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ivushk · 3 years ago

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HELLO. MAY I PLEASE HEAR MORE OF YOUR VAMPIRE AU…. 👉👈

OH MY GOD I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

Okay, SO. BUCKLE THE FUCKLE UP 'CUZ here's what I've got so far:

Nishiki and Kiryu are still orphans at Sunflower. They come from a tiny village just a few kilometres west from the orphanage. It's a very close and closed-off community. The boys' parents died in a fire when they were very little (which is a common theme for the kids at Sunflower and isn't that a crazy coincidence? *smiles mysteriously*), however the Nishikiyama family house wasn't as badly damaged as Kiryu's so it's just sitting there, waiting for its former residents to reclaim ownership as soon as they're able to (I imagine Kazama would help them with that).

In the next years it becomes a home for Nishiki, Yuko and Kiryu (and Yumi, too, though she feels like a visitor for the most part) in everything but name. It's their hangout spot, their "base of operations", their not-so-secret meeting place. When Yuko's health deteriorates so much that she can't stay at Sunflower anymore, the siblings actually properly move in to make arranging the doctor's visits easier.

It's Nishiki's 17th birthday and all three of them are celebrating and playing games and eating cake and having a good time at the edge of the woods not far from the Nishikiyama residence. They're young and loud and stupid (and ignoring the fact that several people went missing over the course of the last few months) and if Nishiki's heart beats a little too hard in his chest when Kiryu gives him his gift - a beautiful, heavy silver pendant on a slightly-worn leather cord - he doesn't think about it too much (and if he notices that Kiryu stares at him just a bit longer than usual without saying a single word but his gaze is so, so, SO fond-- he doesn't think about it either). (he leaves these kinds of thoughts for restless nights because thinking about his best friend in that way during the day... it hurts. the hurt is good sometimes but it's overwhelming).

They're drunk on the cheap beer they've smuggled from Gen-san's fridge and high on happiness. Unaware that the very same night it would all go crashing down.

At some point they all quiet down and go a little further into the woods than they normally would but no one pays any mind to that. And when suddenly their trio turns into a duo with the sudden absence of the birthday boy himself no one immediately starts panicking. He's been gone for ten minutes, twenty, half an hour. Kiryu tells Yuko to go back to the village, to gather everyone, make them start a search party or something while he keeps looking for her brother (the only things he'll find are the pendant he's gifted to Nishiki with the leather cord torn and the broken shards of his own hope). They never find him.

A year goes by and they hold a funeral for Nishikiyama Akira. Even though there's no body for them to bury. Yuko doesn't cry (she doesn't believe he's really dead). Neither does Kiryu (he used all of his tears up that night, the guilt choking him, and the night after that, and the night after that, and the night-). Yumi does, however. And the nice old lady who gave both Nishiki and Kiryu money for helping her do chores around the house. And the man who gave Nishikiyama a part-time job at his shop (to put at least something towards the cost of his sister's treatment, he felt so indebted to Kazama, and that debt weighed down on him). And a few of the girls and boys from Sunflower too.

Another two years pass. Kiryu moves away to the big city at the behest of Kazama. "It's important for you to continue your education," he says. ("It's important for you to move on," he keeps these words to himself). Kiryu really tries his best. Even makes a few friends (although he's still on the fence about whether he can actually call Oda his friend). It goes as well as it could have considering his circumstances. They say that time heals but Kazuma Kiryu never finds out if there's any truth to those words because he recieves a very short letter - an invitation, actually. To another funeral. But this time it's Yuko they're burying. This time they actually have a body to bury.

Tachibana offers his condolences. Oda offers him a ride to the village and back. Kiryu accepts both.

He can't help but compare this funeral to the last one he's been to. There are fewer people. Fewer tears, too. More flowers. It's quieter and feels something like closure (in truth, it's anything but). Yuko also left behind a will (more like a bunch of wishes since it wasn't an official document but the community decided to honour them anyway). Almost all of her possessions went to the kids from Sunflower, except for the Nishikiyama family house (which on paper actually belonged to Shintaro Kazama) which she left to Kiryu. He can't quite believe it when he hears it and feels his heart break under the onslaught of childhood memories. Still, he goes there later that evening. He finds that little has changed in the time he spent away from the house, from the village, from... all of this, really. There are the same pictures on the walls collecting only slightly less dust. The same books on the shelves and under the broken legs of the old pieces of furniture. The same medicine bottles and equipment in the bedroom, though doubled in quantity. Kiryu's not as devastated as he thought he'd be when he walks around what he used to call his home.

He goes through all the rooms, taking notes of every single thing he finds and every single thing he doesn't. He probably misses a bunch of things (he's not as good at that sort of thing, Nishiki's always had a much better eye for details). Once back outside, he looks for the secret stash they made back when they were teenagers. It's like going through a time capsule. There's a pack of cigarettes he and Nishiki once stole from the teacher's bag, copybooks filled with ugly doodles, dreams for the future and dried flowers and leaves, caps from soda bottles, rocks they thought looked cool, photos and birthday cards damaged by time and weather... the pendant Kiryu gave to Nishiki the last time they saw each other. And a small notebook Kiryu's never seen before. A diary of sorts, a recounting of their days together and their days apart. The handwriting is unmistakingly Yuko's.

It fills him with nostalgia, tears welling up in his eyes, unshed. His heart sinks when he finally reaches the pages where Yuko recounts the last few weeks before she-

She writes about her brother, which is understandable. What's less understandable is the fact that she speaks of him as though he was there, with her. Physically present. Kiryu could chalk it up to the girl being delusional in her dying moments but it doesn't feel right to do so. It's stupid, it's absolutely impossible, he's confused, he's hopeful, why would Yuko hide her notebook there?

The last page. A message. For Kiryu. "Please, Kazuma-kun, help my brother".

Against his better judgement, Kiryu decides to spend the night in the house. Sleep doesn't come to him but that's fine. He sits in the living room, trying to make sense of everything. He sits there until it's way past midnight, until the distant barking of the dogs quiets down, until the rustling of leaves stops, until the very air around him grows still and silent and somehow charged with strange energy. And then he hears it. Three uncertain taps against the window. Kiryu turns his head. It's him.

"Kiryu... Let me in. Please."

He does, without thinking. (He could never very well say no to Nishiki. Even if it got them both in trouble. Even if he's not real.)

The quiet is deafening. It really is him. His best friend (whom he thought dead). His kyoudai. Before Nishiki could say anything, Kiryu wraps him in a tight hug. The only heartbeat between them is Kiryu's own, thundering against his ribs. Nishikiyama doesn't let the hug last, putting some distance between them. He looks guilty, tired; looks at Kiryu with sadness, with longing and something else that he can't quite decipher yet (and it makes him scared but why?). Nishiki also looks older than Kiryu remembers. Not a 17-year-old boy anymore, no. About the same age that Kiryu is now.

Has his gaze always been so sharp? Have his fangs always been this pronounced?

They talk until their throats are hoarse. Until Nishiki pulls out a bottle with some liquid that smells strongly of iron and drinks from it and in that moment Kiryu believes everything his friend has told him. It's crazy, but he does.

Nishiki was abducted that night. Taken from them. By vampires. They hurt him. Forced him to fight other humans (just like him then) for his survival. They fed on him.

It went on and on and on... Days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years. Only thoughts of Yuko, and Kiryu, and Yumi kept him going. He wanted to see them again. He hoped he would. That hope was crushed when Nishikiyama met his match in the arena. No, not his match. Someone far stronger. He lost and was tossed out to die. But another vampire saved him. It was a woman, whose face he saw often among the spectators of his fights. She stood out from the crowd, since she never cheered for any of the humans. Never put any bets. Only looked at all that madness with quiet horror. "Reina" she said her name was.

She gave Nishiki blood. Her own blood, and the blood of the vampires that were much stronger and more powerful than her (but not wiser), and human blood.

He turned and it was even worse than the years of anguish he had experienced. The pain and constant thirst almost drove him mad until he was taught to deal with them.

Nishiki was given a second chance. He escaped. And ever since that moment he's been trying his damndest to help other victims of those monsters. Both, the poor imprisoned souls and the villagers who might have shared his fate otherwise.

THAT CONCLUDES MY MAD RAMBLINGS BECAUSE I HAVEN'T THOUGHT OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT THAT WELL

also i don't remember the last time i wrote this much in one sitting and i'm tireeeeeed. i'm not cut out to be a writer and it shows nghghghhhhhh

but! but! but! i have a couple thoughts on where the story goes:

kiryu decides to stay in the village and help nishiki

they uncover the vampires evil plans and recruit a few other characters to fight on the side of JUSTICE (i.e. kazama, who up to that point has been kind of in cahoots with the vamps - hence trying to atone by means of creating the Sunflower orphanage; kashiwagi; yumi; reina; tachibana and oda; majima, and yeah he was actually the one that defeatead nishiki and unknowingly caused him to become a vampire, also majima himself turns into a vampire later in the story thanks to a certain mad simp nishitani)

yuko comes back as a vampire

at some point the scene from my fanart happens; something along the lines of kiryu and nishiki being found by the evil vamps and being attacked. then of course nishiki saves kiryu (who's still baffled that this shit is happening to them and vampires are REAL) and tells him to run which he doesn't but it works out fine in the end

the scene of nishiki drinking kiryu's blood is a MUST because i. love. that. shit. (it's also extremely horny dfjvhsdkfhiasdfhisd)

nishiki's personality is somewhere in between his ykz0 and ykz k*wami self (like, he's much colder now but he still cares about others and does things not just for the sake of his own ambition)

idk about the end but immortal boyfriends? sounds nice?

#i'm so sorry anon this took so long #i went to bed and slept for like 12 hours and then my neck and back were really bothering me ghjklkjljfkjg #i had to take a few smoke breaks along the way #writing shit is hard #OKAY I'M DONE WITH EXCUSES SORRYYYYY #nishikiryu #yakuza #vampire!au #ask

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lisatelramor · 7 years ago

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Not Left To Stand Alone Ch3

Saguru stared down his homeroom class and they stared back, whispering under their breaths. Most of them were bright eyed with curiosity; Saguru was a new face and they were in a new school. Others... He could picture what was going through their heads. Foreigner. Cripple. Not even a proper foreigner, Saguru thought with a wry twist of his lips. And among the lot of them was Kuroba Takumi, looking at him with a focus that bordered rudeness. How had Aoko explained Saguru last night?

Saguru made eye contact and Takumi kept staring, now blatantly rude. Well. He was going to have his hands full wasn’t he? Saguru gripped his cane and braced himself for a long, trying day.

“Good morning,” Saguru said in a firm voice that had the class falling silent in moments. “I am Hakuba Saguru and I will be your homeroom and English teacher. Let’s have a good year.”

As he went through the morning process of taking attendance, choosing class representatives and assigning tasks, he kept an eye out for how thing were being received. Most of the class relaxed with familiar routine. Takumi remained attentive in the corner of his eye.

“Now, before we get on to English class, are there any questions?”

Two hands shot up.

“Yes, Honda-kun?”

“Are you really from England?” Honda asked.

“Yes, I lived in London most of my life, though I spent several years here in Japan as well.” Saguru looked at the second hand. Takumi lowered it as Saguru looked at him.

“Is it true that you used to go to school here?” Takumi asked.

“I did,” Saguru said. “I attended Ekoda High for a year and a half.” That got some soft murmurs through the class. “Now, are there any questions related to school?” No one raised their hand. “Then I guess we’ll move on to class.”

Saguru had been given lesson guides used by his predecessor to give an idea of where the students should be at, but he had written most of the lesson plans from the ground up. He wasn’t an English teacher; Saguru had been a Chemistry teacher for over a decade, but he hoped he’d managed to come up with lessons that were simple to grasp and engaging enough to keep his students occupied. Today was attempting to get an idea about where his students were at with their reading comprehension and speaking and he would build from there.

Things were going smoothly until about fifteen minutes into class. If he hadn’t been keeping an eye on Takumi, he would have missed Takumi palming a small object five minutes into English class. Because he was looking for it, Saguru wasn’t the least bit surprised when a confetti bomb went off over his head halfway through writing a sentence on the board.

The class erupted into giggles. Saguru set down the chalk and turned around, brushing bits of paper off his shoulders. Takumi looked innocent, the same slightly nervous laughter present on his face as the rest of the class. Saguru raised an eyebrow and the class went quiet. “Well. I suppose now is as good a time as any to say that I have a three mark system when it comes to classroom disruptions. If I see disruptive behavior, the persons involved get one mark. If you get three marks, there will be disciplinary action. If you get three marks, you can do an additional homework sheet to reset your marks to zero.” Saguru let his eyes sweep the room, settling briefly on Takumi. It felt a little bit nostalgic seeing Takumi sit up straighter, a bit like facing down Kuroba again, but with authority to back up what he said for once. He couldn’t prove it had been Takumi today, but he would be sure to pay closer attention in the future to call out any other pranks. At the very least, it was unlikely any other students would carry magician’s tools on their person.

“Kuroba-kun,” Saguru said, continuing on with class as if nothing had happened. “Please read the next sentence.”

Takumi flushed as he stammered through it. His pronunciation was poor and his reading comprehension seemed below average. Clearly he didn’t share Kuroba’s ability with languages, though perhaps Saguru was being too harsh. Kuroba’s English pronunciations had been less than fluent as a second year as well. He looked up at Saguru when he finished, a defiant glint in his eye that brought out Aoko’s features in his face; the shape of his chin and jut of his jaw as he grit his teeth. Saguru met his eyes for a beat, understanding passing between them that Saguru knew who had thrown that confetti bomb and that he wasn’t someone who would be pushed around by a prank.

Saguru let his eyes slide to Takumi’s neighbor. “Harada-chan, the next sentence, please.” The class continued without a hitch from there. It was a bit too much to hope that the rest of the day would go smoothly. Takumi might not have acted out again, but there were two students in his later classes who were introduced to his three mark system.

Teaching was different in Japan. On one hand, most students tried to keep from being noticed. On the other, casual whispering during lessons or sleeping during class wouldn't be acceptable in London. Saguru was approaching it from what remembered of his own Japanese high school experience. Something that interrupted the entire flow of class or disrupted the ability of students trying to learn would be classified as behavior to get marks. If students kept sleeping, he’d talk to them about it, but it was really only inconveniencing the sleeper. It would be a challenge to find a balance here, a balance that wasn’t the one he’d had in London, just like it would be a challenge to teach a subject he wasn’t familiar with teaching. With any luck it would keep him too busy to think about much else.

For the first day though, it felt like approaching a mountain that he would have to climb. The year stretched before him as one large trial where a single misstep could send him falling back into the mess he’d been before he’d convinced himself to move halfway around the world.

By lunch, his energy was waning and his desk in the teacher’s room held a siren’s song for his aching knee. Saguru collapsed into it with a heavy sigh. He pressed hands against his face for a moment, letting tension ease from him.

A soft clack came from his right. A cup of tea.

Takata Kate smiled, her own cup in hand. “You seem to be holding up ok,” she said. “And your students sound interested in what you’ll be like as a teacher from what I’ve overheard in the halls.”

“I’m sure they are.” He sat up, wincing as he worked his bad leg slowly. “I’m sure they’ll be testing me to see what sort of person I am and cursing my assignments by the end of the week.”

Takata smiled sympathetically. “The same thing happened to me before I got settled in here. All the more when they see a Western face and don’t know what to expect. But things will calm down once you get into the swing of it.”

“They always do, don’t they?” Steam curled from the rim of the teacup. He reached for it, the warm porcelain relaxing him further. “Thank you. You didn’t need to go to the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” She smiled, leaning against her desk across from his. It was all neat piles of papers and tiny collections of odds and ends that made it look more personal and lived in than Saguru��s current apartment was. “And thank you for helping move chairs for the opening ceremony even with your leg.”

He shrugged the thanks off. He’d be feeling it in the latter half of the day, but he took a sip of tea, putting it out of his mind. The door to the teacher room opened, more people arriving to take their break. Takata turned away.

“Talk to you later, Hakuba-san,” she said before making her way across the room.

Saguru nodded in response, too late for her to see it. She walked up to a man—her husband?—and Saguru focused back on the tea in his hands. Black tea, high in caffeine and just how he liked it without sugar or milk. Warm and familiar. He drank half the cup before setting it down. There were grooves on the surface of the desk—some looked like marks from a paperweight tossed down too quickly, others perhaps from the edge of a photo frame dragged across the desk frequently. Like the previous owner had the habit of constantly checking it or changing out the picture. There were things that could be drawn about that, like the conclusion that Yumi-sensei was likely a hurried person, but also a sentimental one. There was an umbrella doodled on the inside of one of the drawers with her name and presumably the name of her husband. Not someone who was uptight about defacing objects, and clearly caught in young love. It would have been touching if it didn’t rub against the raw spot in him still reeling with grief.

He pulled out the lunch he’d put together that morning, a sandwich and wilting salad. Nothing special or elaborate. He had never been anything more than a passable cook, and he hadn’t been the one to cook most of the last decade.

Out the window Saguru could see students eating outdoors and enjoying the spring weather as much as they could. Saguru didn’t remember being allowed to eat outside. He had always eaten in homeroom, or if not there, on the roof while observing Kuroba from afar. In retrospect, he probably hadn’t been allowed there either.

The sandwich tasted like mayonnaise and cheap tinned chicken. He’d forgotten to add onion or celery or anything else to give it flavor. He ate it anyway, chewing without enthusiasm. The desk was too big, too empty and blank and still compared to the desks around him, just a small pile of papers in the corner and the records for his homeroom class. He would have to do home visits at some point. Would he go to Aoko or Kuroba for Takumi’s visit? The salad went down less easily than the sandwich, plain lettuce sticking in his throat as he tried to swallow around his mouth’s sudden dryness. Mel had been a better cook. Saguru never had the patience to experiment with new recipes or the inspiration to try different flavor combinations.

The tea, when he finished it, had gone cold.

***

The classes after lunch were better behaved than the ones before, perhaps due to a warning from fellow classmates. Perhaps because they were actually better behaved than the rest of their year mates. Saguru was not very optimistic about that. The last class, rather than fixating on his foreignness, had stared at his bad leg. Granted, he was relying on his cane heavily by that point and his leg was shaking with the strain of remaining standing. If he were in London he would have taken a moment to rest his leg. But he was in Japan, and there were different expectations of him here than home. Saguru would have to get used to this. He sat through the end of day meeting through the help of hastily swallowed pain killers and glimpsed Takumi playing lacrosse on the athletic field out the window, his distinctive resemblance to Kuroba catching Saguru’s attention on automatic like he’d trained himself to notice Kuroba in high school. It seemed an odd sport for a child of Aoko and Kaito to choose. He would have expected a martial art or gymnastics. Then again, the way he handled the stick brought memories of Aoko wielding her mop.

“Ah, Hakuba-san?”

“Yes?” Saguru tried to look like he had been paying attention to the meeting. Replaying the last few minutes he had heard in the background, he knew they were talking about clubs, but he wasn’t sure where that counted him.

“Yumi-san was the advisor of the literature club,” Shizume-sense—san, she wasn’t his sensei anymore—said flipping through notes. “Would you be able to take over as club advisor? If not I am sure someone else could do the job.”

“What would I need to do?” Saguru wasn’t sure he would have the energy for advising a club on top of teaching. He had never advised a club before either.

“Yumi-san kept track of membership and the book list.” Shizume handed him notes written with cheerful, rounded kana and kanji. There were notations of days and years and neat lines of names. “It was so that students would keep track of the books they read. Once a month she chose a book translated from English and led a discussion.”

Saguru turned the paper over. On the back were titles in English. Books children would like, like Harry Potter, and further down, classics, like Shakespeare’s Hamlet. A literature club, was it? That didn’t sound too bad. Not like a sports club where he would have to work with the students closely, or a club where he would have to lead his students by demonstration. Literature was something read on one’s own time, and discussion was the only interpersonal part of it. Literature would not require a large amount of clean up either. He set down the list. “I suppose I could be the advisor. Who is the current president so that I can get in touch with them?”

“Momoi Shiemi,” Takata said—the male Takata, not his wife, Kate. He looked amused. “She is a good student, but she has a very…unique personality. I am sure you will find her interesting.” Several other teachers laughed as if this were a joke.

Saguru had the sinking feeling that she was more than a bit eccentric, but he should be able to handle it. He had handled, Kuroba, Aoko, and Koizumi, so he couldn’t imagine a single girl could be worse than dealing with Kid on a heist. Granted he was more than a bit out of practice there.

Takata Kate gave him a smile. “You’ll be fine.”

Saguru smiled back, not really meaning it. He rubbed his leg under the table where it felt like pins and needles. The others started talking again and Saguru tuned them out. Eventually he wouldn’t be able to afford doing it, but he wanted to go home, sit in his kitchen chair and drink tea. If he was being ambitious, he would even finish putting away the last of his things from their boxes. Chairs scraped as teachers stood up to leave. Saguru gathered papers mechanically and reached for his cane. On the field, Takumi was running a pass, dodging with Kuroba’s ease and economy of motion. He’d have made a good gymnast rather than a lacrosse player. The ball arced toward the goal. Saguru looked away before he could see if it went in or not.

***

Saguru limped to his door at six o’clock. It took three tries to get the key in the door, and he turned it twice having it stick before he realized he was trying to use the key to his parents’ house on his apartment. He sighed and took the key out, fit in the right one and swung his door open. The dark entryway greeted him. He should check his lease. Maybe he could get a pet. A cat would be nice to come home to. Something that would be happy to see him and give more interaction than blank walls.

The door swung shut behind him a bit louder than he wanted, but there was no noise from next door indicating displeasure. In fact, both neighbors were completely silent. Kuroba had had his lights on though. Perhaps he had left the light on when he went to work.

Saguru checked his mailbox, found it empty, and headed into the kitchen to boil water for a package of instant noodles. He could picture Mel wrinkling his nose and pointing out the nutritional deficiency. Mum would have suggested adding egg and meat and vegetables to make it more of a meal. Saguru ate it plain, directly from the pot to reduce dishes. The clack of his chopsticks didn’t quite echo, but they competed to fill the space with the faint buzz of the digital clock in the corner. He washed the pot and sat. And sat. A few minutes to seven, the door to Kuroba’s apartment opened and shut. At seven-thirty a knock came on Saguru’s door.

Saguru groaned and hobbled to the door. His knee was locked up, stuck half bent and refusing to relax. He leaned heavily on his cane as someone knocked again. “Coming, coming,” Saguru said through gritted teeth. He shoved the door open. “Kuroba?”

Kuroba stood in business-casual clothes with two beers in hand. “Hey. Care for company?”

Saguru blinked at him. He stepped aside before he thought too hard. Somehow he hadn’t expected Kuroba to want to talk again so soon. Kuroba smiled and kicked off his shoes at the entrance.

“Beer?” he asked, offering a bottle.

It was quality beer, imported, dark like Saguru enjoyed. He shook his head. “I’d better not. Ask me in a few months.”

“Addictive personality?” Kuroba asked with a quirked eyebrow. One of the bottles vanished somewhere on his person.

“And alcoholism is in the family.” Saguru shut the door. “It was a near thing when I was first recovering.”

“Ah.” When Saguru looked at Kuroba again, a thermos had appeared in his hand. “I thought you might not want anything. I brought some tea. Do you like genmaicha?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever tried genmaicha. I usually stick to black teas or sencha if I am drinking green tea.”

Kuroba smiled. “It’s not usually what you’d serve to guests, but I like the flavor the rice gives to the green tea.” Kuroba unscrewed the thermos lid and poured into a cup that appeared before Saguru’s eyes seemingly from Kuroba’s palm. There was no flash and bang, no obvious sleight of hand, no misdirection at all.

“You’ve gotten better at that,” Saguru said. He accepted the cup and it was pleasantly warm against his fingers. The teacup had irises on the side; it wasn’t one of Saguru’s teacups so it had to belong to Kuroba. He took a sip of the tea. It had a light, bitter flavor with a nutty, earthiness to it. It was a grounded tea, and something in it made Saguru positive that Kuroba had matured in more ways than were immediately obvious. “It’s nice,” he said in thanks. He sat back down in the chair.

“I’m glad. Long day?”

“Mm. Sad since there’s a whole week left.” Saguru sipped his tea and watched Kuroba drink his beer. He looked completely relaxed with the bottle loose in one hand and one leg drawn to his chest. “No Takumi-kun tonight?”

The bottle passed between Kuroba’s hands, did flips, and didn’t spill a drop. “No. It’s a weekday. He’ll stop by sometimes during the week, but I work later most Mondays and Wednesdays. That’s when I do more finicky replicas and preservation that eats hours.”

“I see.”

They drank in silence for a few moments. Saguru was surprised that it was a companionable silence rather than an awkward one.

Kuroba pulled out juggling balls and tossed them idly, one handed. It seemed he still liked to keep his hands busy. “Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Life.” Kuroba shrugged. “Anything. A childhood memory, a life changing moment…something positive.”

“Positive.” Saguru smiled wryly. He could use something positive. “Well, I’ll tell you a story and you tell me one. Is this fair?”

“Sure.” Kuroba took another swallow of beer and set the bottle aside. The balls vanished to whatever alternate dimension he kept things in as he became still, attentive.

Saguru took another sip of tea, casting around for a memory. He rubbed his right knee absently. Hmm. It was a bittersweet memory at the moment, but... “Back when I first started teaching, I wasn’t able to get a full time job. I was working part time as a substitute teacher and spending the rest of my time working as a private tutor.”

Kuroba snickered into his knee. “I can see you trying to look all serious all the time. I mean you were already serious, but I bet you got worse when you started working.”

“I did,” Saguru admitted, smiling back. “I felt like I had a lot to prove back then.”

“Of course you did. You’re a perfectionist.”

Saguru rolled his eyes. The tea was warm in his hands and Kuroba actually looked interested in what he had to say. That was a change from the past. Kuroba waved a hand, silently ordering him to continue. Saguru sighed, but he didn’t mean it. If anything he felt a little lighter already.

“I got hired by a parent who wanted to get her son into medical school. He was in sixth form—er, second year of high school equivalent here—and she wanted to get his science scores up before exams to have a chance at a better university.”

“Understandable.” Kuroba smirked a little, guessing where this was going. “Bet he loved finding out he had a tutor.”

Saguru’s lips twitched. “Right. Well, I get there the first day, am escorted to his room to meet him, and do you know what happens?”

“What?”

Saguru grinned letting himself get caught up in the memory. “The door opens and I get shot with a nerf dart right on my forehead. And it sticks.”

“The things with the suction cups?”

“Yes.”

Kuroba burst out laughing. “That’s great.”

“His mother was mortified. He was smug. I, however, was not so many years past dealing with your escapades and took it in stride.” Saguru finished his cup tea. “He was very disappointed when I took off the dart, set down my bag, and continued like nothing had happened. In hindsight, I should have reacted. It would have prevented the month of progressively more creative pranks as he tried to get me off task.”

“Ooh, do tell.” Kuroba’s eyes were crescents of amusement. The beer was loose in his hand, mostly gone. “Did he dye your hair?”

“His pranks weren’t up to your level, no,” Saguru said. “He did manage to set fire to my briefcase, leave inane messages on homework I had set aside to grade, and slipped a mouse into my bag so that it bit me when I went to get papers out later. I kept it in a terrarium for a year until it escaped and ran off somewhere. But after he set my papers on fire, I decided to prank back.”

“You pranked a kid?” Kuroba’s eyes were wide, like he couldn’t see Saguru ever pranking back.

“A teen on the eve of adulthood when I was twenty two,” Saguru defended. Then he grinned. “Of course his face when he realized his serious tutor had glitter bombed his bedroom was priceless.”

“Glitter bombs?”

“Kuroba, I didn’t spend two years being pranked by you without learning a few tricks.”

Kuroba shook his head, a smile growing on his face. “Wish I could have seen that. Though I probably wouldn’t have believed it.”

“He got grounded for the glitter bomb incident. His mother didn’t believe that I was behind it. After that we had a long talk and I learned that he was aiming for drama school, not medical, and helped him look into that. When I first met him he reminded me a bit of you.” Oh dear. That had come out sadder than he’d intended. It hadn’t been because Mel reminded him of Kuroba that he was sad; it was that after the prank war ended he had started to know Mel as a person and a friend.

“Huh. Still, you pranking someone.” Kuroba shook his head again. “I want to see the next time you do.”

“I’ll try to arrange it so you can,” Saguru said dryly. He likely wouldn’t prank anyone again. Not unless he was pranked first, but then it was just retaliation.

Kuroba refilled Saguru’s teacup and pulled the second beer from wherever it was hiding on his person—he was taller and a bit broader than he used to be, but he didn’t have any bulk to hide objects in. Saguru was as baffled as ever by Kuroba’s tricks. “So he got into drama school?”

“Yes. Of course his grades improved before then so his mother couldn’t withhold positive recommendations for my tutor work.” She’d almost disowned Mel when she learned he had applied for a theatre college instead of regular Uni. She had gotten past it eventually, but she had never quite forgiven herself for introducing Saguru to her son. Saguru had a complicated relationship with her and it had only soured as time went on. He frowned, turning the re-warmed teacup around in his hands.

Kuroba cleared his throat, and Saguru realized he had been quiet too long. “Hey! My turn now,” he said with exaggerated cheerfulness. Saguru could tell it was forced too, just a bit too big a smile and deep of creases around Kuroba’s eyes. “So. Memories. Well, the first time I performed a magic trick I was three. Now, Kaa-san will tell you otherwise. She says I was pulling escape tricks since I could crawl, but a toddler getting out of a play gate and half up a bookshelf isn’t really a magic trick.”

“So you always bounced like rubber and could stick to walls?”

“Shush. You had your story, I have mine.” He swallowed a mouthful of his new beer. “So I was three years old and Oyaji was trying to get me to get the dexterity to do coin tricks and kept showing me how to hide ten yen coins. Choking hazard, I know. Kaa-san gave him the evil eye on that one.” Kuroba set the bottle aside and pulled a ten yen coin out of thin air. “Oyaji kept doing this—” Kuroba did an exaggerated arm movement, letting Saguru clearly see him palm the coin. “—but a three year old does not have the dexterity that sort of thing requires or the right finger length to make that work. Anyway, that went on for about a week, and I got more and more frustrated because it wouldn’t work and I wanted to impress Tou-san, so I came up with something that would work.”

“Please tell me your disappearing trick didn’t involve swallowing the coin.”

Kuroba waved a hand. “No, no, I wasn’t that stupid as a kid.” Saguru raised an eyebrow. This coming from the man who became Kaitou Kid, jumped out windows, and had nearly killed himself a dozen different ways during the time Saguru knew him? Saguru was willing to bet there were a lot more stupid mistakes in Kuroba’s childhood to get to where he was when Saguru met him. “Don’t look at me like that. Anyway. I figured out if I tossed the coin up like this…” He tossed it in the air. “And did this.” Two hands blurred toward where the coin was falling. Saguru couldn’t follow which was holding the coin. “I could create confusion over which hand was holding the coin. Then if I moved my hand fast I could catch the coin between my hand and wrist.” Kuroba bent his hand back, trapping the ten yen coin against his wrist. He turned his hands so the palms faced up, and it looked like his hands were empty. “It’s an actual magician’s trick, but Oyaji didn’t think to teach me that since palming is easier than doing a wrist catch. Anyway, trial and error and hitting myself in the face with a coin a lot, I got it to work and showed my parents…and fell into the koi pond at the house we were visiting at.”

“Your fear of fish.” Saguru laughed. “Your first success and your greatest weakness rolled into one.”

“It’s not a weakness. I can keep a straight face around f…them.” Kuroba looked indignant, then smiled. “Oyaji pulled me out. A koi had tried to swallow my arm. I half drowned freaking out about that. But he laughed about it for years after and he always smiled when I did a wrist catch.”

“He sounds like he was a good father.” Saguru didn’t have many happy memories with his father. His childhood had been spent at first struggling to fit into Japan, then struggling to fit into Europe, with endless plane trips across the world whenever school was on holiday. He’d grown up with Mum, and Otou-san had always been...not unapproachable, but not emotive either. Their bonding came later when Saguru showed an aptitude for the kind of critical thinking detective work required. Even then it had been more cerebral than emotional.

“He was.” Kuroba drained the last of his beer. “You look a bit more relaxed,” he commented.

“Is that why you decided to visit?” Saguru set aside the teacup. He couldn’t deny that he was feeling much calmer and pleasantly warm from the company and tea. Kuroba also looked calmer than he had when he entered the room, and Saguru wondered if perhaps he hadn’t needed the distraction just as much as Saguru had.

“One of the reasons.” Kuroba stood, and the cup, thermos and empty bottles vanished. He brushed off his pants though there was barely a crease in them. “Will you be at the heist Wednesday?”

Saguru shook his head. “No. I would not be able to keep up if I went.”

“You could always direct from behind the scenes. You were good at figuring out where I planned on going.”

“It would draw too much attention.” Kuroba raised an eyebrow. Saguru sighed. This felt a bit like a test. “That part of my life is a closed chapter. The last thing I want is the media attention attending a Kid heist would bring.”

“True.” Kuroba stretched like he wasn’t almost thirty-five. “If you went you’d run into Aoko. She’s taken over as the head of the force. When Nakamori-keibu retired, they went through six different officers, and she was the only one who understood how Kid’s brain worked enough to keep up.” He smiled and it didn’t meet his eyes. “Go figure, huh?”

Saguru almost reached out, but he had never had the kind of relationship with Kuroba where he could offer comfort, and two days of being civil didn’t make that appear overnight. He didn’t say anything.

“Well,” Kuroba said. He hesitated for a split second, and maybe he wasn’t as comfortable as he appeared. Kuroba had only gotten better at hiding since Saguru had known him as a teenager, but he wasn’t without tells after all. “I should probably be going. You look like you’re going to fall asleep in your chair.”

“Thank you, Kuroba,” Saguru said, heading off any dancing around the situation.

Kuroba’s nose scrunched up minutely and his hand twitched like he wanted a scarf or juggling ball to play with to cover up discomfort or embarrassment. “There’s nothing to thank me for. We’re just catching up.”

“Mm.” He should let Kuroba out, but he didn’t feel like moving. “Be careful on Wednesday.”

Kuroba gave him a blinding smile. And that was what it was meant to be—a blind. “Ah, Hakuba, I’m an old hand at this now. I could pull a heist off with my eyes closed.”

Saguru leaned his head on his hand. He had kept up with the heist records over the years. He knew how many times a sniper had been present at Kid heists publicly, and if it was that high a number publicly, it must be far higher unofficially. The number had only risen in the last sixteen years. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

Kuroba’s expression froze for as long as it took to blink an eye, the slightest tensing of muscles that Saguru nevertheless caught. “Not close enough.”

There were questions that had lurked at the back of Saguru’s mind for almost two decades pressing to come out, but he ignored them. He wasn’t going to ruin whatever goodwill had Kuroba reaching out just to satisfy his curiosity. “Have a good night Kuroba.”

“You too.” He seemed surprised Saguru wasn’t pressing, but Saguru wasn’t the impatient teen he used to be anymore. And he wasn’t a detective anymore either, even if he could never quite shut out that part of his brain and personality.

As soon as Kuroba shut the door, Saguru felt the silence of the room weigh down on him. He’d told Kuroba a story about Mel. Why had he told him a story about Mel? Now he had Mel on his mind, and death coiling around his subconscious. Kuroba must have had similarly morbid thoughts if he brought in a memory that featured his father so heavily. Or not since he was a father now as well and it could just be that he viewed his childhood memories with new eyes…

The alarm clock in the corner blinked nine eighteen at him. It took him almost until the half-hour mark to drag himself from his thoughts and bathe before bed. If his sleep was restless and dogged by bloody memories, there was no one there to know it but him.

AN: Saguru's projecting a bit in the beginning. This might be a good moment to point out that he isn't always a reliable narrator and isn't going to always reliably know what's going on with other people.

He and Takumi do not get off to a good start. >_>

(For the opening ceremonies, pretend people don't hear about their homeroom teacher during them and they don't take most of the day to get through cuz that's a lot of time to account for and let's just get the ball rolling, yeah?)

#magic kaito #fanfiction #not left to stand alone #my writing #nltsa

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