way Sawamura’s mouth twitches into a quick smile before he tries to look neutral again.

“If I remember correctly, you gave me a nice parting gift too, Kuroo-san.” He reaches up to tug aside the right sleeve of his dusty tunic (and isn’t that a look, Sawamura Daichi out of that crisp uniform and dressed like a meteor rat like the rest of them) and bares the long sword burn Kuroo left him with two cycles ago, back on one of Tsubakihara’s lesser moons.

“It looks good on you?” Kuroo tries to sound remorseful, but it had been one hell of a fight that he probably would’ve been laughing his way through if his crew hadn’t been scrambling all over the deck, desperately putting up patch shields where they could. Even now he can remember with perfect clarity the taste of adrenaline and dust against his clenched teeth as he finally knocked Sawamura off the roof of their ship to be bubbled back to his own fleet. Crazy bastard hadn't let up on Kuroo for a second, even if it meant almost getting fried by one of his own ships’ artillery. Then again, Kuroo has no room to speak. He’d almost dragged them both down into a death marsh during a knife fight once. “Rugged. Everyone digs a good scar.”

“Yeah, my whole unit wolf-whistles every time I walk by,” Sawamura says with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, can you blame them? You’re too handsome to be wasted in your line of work. Come take a walk on the wild side. We’re prettier and we have more fun.”

Sawamura laughs when Kuroo winks at him. “I suppose one of those statements is true.”

Just like that they’re bantering again, the way they always do before one of them inevitably draws a weapon. Kuroo can sense Kenma’s sigh long before he hears it.

“What kind of job could you have for people like us?” Kenma asks, sliding back into view, even though Yamamoto still has an arm held protectively out in front of him. He watches Sawamura with what looks like a disinterested face, but Kuroo knows better. He’s intrigued, albeit still on his guard.

“Honestly, ‘people like you’ are the only ones I would trust with this. I need a certain skill set – one that Nekoma’s proven to excel at – and I need a group of people I can...I don’t know if trust is the right word, but let’s go with it for now.” Sawamura sits forward looking briefly at each of them in turn. “I know we have a long, volatile history, but it’s also exactly why I think you guys are the people I need to hire for this job. Because I know what your boundaries are, and I know I can count on you not to fuck me over where it counts.”

He looks directly at Kuroo when he says this, and there’s a plain honesty in his eyes that leads Kuroo to finally take a seat across from him, elbows up on the sticky tabletop.

“Alright, that’s enough buttering up. I’ll hear you out. What’s the job?”

“I need to get into Datekou. And I need your help to do it.”

He’s met with silence.

Probably because what he just proposed is beyond insane. The others must feel as shocked as Kuroo does, and it seems for a second that even the rest of the tavern conversation lulls when the name Datekou is spoken aloud. It’s a cursed shroud that settles over their table, instantly dampening the already tense mood.

“Wait- wait a second,” Yamamoto sputters first. “Are you telling me you want to hire us for a jailbreak? From the Iron Wall?”

“Yep. That is exactly what I want.”

“This is a setup,” Yaku announces. “You’re goading is into accepting your highly illegal mission then busting us once we get there. Now, what I’m confused about is why you didn’t pick something that wasn’t a blatant suicide mission.”

“That’s another fair assumption, but I give you my word that I’m completely serious. I didn’t come here to entrap you.” Sawamura flexes one hand, clenching and unclenching in an exercise of control, clearly trying to suppress some emotion as he keeps his voice even. His eyes are incandescent as he continues.

“They have four of my crew locked up in there, and I want them back.”

“Your crew? On what grounds? The Karasuno’s an Imperial ship,” Kuroo says in confusion. Not that the empire’s navy is in any way a stronghold of morality, but for government dogs, the crew of the Karasuno are better than most. Honorable where honor still counts. He can’t imagine they’d have done anything worth being court martialed for.

Sawamura’s laugh is pure bitterness. “The Karasuno was an Imperial ship. Now it’s being junked for scrap. Those of my crew that the court couldn’t frame for treason they reassigned to the outer rim fleet. The cloud skimmers. Ougiminami, Kakugawa. Chidoriyama. They scattered my team, my family, across the stars, and they locked up the rest behind the Iron Wall. I’m taking them back.”

Kuroo swallows down the parched itchiness in his throat at this news. It’s not like Nekoma could ever be friends with a naval crew, but there had always been a kind of mutual respect between themselves and the Karasuno, and this is nothing he ever would have wished on them.

“Well, shit, Sa’amura-san, what the fuck did you do to get your entire ship obliterated?”

“You know me,” Sawamura says, his smile vicious. “Stayed a little too honest. Didn’t look the other way when they insisted. I kept on pushing, kept on playing even after I should have folded.”

“But you never fold,” Kuroo says ruefully.

“No, I don’t,” and it might be the only time he’ll ever sound like he regrets it. “And I still don’t plan to.”

It’s not just simple posturing. After enough encounters, there are a few things Kuroo would say he and Sawamura can tell about each other. One fact is that they share the same tenacity, for better or worse.

This asshole really means it: he would walk right up to the Iron Wall armed with only his black market gun and military issue sword and it would still be Datekou’s mistake for standing in his way. But all logic says that despite Sawamura’s damnable perseverance, he’s dead if he tries whatever idiotic plan he’s come here to talk Nekoma into.

“That’s your prerogative, and I don’t expect any less of you, really, but. Fuck, Sawamura, you know we’re fucked if we take this on, don’t you? Everyone knows that Nekoma’s the best at infiltration that there is, but we’re thieves, not soldiers. We move cargo, not people. And we don’t take a job like this no matter how lucrative. I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can do this.”

Sawamura nods once, understanding. Then he sighs, sounding truly regretful.

“I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to do this, but I think I’m going to have to call in that favor.”

Yamamoto sucks in a harsh breath, and the others fall still. Kenma’s hand twitches at his side, resisting the urge to reach out to Kuroo’s arm. Kuroo himself just rests his hands together on the table and bites his lip once before nodding as well. He might have figured.

Out here, in the lawless territories, on the husk planets fit only for rogues and mercenaries, a life saved is a life owed. And Kuroo knew that when Sawamura inevitably cashed in on that favor he wouldn’t take it lightly, even if he wouldn’t demand outright that Kuroo sacrifice his life for him.

“You know that only promises my service, not that of Nekoma, correct?” Next to him, Kuroo can feel his crewmates tensing, but they all know better to say anything. They know they can’t talk him out of this one.

Sawamura brought Kuroo back from death’s edge once, at the cost of his own arm and half his jaw. Both parts had been grafted back on with the best medi-tech the empire could afford, but it’d been a total shitshow for a while there, the two of them stranded alone on the ice and iron hull of a downed Inarizaki starfighter. Kuroo only remembers fever-dream flashes of the event, too far gone on whatever the foxes had gassed him with as he shoved Alisa and Fukunaga into the last escape pod. Sawamura found him lying barely conscious on the stern of the ship, and rescued him from being slaughtered by one of Inarizaki’s automated guards. Fucking fox militants and their stupid fucking robots.

“C’mon now, Kuroo, I can’t you die at the hands of the Federation. You’re pirate scum, but you’re still an Imperial citizen,” Sawamura told him, hitching him higher on his back and trundling on through the blood and shrapnel splattered snow.

“Like fuck I am,” Kuroo mumbled out, too woozy to banter.

“Save your breath until you’ve got enough brainpower for a witty comeback.”

Sawamura carried his useless rag doll body all the way to the outpost where they could hunker down until help arrived. Kuroo thought they would be safe there: it was converted from a shrine to a makeshift waystation, all stone walls and steel fixtures, but it had been overrun with more Inarizaki infantry automatons. They fought off the droids at great cost, and the last memory Kuroo has of that desolate place before waking up under Kenma and Kai’s watchful guard is of Sawamura, his face a mess of jagged flesh and his left side drenched in blood, cutting down another advancing automaton before it could reach them.

Kai told him later that Sawamura hadn’t even bothered to send a perfunctory ship after them when they came to collect Kuroo. He’d simply waved them off, saying that Kuroo owed him now, and hobbled into the hold of his lieutenants to be rushed back to the medbay of the Karasuno. A full cycle passed before they met again, and they avoided the topic altogether, choosing to mock each other about overcompensating with their weapons, which of course led naturally into trying to shoot one another again.

But Kuroo has never forgotten that debt, and apparently, neither has Sawamura.

“I know. I would never ask you to risk them. Under any other circumstance I wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself either; you could say I’ve developed a strange interest in keeping you alive.” He offers Kuroo the slightest of smiles, and it almost makes him look sad. “But for my crew I would do anything.”

“Understatement of the centicycle. Alright, Sawamura-san, you have me at your disposal,” Kuroo says, finally leaning back in his seat to relax. If he’s going to die like this, then he might as well enjoy the time he has left in the universe. This is a fool’s errand, he knows, but on the one in a million chance they pull any of it off, well. It’ll be the adventure of a lifetime.

“If my captain is in, then so am I,” Yamamoto says quietly, and Kuroo looks sharply over at him.

“No, that’s not your decision to make. Nekoma isn’t a part of this deal.”

“Yeah, it is, Kuroo-san. If you’re in, then I’m in. That’s how it is.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not risking any of you for Sawamura’s death wish-”

“Do you like pretending to be an idiot, or did that bonk really knock some of your sense out of you?” Yaku says, an irritated line cutting into his forehead. “This is a job for Nekoma. You accepted it. Therefore, we’ve all accepted it. Kenma?”

Kenma, the usual voice of reason, just gives Kuroo a tired shrug. “Kuro, we’ll take the offer back to base to discuss, but you know you won’t get anywhere without the rest of us. Tora’s right. If you’re taking the job, then so are we. Is this acceptable?” he asks Sawamura.

“No complaints here. I came to hire Nekoma, after all, not just Kuroo. Though you personally occupy a special place in my life,” Sawamura says dryly, running a thumb across the graft scar running along his cheek.

“In your heart too, I would hope,” Kuroo says automatically, still hung up on the thought of getting his whole crew annihilated over a clearly impossible feat. But the conversation is already moving on without him.

“Before we commit to this, I wanna be sure we know what we’re really getting into,” Kenma says, sliding onto the bench next to Kuroo.

“Of course. Ask away.”

“Strategy, logistics, personnel – are you willing to leave it all up to us?”

“I trust you to do whatever needs doing, yes. And I’ll finance whatever you need me to, on top of your payment.”

“Okay. This will take some time to get together; they’re not on death row are they? Good. One last time, I need to check. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Even knowing you’re more than certain to die?”

Sawamura doesn’t waver in the slightest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“You’re already lucky your men are just imprisoned instead of up for execution,” Kenma warns. “But if you try this, they won’t pardon you again. Ignoring the fact that it’s virtually impossible to get into Datekou, let alone get back out – even if we somehow miraculously succeed, you’re dead the second any of you ever set foot on Imperial territory again. You’ll be worse off than even we are.”

“I know, and I don’t care. They lost me the moment they took my crew from me.”

“What happened to you?” Yaku asks abruptly. “They took your men, took your ship, but for someone like you- the less you have, the more dangerous you are. Why would they let you stay around?”

“Divine intervention, I guess you could call it. An old friend on the flagship Seijou pulled me for one of his smaller ships, and I’m too fucking decorated for the empire to just throw me to the wolves. They want me to waste a few years before they can reassign me to a frontline ship and hopefully get myself killed on some nameless moon in the middle of nowhere. I figured I would do them the favor of getting out of their hair before then.” He says it matter of factly, like he decided this life-changing course of action over tea one day.

“And cause an intergalactic riot in the process?” Kuroo asks, impressed by how far off the deep end Sawamura has decided to dive in one go.

“Why not? I’ve always been committed to justice, not order, captain. The empire has made it clear to me they do not value justice, so I’ll take it into my own hands.” There’s that shadow again, the one that lingers behind Sawamura’s brown eyes whenever he carries the weight of more than just himself. Kuroo can only see it when he’s really looking for it, but there’s something that lurks in the corners of Sawamura’s soul that’s just as dangerous as the rest of him, albeit in a different way.

“You know, I always thought you’d make one hell of a pirate. It’s good to know that assumption wasn’t misplaced.”

Sawamura laughs, some of the darkness in his gaze ebbing away. “Funny, I always thought you would have excelled in the navy. Odd how fate works sometimes, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it was fate that brought you to us today. I think you just take a kind of sadistic pleasure in fucking up my plans for a carefree life, vice admiral.”

“I’m not going to lie to you by denying it, captain.”

It’s kind of fucked up that Kuroo missed this, the dance of words they’d perfected in between trying to stab each other. It’ll be strange, adapting to a new relationship built on more than banter and the chase, but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s always wondered what it might be like if they spent more than thirty heart-racing minutes with each other every time they met. Might as well find out before he dies.

With a grin, he extends his hand across the table, holding just a second too long after Sawamura accepts the handshake. “Alright, Sawamura-san, let’s get your team back.”

[silverfootstepswrites]

title Repulse summary It’s all falling apart pairing itasaku, tobisaku, hot messes rating especially M. I’m sorry, grandma

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii (here) | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix | Part XL (it ends here)

“Miss Cheng, I’m thrilled to see you. It’s not a party without you.”

“Stephen Lam,” Sakura replied, smile in place as she turned to greet him. She offered her hand. When he began to raise it up to his mouth, Sakura squeezed tight. He shook it instead. Beside her, Sai let out a quiet snort of laughter.

“I was wondering when I’d get the chance to finally speak with you in person,” he then added. The look he gave Sai was less than fond. And it seemed that the feeling was mutual. 

“I’ve been a bit busy, Mr. Lam. Although, now I’m concerned. I don’t believe that Sai has been anything less than capable on my behalf...” Sakura responded, smile dropping. The man dropped her hand.

“Oh, of course not. He’s been a delight,” the man stammered out, sweat beading on his face. Sakura’s smile returned. Turning up too high at the corners. Eyes creasing into crescent moons.

“Wonderful. I so look forward to the movie, Mr. Lam. Enjoy your evening,” Sakura said, already walking away from him. Sai paused to grab her a glass of wine from a passing server. She accepted it without looking at him. 

“I could have come here alone, Aunt. It’s a waste for you to be here,” Sai grumbled into his own glass. Sakura laughed. She linked her arm through his as an excuse to pull him closer. 

“Sai, we own almost 50% of the shares of Gold Empress Studios. It would be strange of me not to show. And see that man?” Sakura murmured. She gestured with her glass. As she drank, Sai looked in the direction she had indicated. There was a middle-aged man wearing diamond-studded glasses. We waved his cigar around as he spoke. And the crowd of beautiful people around him all laughed, as if on cue.

“Stanley Chiu. Fifth top-grossing Hong Kong director of this year,” Sakura whispered. She pointed to the other side of the room.

“Mark Ho. We sponsor two of the idol groups in his entertainment company. Derek Tong. Last year, I bought you that studio in Central with the money he made me from that martial arts film,” she listed, eyes roving around the room. When their eyes met hers, each person waved or bowed their head. Sakura pulled Sai in tighter. Diamond earrings swinging as she moved. Teeth glinting.

“Sure, the Jade Gang does the standard triad businesses and fronts. But make no mistake, Sai. This is where our money is,” Sakura concluded. 

They mingled for about another hour before Sakura made up another engagement. Zabuza was already waiting for them. This time, in a black limo. He rarely drove it. Always complained that it was annoying to turn corners. But he didn’t grumble too much when Sakura asked for it. The leather interior was rather comfortable.

Sai got in the passenger seat, nodding at Zabuza. Zabuza grunted in return.

Sakura collapsed into the back seat, already prying off her shoes. She massaged the red marks on her toes. Reaching into the front of her dress, she peeled the adhesive bra off her chest. She tossed it onto the seat. It lay there like a limp jellyfish.

“Tenten’s out in the night market making sure that things are quiet. Since you said not to leave any loose ends,” Zabuza told her before she could ask. Sakura only nodded. She rested her head against the window, letting out a heavy sigh. She caught Sai turning his head to give a pointed look to Zabuza.

“Why not take it easy tonight, Boss? You’ve been moving nonstop,” Sai then suggested. They let out sighs of relief when she nodded. Zabuza moved the car. The wet streets gleamed under the headlights. 

Sakura’s phone buzzed from inside her clutch. She ignored it while she peeled off her false eyelashes. The phone cast a rectangle of blue light against her thigh through the thin fabric. She tossed it aside. The discarded bra stuck to it. After a while, the phone went silent. Sakura closed her eyes. 

The phone began ringing. She almost swore, before she realized that this was a different ringtone. 

“Wei?” she answered right away. 

“Uh.... Boss?” Tenten said. 

“What?” Sakura asked, already wary. 

“So... I just got a call from the Kumicho... asking me where you were. And I said I was busy and said I’d call back,” Tenten reported.

“Tell him to go look for me at the bottom of the Sumida River. Search long and hard. And tell him not to come up for air until he finds me,” Sakura drawled, flicking a speck of lint off her dress. She saw Zabuza's shoulders droop as he let out a silent sigh.

“Well... he also said that he was in Hong Kong right now...” added Tenten. 

Sakura stared ahead. Eyes hard. She took a deep breath.

“Then he can go search for me in Victoria Harbor,” snapped Sakura. She hung up. 

The inside of the car was completely silent. Neither Sai nor Zabuza dared look back at her. 

The silence in the car for the rest of the ride was palpable. Sai snuck a look at her in the rearview mirror. She glowered right back as she took out her earrings. The metal and diamonds tinkled against each other.

Sai rolled his eyes as he averted his gaze.

“You know, no matter how much he likes you, if you’re always mean, he’s going to stop trying. Might not be right away. But eventually,” warned Sai, looking out the window. Buildings twinkled past. Clubs pulsing purples and greens out their windows. And he met Sakura’s eyes in the reflection in the window. She didn’t look quite as angry.

“I’m not telling you what to do, Boss. Just saying. Being alone sucks. He’s not the worst guy I’ve ever seen...” he trailed off. Zabuza said nothing. Both his hands gripped the steering wheel. 

Sakura closed her eyes.

“Arrogant little shit,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. Sai chuckled. 

Zabuza dropped her off in front of a parking garage in Central. She unfolded her umbrella as she stepped out of the car. Her heels were still painful, but at least they kept her feet out of the puddles. The wet splatter of rain almost drowned out their voices.

"See you tomorrow, Boss," he greeted her, rolling down the window. The umbrella cast a red glow down on her face. Sakura almost smiled. She fumbled with her clutch to pull out a jet black credit card. She handed it to Zabuza. 

“Sai, go take Zabuza for a drink. You two have earned it,” Sakura ordered. Sai raised an eyebrow.

“Just a drink? That party was boring as hell, Mama,” groaned Sai, sinking low in his seat. Zabuza’s scowled, but Sakura only laughed. 

“Fine. Enjoy yourselves,” she relented. She turned to walk down the sidewalk. Black dress clinging to her legs. 

“Aunt Cheng, you know you’re cool as hell, right?” Sai called after her. She raised her hand but didn’t turn back. Kept her eyes trained ahead. Waiting until she heard the car take off. 

As she waited for the attendant to retrieve her car from the garage, Sakura weighed her phone in her palm. Listened to the trickle of water flowing down into the drains. The slap of fatter raindrops pounding against the asphalt. And the heavy rain brought a fresh scent to the city. 

Her car pulled up. Headlights slicing through the concrete in long beams. She tipped the attendant and slid into the seat. Tossing her phone into the cupholder, she made a rough turn onto the road. Water splattering onto the sidewalk. 

She drove up toward the Mid-Levels. The rain a sharp staccato against the roof of the car. Almost as her apartment came into view, Sakura let out a heavy sigh. She hit a button on the steering wheel to scroll through her list of favorite contacts. Tenten answered right away, like she had been expecting it.

"...Go pick that idiot up," ordered Sakura.

"Yeah, Boss. I figured," Tenten answered. 

“Drop him off at the LKF Tower. I’ll have a taxi pick him up,” Sakura added.

“Mou man taai. You got it, Boss.”

By the time the taxi pulled up in front of the building, Sakura was waiting. Umbrella held above her. She saw Itachi get out and try to pay the driver. And the driver fumbled to explain that it had already been paid for. And as the car drove off, Itachi turned toward her.

She had calculated many possible scenarios. In most of them, he would be annoyed with her, even angry. After all, she had dodged his calls for weeks. Ignored his gifts and his texts. Avoided going to the club when she was in Tokyo. Just because that was the only place he really knew how to find her.

Instead, he smiled. Like a child. 

It infuriated her. He hurried through the rain toward her. 

“I expected to have to do something more reckless to get your attention,” Itachi declared. She didn’t smile in return.

“More reckless? You coming to Hong Kong without any warning wasn’t reckless enough?” she retorted. She held the umbrella a little higher to cover the both of them. One hand in the pocket of her coat. The other squeezing the umbrella handle a little too hard.

Suddenly, he wasn’t smiling either. His eyes locked with hers. 

“Maybe not,” replied Itachi. And before she could respond, he took the umbrella from her. Gestured toward the building. Scoffing, Sakura stomped ahead. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Wondering how she had ever gotten tangled up with a certified fool like Uchiha Itachi. 

As the glass elevator took them up to the penthouse, Itachi took his time shaking water off the umbrella. His hair was dripping. Not to mention that his coat was soaked. Where had Tenten picked him up anyway? 

“So you just show up in Hong Kong. Just like that?” Sakura asked as the elevator doors slid open. She stepped out. Itachi followed her. He waited as she unlocked the door to let him inside. 

“Well, in a sense. Just for the next two days. But yes, just like that,” he replied. Stepping into the foyer after her. Like last time, he paused to straighten her shoes before he stepped inside. When he caught up to her, she was in the hallway. She opened up what looked like a wooden panel. It was actually a linen closet. She grabbed a big towel and a smaller one. Shoved them into Itachi’s arms when he walked up to her. The sensors in the hallway caught their movement. The lights flickered on above them.

“You’ll catch a cold,” she muttered when he stared at her. She waited for him to make some sort of teasing comment. 

“Thank you,” he said instead. Something in his tone made her look up. She didn’t have a word for the expression in his eyes. It was something so happy but so sad all at once. 

While Itachi showered downstairs, Sakura lit up a cigarette on the upstairs balcony. She sat on the wooden chair. Some of the rain splattered toward her when the wind blew. She hunched her shoulders against the cold. She knew when Itachi was done. Heard the door slide open behind her. 

Closed her eyes when she felt his hands on her shoulders. Exhaled long and soft. Listened to his breaths gather and spill over. Wondered if October had always felt so cold in Hong Kong. 

Sucked in one last deep breath as his lips touched the back of her neck. Skin burning everywhere he touched her. 

She rested the cigarette against the edge of the balcony. Smoke curling up in almost invisible wisps. Left the butt smoldering there. Instead, she reached back, took his hands in hers. Guided them to slip into the front of her dress. His palms spreading warmth across her chest. They sat frozen, as if he was unsure of what to do next. She rested her palms on the backs of his hands. Squeezed until he copied her. Fingers molding around the swell of her breasts.

Sakura felt his gasp. Sharp against the edge of her ear. 

“I...” he trailed off. 

“Do you not want to?” she whispered. The wind gusted particularly hard. Whipped her hair into her face. When he didn’t respond, she pulled his hands off her chest. Felt his heart hammering against her spine as she instead guided his palms down to her thighs. Dragged them higher and higher. His breaths growing more and more ragged. Hot against the side of her neck. 

And then she pulled her hands away. Left him hesitating there. The edges of her dress bunching up under his wrists. 

He gulped.

“Go ahead,” Sakura murmured. She reclaimed the cigarette. pressing it between her lips. Gulped down a long, ashy breath. Feeling his chest heaving. 

His hands inched higher. Tickling against the insides of her thighs. She let out a sigh when his fingers finally found her. Middle finger stroking softly up and down. And then he chuckled.

“I’m more of a wine and dine sort of guy. But you’re making it very difficult to take things slow, Sakura,” he rasped. Sakura finally smiled in return. She knew he couldn’t see it.

“That suits me just fine, Kumicho. I’m not a very patient woman,” she replied. She grasped his hand, pressing it harder against herself. A moan slipped past her lips. The sound did something to him. Itachi’s entire body tensed. He blew out a ragged breath. 

Sakura almost didn’t register when he turned her around. She blinked at the sudden cold against her back. The wind scattered the rain across her shoulders in little bursts. And Itachi’s head was buried between her thighs. She almost told him to stop until his tongue darted out to do some very wicked things. She cried out, one hand digging into his hair. 

Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew. That was her first thought as she opened her eyes a few hours later. Head spinning a little as she stared up at the eggshell ceiling. She vaguely noticed Itachi kissing her trembling thighs. Her stomach. She glared down at him. He smiled as he pressed a kiss to her left hip bone. And then he kissed the right.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded. He opened his mouth wide as he laughed. He sat up, taking her left hand in his. Fingers tangling together as he kissed the back of her hand. She was too drained to pull away. So she settled for glaring even harder. 

“Not bad, then?” Itachi guessed. She rolled her eyes at that. He laughed even harder. Releasing her hand, he laid down beside her. 

“You can glare all you want. You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he told her. Sakrua didn’t even bother to blush at that. Because he was right. She had been enjoying herself immensely. Profoundly. 

“You’re not really a yakuza. You’re a gigolo or something, right?” she accused, looking up at the ceiling. 

“No. Still a yakuza, I’m afraid,” Itachi replied, “Although...”

She turned her head towards him.

“I get the feeling you’re not a big cuddler. Because I am,” he warned her. His tone was light, but she could see it in his eyes. He was dead serious. And his earnest expression made her more willing to be honest. 

“I’ve never done that before,” she admitted. Suddenly a little embarrassed. 

His eyes watched her face for a long time. Almost to the point that it felt uncomfortable. And then Itachi laid his arm flat across the pillows. He gave it a pointed look. So Sakura slid closer until he could wrap both his arms around her. He rolled onto his back so that she was laying on top of him. Her chin resting against his chest. 

From here, she could peer up at his face. Saw the contentment spreading across his mouth like a wave. He closed his eyes, smiling as widely as she had ever seen.

“Are you really that happy?” she questioned. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied. 

This pose was uncomfortable. They were both sweaty and she immediately felt hot. But she also had to admit that this was nice. His deepening breaths rising and falling beneath her. The slowing thud of his heart as it began returning to its normal rhythm. Even he way his hand began stroking down her back. 

They were quiet for a long time. 

And then, as her eyelids began to droop, Itachi spoke again.

“I want you to know. I didn’t come to Hong Kong for this.”

“What did you come for?” Sakura asked, almost yawning. He sighed. 

“I...just wanted to see you.”

That honesty hurt her. She felt some small part of herself shrivel up. She suddenly wanted to hide. So she turned her head to the side. So that at least he wouldn’t see her face. 

At some point, the rain had stopped. It felt too quiet, without at least the rain there to buffer that space between them. Sakura stiffed when she felt Itachi press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Why do you like me so much, Kumicho?” she demanded. 

He was silent for a long while. But she knew he wasn’t ignoring her. Couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I find you incredibly attractive, but that’s not all...” 

She closed her eyes. 

“You’re cunning. And you’re smarter than me, which I never thought I’d like. But I like that about you.”

Sakura dozed off as she listened to him go down what seemed like an endless list. Her eyes. Her legs. The way she talked when she was angry. He listed even the tiny, useless things. 

When she opened her eyes, it was grey outside, but undoubtedly morning. Itachi let out a deep breath. Not quite a snore. The marks on the side of his neck had darkened during the night. 

When Itachi opened his eyes later that morning, Sakura wasn’t in the bed anymore. He sat up, stretching his arms over his head. She watched him from the balcony, lifting a mug of coffee to her lips. 

She already knew. This was all a big mistake. She shouldn’t have let him spend the night. Shouldn’t have let him into this penthouse at all. She was even more certain of this when he turned his head and finally noticed her. Graced her with that giddy smile, eyes still squinted half-shut. 

She let the steam from the coffee bathe her face. 

“Diu,” she cursed, softly. Like a prayer uttered to the universe. 

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii (here) | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix | Part XL (it ends here)

[recentanimenews]

The Real World Locations of March comes in like a lion

March comes in like a lion resumed this season after a six months break, and it should come as no surprise, that the show is as visually striking and expressive as it ever was, especially these past few episodes. The show’s painterly backgrounds are also as terrific and lovely as they were in the first season. Usually, Shaft productions offer very little material for my column, due to the studio’s distinctive house style with its often sterile and abstract backgrounds we know and love from shows like Nisekoi or the Monogatari Series. While most of the studio’s trademark tics, like instantaneous close-ups, rapid cuts, or chunks of on-screen text are all still present in March comes in like a lion, the show has actually been extremely and surprisingly faithful to its real-world inspirations. Just like in the first season, the show's setting is still mostly confined to the two neighboring residential areas, Shinkawa and Tsukuda, where Rei and the three Kawamoto sisters live, and the Sendagaya area, the location of the shogi hall. All of those areas have been depicted with great care in the anime, but see and compare that for yourself.

  Just as a small side note, I took all of these photos shortly before the second season of March comes in like a lion even started airing. So you’ll notice that not all of them will be lined up perfectly, but I think I was still able to correctly guess a good number of them ahead of time. 

    “In a small town by a big river, is where I live” was the opening sentence of the second season of March comes in like a lion. While Rei’s first claim might be highly debatable (Tokyo isn’t exactly small), the second one is a bit more accurate. He lives along Tokyo’s Sumida River, which branches from the 173 kilometer long Arakawa River. The river is oddly soothing for him, as it reminds him of the town he lived in during his younger days, which was surrounded by a river on all sides.

    Which structures keep repeatedly appearing in March comes in like a lion? Yes, bridges, lots of them. The show’s most essential one is probably the Chuo Bridge here, as the 210 meters long and 25 meters wide steel bridge crosses the Sumida River, and connects the Shinkawa area (where Rei lives) with the Tsukuda area (the place where the three sisters live).

    It should take Rei roughly 15 minutes to walk from his apartment complex in Shinkawa to the Kawamoto house in Tsukuda. Both Rei’s apartment and the house of the three sisters, unfortunately, do not exist in real life. 

    The Chuo Bridge was completed in August in 1993 and offers a neat view at the Tokyo Skytree, which we’ll probably never get to see in the anime. I’ll explain my bold assumption as to why at the end of the article.

    And from the Chuo Bridge you’ll be able to see the Tsukuda Bridge, crossing the river from Tsukiji to Tsukishima.

    Let’s move on to one the show’s most eye-catching bridge, the lovely Tsukuda Kobashi, which translates to Small Tsukuda Bridge. 

    The vermilion-lacquered railings and ornamental caps give the bride a charming traditional look, both in the anime and real life. While Rei lives in a rather upscale apartment on the other side of the river, the Kawamoto sisters live in the more modest Tsukuda area.   

    Funny about this one is the speed limit sign in the back, which now also correctly states 20km/h in the anime. In the first season, the sign in the anime turned the Tsukuda area into a 60km/h zone, which might’ve been a bit high for a small residential area with mostly narrow roads.

    The 12,5 meters long Tsukuda Kobashi was completed in 1984 and crosses a small tributary of the Sumida River. 

    The small bridge continues to be the venue for a good number of the show’s most important scenes, as Rei guarantees Akari his unconditional support there in the last episode. 

    And last but not least when it comes to bridges in March comes in like a lion, the iron Minami Taka Bridge, as viewed from the Taka Bridge. 

    Let’s move on to another extremely important location of the show, Rei’s shogi hall. But this isn’t just any shogi hall; it’s actually the headquarters of the Japanese Shogi Association, which was founded in 1949. The hall is located in the Sendagaya area. 

    I could probably stitch together at least a dozen more comparison shots of the shogi hall, but I’ll spare you that… for now.  

    Judging by the life-sized cutout of Rei that greeted me at the entrance, it sure seems like the shogi association was just as excited for the start of the second season as I was. I obviously didn’t barge into any of the playing rooms, but I checked out the store, which even sold the March comes in like a lion manga. The shogi boards and pieces were surprisingly expensive and easily cost a few hundred bucks upwards. 

    Shogi hall.

    Just outside of the shogi hall is the Hatanomori Hachiman Shrine, which dates back to 860, and was named after the forest that was located there. The shrine contains one of the oldest Fujizuka, which are mounds shaped like Mt. Fuji so you don’t actually have to climb Japan's highest mountain yourself. But trust me, as someone who climbed the actual Mt. Fuji, the shrine’s small Fujizuka did not grant me the same sense of pride and accomplishment. 

    Due to the convenient location, the shrine was selling various shogi charms, and unsurprisingly, most of the wishing plaques were filled with shogi prayers. In the first season, both Matsumoto and Misumi have been praying here as well before their matches. 

    Another standout location of the anime is the Reiganjima water level observatory in the Shinkawa area, which appears suspiciously often in the anime. I’m guessing the peculiar design of the water level observatory appeases Shaft’s unquenchable thirst for animating eccentric geometric shapes with lots of lines, beams, and circles. 

    A bit further upstream is the staircase to the Chuo Bridge. 

    Crossing the bridge will eventually lead you to the Sumida River Terrace. 

    Back in the Tsukuda area. The tall chimney that gets shown several times in the anime belongs to the public bathhouse here. 

    This torii gate marks the road leading up to the Sumiyoshi Shrine, which was founded in 1646, and protects fishermen and sailors. The Tsukuda area was originally inhabited by fishermen.  

    The torii gate isn’t grey like in the anime anymore, but has now been painted red in real life. 

    On his way to the shogi hall, Rei has to pass the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. The sporting complex hosts a variety of different sporting events and was also the venue for one of the dance competitions in the currently airing Welcome to the Ballroom. 

    The current Sendagaya Station is getting an overhaul at the moment in preparation for the 2020 Tokyo Summer Olympics, and therefore looks quite different compared to the anime, which is not a rare occurrence in the show. Like the just mentioned red torii gate, many of March comes in like a lion’s locations are actually quite outdated. Another good example was the old Tokyo Station façade from the first season. It seems like the anime is trying to stay faithful to the manga’s version of Tokyo, which already started serialization way back in 2007. Obviously, a major city like Tokyo is undergoing numerous renovations and reconstructions in the span of ten years, so it’s only natural that many of the manga’s locations are now out-of-date, but it’s still remarkable that the anime is also sticking to those. By the way, this is also the reason why I believe that we won’t get to see the Tokyo Skytree in the anime.

  Here’s the map I made for the second season:

    Have you been enjoying March comes in like a lion so far? And do the real-world locations of the show seem like places you’d like to visit? Sound off in the comments below!

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Wilhelm is an anime tourist, who loves to search for and uncover the real-world spots he sees in anime. You can talk with him on Twitter @Surwill.

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com