#so perhaps this week... yakisoba time again

[dullanyan]

a few weeks ago i needed worcestershire sauce for a recipe but i didnt have any so i had to leave it out.

u are never gonna believe what i found in the cabinet today, unopened, probably has been there for months,

[chimaerakirin]

SOULSEKAI

It's the end of the world as they know it, and Shigaraki Tomura feels fine. February 26, 6 AM. This is not what he was planning to do today, but he can work with it. Frankly, this might be even better. This is not at all what Midoriya Izuku was planning to do today, and it's a disaster. He's going to miss the UA Entrance Exam! Where are his shoes, and who's this voice in his head calling him Ninth?

Rated M for violence (Soulslike-appropriate) and Language (also Soulslike-appropriate). Later chapters may go up to E, because I will not allow Tomura to be maidenless.

FIRST - Second ->

Scattered Like Ashes

"Shigaraki Tomura, why are you still up?"

His character dies on screen again, and he snarls in annoyance, barely keeping his little finger off the mouse. "Because this boss is a fucking whore, that's why!" Tomura snaps. "Why, it's not that late."

"It is nearly six in the morning," Kurogiri says patiently. Too patiently.

"And? 'Snot like the sun's up that early in February. Still dark out means it's not morning yet." With that impeccable logic, he respawns and starts running for his corpse.

"Then perhaps you should go to bed before it becomes morning."

He reaches for his Zone, then scowls as he realizes it's empty.

"And there are no more energy drinks in the refrigerator."

Tomura throws the can over his shoulder at the misty man. As expected, there's a hollow clatter from the direction of the kitchen. He doesn't even care about the caffeine, it's the principle. On the screen, he reaches the boss barrier and goes through it, then bolts for the glowing sphere of his dropped souls. He died on the other side of the arena, he has to go past the boss and—

"FUUUUCK! Goddamn one-shotting piece of shit how did he even DO that?! I've got lightning res out the ass, that should never have fucking—!" His keysmash hits the respawn button by accident, and opens up his equipment besides. His gauntlets have their durability flashing a red zero, their damage resistances cut to near nothing. Right. The last run went on so long that they broke, and the bonfire's auto repair doesn't work if durability goes all the way down, he'll have to go to the blacksmith… and pay for the repairs with WHAT FUCKING SOULS goddamnit he just lost almost a full level!

"If I may, perhaps you will perform better against the boss if you are properly rested," Kurogiri tries.

"Shut up and send me to the konbini." He shoves his chair back and grabs his hoodie and shoes, shoving Father into the front pocket of the former with his phone and a fistfull of yen bills.

Kurogiri droops disappointedly, but obeys. Tomura staggers slightly as he steps through the warp gate. Earthquake? Whatever, it's not a strong one.

He leaves the alley for the Daily Yamazaki around the corner, trying to remember if he had any snacks recently and ignoring another tremor. He looks at the bread shelves, tries to picture the desk drawer he keeps his stash in, then shrugs and drops a dozen curry breads and yakisoba buns into a basket. A six-pack of energy drinks— Wait, Iyemon. He knows he's out of that. He swaps the energy drinks out and just gets a couple of smaller cans to go with the tea. The noodle cups… He finished off the shrimp flavor yesterday and the tonkotsu the day before that, and Kurogiri never just restocks on instant noodles unless he's told to. Shit, he can't remember the last time he had any of the chicken flavors either… And now the basket is pretty much full. He heads for the cash register, then stops at the magazines. Right, he missed this week's Famitsu. And the last GFantasy. Which means he also missed the other magazine…

He grabs one of the freshest curry breads from the bakery case, then ignores another tremor while the cashier rings everything up. The instant the money is on the counter, he stuffs the fresh curry bread into his mouth and leaves with his bags. There's another tremor as he reaches the alley, they're getting stronger now. Which is weird, his phone hasn't beeped. The cashier didn't react either, and usually NPCs are absolute pussies about even the little quakes.

He rings Kurogiri for pickup, then yawns while he waits for the gate to appear. Maybe he'll just crash when he gets back… Yeah. That sounds like a good idea. So he does. Doesn't even bother taking off his shoes or putting the bags down. Just flops over backward onto the bed.

And falls.

And falls.

And falls.

~praise be unto the Sky~

Izuku is more than a little concerned. Or maybe just confused. The beach was almost completely done when he went home last night, and today is the day of the entrance exam, so he got up early to come finish it. Then the quakes started. He pauses every time he feels one, but for some reason the last of the trash isn't reacting to it at all. Not even the broken mirror with loose shards, which should be falling out. Is he just more tired than he thought?

Even so, he manages to get everything up to the ramp. Even the old safe, solid steel construction even if it's rusted around the rivets, and the gutted truck. He doesn't quite manage to stack it neatly — well, as neatly as a few tons of scrap metal in formerly useful shapes can be stacked anyway — before that familiar battered pickup parks at the edge of the beach, but even so, All Might seems amazed and impressed.

All Might sounds proud of him.

He sobs through the haze of sweat, burning muscles, and wind-chill, barefoot and shirtless in the first rays of the morning sun, as the Number One Hero declares him to be a proper vessel for his powers.

Then All Might plucks a hair from his famous bangs and holds it out. "Now, eat this!"

"…Eh?"

Then the ground shakes one more time, and the world comes apart at the seams.

~praise be unto the Sky~

"Owww…" Tomura groans.

His head hurts. His back too. The fuck happened to his bed? It feels like rocks. He opens his eyes.

…The fuck happened to his ceiling?

The sky is a faded blue-gray, way too bright for six in the morning but not obnoxiously bright daylight either. Maybe a rain-threatening ten… Or four PM? Did he sleep? Now that his head is clearing up, he's not quite as tired as he was…

He sits up, noting the bags from the konbini in his left hand. There's a rock wall in front of him, and not a man-made one. Too rough, jagged, gray-brown, with a few scraggly plants on the protruding bits. It goes up maybe ten meters, then curves around. A rock alley. He's in a rock alley, a dead-end canyon. Not a place he recognizes, and Sensei has dumped him in some weird places for training. He squints up at the edge of the cliff. He remembers falling, did he fall from up there? That probably should have broken something important the way he landed, but the bags aren't even split, let alone his spine. A couple of the noodle cups spilled out, but eh, easy enough to dust off and stuff back in.

He stands up and looks around. There's only one way to go unless he wants to climb the cliff, so he heads along the canyon, passing a small spring that at least looks clean and, on inspection, doesn't smell like anything but water.

Then he finds the body.

Normally, a dead body wouldn't bother him. Honestly, the fact that it's a dead body doesn't bother him. Even it being desiccated, crows come and gone and a bit past the stinking stage doesn't faze him. He's seen worse in the Doctor's lab. What makes him stop is the clothes. They're pretty worn down and torn from the weather, but still recognizable. Flexible boots turned down at the tops, pants woven from something scratchy-looking, a quilted jacket with a double-wrapped heavy leather iron-buckled belt over it, leather bands over the forearms. All of it hand-stitched, no zippers or plastic or rubber. The knife sticking out of the body's chest, blood so old it's black staining the jacket — the gambeson — is just as old-fashioned, handle made of horn or bone, about the length of his forearm, blade a little dull but scraped-looking along the edge where it's been sharpened on a real whetstone. Clip point too, he sees when he pulls it out of the corpse's chest.

Then he nearly drops it, because there's a goddamn HUD pop-up in front of him. Like black glass with white window chalk on it.

[Forsaken Knife

Both tool and weapon by design. This example's fate is evidently to be the latter.]

Is that…

Maybe…

…Fuck it.

"Show current status," he whispers, sitting down next to the corpse and hooking his konbini bags around his elbow.

And more HUD appears what the fuck.

It's not a full status screen like he might have expected, he doesn't see a whole panel of attributes, but there's a stack of three thin colored bars, red-blue-green, that he suddenly realizes have been there the entire time and are only moving toward the center of his vision — what's that trivia thing, you can always see your own nose but your brain blocks it out? — now that he doesn't want them to be unobtrusive. The red one is about half full, reading [221/430]. Huh, maybe he did fall, and things just don't break with whatever is going on here. The blue one is much shorter, and practically empty, at [4/120]. And the green one is a full [100/100].

Additionally, there's a small counter toward the bottom right, a gray zero next to an icon of three prisms in a cluster, Tron blue with specks of gold. If he knows anything, that's his XP counter.

"…Hide status?" he tries. The bars and the XP counter don't disappear, but they retreat to the corners of his vision and fade into partial transparency. "All right. Show attributes?"

Okay, there's the stats he was looking for.

[Level 9

Motes held: 0

Motes required: 830]

[Attribute Points

Vitality: 11

Endurance: 11

Focus: 20

Strength: 11

Dexterity: 22

Intelligence: 15

Devotion: 6

Fortune: 9]

Definitely Soulslike stats. Tapping on the stat names does nothing, neither does speaking the words out loud, so he can't find out more about the calculations that way, but he'd guess that Devotion is Faith — he probably won't be casting any Miracles anytime soon — and Fortune is Luck, so his drop rate isn't great and at least one kind of resistance is probably pretty low.

He's not sure why Devotion's so low, since his DEX is quite reasonably sky high as is required by his Quirk, if Focus is literal he knows he's got that in spades, and he's not a fucking dumbass either. Maybe the system just doesn't acknowledge Sensei as a god.

Anyway, there's his Health Points, his Focus Points — huh, Focus must be Attunement or Mind or whatever, and 120 must be on the high end for his level — and both of them have… regenerated slightly over the last couple of minutes? He's got six FP at the moment, and 222 HP. Absolutely useless rates in combat, but worth having out of it. Load, 10.9/49.5 which is weird. He'll check that in a minute. Ready Skills, one equipped, two slots empty.

[Deteriorate (Personal Skill)

Increases Effect Rate of all damaging Status Effects

Cost: Activation 20 FP, Sustain 3 FP/second per Status Effect

Range: Touch

Scaling: DEX D, INT C]

A DoT booster. He giggles. It's like his Quirk, but even better! Sure it won't end a fight the instant he grabs someone's face — wait, does his Quirk still work? He grabs a rock from the ground and plants all his fingers on it. Nothing happens, and he giggles even harder, because holy shit what if Quirks just don't isekai properly and this is what happened to it? So yeah he can't instakill someone just with his 'Quirk' but he has a knife and that means he can fuckin' shred someone with Bleed.

And he currently has Slashing and Piercing damage types available, probably from the knife. It's labeled Attack Potential though, not Attack Power. [Blunt 11], equal to his STR, probably because anyone with limbs can cast Fist but it's never been his thing, [Slash 45] and [Pierce 30] which tracks because the knife has a mildly curved edge, a clip point with a minor sharpening on the spinal side of the tip, and it's definitely long enough to go through someone's heart on top of any artery he can think of but isn't really enough to pull off decapitation. Other damage types, which he doesn't have any current 'Potential' for, are all probably magical. Force, which he assumes is typeless, Fire, Lightning, Frost, Poison, Curse, and Holy.

Defense and Damage Reduction… His total Physical Defense is 11, but since none of that is shown in the Blunt/Slash/Pierce specific Damage Reductions and his Endurance is also 11, he suspects END is more than just the STA gauge. He has no Reductions to anything magical except for… Lightning? At 8.5? Somehow… And Fall Damage, at 15.

"Inventory," he orders. And there's the paper doll screen. His shirt, pants, and hoodie are labeled the Otherworldly Recluse Set, which he can't really argue with even if it does feel vaguely insulting. Everyone knows a black hoodie with the hood up means 'Fuck off' all on its own, and worn with matching sweatpants is a tacitly understood invisibility cloak. Fitting, since the Recluse set has a small Stealth bonus. They all have a max Durability of between 35 and 45, and the shirt is the most battered at [21/35], sixty percent. His shoes (Durability [54/65]) are labeled Quirkless Lowtops though, which is every kind of what the fuck even if they do explain the Lightning res (rubber soles, of course, that would be exotic enough here to count). Father's system name, when he places the hand on his face to see it appear as Equipped, is even more bullshit, Cursed Grasp of Memories, and drops his FP to a hundred while raising his Devotion to 10. Nothing he's wearing has any explanation for the Fall Damage Reduction though.

The Forsaken Knife, now that he's got the details open, has [STR E] and [DEX C] scaling, and is indeed the source of the 45 Slash and 30 Pierce damage potential. It has a Load value of 1.5, so whatever units are being used it's definitely not kilograms, or anything in that fucking mess the Americans are still using. It's also at [72/80] Durability, despite how long the body it was stuck in seems to have been here. A month at least, he remembers, to get to the dry decay stage.

Altogether his clothes and the knife come up to just under eight points of Load… But his konbini bags are showing as Equipped to his arm somehow. Like a shield or something. He fiddles around until he finds the Quickslots — five of those available — and shoves the yakisoba buns and bottled tea into two of those (they stack, which is good because there's only five slots and more than that of the tea alone), putting the curry bread, cup noodles, and energy drinks into the Consumables tab. The magazines go into the Knowledge tab, as does his phone, which has no signal as expected, but is. Uh. Somehow charging off his FP? All right then? He decides to keep that in his pocket instead. Father goes into the Head section of the Armor tab, which has a visibly limited number of slots, so he probably can't just carry around one of everything in hammerspace. The empty Yamazaki bags go into… Crafting tab? Okay. Other tabs include Upgrades, Motes, and Glyphs, and a couple of grayed-out ones. Upgrades are self-explanatory, and Motes are XP, so what are Glyphs?

He looks at the knife again. There's a depression in the grip about where a right-handed user's palm would go, maybe the size of a yen coin. Materia slot maybe? Like an Ash of War? And there's a blank spot in its Equip description which looks similar to the Ready Skill part of his stat screen. Okay, if whatever goes in that slot was shiny, it's gone along with the dead guy's eyes, the crows will have taken it. He can still search the body though. He's not taking the armor, but if he's got pockets…

There's not much, whoever offed this guy was pretty thorough, but there's a pack of five bone spikes that look halfway between nails and throwing knives, three weakly glowing white river rocks, and… an empty, cracked glass bottle with a faintly golden color?

Jackpot! That's gotta be the Estus Flask!

He takes all three items, sticking them into the remaining Quickslots, where he can see the labels of Bone Dart, Lightstone, and Vital Flask (Broken). Then, because it's not actually that grungy-looking, is visibly adjustable, has more Durability than his shoes, and most importantly has the sheathe for his new knife and a few pouches that give +1 Quickslot attached, he takes the belt — Hedge Knight's Baldric — and wraps it like a bandolier. Or, y'know, like a baldric.

With everything properly sorted, he stands up and, when a verbal command of Map does nothing, starts off along the canyon again, just barely not whistling cheerfully. All he needs now is whatever the bonfire and Fire Keeper equivalents are, and they're probably in the same place. This is just the best day ever.

~praise be unto the Sky~

This is the worst day ever, Izuku concludes, curling up in the corner and trying not to hyperventilate. The stone wall is icy against his bare back, and the only reason his feet aren't even colder is that the floor is made up of solid wooden planks, each as wide as his hips, with enough space between each to lose a pencil down. They're not even polished and sealed either, just… vaguely sanded. Like an old picnic table or something. All the splinters worn down by sheer use. For the love of All Might, couldn't he have at least landed next to his shoes?!

"That's called starting as a Deprived. Or a Wretch. Same difference, really," a wispy sort of voice says. The voice is young, maybe university-aged, male, and most unnervingly, in his head. "At least, if this is what I think it is. Pretty sure it is."

"Eep!" Izuku claps his hands over his mouth, looking around wildly.

"Oh hey, can you hear me?"

Izuku doesn't answer. No one here, no one here, no one here…

"Yeah, no, you're definitely here, Ninth. Which is awesome, because it means I am too, and I always wanted to get isekai'd so thanks for that." The voice pauses. "No, really. No sarcasm. My life was kinda shit, even before my brother locked me in a bank vault. You'd want out too. So lucky you, I'm pretty well prepared for this. Can you say 'Show attributes' for me?"

This voice is weird. "Sh… Show attributes?"

A window pops up into the air in front of him and he swallows another yelp.

"Thanks. Oooh, Soulslike. Okay, that could get a little iffy, but don't worry, I'm still an expert. Good news is, you're not actually a Wretch, because you're level 6 and your stats are wheeeere the hell did you get this much Endurance? What in Miyazaki's unholy name?"

"…Who's Miyazaki?" Izuku whispers.

"RL lore later, figuring out how to cheese the system now. Seriously, nothing starts at 25 in a Soulslike, and it's Endurance. A hundred and twenty stamina — hey do you see a red bar, a blue bar, and a green bar in the corner?"

"The corner of what?"

"Well, RL doesn't have a screen so your eye, I guess. Peripheral vision? Wait, please tell me you've played at least some video games. God knows All Might was a normie."

Izuku doesn't know what that means, but he's pretty sure he should feel offended on his hero's behalf. "I, uh. A few? Not much, other kids didn't want me around so I couldn't really hang out in the arcades. Just a few games on the computer."

"Oh boy. Okay, I got your back. Crash course, red bar is your HP, blue is probably your magic, and green is Stamina. Run out of red and you die and hopefully respawn. Run out of blue, you can't cast spells. Run out of green, you can't run, attack, dodge, or jump. Not entirely sure how that'll work here. But you've got really high green for your level, which is good."

The voice sounds entirely too cheerful for having just told him he has a numeric representation of death in the corner of his vision. "Good… Right…"

"You can stop calling me The Voice, you know." A pause. "Wait, right, introductions. I'm Yoichi. Shigaraki Yoichi. Or First, if you talk to any of the others. They're not here. Not sure why I am, you didn't eat the hair yet. Anyway! You've got… 9 Vitality, which is probably tied to your 395 total HP. Not great, but could be worse. Your Focus is 18, you've got 110 Focus Points and three Spell Slots, looks like. One of them has… Forebearer's Aid? 'Requires Stele to cast,' whatever that means, and it eats forty FP. Your Endurance is, again, twenty-freaking-five. Strength 12, kinda weird, I'd have thought it'd be fifteen or sixteen with all your training over the last few months. Dexterity, 11, which is… reasonable? Intelligence 16, which is standard for a spellcaster start, and Devotion, which I'd assume is Faith, is 20, which means you're more white mage than black mage. Sort of. Morality is sort of… squishier than my brother's head after All Might punched it flat, in most Soulslike settings."

Wait, what?

"Aaand the last stat is Fortune, which prooobably covers loot and stuff like that, 9 is about an average starting point for it. Basically, you've got the starting stats of a… marathon cleric, let's say. Just need to find you a healing spell and a beating stick, and you're set!"

"What was that about your brother?" Izuku asks nervously.

"Riiight, Eighth didn't tell you that part. Guess he didn't think it was important, on account of the head-squishing, he's been dealt with and you won't need to fight him. My brother, All For One, boogeyman of the underworld, legendary Quirk Thief, yada yada yada. Trust me, he deserved it. He's the one that gutted Eighth." Yoichi waves that away audibly, somehow. "Moving on. This is some kind of castle keep, going by the courtyard and the walls you saw outside the window. That means it should have an armory, so we need to look around and see if we can't find you some gear."

"But there are guys with swords out there!"

"Didn't you impress Eighth by charging up to a guy made of raw sewage, who had already tried to drown you, to save a kid whose hands could explode? You wanna be a Hero, right? Gratz, kid, you've been isekai'd, you're the Hero. Now let's goooo!"

Fifteen minutes, a compliment on his stealth skills, and two different drunk guys singing very rude songs in a language that is not Japanese but still somehow comprehensible later, and he's slipping through a heavy ironbound door.

"Wooow, pretty well ransacked. Oh well. Still enough to get your properly dressed anyway. Look around, try to find… hm, we'll start with a gambeson, then some chainmail, I think. Your Load, that's equippable weight limit, is pretty high. Look to your left, there's a few… you can call them mannequins. The armor stands."

There are in fact a few mannequin-looking things. "[Lost Keep's Garrison Set]," Izuku observes.

That opens a menu, or maybe a tooltip, that shows him the pieces. A chainmail coat, a quilted jacket that Yoichi calls a gambeson, a matching quilted hood called an arming cap under a 'sallet' type helmet as Yoichi says, quilted pants with a lace-up fly under chainmail leggings that together look kind of like those weird cowboy jeans, metal plates that he thinks are greaves but Yoichi calls schynbalds, some kind of shoe that is not Quirkless Red, and gauntlets of, again, chainmail, with leather palms and plates on the forearms. Somehow, he's able to put it all on at once, with what amounts to the tap of a button, which displaces his track pants into an empty box of his inventory. He's not sure what's weirder, dressing instantly or the fact that all of this fits, and isn't that heavy.

"Wait, put this on too." Yoichi says. Like he's pointing, when he's a voice in Izuku's head. "Right, forgot. On the right, the white cloth thing. Put it on like a shirt, then one of the leather belts from the end of the aisle goes on over it."

Izuku does so, fumbling with the belt, which has to be wrapped around his waist twice, and the white thing immediately turns a shade of green that matches his hair. "Well that's… less… not-sneaky than I thought it would be? I'm not actually wearing a white flag, at least… Is twenty-four physical defense good?"

"…You know, I'm not actually sure," Yoichi admits. "Not enough context. Does this setting have supermassive sets like Smough's? But it's better than what you were wearing before and you should be well under your Load limit so you won't be fatrolling. Which means it's time to pick a weapon! You're a cleric, I suggest a mace."

"You mean pepper spray?" Izuku asks hopefully. He knows it's a vain hope, but still.

"Ahahaha! No. But it oughta be easier for you to use than a sword. Think of it like a baseball bat. Do they still teach baseball as a school sport?"

"Sort of, but I wasn't usually allowed to play… Too fragile, they said," he says bitterly. And on the rare occasions the teacher didn't say, Kacchan and his followers reminded him.

"I'm starting to sense some issues here. Remind me to ask how things are between Quirked and Quirkless these days, I don't think Eighth is really in touch anymore. But later, once we find a Bonfire."

"Bonfire?"

"Save point! Good for leveling up, respawning, and fast travel, among other things! Disclaimer, might not be an actual fire. Maces are on the right side of the room."

There are about a dozen identical maces to choose from, so he grabs one at random. It's heavy in his hand, but he can swing it, and more easily when he holds it with both hands. "I can work with this, I guess."

"Great! Now, you really should have a backup weapon. A knife of some kind would be best, utility and all that. Let's see… There, with the disk guard and pommel. That's a rondel dagger, take that. Little bit slashy, mostly stabby."

The [Rondel Dagger] is in fact mostly stabby and a little slashy, going by its 14 Slash and 60 Pierce damage spread. Izuku dutifully slots the sheathe into his belt. "Am I done yet?"

"Almost!" Yoichi replies, manically cheerful. "That's your equips, now let's check the quartermaster's office for consumables, tools, upgrade mats, and lore!"

Izuku groans.

[darksonofsparda]

[{ 🗡️ }] - "Glad we agree."

Even though Power had laughed at the disgusting scene Vergil had been referring to, it was good to know that as humorous as it had been for the Fiend, that she also agreed it was disgusting. The half-devil in blue and gold felt bad for Denji, the boy was letting his teenage hormones guide his path--a very unexpected thing to drive someone forward, Vergil didn't understand it, perhaps it was all just a due to his rough upbringing. He was experiencing things he never thought he could. As odd as his motivations were, at least Denji had the capacity to get serious when he needed to, making him an effective warrior. While it was a bit reckless, the young man was able to hold his own.

Vergil catches the pout when she's told blood isn't purchasable, it didn't take her long to decide what else she wanted though, booze, which was fine, he opted for Red Wine. Beer to him was far too bitter, he couldn't understand the appeal of it, especially when it came to those who drunk themselves stupid and became drunk, which almost always led to more problems, and idiotic behavior, Vergil had seen that kind of thing far too often, that it made him detest the very idea of booze. Much to his surprise, she was pretty happy with beer over blood, at least she was starting to understand when she had to opt for other things, more positive progress from her, and it was nice to see.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "Very well, you can have your booze. As for myself, I'm choosing red wine."

When the waiter finally made his way over to their table to take their orders, as the server took out his notebook. Vergil shook his head, this order would be at least half the pages in the hand book. The waiter is a bit confused, so Vergil spoke up.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "One Fillet Mignon with a side of Pork and Beef Yakisoba, add a red wine too, one of your finest bottles. And that's one order, as for the next.. well, you may need another book. Because my friend here will have every single meat dish on the menu, as well as all the seafood, to drink a pint of beer, that will be all."

The second the waiter got their tables order, once Vergil's was written down, the staff members jaw drops, his notebook falling out of his hand to the floor in shock, asking again to make sure that was the order she wanted, to which Vergil nodded. Slowly, he picked up his notebook, bowed then made his way to the kitchen to give them what was probably their biggest order they've ever received--Vergil sure hoped these cooks got paid well, because this meal prep would take quite a long time.

Turning his attention back to Power's comment on him having one plate, he just shrugged. Vergil did enjoy having a meal here or there, but due to the type of half-devil he was, he didn't require as much resources as humans did, despite part human himself.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "I'll probably only have two or three plates. Because I'm a Cambion, I don't require nearly as much food or water that humans do. I can go several weeks without both. So meals like this to me, are more of a treat in the odd time when I do require sustenance."

He simply explained, the waiter returned to deliver Power's beer and Vergil's bottle of wine with a wine glass, letting Vergil know that the food would take at least forty-five minutes to over an hour, so Vergil told them to bring them out one by one until there was enough made to give Power all at once. Taking note of his instructions, he nods, bows then returns to the kitchen, Vergil's focus shifting back to the Blood Fiend at her follow-up question--one he was expecting her to ask at some point.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "That's right. I've been a part of your special division group for quite some time now.." Grabbing his wine, putting to his lips for a sip, setting it back down.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "Why do I tolerate you more? No, the answer is rather simple actually. I'm a devil too. Despite my reputation, I've still dealt with my share of discriminations for what I am. I suppose I know the feeling.." He tries to narrow it down best he could. There was also the fact that the Blood Fiend, despite being a handful sometimes, he was growing a bit fond of her presence--a lingering thought he would keep to himself for now.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "We don't deserve to be shunned and ostracized, simply for being how we naturally are. We're not livestock or slaves, we're living beings, too. If I can manage to use my reputation to free one devil from the shackles of the Public Safety Bureau, then perhaps maybe, the world will start to see us differently."

A slight pause, gathering his thoughts, he debates internally if he wants to reveal it or not. Blue eyes trail over to scan her expression, looking at her for a few moments, he turns to face the window.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "Before Makima signed my two-year work contract, I had heard rumblings of a Fiend who had little to no freedom... finding out that, disgusted me..."

"Hmm...I suppose that shall suffice of a fair deal. I mustn't leave any of this meat to waste be it within my stomach or out!!" Power made at least as much of a promise for that. And as she remembers the memory of that...scene at the celebration to be hilarious, it was also quite disgusting to see as agreeance with Vergil. "Yes absolutely every dish that includes meat! And I suppose those of the seafood kind I could savor in as well." The devil practically pouted at the mention of no blood to be ordered, then she thought of another option and grinned. "Alcohol will be the next best offer!!" Yet if that's another option turned out, juice will have to suffice.

Surely she plans to continue having her feel of the restaurant here, this is practically a once in a lifetime chance for her! She glanced around the dining room, amongst each of variety of tables some have minded their business and others still look on to them. It was the norm to be stared at and/or hated to this point for Power, she could only sense the jealousy and fear from them nothing more. Yet here they were getting to share the same room as two devils to dine together. It already makes her feel a little more special like a celebrity.

"And...you seem to have your own fill of one plate, I presume? How boring..." At least her and Denji tend to share their love for food, even to the point of fighting over who gets the last yakitori. "...we have worked together the past few jobs, yes? I admit to confusion of you...tolerating me compared to the others. You couldn't possibly have a personal gain, perhaps?"

[strawberryclementine]

please I would die for For Tokyo revengers angst right now 🤧😭♥️

8. Baji Keisuke

25. For Hanma Shuji

4. For Taiju shiba

7. For Chifuyu Matsuno

Thanks for the ask! Admittedly I've only written Hanma out of these characters before, but I'll do my best~

8: "Leave. Now. Just leave!" (Baji)

Chifuyu couldn't comprehend why Baji would leave Toman so abruptly. The only possible reason he could accept was that his Captain had an ulterior motive, perhaps to act as a mole for Toman by joining Valhalla. But even if that was the case, Chifuyu was completely in the dark.

Was it too soon to ask what was going on in Baji's head? Perhaps, but there was only one way to find out.

"Can we talk about this over some yakisoba?"

Chifuyu had hurriedly brought one packet of Peyoung yakisoba to Baji's doorstep, not even taking the time to change out of his Toman uniform after the meeting Baji had stormed out of. It didn't feel appropriate to propose this conversation in any other outfit.

"No," was the only response Baji gave. The lighting from his home behind him outlined his dark hair with a golden halo.

"But Baji-san," Chifuyu started.

"Just leave!" Baji exclaimed, and Chifuyu's face was met with the front door, leaving him alone with the chirping crickets and cicadas outside.

When he knocked on the door and rang the doorbell again, there was no answer.

"Peyoung yakisoba for one," he muttered to himself as he trudged home later that night, "I guess it was supposed to be eaten alone."

25: "I know you have no reason to trust me. But please... I'm asking you to anyway." (Hanma)

Glimpses of an unhappy future had been haunting the Reaper. On the morning of the Kanto Uprising, he caught another glimpse.

His bloodied, aching self limping down a suburban street. A small, disfigured body on the road. A Tenjiku jacket saturated with hot blood. The sensation of boiling tears streaming down his face.

He snapped into the present with a jolt, an icy shiver rushing up his spine.

"If something happens today, I want you to trust me," Hanma said later that day as he watched Kisaki button his red jacket. "My instincts, I mean."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"I have," Hanma paused, "I have a bad feeling."

Kisaki frowned. "You have no reason to. I will get what I want today." He was about to turn away, but Hanma reached a hand over his shoulder.

"I know you have no reason to trust me," he said, "But please... I'm asking you to anyway."

Kisaki calmly studied Hanma's apprehensive expression before responding.

"Stop acting strange. You know you're the only one I actually trust."

Hanma nodded affirmatively, but he watched Kisaki walk away with a heavy heart.

4: "Stay. Please stay." (Taiju)

Truly, I have no idea how to write Taiju... I decline this one (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) 🙏

7: "I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now." (Chifuyu)

"I didn't care about saving you," Kazutora said. He looked away from Takemichi and blinked away the wetness welling in his eyes.

Takemichi's tense expression softened.

"The person I wanted to save," Kazutora continued slowly, his gaze set on the paling sky, "was Chifuyu."

Takemichi blanched.

"I wanted to save Chifuyu," he repeated with a desperate crack in his voice.

It was too late, but all Kazutora wanted was to be able to say, "I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now," to the man who had once said those same words to him. There was nothing to be done but carry on ahead without him, to carry on for him, just as he had done for Baji. He had no other choice and no other purpose.

Send me an Angst + Hurt/Comfort Prompt!

I hope you enjoyed and I wish you an awesome week ahead <3

[vs-redemption]

I got an idea for a Fatgum/Reader prompts (since he kinda underrated and I haven’t seen this idea used yet-).

How about one where Y/N is a petty criminal who is stopped by Fatgum but he still treats Y/N more kindly than others have to them and ends up motivating Y/N to choose a different path? Mayhaps a reunion after the incident, you’re choice 👉👈

From Cindy: Finding a way to do this request was interesting. I recruited my sister to brainstorm some ideas of how to make it flow properly and I think it turned out pretty good! I hope you think so too Anon!

Sunglasses (Fat Gum x Petty Thief! Reader)

Walking around the crowded streets of Osaka, you really should’ve felt more in your element. The huge outdoor market only opened a few times a year and you’d been looking forward to this day for weeks now. There were literally hundreds of stalls lined up in rows selling anything from homegrown vegetables, to handmade jewelry and clothing, to newly developed household gadgets and machines. Almost anything you could think of was sitting out in the open and ripe for the taking. All you had to do was stay casual as you walked by and swiped whatever you felt like right off the display tables. It was too easy. And maybe that was the problem. Having all the people and chaos going on around you just took all the fun out of it.

“Hey there!” One of the merchants smiles after making eye contact with you and beckons you over. “Could I interest you in new pair of sunglasses? We’re selling them at 40% off just for today!”

You pick a pair up off the table with one hand, looking it over to make sure they were really the name brand sunglasses they were being advertised as. It didn’t even really matter though if they were the real deal. 40% off was a great bargain if it was the genuine product, but 100% off was even better. The merchant watched your face closely as you examined the sunglasses, rambling on about the great selling points and completely unaware of your other hand sliding a second pair off the table and tucking them into your pocket.

“You know, these are really nice.” You admit while handing the first pair back to the man, “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to pass this time.”

“Fair enough,” the man nods, “if you change your mind you know where to find me!”

“Sure do!” you reply with a smile before turning and mixing back into the crowd. A few seconds later you let out an amused laugh while pulling the sunglasses out of your pocket and sliding them onto your face. Sometimes it still shocked you that you could pull stuff like that off right in front of people’s faces. You start looking around again and a food tent at the end of the road catches your eye. You walk inside over to the rack of freshly made containers filled with delicious smelling foods, wondering which one you should take. The older couple in charge were too busy rushing around to notice you as they tried to keep up with the amount of people coming in and out of their tent. You pick up a box filled with yakisoba noodles, tuck it under your arm and turn to walk away. You almost make it back onto the street when you feel the weight of a large hand on your shoulder. Glancing back, your heart drops into your stomach when you meet the eyes of a very large pro hero. “F-fat Gum?”

The man towered over you, and despite the friendly grin on his face, you couldn’t help but panic a bit. If he’d seen what you’d done, you weren’t sure what to do. Your brain started coming up with excuses about being so hungry you forgot to pay. It would be an easy fix to go back and get in line.

“Call me Taishiro!” the giant man chuckles, “Nice sunglasses, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you keep eye contact with him even though you were sure you were in trouble if he’d seen you take the sunglasses. You’d never been caught before, but you knew the punishment you’d be facing. You’d definitely have to pay a hefty fine for shoplifting, not to mention jail time if this guy wanted to be a jerk about it. It would go on your record and you’d probably lose your job.

“You forgot chopsticks,” his eyes slide down to the steaming container in your hands before gently leading you over to the line at the front counter. The elderly lady lights up when she sees the hero.

“Oh! Tai-kun! I wasn’t expecting to see you today! Do you want your usual?” She was already grabbing a box of takoyaki that had just come off the burner.

“Of course!” Fat Gum beams while fishing a wallet out from the inside the iconic hoodie he wore while doing hero work. “And my friend here is getting this yakisoba too.” He hands over some money and the lady quickly gets his change. When she comes back she winks and passes two big chocolate chip cookies over to the both of you with the chopsticks and napkins.

“On the house,” she covers her smile with a hand.

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” Fat Gum bows his head, “See you again soon! Take care!” Fat Gum’s hand finds your shoulder again and he leads you back out on the street. You look up at him, feeling confused and speechless. Were you in trouble or not? He obviously knew you’d taken the noodles since he ended up paying for them in the end. “That woman and her husband own a shop on my usual patrol route. I always stop there when I need a quick snack.”

“So?” You ask and the hero just shrugs, his expression finally turning serious.

“Maybe you can think of them the next time you feel like getting sticky fingers,” he points to the sunglasses that were still covering your eyes before smiling again. “Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day!” He gives you a wave before going back to strolling through the crowd, occasionally popping a hot takoyaki into his mouth.

You stand outside the food tent for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. You look down at the box of noodles and the cookie which were still warm in your hand. For some reason, Fat Gum had really let you go with barely even a warning. A sigh of relief escapes your lips. That could’ve been way worse. As you look for a place to sit and eat your noodles, you reflect on the hero’s kindness. You honestly couldn’t say why you’d chosen to try and steal noodles from an old couple anyway. It was ridiculous now that you thought about it. Admittedly, stealing the sunglasses was kind of pointless too. It wasn’t like you didn’t have sunglasses already.

Your thoughts led from one to the other until you started wondering how you’d ever gotten into the habit of committing petty thievery to begin with. Most of the time, the things you stole weren’t things you actually needed or even wanted. Was it just boredom? Did you just do it for the thrill? Truthfully, the answer was a mystery even to you. Perhaps there was a better way to channel those urges though. After all, the next time you got caught, the hero might not be so forgiving. You finish your food, savoring the taste of the free homemade cookie before leaving the market and heading home.

A few weeks later, you find yourself taking a trip into the city where Fat Gum usually did his patrols. You weren’t even really sure why you decided to go, but you felt a nervous excitement when you caught sight of the giant hero walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street as you. Before you could stop yourself, you were jogging across the street and waving to him.

“Fat Gum!” He looked over at the sound of his name, a smile already on his face. “Uh, hey, you might not remember me…”

“Sunglasses!” He chuckles before crossing his arms and tilting his head, “I thought I told you to call me Taishiro though.”

“Right,” you laugh awkwardly.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you again so soon?” He asks, not a trace of judgement in his voice from what had happened last time.

“I just… never got the chance to thank you for the noodles,” you tell him lamely. “Or tell you my name.” You mumble your name and Fat Gum takes your hand into his and gives it a shake.

“Nice to meet you again!” He says pleasantly and an idea suddenly pops into your head.

“By any chance, is now a good time to stop for a snack?” You ask, hoping that you don’t sound crazy. “My treat this time.”

“That sounds great,” he agrees to the offer without a hint of hesitation. “We can visit my friend’s shop if you’d like. It’s just a couple blocks away.” You nod eagerly and skip after him when he starts to lead the way. You were excited to show the hero that it hadn’t been a mistake to give you a second chance. In fact, the thought of spending more time with him gave you more of a rush than any stolen good ever had.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: Past Aizawa/Mandalay

Word Count: 1,921 Words

Summary: Hitoshi and Katsuki's birthday.

Warnings: Period Mention, Menstruation Mention, Food Mention, Nightmare Mention, Death Mention, Cursing, Caps, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Usernames: Existence Is A Prison   Aizawa: feral cat dad, Aoyama: gay salt, Hagakure: ranch flavored jello, Tokoyami: foil-mecha, Shinsou: farmer toshi, Kuroiro: life is a nightmare, Shiozaki: saviour, Tsunotori: schrodinger better run, Honenuki: pure, Monoma: nat20, Yamada: President Megaphone, Bakugou: deku-deck-you

Aizawa, We Agreed No More Cats: Chapter 7

6:25 AM

Existence Is A Prison

pure: It's a birthday! That means birthday breakfasts are in order!

life is a nightmare: Kiyo made everyone yakisoba buns with enoki and I made soup dumplings to celebrate.

farmer toshi: You two are so sweet, thank you.

deku deck-you: Thanks, girls.

pure: No problem!

saviour: I will not be attending class today. I will not be leaving my room today.

feral cat dad: What's wrong?

saviour: Painful period. Dysphoria. Hate living.

feral cat dad: I'm sorry, kid. I'll tell Vlad you're dehydrated and have Nemuri take care of you, she'll know more than me, but I'll bring a hot water bottle, food, and some company for you in the meantime.

saviour: Thank you, Mr. Aizawa.

feral cat dad: I am the father collective here, it's only fair I parent my child.

8:30  AM

Existence Is A Prison

nat20: I'm recording the classes for you so you don't miss anything, Ibara, dear.

saviour: Thank you, Seiko.

nat20: Not a problem, love. I don't want to see you falling behind when you don't deserve to. I mean, it's surely not your fault uterus' exist.

saviour: You're amazing.

nat20: I know.

12:45 PM

Existence Is A Prison

schrodinger better run: I'm bringing over lunch, Ibara.

saviour: You're all too nice to me. I shouldn't even be in bed still.

schrodinger better run: Ibara, honey, we're nice because we care about you. You deserve to rest this off and see when you feel better. There's no rushing yourself. I'm sure that, once you rest up a bit, Recovery Girl can help 'heal' the cramps or at least tone them down a bit.

saviour: Still, thank you. All of you.

2:04 PM

Existence Is A Prison

gay salt: I think this is hilarious, personally.

nat20: What's even happening over in 1-A, you guys have been yelling and all for like ten minutes.

gay salt: birthdayboysinbirthdayhats.jpg

gay salt: Shinsou had to come deliver something to Mr. Aizawa from Mr. Snipe's class and now everyone is questioning Kats and Hito if they're twins and Midoriya's trying to chill everyone out. Really, you should be here, Seiko.

nat20: They are twins. I mean, practically, yes, they are.

ranch flavored jello: I know, it's great. The best part is that everyone is in such a heated debate about it.

feral cat dad: I have no clue what's even happening but I'm not gonna stop this unless Katsuki or Hitoshi says something.

foil-mecha: ourclassrightnow.jpg

schrodinger better run: Todoroki, please. It's not that deep, man.

foil-mecha: I don't think he cares, honestly.

nat20: I heard more screaming. Vlad King is starting to get concerned.

foil-mecha: They said they are twins and Midoriya's trying to ask why Katsuki's mother cheated on his father. This is the funniest thing, honestly.

3:15 PM

Existence Is A Prison

gay salt: Okay, I found the 2006 First Year Sports Festival and I just need you all to see Mr. Aizawa as our age.

gay salt: younglankyaizawamidbattlewithtensei.jpg

foil-mecha: Mr. Aizawa, you were tiny.

feral cat dad: To be fair, I was an idiot kid and didn't eat well until like a week prior to that Sports Festival.

ranch flavored jello: I'll punt kick you, Dad.

feral cat dad: Yeah, yeah, I know. I started eating better after that, I promise.

gay salt: lankyaizawatakingdowntensei.jpg

nat20: Mr. Aizawa was a strong little stringbean.

feral cat dad: If you call me a stringbean again, I'll make you do garbage duty for a month.

nat20: That's normal, Father Collective.

feral cat dad: Curse these children being functional human beings.

President Megaphone: At least we know they clean up after each other and themselves.

President Megaphone: Plus, you were a stringbean, Shouta, so it's a fair statement.

deku deck-you: Wait, I just realized Mr. Aizawa told us he was divorced.

gay salt: Oh yeah, he did and nobody even questioned it!

ranch flavored jello: To be fair, we were busy introducing ourselves.

feral cat dad: Yeah, I was married for a while after high school. Maybe a year, I think.

President Megaphone: 10 months and 17 days from December 2010 to October 2011. I still think it's funny you didn't even spend one birthday married.

farmer toshi: Dad, what happened!?

feral cat dad: Well, you see, I had pressure put on me to get married to a girl I knew because we both weren't out yet as gay and lesbian, respectively, and we both realized during our marriage that it wasn't working so we went through a mutual divorce and are still friends.

President Megaphone: Yeah, Shouta and Sosaki are friends.

life is a nightmare: Shino Sosaki? Mandalay from the Wild Wild Pussycats?

feral cat dad: The one and only.

life is a nightmare; Wow.

9:52 PM

Existence Is A Prison

schrodinger better run: Dating sucks.

feral cat dad: Why, what's up, Pony?

schrodinger better run: My gf broke up with me because she realized I'm actually in Japan. I mean, I told her a hundred times but she never believed me that I was going international. for high school.

deku deck-you: Eh, the trash got rid of itself from what it sounds like.

schrodinger better run: I mean, I'm kind of happy because she never really liked me for more than just saying she was dating a cute girl but I also feel bad about being happy that we're broken up.

ranch flavored jello: Ice cream and cry?

schrodinger better run: Thank you, Toru, it's much appreciated.

2:26 AM

Existence Is A Prison

farmer toshi: Hey, dad?

feral cat dad: Yes?

farmer toshi: Can I sleep in your room?

feral cat dad: Yeah, sure, come on. Don't let the cats out.

farmer toshi: You're not even gonna ask me why?

feral cat dad: Should it matter?

farmer toshi: Well, I don't think so. I just don't want to have another nightmare but usually the caregivers at the orphanage would ask for a good reason.

feral cat dad: Well, you don't need one with me. Just don't let the cats out is my only request. Ai has figured out how to open the kitchen door and will get lost on UA grounds again.

farmer toshi: Kumo is staring at me while I open the door.

feral cat dad: Yeah, he's like that. Just ignore him, focus more of keeping Ai from making a break for it.

farmer toshi: Alright.

11:04 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: Alright, I was going through you kids' files during my free period and Tsunotori, your birthday is today.

schrodinger better run: Oh, I don't like celebrating my birthday. I haven't celebrated it since I was six.

feral cat dad: Why, what happened?

schrodinger better run: My cousin from my biological family made fun of my feet, we got in a fight, and I couldn't explain to defend myself so I got grounded and wasn't allowed to celebrate my birthday so I just haven't celebrated it since then.

feral cat dad: Is there still a day we can celebrate with you that isn't today?

schrodinger better run: I like celebrating my adoption date as my new birthday. October 7th.

feral cat dad: I'll put a reminder for that.

saviour: Wait, are you putting all of our birthdays as reminders?

feral cat dad: Perhaps.

7:15 AM

Existence Is A Prison

foil-mecha: I'm going to the convenience store before school for breakfast in class because I want sandos and energy drinks. Anyone else want? Say yes.

feral  cat dad: YES.

foil-mecha: Are you okay? You responded in like one second.

feral cat dad: I'm just realizing I like someone and I'm suffering.

gay salt: Please.

nat20: Yes.

farmer toshi: Two redbulls and anything with egg, please.

saviour: Fruit if it's there.

pure: Yes.

schrodinger better run: Yes, I'm so hungry.

life is a nightmare: Ham is preferred, please and thank you.

ranch flavored jello: Yes, food.

deku deck-you: Yes, please.

foil-mecha: Everyone will receive redbulls and sandos.

8:15 AM

Existence Is A Prison

foil-mecha: I got held up, there was a villain attack right outside the store when I got there. I'm with food and drink and on my way back.

feral cat dad: I've already written you a pass, it's taped to the wall just inside the gate, have fun delivering food to Hitoshi.

8:25 AM

Existence Is A Prison

farmer toshi: Tokoyami is a god.

farmer toshi: tworedbullsandthreesandos.jpg

nat20: Wow, he likes you.

foil-mecha: Oh, I got three for everyone. I just grabbed a bunch so everyone can pick.

nat20: Be careful at 1b, Mr. Kan is one of those 'bring something for yourself, share it with everyone' type of teachers.

foil-mecha: And I'll tell him to fuck off because us dorm kids didn't eat breakfast this morning.

deku deck-you: Yeah, our poor stove is dead.

ranch flavored jello: It wasn't my fault! I promise! I was just cooking and it died!

feral cat dad: To be fair, it is old. I think that thing's been there since I was in UA.

8:35 AM

Existence Is A Prison

nat20 has started a video chat

[Tokoyami opening door and Vlad King stops teaching and stares at him]

Kid, you're not my student. Your class is down the hall, are you lost? -Unknown

Hey, Pony, Kiyo. Here, pick three each and a drink or two. -foil-mecha

Young man, you can't just waltz into my classroom and hand unsolicited food to only two students. -Unknown

[Kiyomi and Pony are shown grabbing their sandos and redbulls from the large bag Tokoyami came in with]

You're right, I'm not. Ibara, Kageya, Seiko, come get yours too. I found a cool one I think you'll like, Ibara. -foil-mecha

Oh? What is it? -saviour

Well, I heard you say you like apples and melon. I found you a sando with both. -foil-mecha

I'm in love with you. -saviour

Sure, yeah Get your food, I need to get to 1-A. -foil-mecha

You should be in there now! This isn't your class! -Unknown

Sir? Sir. I really don't care. I have a pass from Mr. Aizawa and I'm literally about to leave. Our oven broke in the dorms so none of us ate breakfast this morning. I went to get us all breakfast and got held up with a villain attack. Kindly, sir, I think even Nezu would be unhappy if even a single one of us hero course students weren't eating breakfast this close to the Sports Festival. So, you feel free to carry on your lesson. Let just the five of your students  eat their breakfast. I promise, it won't disrupt you further than  it has. -foil-mecha

Fine. -Unknown

nat20 has ended the video chat

gay salt: I love Tokoyami. I do.

foil-mecha: My mothers and fathers didn't raise a carpet, I don't exist to be stepped on by authority figures.

nat20: Thanks, Fumi. I'm starving.

foil-mecha: Anything for my friends.

ranch flavored: ALL HAIL FOOD GOD TOKOYAMI

feral cat dad: Bringer of Energy Drink, Keeper of the Sando.

gay salt: We all love you, Fumi.

foil-mecha: What a time to be alive, being adored by my peers and teacher AND getting to tell off an annoying teacher?

feral cat dad: God, yes, sando time. Gimme.

gay salt: aizawaeatingasandolikeaferalcat.jpg

nat20: Thanks, I'm scarred for life having witnessed Feralzawa.

farmer toshi: I love you, Fumi.

foil-mecha: Seems that's everyone's sentiment this morning.

farmer toshi: I'll get a crush, fucker, don't tempt me.

foil-mecha: Alright, alright.

Taglist: @everythingisstardust 

[machinegunkissu]

How to Make a Man Melt

|| nishitani x petite, younger fem s/o ||

next

  You don’t know how it started but a few months ago, Nishtani was the man that wormed his way into your every day life. He was the man that took you out for dinner when you were down on your self. He would tease you and call out your name on the streets as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks, even though it was just yesterday you parted ways. Nishitani was always there for you. Sure, he came with some danger, and perhaps a hint of crazy, but Nishitani made himself into a close friend. And this evening, he found you outside on the cloudless Sotenbori at sunset. As per routine, he immediately called out to you.

  As the older man ran up to you, you found yourself adorning a reserved, nervous smile. Truthfully, Nishitani had startled you a little bit, calling your name. He had that goofy grin that was just too lovable though as he hunched over to meet a bit better eye level. “_____chan!~ What're you up to here? I’ve been looking for you all day. I sure get lonely when you’re off at work all day, you know."

You stood under the outside area of the Cabaret Grand, leaning up against a support column. As Nishitani lowered himself to make eye contact, you turned your head away and flushed in embarrassment. He always liked to make a show of the height difference whenever he could. But tonight you were already on edge as is and weren't in the most playful mood.

"W...Well, I-I'm supposed to meet with a guy from w-work for dinner."

Nishitani immediately perked up, eyebrows lifting and you feared the worst. He would never hurt you, but you always were skittish and weary of outbursts. Ever so slowly, Nishitani stood up right again and let out a sigh. He rolled his neck, his shoulders slumping.

"I-I think I'm going to head home though," you mumbled.

This caught his attention and he tilted his head. "Aren't you supposed to be waiting on your date, lil miss?"

"I-I have been..."

The way you trailed off and how soft your voice came out, was an immediate red flag. Yeah, you could be pretty soft spoken but this was a lil different. You sound defeated and hopeless. Nishitani reached down without a second thought, grabbing your hand. "Let's get outta here. Ah?"

"N-Nishitani! Aren't you busy? I-...I'm fine. So I-I can walk myself home-"

"Nah, nah," he sang. He began walking, a gentle but firm grip on your hand, forcing you to trail behind. The older man took a confident stride throughout Sotenbori's streets. "My place."

Those two words were all it took. You began trying your best to pry your hand from his grip and panicked. "Y-Y-You're place?!" you shrieked. "N-N-Nishitani! I-I'm really n-not that kind of-"

"Oi! Settle down an' just follow me."

That wasn't exactly the most reassuring statement however. Nishitani was fast. You were already streets away from the cafe, approaching the more residential area. At his words, you found yourself quieting down but still slowing your walk and attempting to pry yourself out of his clutches. But not for long as Nishitani halted, taking you down a back alley, which in turn only had you panic more.

He was quick to pin you against the wall, one hand besides your head and the other above, holding your hand still. Considering, he was still gentle to a degree. He didn't slam you against the brick by any means. It was more so a guided push, backing you into the wall.

"______-chan. Don't you trust me?~" he cooed. Despite the aggressive and predatorial nature of their position, Nishitani's voice was soft and delicate and his face adorned a hurt look.

"N-Nishitani, I-I don't want t-to do anything icky, please."

Icky.

He snorted at the word and released your hand from his grip. Sometimes you just could be so childish. It was part of your charm that kept him coming back. Almost as soon as he released your hand, he grabbed both and sported a cheerful look.

"No icky business. I promise."

"Promise-promise?" you asked. The delicate look in your eyes told him everything. Your innocence, your pain of the coworker rejecting you, and your fear of being taken advantage of. He just melted looking in your eyes. Nishitani was a man that loved sex, and a man that had voiced how attractive both romantically and sexually he found you. But, every time he sees the emotions in your eyes, he grows weak in the knees, vowing to protect you more than anything.

"Promise-promise. Now, it's just around the corner and I have instant yakisoba at my apartment with your name on it. Ya gotta be starvin'."

"Ya-Yakisoba?"

"Mhm!"

-

-

As the night progressed, you found yourself easing up and letting down your walls around the yakuza patriarch. He was good company and had stories galore, keeping your mind off of being stood up. And before you knew it, you'd been there for hours on end. It was nearing ten at night and the exhaustion of the long day had finally begun to sink in.

You and Nishtani were sat side by side, backs against a wall in the living space of his apartment. He'd gone silent for once and any other time, you'd grow worried. This particular incident though, you found yourself struggling to keep your eyes open.

"Nishitani," you called faintly.

"Mm? Yeah, ______-chan?"

You slowly went from hugging your knees to your chest to sitting on your knees, facing the older man besides you. He had his eyes closed, seeming to be tired just the same. You soaked in his appearance though. He was handsome, to say the least. Quite a bit older than you, but when reminiscing you think of all your adventures and memories you've made together these past few months. And when you think about them, something a little more than platonic takes over your heart. No, Nishitani wasn't perfect. He had a bit of a temper, liked to get his way, and was a bit off his rocker. But he was dependable, fun to be around, and always made your day better.

You found yourself leaning in almost as if hypnotized, body moving on its own accord. You rested your hand on his knee for support as you grew closer. This caused him to look up, eyes wide at the scene before him. But before he could react, you place a soft kiss upon his cheek.

"Thank you, Nishi. For always being there. "

And that alone had the yakuza blushing bright red. He was stunned and just barely shaken awake, unsure of how to handle the situation. It was a dream come true, truthfully. He normally is thinking about banging the daylights out of a girl but you, you were different. A simple and pure kiss to the cheek was something he longed for. He would fantasize about kissing you on the lips sometimes, thinking that it would never happen. But this gave him some hope finally.

Or course, Nishitani didn't get a chance to respond or even really react before you curled right up, hugging his arm in your tired stupor, passing right out. He thought it was an act or joke for a second but nope. A few pokes to the cheek and he determined that it was genuine alright. You were flat out based out in an incident.

Leaning back, head against the wall, he sighed. He could still feel just how warm his cheeks were, especially rhe spot you kissed. It tied his stomach in knots for the first time in decades and he groaned. He really was letting this happen, wasn't he. Just over a sweet, proper girl that was as shy as could be.

He left out a sigh them, looking to your sleeping face. "Yeesh, ______. You sure...know how to make a man melt..."

[teachertanaa]

Just Japanese Things

Having never been to Japan or Asia I didn’t know what to expect upon coming here. I knew that Japan was a beautiful country that had cool vending machines, kawaii characters, and a distinct, worldly-acclaimed cuisine, but I didn’t know how I would feel once I got here. I learned from my exchange in Austria to keep my expectations to a minimum (Austria was great – I just naively imagined it to be a perfect utopia hidden away in Europe’s Alps). I came to Japan with an open mind, and I’m glad that I did.

The week leading up to my departure was not pleasant; I was crying at the drop of a hat multiple times a day (privately). Shit was hitting the fan in Washington, and I thought at any moment Japan could bar entry into the country. When that didn’t happen I began questioning the soundness of my own decision-making skills: Was this really the time to be moving across the world? I was more stressed than I’ve ever been in my entire life. The hazmat-clad travelers at the airport did not reassure me, and I felt fear as I boarded my plane to Taiwan. Luckily, the two Ambien I took kicked in fast and knocked me out for a good 6 hours – medical face mask and all. When I arrived in Japan that hysterical anxiety strangely dissipated. I felt more at ease here. I’ve been in Japan for a month now, and I can already sense that this year will go by fast. I thought I’d tell you some things I’ve come to love about Japan thus far.

Ichi (one): Conbinis

Conbinis are Japanese convenience stores, and they are my favorite place to shop. I have a supermarket near me, but finding what I want can be a struggle as I have to google translate image everything; things at FamilyMart somehow just make sense. Also, Japanese 711s are far superior to American 711s; you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Ni (two): Driving

I’ve never particularly enjoyed driving, so I was nervous about having to drive in Japan, but I’ve actually really enjoyed it! I’m glad that I have a car here, and don’t have to rely on public transportation. Driving on the right-side of the road and making right turns did take some getting used to, but I think I’ve acclimated for the most part. The blinkers are on the right-side of the wheel, so I often find myself turning on my wipers as I take a turn (still need to get used to this). I also really like my car – it’s tiny and cute!

San (three): Hair salons

I don’t want to rub salt in any wounds here – as I know most of your hairstyles are probably looking pretty haggard right now, but I’m here to announce that I had the best haircut of my life in Japan. I’m the type of person who usually leaves the salon secretly unsatisfied; I’ve had many haircuts go south real quick, so I was not excited about throwing a language barrier into the mix. However, I was starting to look shaggy, so I knew it was time to take a leap of faith and schedule an appointment. I wrote a script to follow in Japanese and called a promising salon that had an English website; we struggled for a bit on the phone, but we eventually confirmed an appointment for Saturday morning.

I was greeted to my delight by the stylist’s wife – from Portland, Oregon! I hit the jack-pot and had a translator! The salon was beautiful; it was airy, minimalistic, and spa-like with massive windows showcasing the beauty of the canal. I received the most enjoyable shampooing of my life equipped with a hot towel treatment and massage. I was also able to vent about the corona-virus to Jennifer. As my hair was being cut a swan glided into view as cherry blossoms floated down onto the soft current of the canal – I was so awe-struck by the beauty and harmony of this moment; so captivated that I thought Jesus himself was about to descend in a cloud – letting me know that I had passed the exam, and made it to Heaven.

Needless to say, I left the salon genuinely pleased; Keita and Jennifer are lovely people, and I will definitely be returning.

Yon (four): Onsens

DISCLAIMER: I want to preface this by saying I went to an onsen weeks ago, before the virus gained traction in our area; I will not be going back to an onsen anytime soon! (I won’t be doing much of anything for a while.) 

Japan has tons of active volcanos, so Japan has been blessed with natural hot springs all throughout the country. An onsen is basically a natural hot spring bath where one goes to relax. Some onsens are coed, but most are divided into male and female sections – as you onsen in your birthday suit. Contrary to the stereotypical graduate of Western Washington University – I am not a free-spirited nudist, but I figured when you’re in Japan you do as the Japanese do.

My friends and I started the day with a hanami picnic under the cherry blossoms, and then headed to a nearby onsen. Below, I’ll include a passage on onsen protocol from “A Little Book of Japanese Contentments” by Erin Niimi Longhurst. I’ll also include an online picture I found of the onsen.

For being naked in a bath with a bunch of strangers I was strangely relaxed and unbothered – perhaps that was due to the several alcoholic beverages I had consumed at the hanami picnic. I had a nice time, and enjoyed the inside and outside baths before we headed out to dinner. Going to an onsen is the most Japanese and adventurous thing I’ve done since I’ve been here.

Yon (four): Cuisine

An aspect of Japanese culture that has pushed me out of my comfort zone is its cuisine – for starters I now eat animals, so my diet has completely changed (sorry animals ☹). I don’t eat meat while at home, but at school lunch it appears I’ll have to eat meat, fish, and the occasional pregnant fish whole (I’ll let you know how that goes once I cross that bridge). My first Japanese meal I sadly did not like – it was yakisoba with some sort of octopus or squid sautéed with the noodles; I’m happy to report that every Japanese meal since has been delicious! I’ve even had some beginner-level sushi, and I will definitely be going back to a conveyer-belt sushi place (once the world recalibrates).  Ramen, curry-rice, chicken katsu – all have been oishii! (Delicious.)

Go (five): Being immersed in Japanese culture

Studying in Austria I got to experience different cultures, and I was able to learn a lot. The cultures of the US and Austria are certainly distinct, but they do share some commonalities – the cultures of Japan and the US on the other hand are very different. Sometimes I feel like a fish out of water here, but I like that feeling; that’s how I know I’m going to learn a lot. 

As a foreigner, Japanese culture can appear hermetic: difficult to enter or understand. Granted, I think all cultures can be difficult to understand depending on one’s upbringing. My upbringing has been incredibly western, so I feel grateful that I’m able to experience a culture totally different from my own.

I am out of my comfort zone here, but being out of my comfort zone is generally when I’m at my happiest and most productive. I have now realized how unhappy I was back home; It was nice to live with my family again, but I can’t find fulfillment when I’m a slave to my work schedule, and my only purpose is making money and saving it. I’m drawn to change. I like situations and people who can challenge my understanding of the world, and push me to be better and more confident. This experience has started vastly different from how I imagined it to be months ago, but I am optimistic and excited to be here.

School has been tentatively closed until early May, so I am staying in until then. Feel free to facetime me! That is really my only mode of social interaction for the time being. In my next post I’ll talk about my schools, and English Language Instruction in Japan.

Talk to ya soon,

Tanner

[beautifulblhell]

Code: Home Ch1

Finder Fanfic: Asami x Akihito

Summary: Akihito, a young genius hacker living in with Asami. Working in an internet cafe in the day and coming home to Asami in the night. Peaceful life, isn’t it?Well, that’s not going to last anymore. The past that he had left behind start to resurface when a certain someone reappears, threatening Akihito and Asami’s life. With no choice, Akihito is forced to confront the shadow of his past. Except the shadow knows too much about Akihito...

Click click click

The rhythmic sound of tapping of keyboard echoed in the small booth.

A young man with blond hair sat scrunched up in front of a computer, staring intently at the screen with a slight frown, all the time his fingers flew across the keyboard.

Suddenly, a shrill alarm sounded, and the young man jerked up before cursing under his breath. Using one hand to rub the spot between his eyebrows, he used the other to press stop on his phone. Then, with a yawn, he leaned back against the chair and stretched.

“Finished just on time,” he mumbled, and leaned back down to shut the computer and pack his things.

Opening the dark booth, he squinted against the harsh light of the corridor, wincing slightly.

He was just going to turn left to head towards the exit, when he saw that the door to the booth next to his was slightly open. He glanced inside.

The boy’s shoulders were slumped, and an aura of dejection emitting from his being. On top of that, his dark hair was messy, and wore clothes that looked as if they hadn’t been changed for a few days.

Perhaps he heard the blond man’s footsteps, the messy haired boy suddenly turned his face towards the door and locked eyes with the blond man.

Crap , though Akihito, recognising the helpless look on the boy’s face.

“Akihito-senpai, please wait here for a second!” With a sudden burst of energy, the boy shot out of his seat and ran towards the end of the corridor. Before Akihito could proceed what had happened, he was back, holding a can of iced coffee. Sliding the last few metres on his knees, he prostrated against the floor to Akihito.

“Akihito-senpaaaai, I beg of you! This is the last time! I promise! Please help me!” The boy cried agonisingly.

Akihito sighed. “Didn’t you say that last time was the ‘last time’? And the time before that? On second thought, didn’t you say every time was the ‘last time’?”

“Please! I swear this is the last time! If you don’t help me I will never see tomorrow’s sun!”

Akihito shook his head in defeat. “Fine, I’ll help you.”

The boy cried in relief. “Thank you so much, Akihito-samaaaaa! I love you!”

“H-hey, don’t rub you snot-covered face on my clothes!”

“Ah, please accept this!”

Kai held up the can of iced coffee.

Akihito stared at it, pretending to be offended. “Is that all my service is worth, a can of coffee?”

“I’m really sorry, I really can’t afford anything else at the moment! I promise once I finish this I’ll make up to you!” Tears welled up in Kai’s eyes again, and he stared at Akihito like a tortured puppy.

“It’s fine, I finished my work anyway, send me the details and I’ll get it back to you before the day ends.” Akihito patted Kai’s head.

“But you have to go home and get some sleep.   Right now you look like a withered cabbage.”

After exchanging goodbyes, Akihito left Kai, who was still crying on the ground with relief. Several heads were popped out from the other booths, staring at them in wonder.

**********

Outside, Akihito strolled further down the street to the convenience store.

There weren’t any convenience stores near where he currently lived, only those upscale luxury stores with expensive imported stuff from God-knows-where, probably Mars.

The doors of the store opened with a familiar chime as Akihito stepped in, followed by a cool blast of air from the air con.

“Welcome,” a soft voice greeted him from the cashier, to which Akihito smiled and nodded in response.

Taking a detour through the sweets aisle before heading towards the ready meals section, Akihito dithered at the wide range of foods available, still not used to the freedom of choosing whatever he wants to eat, but in the end, he still bought the cheap yakisoba set with a bottle of ramune.

The young man at the counter was in his late twenties, and looked more suitable in front of a fashion magazine than in front of a cashier in a cheap convenience store. The name tag displayed his name as ‘Natsume’.

Natsume had just started working here a few weeks ago, and since Akihito comes here everyday, they were both familiar with each other, and since Natsume seemed like a pleasant person, sometimes they even exchanged a word or two.

With his dinner in hand, he went back to the parking area of the internet café to where his beloved Vespa stood.

Riding along the streets, he passed the familiar run-down apartments until the scenery blended into the high-class imposing condos.

Penthouse apartment. In the middle of Tokyo. Akihito could practically smell the money coming off from the people living there. Except for him. Even the housekeepers here have a more stable income than him. No wonder the concierge’s mouth was agape the first time he came here.

Once he opened the door to the apartment, he held his breath, automatically listening for footsteps, then shook his head when he realised that it was no longer necessary for him to be so cautious.

Taking off his shoes and carrying his dinner to the living room, Akihito dropped his dinner on the table in front of the sofa. After changing and grabbing his laptop in his room, he sat crossed legged on the sofa. Opening his email, he smiled wryly at the message Kai sent, with so many crying emojis at the title.

Cracking his knuckles slightly, he began to work.

An hour later, Akihito closed the lid of the laptop. It wasn’t as much of a challenge as he hoped it would be, but then again, some peace and quiet weren’t so bad either.

He yawned and closed his eyes. It’s been a long day. Maybe he would take a quick nap before eating dinner... just 30 minutes of break...

**********

It was dark

So dark

And silent

Then

Red.

Everything turned blood red, and he choked.

The pressure on his neck intensified.

Blood rushes towards his head, and his ears rang.

Fingers dug deeper into his neck.

He clawed desperately at the object suffocating him, but all his hands met were empty air.

Dark spots appeared against his crimson vision, and he could feel his conscious slowly slipping away.

Help

His lips parted to form the words, yet no sound came out.

I don’t want to die

I don’t want to be alone

Please, anyone

Save me

Akihito was steadily slipping into oblivion.

The dark seemed so welcoming, so safe.

“Akihito.”

The voice was muffled, as if he was hearing it underwater.

“Akihito.”

The voice was more distinct now, and suddenly, he was pulled up, towards the light that had appeared overhead him.

“Akihito, wake up.”

And Akihito woke up.

In one fluid motion, he jerked up and quickly curled into a ball, trembling, his head in his arms. His heart pounded inside his chest and his mouth felt paper dry as he waited for the inevitable, except...

“Akihito, it’s me.”

The voice was soft, yet an underlying tone of command forced Akihito to look up from inside his shell. He slowly lifted his head upwards to peek through his arms that acted like bars in front of his face.

A pair of narrow golden eyes were staring at him, with a hint of concern in the depth of his gaze.

Asami.

In an instant, relief flooded through Akihito, draining away all his energy, and he slumped against the sofa.

“What the heck, don’t scare me like that,” he grumbled, yet was secretly glad that it was Asami whom he saw when he woke up.

“A nightmare?”

Akihito tensed, before saying sharply: “Did I say anything?”

Asami started at him for a second, before merely shaking his head and stood up.

Asami Ryuichi.

The man that was more like a god than a mortal. Akihito has yet to meet another human that rivals Asami’s beauty. Even Natsume paled in comparison.

And he was the one whom Akihito currently lived with.

“By the way, where did you get that? It tasted like salted cardboard.”

“Wha-? You ate my food? That was my dinner!”

Akihito scampered up and looked at dismay at the box in front of him. Only half of the yakisoba was left.

“That doesn’t seem to qualify as food.”

“Well, excuse me if commoner’s food doesn’t suit your-highness’ rich palate, but us peasants care more about stuffing our stomaches than the taste.”

“You could have ordered food using my card. You have already memorised all of my card details, no?”

“As if I would use your card.” He snorted. “I can earn my own food at least. Hah, I’ll just finish this.”

Akihito ate a few bites half heartedly before giving up. It’s true. It indeed tasted like salted cardboard. Or salted leather shoe soles to be more precise. Plus that nightmare had left an unpleasant sinking feeling in his stomach so he wasn’t feeling too hungry.

“I’m going to bed. Good night.” Akihito stood up with the box half full of food and dumped it in the trash in the kitchen before heading towards his bedroom.

Asami looked up from his documents in his hand.

“Want to sleep in my bed tonight, Akihito?”

“Hah?! Why would I, you perverted old man?! Stay at least three metres away from me when I’m sleeping,” Akihito yelled and slammed his door shut.

In the now silent living room, Asami sat there, looking at the sofa where Akihito had slept with a displeased look on his face.

**********

Morning came all the too quickly, and Akihito sat up blearily, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t sleep well. The nightmare continued during the night. He could only hope that he didn’t  screamed anymore.

After finished washing up and getting dressed, he was greeted by a low humming noise of conversation when he opened his bedroom door.

Who is here so early in the morning?  Akihito wondered. Asami was usually still asleep at this time of the day. Akihito walked quietly towards the living room, wanting to take a peek at the visitors without disturbing them, hoping all the way that it was not Asami’s bespectacled secretary.

Before Akihito could get closer to hear clearly what the two men were saying, they seemed to have noticed Akihito’s arrival and the low hum of conversation abruptly stopped.

Akihito, knew that he can’t turn tail now, opened the door.

Asami sat in one of the armchairs, somehow still looking imposing in a white bathrobe, and the other person sat opposite Asami. His trench coat hung behind the chair, and wore a waistcoat with a dark tie. His short hair was neatly trimmed and on his face sat a pair of glasses, yet Akihito could not help the smile blooming on his face.

“Shinji!”

Akihito bounded over to Kuroda.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back? Wait, when did you get back? How was Osaka? Did you visit any hot springs? I’ve heard that some hot springs got medicinal properties, is that true?”

Kuroda laughed as Akihito fired off hundreds of questions.

“Wait, let me get a word in please,” he smiled. “I only got back yesterday evening. As it was too late, I didn’t notify you of my arrival as I didn’t want to wake you up. The original plan was to come back tomorrow, but we cleared things up quicker than expected so I’m back early. And yes, I did visit the hot spring. It was very relaxing. I highly recommend you going there sometime. Also, here,” Kuroda turned around and rummaged though his pockets before taking out a small bag with a ribbon on top, and handed it to Akihito.

“Lavender scented bath salts with calming effects. It should give the user a good night sleep.”

“Oh wow, thanks! I’ll try them tonight!” Akihito beamed at the present, then suddenly seemed to remember something as he dashed to his room and back, with a sheaf of documents in his hand.

Asami raised his eyebrows questioning but Akihito shook his head and said seriously, “It’s confidential,” before handing it to Kuroda.

“Then I’m glad that I finished this yesterday. Here, proof that Kawaguchi had been laundering money. He asked me to look into Kamado’s email to see if there’s anything juicy, but since I saw in your emails that you were interested in Kawaguchi, I helped you to dig out some dirt on him.” Akihito grinned cheekily.

The corners of Asami’s lip curved upwards and he took a sip of his whiskey before asking, ”Client confidentiality?”

Akihito stuck out his tongue at him.

Kuroda smiled wryly. “This is a great help, so thank you, Akihito, but to hear that my emails were read...”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing interesting about your emails. Only thing though, those shots of the cat were really ugly.”

“So you also looked into my photo album...”

Akihito laughed.

Just then, Akihito’s phone rang. He took the phone out of his pocket before pulling a face.

“I gotta go. Work calls.”

Kuroda started to get up but Akihito waved at him to sit down.

“Don’t worry, you and that boss guy over there continue your chat before I interrupted you. I’ll see you guys later.”

**********

The front door closed with a soft click, and a heavy mood settled over the living room.

“Ryuichi, how is he doing?”

Asami was silent for a few seconds, before shaking his head and replying grimly: “He’s still having nightmares.”

Kuroda sighed softly. “It’s been 2 years.”

“Some scars take a long time to heal. Others never do.”

“We can only hope that it’s the former one.”

The two men sat motionlessly, each lost in their own thoughts. After a while, Asami spoke up.

“Any news?”

Kuroda shook his head.

“Nothing substantial.”

“But he’s still alive.”

Kuroda looked at Asami carefully.

“And what would you do if he was?”

Asami flickered his eyes towards Kuroda, a quiet storm brewing behind his eyes. “He still screams himself awake at nights, and sometimes he doesn’t want to go back to sleep because of the nightmares.”

“And I suppose that he’s dead set against any sleeping pills.”

Asami nodded darkly.

“I won’t keep you here any longer. I’ll keep in touch if anything new comes up, but keep in mind he’s got quite a network of allies.”

“The more people that are involved the more likely there will be a traitor to come out.”

Kuroda nodded, before heading off.

Asami’s mood didn’t lift the entire day, and it worsened during his meeting with a small clan’s head, who came to Asami hoping for business deals.

It was already nearing the end of the discussion when the elder man made the blunder.

“So I’ve heard that you’ve been keeping a pet by your side for quite a while now? My, my, isn’t this quite unusually for the great Asami? However, it would be my greatest honour to meet this lady of yours someday.”

His words meant no harm, but simply said at the wrong time.

The last word hadn’t left his mouth when the whole room became frigid.

“I-is something wrong, Asami-sama?” The man asked nervously, playing with his hands.

“And where did you get this information, Yamaguchi-san?”

“A-ah? It’s just there’s rumours floating around...” Yamaguchi’s voice died when the temperature in the room dropped another 10 degrees, and the look in Asami’s eyes froze him before he babbled. “I-it was the head of the Sh-shimada-gumi who told me that. I swear I don’t know anything else, please believe me...”

He was still babbling by the time Asami left.

**********

Inside the car, the only sound that could be heard was the purr of the engine. Kirishima took a quick glance in the rear view mirror, and   found Asami’s brows tightly furrowed.

Akihito’s security is going to tighten , Kirishima thought, half dreading the process of finding another victim as Akihito’s bodyguard.

Indeed, his prediction came true.

“Change the security for Akihito to 24/7 except when he’s inside the apartment with me. Keep watching him even if he’s inside the apartment but I’m not there.”

“Yes sir.”

**********

Akihito spotted Kai waving at him near the back of the café.

He looked much more refreshed. A bath, a good night sleep and a change of clothes really do wonders.

“Over here, Akihito-senpai!”

Kai was literally radiating sunshine and flowers with his enthusiasm, and Akihito could help but smile when looking at his bright face.

The café that Kai told him to come to was a really popular café, and its patrons were mostly girls or couples, as the cute cakes were highly popular with females. Akihito secretly wanted to come but didn’t have the guts to come as a single guy.

“Thank you again for last time! You really saved me! Please order whatever you feel like, it’s all on me.” Kai’s eyes were sparkling. It seemed like the guy yesterday wailing about work was entirely different person. I should have bought sunglasses , staring at this new sunshine Kai hurts his eyes.

“How did you get a reservation here? I heard that you usually have to book in weeks in advance.”

“Ah, I asked the owner for help, and he helped me to reserve a place for us today. Seems like he knows the owner here.” Kai beamed innocently.

The owner is weak to cute boys like you. Watch out or he will end up devouring you. Akihito thought.

Suddenly the couple sitting next to him stared at the TV in surprise.

“No way, isn’t that guy, like, the super famous politician or something?” The guy said.

“Oh yeah, it is! It’s Kawaguchi-sensei. Apparently there’s rumours he’s going to be the next prime minster. ”

The name caught Akihito by surprise and his eyes automatically gravitated towards the TV at the back of the room. The scene currently showing on the screen was a man with his head bowed being lead away by police officers. They were surrounded by reporters whom were all trying to shove their mics in the man’s face while asking questions. A voice said: “Police officers are seen escorting Kawaguchi Koda away from his house after reports came in of him laundering money. This will no doubt be a stain on his career and the possibility of him becoming the next prime minister is rapidly decreasing. And now we have reports in that all of his assets are frozen by the police until further notice.”

“Ah, I was going to vote him as the prime minster. Politician are all the same, dirty scumbags.”

“Yeah, as they say, ‘you really can’t judge a book by its cover’.”

The café was instantly abuzz with the latest news, yet Akihito’s mouth was wide open. The words ‘all his assets are frozen’ kept replaying in his head, yet is was as if his brain was frozen, unable to comprehend those simple words.

“Akihito-senpai? Is something the matter?” Kai peered at him worriedly.

“Argh!” Akihito let out a frustrated groan. “Damn it! I won’t be paid at this rate.” He banged his head on the table in frustration.

“Kawaguchi-sensei is your client?” Kai’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Shhh. Not so loud. But yeah, he is. Or was. With his accounts frozen I won’t be paid.” Akihito’s voice was bitter. And the help he gave Kuroda came back to bite his ass.

“Oh.” Kai frowned before saying, “Look, you helped me yesterday, and because you finished so quickly, I also got a bonus. How about I give you half the amount I got?”

“No it’s fine.”

“But I feel bad. How about just the bonus? My patron was quite generous this time.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just be broke for a few days before my next pay. I’ve already got another job lined up,” Akihito gestured at his phone.

“Will your rent and everything be okay?”

Don’t worry, I leech of my ‘landlord’ at the moment,Akihito thought.

“Then at least let me order you another creme brûlée,” while speaking, he waved down the waitress to place the order.

“If you ever need anything, doesn’t hesitate to ask me okay? Though I might not be able to help much with work, but if you ever need somewhere to stay or someone to talk to, I’ll be here, okay?” Kai smiled and held Akihito’s hand with both hands.

“Thanks.” Akihito smiled. Truthfully, he actually liked Kai, though usually he hated people who were so talkative and always leaked so much energy that Akihito simply felt tired just by looking at them. Maybe it was because Kai never probed about his private life or past, or knew when to stop pushing for answers.

Then, their orders came.

The creme brûlée looked delicious. With its bubbling scorched sugar and the hint of yellow creaminess below that. Akihito had just taken one mouthful of bliss when Kai stared wide eye at something behind his back. Then he leaned forward and whispered excitedly to Akihito.

“Hey! There’s an ikemen behind you! He’s so good looking! But what’s he doing here in a suit and alone?”

And for the second time in the day, Akihito froze.

Akihito turned around slowly, praying to whatever diety that was listening to him right now that his suspicion would be false.

Of course, fortune never seemed to favour him, and with a sinking feeling, he saw a man in a suit sitting a couple of tables away from him. Staring straight at him.

[amehanaaa]

How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days

Second to last chapter, woot woot! June seriously went by too fast. Nobody can stop her.

I honestly would like to do Nalu Week next week, but honestly, I have no inspiration to do anything right now... soo, I’ll update y’all on what’s going on lol.

Anyway, I hope you all have been having a grand time reading this story! See you next time with the final chapter! (Also can be read here.)

Chapter 8 – Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 Words: 4630 Summary: Lucy and Natsu are determined to take the necessary steps to fulfill their lifetime dreams. Little do they know, they have both given themselves 10 days to achieve it.

It’s an out-of-body experience for Lucy to say goodbye to Natsu’s family the next morning. She makes sure that she doesn’t say see you later or make any future plans with them. As Grandeeny gives her one last hug, Lucy tries her best to hang onto the feeling of her gentle warmth.

As they settle onto the bike, she finds the family waving from the front door.

“Thank you for everything!” she calls out.

Natsu pretends to grab all the kisses that Wendy blows to him. “See you guys soon!”

Lucy physically has to tear her eyes away from the house as they drive away. A pit in her stomach is beginning to develop again.

Today is their ninth day together.

Again, she is thankful for the deafening wind as they return to central Magnolia. She desperately wants everything about the experiment to just go into the trash; she wants to pretend like it wasn’t happening in the first place.

And yet, there is still a sentiment inside of her that won’t allow her to come clean.

Soon enough, the streets become narrower and Lucy starts to recognize street names again. The skyscrapers come into view—they’ve officially returned to the city and the reality of their lives.

“Want to get breakfast?” Natsu suggests as they stop at an intersection.

“I should probably get back,” she admits. She senses his shoulders slump, but she ignores it.

“Well, I know of another good place we can go to next time,” he responds.

Lucy swallows thickly, a knot forming in her throat. In reality, next time doesn’t seem too promising after tomorrow. She feels as though the knot is going to leap out of her mouth as he brings her to her apartment complex.

“I’d say our quality time was definitely a success,” Natsu says.

Once he parks, Lucy hops off the bike and hurriedly makes her way up the front steps.

“Hey, wait up,” he tells her as he shifts the gears into park.

Lucy stops after the first set of stairs. She turns around to see him following after her. He stands at a few stairs below her, which makes their heights match.

“I have to go to the station for a bit.” Natsu takes her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “But you should come to my place tonight.”

“Okay,” she nods, not wanting to talk about tomorrow just yet.

“And tomorrow,” he adds. “Fairy Tail is going to have live music and free food. We should go.”

Lucy has to hold back her wince, but she also notices there’s an unfamiliar tone in his voice. For the first time ever, it sounds like he is nervous.

“Okay, let’s go together,” she responds.

Natsu notices a shadow of sadness in her voice. He braces himself for what he has prepared to say next. He squeezes her hands in his.

“I want you to come with me as my girlfriend.”

An unexpected smile forms onto Lucy’s lips. “Are you calling me your girlfriend?”

Natsu can’t help but smile back. “Yeah, I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Tomorrow will be the tenth day that we have been seeing each other, right?” she mentions.

There’s a pang in both of their chests at her words. Neither of them can figure out why there are obvious swirls of emotions in each other’s eyes.

“Maybe after tomorrow, we’ll know,” Lucy eventually states. “I have to run some errands today, but I’ll try to stop by your place.”

Before Natsu can get out any words, she gives him a kiss on the cheek. With that, she spins around and hastily enters the building.

Natsu watches her for a few moments, but doesn’t hesitate to take out his phone. He texts Gray that he needs to talk to him as soon as possible.

Not allowing herself to look back, Lucy’s palms immediately begin to sweat as she enters the elevator. She can’t stop herself from impatiently tapping her foot.

While rushing into her apartment, she releases a loud sigh. She presses her back against the door and shuts her eyes. Perhaps if she does this long enough, the heaviness in her chest would lessen. When she opens her eyes again, she is met with a curious-eyed Levy standing right in front of her.

“Levy, don’t scare me like that!” Lucy proclaims, placing a hand over her heart. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Enough to hear all your weird mumblings,” Levy replies with now gleaming eyes. “How did these past two days go?”

“Terrible,” Lucy responds with another sigh. She pushes herself off the door and slumps onto the couch. “It was terribly perfect.”

“Tell me everything!” Levy exclaims, jumping onto the couch with her.

Lucy runs a hand through her hair. She bites her lip as she processes her thoughts—the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes going to Natsu’s home really was perfect. There isn’t anything that went wrong these past two days.

“I’m going to try and repeal my article,” Lucy blurts out.

Levy gapes at her, slowly shaking her head in disbelief. “Are you sure your boss will let you?”  

“I’m going to try,” Lucy says firmly. “I can’t do this article anymore. It’s going to drive me crazy.”

Levy stares at her friend. She can’t stop herself from asking the obvious. “Do you think you’ve fallen for Natsu?” she asks quietly.

Lucy freezes, not being able to look up at Levy. Instead, all she can muster up is a slow nod. Another lump forms in her throat. The weight of the assignment used to settle in her stomach, then her chest, and now it’s in her throat.

“We’re going to get through this, Lu,” Levy assures her gently.

“H-How?” Lucy questions with a trembling voice. “If Natsu finds out about the article, he won’t want to see me again.”

Levy stays silent at her words. Whether they want to admit it or not, it’s a guarantee that it won’t settle well with Natsu. And as strange as it sounds to say, they don’t know him well enough to predict how he will react.

“My shift starts soon,” Levy eventually speaks again. She stands up from the couch. “What are you going to do now?”

“Natsu wants me to go to his apartment later,” Lucy responds, running her hand through her hair again. “Should I go?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Levy raises a brow. “Spend the time you have left together.”

Now that Lucy can see the ticking clock of their relationship, she realizes how important it is to cherish these final hours with him. She wants to make sure this final night together is worth it.

Once Levy leaves for work, Lucy absentmindedly sits on the couch for several moments. To kill some time, she opens her laptop and stares at her nine days’ worth of notes. She skims through them, hardly believing that she acted this way.

“Why did he stick with me for so long?” Lucy mumbles to herself.

It isn’t until she reads her last few notes when she notices Igneel’s words. She scrolls up to Laxus and what he said. Then, she ends with Makarov revealing that Natsu was invested into the relationship by bringing her to Fairy Tail.

Suddenly, it clicks—the reason why Natsu is so patient with her is that he is committed to her. After suppressing the idea for so long, it slaps Lucy in the face.

Now that her feelings have been added into the mix, she can’t figure out who is going to get hurt the most after all of this.

But she knows the power of a draft. With newfound determination, Lucy types out several scenarios of how tomorrow can go. She isn’t expecting to have at least twenty different scenarios, but it seems like there’s a pattern after each one she writes.

“Maybe this will work,” Lucy mumbles to herself.

She jolts in her spot when she receives a text from Natsu, much earlier than she would have liked to. A sense of panic slowly builds up inside of her every minute. Although she wants to run over to his apartment, she wants to disappear at the same time.

“I’ll bring dinner for us,” she texts him back.

With her plans for tomorrow imprinted in her mind, she gets ready to leave. She stops at a nearby convenience store, purchasing a few instant yakisoba bowls that Natsu snacked on last night. Because she was listening so intently to Grandeeny and Igneel, she didn’t get the chance to try them. She can definitely say it smelled delicious and hot. Just in case, she buys the non-spicy yakisoba for herself.

Lucy knocks on Natsu’s door as she arrives. Her eyes widen when Gray opens the door instead.

“Hi,” he says stiffly, stepping out of the way so she can come inside.

“Hey, Gray,” Lucy replies with a smile.

For some reason, she doesn’t feel as intimidated by him this time. By the expression on his face, he appears to be processing something else. However, what concerns Lucy most is Natsu’s expression.

“Is everything okay?” she asks curiously.

“We were just talking about some stuff.” He pauses, noticing how vague his words sound. “Gray took care of the cat while I was gone, so he was telling me about it.”

Although he sends her a gentle smile, there’s a glimpse of a frown on his lips.

“I’m going to head out now,” Gray states while putting on his shoes.

“You can stay,” Lucy assures him. “I brought over some instant yakisoba.”

“The same yakisoba I ate last night?” Natsu perks up. As Lucy takes out a bowl from the plastic bag, he cracks a grin.

“Sorry, Ice Princess, you can’t stay,” Natsu jumps up from the couch. “Those are just for me and her.”

“Ice Princess?” Lucy laughs out while watching him shove Gray out of the apartment. Once Gray is outside enough to be pushed out by closing the door, Natsu immediately reaches for one of the bowls.

“These are my favorite, Luce. Thanks for buying them.” He smoothly peels the sealed top and fills the bowl with water.

“Do you like them that much?” she asks with amusement as he eagerly pushes the microwave buttons.

“Imagine 16 year old me eating these every time I came back from school,” he responds. “Now imagine that in college, too.”

“College?” she repeats in disbelief. “What makes them so special?”

“They’re probably the spiciest noodles you can buy for a reasonable price,” he explains simply. “Igneel is the only other person I know that can finish a bowl.”

Lucy purses her lips skeptically. She can handle spicy food every once in a while, so she wonders if the yakisoba won’t be as aggressive as the label suggests. She takes a step closer to Natsu when he takes the bowl out of the microwave.

“Do you think you can handle it?” he smirks.

“Let me try,” she replies. Grabbing her pair of chopsticks, she picks up a few strands of noodles.

Her breath is immediately caught in her throat the second they land on her tongue. She coughs loudly, patting her chest at the sudden burn.

“I’ve never seen someone react like that!” Natsu howls out, placing a hand on the counter to hold himself up. “That was hilarious!”

“These are unnecessarily hot!” Lucy proclaims as she quickly swallows them. Her tongue is numb as she hastily pours a cup of milk. Even though they were only a few noodles, she feels as though she can breathe out fire from all the heat.

“They’re not meant for the average,” he remarks. Without a second thought, he slurps on an endless stream of noodles.

“Never again,” she shakes her head. “I’m going to stick with teriyaki.”  

It isn’t long until the couple are sitting at the dining table, enjoying their savory bowls. Natsu is in the midst of his second bowl when their cat joins them at the table.

“Have you given him a name yet?” Lucy asks.

“I haven’t,” he realizes aloud. “I’ve never had a pet before. What are some common names?”

“People like to name their pets after emotions,” she replies with a shrug

“How about Sleepy?” he suggests. “He likes to sleep a lot.”

“He doesn’t look like a Sleepy!” she protests, causing Natsu to frown. “Think deeper.”

Natsu gives out a thoughtful hum. His eyes light up when he has a suggestion. “How does Happy sound?”

“That sounds perfect,” Lucy grins. “He makes you happy, doesn’t he?”

“I underestimated the power of a cat,” he admits. “When I go to sleep, he always likes to lie next to me.”

“Aw,” she giggles while reaching over to pet Happy behind the ears.

Tummies full, they comfortably sit back on the couch and flip through some TV channels. Although they have done this plenty of times, Lucy can’t help but feel bittersweet about it. Her chest aches knowing that this will be the last time they spend time together like this.

She glances at him, not being able to hold back her laugh. He lifts a curious brow.

“The yakisoba stained your lips,” she points out. “They’re bright red.”

“That’s when you know the noodles worked.” He smirks at her as he edges forward. “Maybe it’ll be like lipstick if I kiss you.”

“No way!” she exclaims.

She puts her hands out in front of her to prevent him from getting closer, but Natsu hovers over her enough to grasp her arms and hold them down. He leans down and goes for her neck, leaving a light trail of kisses.

Lucy doesn’t bother to resist—even if his lips leave a mark, they’re too addicting to fight back. She can feel the quick pulse in her neck match the pace of his kisses. If her arms weren’t pinned down, she would keep him there forever.

His hold becomes looser as he travels up her neck and to her lips. She slides out of his grip to bring her hands into his hair and gently twirl her fingers through his curls.

There is still a sense of heat on his lips; it’s just enough for her to taste it all. Despite this, their kisses feel fresher than ever. It’s as though their lips have familiarized enough to where they’re reminded of how sweet it is when together.

As their bodies feel to be sinking further into the couch, neither of them take it a step further. Lucy can’t bring herself to start a moment that will cause more long-term damage than temporary satisfaction.

Natsu, on the other hand, hums against her lips before slowly pulling away. She leans back to connect eyes with him. In that moment, as they gaze at each other with hooded eyelids, she is ready to tell him everything.

His breaths say that he wouldn’t get angry, his eyes say that he would understand, his lips say that everything will be okay.

“I have to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Lucy asks carefully.

They begin to shift on the couch, picking themselves up and sitting to face each other. As she takes in Natsu’s serious expression, she wonders if this was what Gray and him were talking about earlier before she interrupted. It couldn’t just be about Gray checking up on Happy, it must have been deeper than that.

“Would you ever move away from Magnolia?” Natsu asks abruptly.

Lucy pauses. “I might if I had a reason to.”

“What if I was your reason?”

She lets out a laugh to mask her surprise. “Why would you be leaving Magnolia?”

His expression doesn’t change. “I’m serious. What if we moved away from Magnolia together?”

The levelness of his voice is slightly intimidating, but she tries to ignore it. “Well, right now I don’t have a reason to,” she answers hesitantly. “But I’ll think about it if the time comes.”

“Okay, think about it,” he responds with a nod. “Just in case.”

“Okay.” She gives him a subtle smile, hoping that it hides the fact that stress is currently building up inside of her.

“I just really needed to get that off my chest,” he admits with a heavy sigh. “Thanks, Luce.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” she slightly stutters. “Any time.”

Now if only she could stay those words to herself. She doesn’t want Natsu to get his hopes up for her and their future together. She knows that he wouldn’t if she just came clean already, but she can’t form the words in her mouth.

“It doesn’t look like the yakisoba stained your lips,” he remarks.

“Maybe we should try again,” she suggests.

They don’t hesitate to lean forward and kiss again. In each other’s arms like this, neither of them would want to be anywhere else.

Meanwhile, Lucy ignores the fact that it’s already past midnight and her final hours with Natsu are dwindling by the second. This is the only temporary satisfaction she is willing to accept.

                                                 ——————–

As soon as Lucy wakes up the next morning, her body is on autopilot mode. She moves automatically, as though she has rehearsed every step she is going to make today.

The tenth day is finally here.

Whatever happens today, she is ready for it. But knowing that tonight has the potential of becoming a disaster, Lucy can hardly focus on her surroundings. She has to keep a continuous thought stream of self-encouragements or she is going fall apart.

However, the moment she enters her work building, she remembers her mission. Even though she doesn’t have a scheduled appointment, she walks straight into Erza’s office with a chin held high.

“Good morning, Lucy. How is everything?” Erza asks.

“I can’t do this article anymore,” Lucy states firmly.

Erza looks up from her desk, holding a poker face. “What did you say?”

There’s a brief moment of silence as Lucy tries to recollect her thoughts.

“The guy I met, I’ve gotten to know him really well, and—”

“Lucy,” Erza interrupts her sternly. “You are writing the article and that’s final. Your story is already going to be on the cover of the magazine.”

Lucy can’t even imagine how happy those words would have made her if she heard them a week ago. Now, they mean nothing to her.

“Erza, I can’t—”

“But you will. Because you’re a professional journalist, remember?”

Lucy swallows in defeat. All of the scenarios she practiced turned into a two minute, one-sided conversation.

“Yes… I guess I am a professional.”

“I expect the final draft tomorrow morning,” Erza instructs her.

Due to an incoming office call, Lucy has no choice but to leave. Although she doesn’t need to be at work today, she finds herself sinking into her desk chair.

“You don’t look so hot,” Cana says at the neighboring desk, examining her for a moment. “Wait, what happened to you?”

“A disaster,” Lucy mutters. She rubs her eyes, secretly wishing that when she opened them everything would be okay. “I’m going to come clean to Natsu about the article tonight.”

“What?” Cana blurts out incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“This isn’t fair for him,” Lucy sighs out. “He deserves to know what I did before the article gets published.”

“There’s a chance he may not even read the article,” Cana tries to convince her. “Lucy, I think you’re making a mistake.”

Cana’s words are enough for Lucy to feel sick. Right now, Cana is no different from Erza. Not being able to take it anymore, she stands up from her seat.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Lucy tells her shortly before walking away.

She has only taken a step outside when she calls Levy. Impatience bubbles up inside of her after she is sent to voicemail. There is no way that she can be by herself right now, so she doesn’t hesitate to head towards the bakery.

“Levy!” Lucy nearly shouts as she enters the bakery.

Normally, Levy is standing at the front counter with a friendly smile. Today, however, there is no one at the counter.

“Levy?” Lucy asks, softer this time. “Is anyone here?”

She can’t fight her curiosity, allowing it to guide her footsteps. She slowly pushes the door to the back of the bakery while peeking her head in.

Lucy gasps as she catches Levy pressed against a wall, lips smashing against Gajeel’s. Lucy’s noise causes them to promptly jerk away from each other and look at her with wild eyes.

“L-Lu!” Levy squeaks, wiping a hand over her mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Only employees are allowed in the back,” Gajeel says roughly. Although his voice is harsh, he appears just as flustered as Levy.

“There was no one here when I came,” Lucy counters.

“I was showing her the supplies we’re running out of,” Gajeel explains simply.

“Right,” Lucy replies with an exaggerated nod. “Well, I guess you showed her plenty.”

“Lucy!” Levy proclaims in disbelief. “Just go to the front. I’ll be out in a second.”

Lucy decides to follow her friend’s instruction, returning to the front of the bakery. She stands at the counter and waits for Levy to return. When she does, her darkened cheeks and swollen lips are obvious.

“Is it bad?” Levy whispers, viewing her reflection from the windows and fixing her hair.

“Your hair or making out with your boss while you’re working?” Lucy clarifies.

“Hey!” Levy gapes at her. “What’s up with you? You’re normally not that blunt.”

Lucy sighs while fixing her hair as well. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not feeling too good right now.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to tell Natsu?” Levy asks.

“I’m going to tell him everything,” Lucy reveals with an uneven voice.

Levy gives her friend a sympathetic smile. “It’s going to be hard, but you can do it. I support you, alright?”

There’s a subtle sense of relief inside Lucy, which is enough for now. “Thanks. I tried talking to Erza about the article, but she’s forcing me to publish it.”

“She said you would be recognized for it, right?” Levy questions.

“The article is going to be on the front cover,” Lucy replies, although her voice clearly shows it doesn’t have the same value anymore.

“I’ll be here for you,” Levy assures her gently.

“Me too.” Gajeel joins Levy at the counter. “Who do I need to beat up for you, Lucy?”

Lucy’s phone buzzes with a text from Natsu. She opens it to a picture of the suit he’ll be wearing tonight. With another heavy sigh, she puts her phone back into her pocket.

“It’s me, Gajeel,” Lucy mutters while turning to leave the bakery. “You’re going to have to beat me up.”

Hearing Levy speak out multiple encouragements for tonight, Lucy goes back to her apartment to get dressed for tonight. She isn’t sure how to prepare for a disaster that is predicted to be an entire catastrophe, but the only way to find out is by just going for it.

After getting dressed, there is nothing Lucy has dread more than going to Natsu’s apartment. Her heart skips a beat each time she tries to think of the apologies she wants to tell him. To avoid a heart attack, she decides she is going to wing it.

At the same time, everything hurts.

From the shoes she puts on, because of how her heart will be after all of this, and arriving to Natsu’s apartment building—everything just hurts.

Lucy grips onto the illegally copied key to his apartment as she stands in front of the door. The key is the last item she has of him. Once she gives it back, she truly has no reason to see him again.

Lucy takes several deep breaths to brace herself. There’s no way she will ever feel ready, so she forces herself to insert the key and unlock the door. She quietly opens it, hearing Gray’s voice inside.

“But you did it! I’m so proud of you for finishing the bet. I’ve already shared your name with some of my coworkers.”

Lucy’s body is frozen at his words. Instantly, everything starts connecting in her mind. Natsu wasn’t committed to the relationship—he was committed to a bet.

Outraged is an understatement. Lucy is furious. She clenches her jaw, debating whether it’d be a smart decision to barge inside and demand for answers. But the aching in her chest is too much to ignore. Dropping the key on the floor, she slams the door.

Natsu and Gray jump at the sudden noise. They look at one another as they realize what just happened.

“Natsu, I’m so sorry—”

Natsu doesn’t bother to let Gray finish as he immediately darts out of his apartment. He finds Lucy storming away and pressing the button to the elevator.

“Lucy, hold on,” he tells her.

She whips around, not missing a beat. “You used me so you could get your name spread?”

“You drove me insane for your magazine?” Natsu shoots back.

They stand there for a few moments, both fuming. As they try to recollect their thoughts, they recognize how much they’ve equally blighted each other.

“Gray told you,” Lucy says plainly.

“Yeah, and how I was just some ten-day experiment.”

“And I’m just some girl you picked at random?”

“That doesn’t even compare,” Natsu argues sharply. “I was someone you tested your theories on. Was that why you agreed to meet my grandparents? Was this all just some fantasy story for you?”

Lucy blankly stares at him, knowing that he is aware of how much pain those words could inflict. And how they did.

“Well,” she begins, pressing the elevator button again. “Some kind of friend you have who knew both of our intentions.”

“What are you talking about?” he demands.

“Gray knew everything since the second day. Ask him about it, if it even matters to you.”

The elevator slides open. Lucy steps inside and presses her back against the wall. As they connect eyes, her heart splits into two uneven pieces. She could have never prepared to see the hurt expression on his face.

“Congrats,” Natsu begins while the elevator closes. “Now you know how to lose a guy in ten days.”

Natsu stares at the closed doors, tearing his eyes away before he sees his reflection. He wipes his damp hands across his pants as he returns to his apartment. There, he finds Gray pacing across the living room. Gray turns to him with frantic eyes.

“You knew,” Natsu accuses him before he can say anything. “How long did you know Lucy was using me?”

“I was going to tell you—”

“Did you just want to see me suffer? Did you enjoy seeing me get taken advantage of?”

“That wasn’t my intention, let me—”

“Just go.” Natsu tells him firmly while rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. “I can’t talk to you right now. Give me space.”

Natsu doesn’t watch Gray leave the apartment. Instead, he focuses on holding Happy in his lap as they fall onto the couch.

Natsu’s thoughts are an endless carousel as he connects the pieces to why Lucy was so exhausting throughout their time together. Although that doesn’t explain to him her abrupt shift at his grandparents’ house, he can’t believe that both of them sabotaged each other enough to cause all of this pain towards each other.

“Were you a part of the plan, too?” Natsu mumbles.

Happy meows in response, which brings him to give out a heavy sigh. Everything happened so fast, his body is just now catching up.

And everything just hurts.

[missblanchette]

Rumor Has It [3/10]

Series: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Izanami Hifumi/Yumeno Gentaro; appearances from Dice and Jakurai

Rating: T

Summary: Thousands of hearts broke that day. With tears shed and cries resounding to the heavens, each grief-stricken woman wondered how this could possibly happen. In the year 20XX of the H. Era, Matenrou’s MC GIGOLO and Fling Posse’s MC Phantom were officially in a relationship.

Except they weren’t, actually.

Notes: Minor violence and blood in the middle section! Please feel free to skip it if you’re not comfortable with that. You should be able to pick up on what happened in the last section.

Words: 3,814

ko-fi // Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | You can read this on AO3! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy~! ^o^)/

Ch. 3: Before One Can Say “Knife”

The eyes of women followed Gentaro as he made his way home, staring daggers into his back. He'd long learned to fake a calm serenity since body language was key to any successful lie, but that didn't make the glares any less unnerving. Once, he'd thought that the wild fans in Chuuoku were too much to handle, but now he'd rather deal with passionate fervor than deranged devotion. The looks waned down when he returned to Shibuya, fortunately, but even in his home territory there were women who would lay their lives down for Izanami Hifumi. Nevertheless, he thanked whatever gods may be that his trip back was uneventful.

Returning to his apartment, he found a curled up ball swaddled in a green coat at his doorstep. Much too big to be a cat, the napping figure might as well have been one; though, certainly, it was better than the sight that greeted him this morning. Pulling down the hood revealed Dice's face, slumbering away with saliva running down his chin. With a shake of his head, Gentaro lips quirked up as he crouched down.

"Dice~" he said, a cheer to his voice. "Now's not the time to sleepin'. Don'tcha see? You won the jackpot!"

"Huh?!" Dice shot up, head darting left and right before his wide eyes landed on him. Gentaro waved his fingers, to which Dice's face fell. "Wha?"

"I take it Ramuda has kicked you out for the day?" Standing back up, he held out a hand to Dice.

"Uh, yeah. He's got some designs due soon and he wants some space or whatever," Dice said, taking it and hulling himself up. "I woulda let you known I was crashin’ here but I lost my phone."

"'Lost' doesn't happen to be synonymous with 'gambled it away,' does it?"

Dice wiped the drool off his chin. "Haha, yeah."

Feigning a sigh, Gentaro threw his hands up. "I suppose I have no choice but to let you in lest the neighbors call animal control."

"Y'know what, I got a nicer guy I can go to --"

Gentaro huffed a laugh, taking out his keys. "It's merely a jest."

"Yeah, yeah." Dice pouted and folded his arms, but that gave way to a look of bewilderment. "Yo, by the way, I found this when I got here?"

Like whipping out coins for a slot machine, Dice pulled out one of those plush dolls of Gentaro that they sold in Chuuoku from his pocket. A noose had been tied tightly around its neck and its stomach had been cut open, the stuffing sticking out from the wound. Gentaro couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips as he took the doll from Dice's hands. At the very least, his door was left untouched after he took the time to clean it earlier.

"Oh dear, you've caught me, Dice," Gentaro said, lowering his voice with a dark and eerie tone to match it. His eyes snapped towards Dice with a mad touch to them. "I'm actually a serial killer and this is the plush doll I use to plan out my murders. Now that you've discovered the evidence, I'll have to kill you off."

"W-Wait a minute…!"

He leaned in closer as Dice gulped nervously, swinging the doll by the noose's tail before his features returned to normal.

"Worry not, I was lying." Unlocking the door, Gentaro gestured him in.

"Goddamn, dude, you had me there for a sec." Dice's voice echoed behind him as they entered and removed their shoes. "Why you got that on your doorstep anyways?"

"I'm dealing with something worse than a serial killer."

"Oh crap, really? What, like the yakuza?"

"Worse." Doll and noose carefully in hand, Gentaro made a beeline for the kitchen whilst scanning his home for any signs of trespassers. Nothing appeared to be out of place, thank goodness.

"Worse than the yakuza?! You got some loan sharks up your ass or somethin’?"

"Even worse than that." Gentaro paused at his place in front of the cabinets and locked eyes with Dice. He held Dice's gaze, milking the silence as long as he possibly could. "Fan girls."

Brows creasing into a multitude of lines and mouth puckering like he'd eaten something sour, Dice squinted. "Fan girls...?"

Gentaro nodded sagely. "Fan girls."

"You're... shitting me, right?"

"As much as I'd love for this to be a lie, it is not." He returned his attention to the cabinet, tutting at how empty it was. The one time he actually needed it, the plastic bag filled with plastic bags was gone. "This doll is very proof of it. I’d also discovered a message written in blood on my front door this morning."

Dice whistled, low and long. "Damn, bro. Who'd you piss off?"

"You haven't heard, Dice?" Gentaro fluttered his lashes, plastering on a smile as if he were a maiden who'd been forced into an arranged marriage. "I'm having intimate relations with Izanami Hifumi."

"Iza -- Wha? I -- Ooh, oh shit. That thing Ramuda was talkin' 'bout in the group chat?" Dice's nose scrunched up like he'd landed a bad roll. "That was real?"

"Unfortunately, yes, though not in the way everyone thinks. Then again, it's not like anyone cares to think otherwise."

Gentaro sighed, his miniature mirror image staring up at him with dead, green eyes. While the situation was undoubtedly unnerving, the threats themselves didn't scare him so much as the idea of being tracked down and played with so easily. Ramuda holding information on him was one thing, but any lay person locating him was another. If that was the case, then surely they could dig up any piece of intelligence they wished and threaten to manipulate him in any way they pleased. Maybe blaming Hifumi for all of this was taking things too far but though these women acted out of their own will, they waged war in his name -- that alone was enough to put Gentaro off.

Dice clicked his tongue.  "Man, that's tight. You're not hurt are ya?"

"Not yet," he singsonged. Peering deeper into the cabinet, he found a spare bag somewhere in the back.

"Well, damn. Hopefully they back off soon or something." Mumbling, he added, "Can only imagine what that Izanami dude has to deal with."

Gentaro lips curled down. "Is that sympathy for our dear rival I hear, by any chance?"

Making an unsure face, Dice shrugged. "Nah, not really. Just sayin' it kinda sucks having to deal with some crazies, y'know? Like, the fuck they gonna do? Stab you?"

Gentaro hummed in reply. Though no larger than his arm, the doll weighed heavily in his hand. The tail of the noose hung loosely, the rough material that brushed against his skin dispelling any disbelief he had about his mangled reflection. Had he stayed home today, chances were he would have been in this doll’s place instead; hanging from the ceiling with his gut cut open, his one place of refuge becoming his grave. The scene sounded like something out of a thriller, though Gentaro was anything but thrilled to be caught in the middle of it.  

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Dice spoke again. "By the way, I'm starvin', dude. You gonna make lunch?"

"Yes, I will be, but it seems that I'm in need of ingredients." Gentaro twirled the noose's tail around his finger, pointing it towards Dice. "Perhaps you'll do?"

"H-Hey, man --"

"No need to fear, it was another joke," Gentaro said, slipping the hanged doll into the bag. "Although it’s true that I need to do some grocery shopping. I'll let you decide on lunch if you assist me."

"Really? Sweet! Can you make some yakisoba?"

"Very well. I hope you don't mind if we take the long way to the supermarket?"

"Nah, it’s cool."

Securing his headaches and worries with a tie of the bag, Gentaro nodded. "Great."

Lunch had turned into dinner, considering how long they took at the police station. Though Gentaro didn't have a lot of faith in the police, he figured that a false sense of security was better than none at all. If anything, he made a reminder to himself to contact Yamada Ichiro again should he need to take matters into his own hands. Dice stuck by his side throughout the whole process, thankfully, albeit bored. What he'd hoped for anyways was that Dice's presence would deter any more budding rumors, but that yielded less-than-desirable results. Gossip was as gossip went, and word that "MC GIGOLO and MC Phantom revealed their love affair to the public" spread faster than a forest fire by the time they returned to Gentaro's place. Deep scowls and scrutinizing glares from the women they passed aside, he rewarded Dice with the yakisoba he so craved.

One week, then. Gentaro waited one week before daring to venture further than walking distance of his apartment. It seemed that talk about him and Hifumi had died down enough to allow him to leave without feeling the stares of women everywhere he went, but not enough to stop the nasty looks he received from passersby. Regardless of the matter, he couldn't stay cooped up at home for most of his days.

While a week was plenty of time to get progress on his manuscript done, Gentaro scarcely made a dent due to his frustrations. The plot felt contrived and the characters, too, felt stiff. There was that matter of the host as well, and how he couldn't possibly scrap them without changing the entire basis of the story either. An occupation like a bartender was much too mundane for the story, but something along the lines of a prostitute was too shady. What he needed, in that case, was a point of reference. Call him crazy -- and assuredly he would believe it after all that pacing he'd done in his room -- but Kabukicho was the best place for that. Setting aside his qualms and paranoia, Gentaro took to the streets of the red light district once again in hopes that inspiration would hit.

And something, surely, did hit.

With a shout of "Yumeno-sensei!", Gentaro was pushed onto the ground faster than he could process anything. His hands shot out, barely breaking his fall against the concrete sidewalk. Vision spinning, the shrill scream that cut through intensified his vertigo. Picking himself up with shaky legs, Gentaro noticed the crowd forming around him and his eyes followed the people's attention. His breath caught in his throat, seeing a familiar head of blond hair and the back of a gray suit jacket staggering about.

"Hifumi! I hurt you, Hifumi!" A woman wailed as she cupped Hifumi's face with her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. Hifumi, meanwhile, wobbled backwards as his jacket slipped down his arms. At his feet, drops of red dripped down. "I'm so sorry, I was trying to get that Yumeno bitch!"

Her eyes, crazed and ireful, snapped towards him and pinned him in spot. She pointed an accusing finger at him as if he'd been the one to harm her beloved. Before Gentaro could quip back, Hifumi's laugh filled the tense air. Though a noise he usually found so annoying, the strain laced within it didn't sound right.

"My darling kitten, that's a little rash, don't you think?" Gentaro couldn't see Hifumi's face but he could hear the warble that underlain his flirtatious lilt, watch his fingers tremble as he took her hands in his. "There's no need for violence, love."

"But you belong to me!"

"If you care so much about your precious Hifumi --" Ignoring his uneasiness, Gentaro schooled his expression into one of impassiveness. "-- then mayhaps you should do something about the blood you've spilled?"

The woman scowled, baring her fangs at him. "How dare you!"

Giving no warning, she lunged at him. Gentaro shut his eyes closed out of instinct and raised an arm to brace himself for the impact that never came. Counting down the heartbeats, he slowly opened his eyes to see Hifumi holding the woman back. She squirmed and writhed in his arms, her kicks barely grazing Gentaro. A knife, he saw at last, had been lodged into Hifumi's abdomen and blood seeped through his shirt and the woman's dress. It was a wonder that he was even standing, as her thrashing agitated the handle and caused blood to flow faster. The drops of red beneath him formed a small puddle.

"This is for your sake, Hifumi!"

"Now, kitten, I'd gladly let you sink your claws into me but I won't allow you to harm anyone else." The flirtatious lilt had given way to a serious edge, the timbre unfamiliar to Gentaro's ears. He shuddered, though whether it was from Hifumi's tone, the woman's vehement ardor, or the faint sirens blaring in the background, he didn't know.

"Is this what you call 'love'?" Gentaro jeered at the woman. Never had he seen such hate directed at him, her eyes defiant and frenzied as they pierced through him. "Is your passion so twisted that you care only for your own feelings? That you disregard your beloved's wishes? How selfish."

"Shut up! What do you know?!"

Just as she'd broken free from Hifumi's grasp, the police arrived on the scene and grabbed her before any more damage could be done. Gentaro blinked, the sounds of sirens finally settling into his ears and his heart drumming against his chest. As the police officers took her away, Hifumi teetered on his feet, swaying as stalks in a field did on a windy day, and fell over. Without thinking, Gentaro caught him.

"Yumeno-sensei..." Irises dull like aged champagne, Hifumi looked up at him through lidded eyes. His breathing sounded labored as blood dripped onto Gentaro's fingers, the knife jutting out of his abdomen like a bookmark sticking out between pages. "Are you okay?"

"Have you seen yourself?" Gentaro blurted out.

"A flesh wound is all it is," Hifumi said, the levity in his voice weak. He let out a chuckle, more feeble than irritating. "It's not my first run in with a knife, anyhow."

For once, Gentaro found himself at a loss for words. A writer he was, a weaver of lies and a creator of worlds, but not in his wildest imagination would he have ever thought of a scenario like this: Izanami Hifumi, rival and nuisance, taking a hit for him and lying limply in his arms. The way he reacted so blase, so nonchalantly, as if he'd received a mere slap to the wrist only added to the shiver running through Gentaro’s spine.

Before he could find respond, the EMTs entered the scene and whisked Hifumi away. In his place were blood stains adorning his white sleeves and a heavy weight upon his arms; a chill replacing stifling warmth and a disquiet settling in his core. Gentaro stood frozen as the EMTs placed Hifumi on the gurney. A pit filling his stomach, he swallowed hard as they loaded Hifumi into the ambulance.

"Excuse me," Gentaro said, approaching the EMTs with a lie ready on his tongue. "May I come along? He's a friend of mine."

The EMTs looked at each other before ushering him inside the ambulance. Taking a seat beside Hifumi, he inhaled sharply at the sight of the languid man lying in front of him. The sirens filled the air again, and Gentaro's mind went numb with racing thoughts.

The ride passed like a blur, if anything because Gentaro couldn't quite concentrate. Hardly being able to answer any personal questions in Hifumi's stead, he simply watched as the EMTs dealt with his wound. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the hospital's waiting room as they ran tests on Hifumi. Though Gentaro was well acquainted with the sterile smell and cold air of hospitals, that didn't make them any less uncomfortable, less harrowing, less sickening. He'd yet to decide if those working here were brave or broken for what they tended to on a daily basis.

His notebook and pen remained untouched in his pocket, his hands idle in his lap for even he couldn't bring himself to use his fake realities as a distraction. He had to wonder, really, why he hadn't left yet. He'd ridden with Hifumi out of obligation, to see him to safety as it was only what one should do. By all means, Hifumi was already safe, at least as safe as a hospital could be; but for some reason, Gentaro sat still as if his legs had turned into stone. Like a phantom, the feeling of Hifumi's limp body lingered on his skin and the image of his pale face staring at him -- so unlike the haughty man he'd faced on stage -- refused to leave his mind.

It might've been an hour or it might've been an eternity before a nurse gave him the okay to see Hifumi. Absentmindedly, he followed them to his room.

"D-Doppo...! Save me...!"

"Izanami-san, please relax. I need you to stay calm so I can insert the needle."

Standing by the door, he saw Hifumi cowering in the bed and a nurse at his side holding an IV line. Gentaro frowned as he hovered by the entrance, one foot inside the room and the other hesitating to follow. If he hadn't been doubting his decision to come along before, then he definitely was now. There was no comfort he could provide Hifumi nor any assistance to the nurse.

"Pardon me," a deep voice came from behind him. Turning, he was face-to-face with Dr. Jinguji Jakurai who raised his eyebrows at him. His guard went up at the sight of Matenrou's leader -- the saint so detested by Ramuda and the humanitarian with a history far too clean to be true -- looking down on him, but Jakurai questioned not his presence and gave him a polite smile. Dipping his head, Gentaro let him pass by.

Approaching Hifumi's bed, Jakurai nodded to the nurse. "Your help is appreciated, but may I ask you to leave? If there are any male nurses available, please send them this way."

With no argument, the nurse took heed and left. Like a switch had been turned off, the apprehension on Hifumi's face disappeared and he reached out for Jakurai with jittery fingers.

"Dr. Jakurai..." The quiver had left his voice, the tone more akin to the perky one he heard during their phone call. Gentaro stood silently as Hifumi clung onto Jakurai. "Thank God you're here, that woman was so scary!"

Gentaro's brows furrowed, noting that odd comment.

"I came as soon as I possibly could," said Jakurai, patting Hifumi's head. "I had a scare when I heard about what happened, but you're quite the lucky one, Hifumi-kun. It's amazing nothing vital was injured."

Sickly pale as he was, Hifumi flashed a V-sign. "It takes a lot more than a knife to get me down!"

Jakurai's lips tugged up, though concern crossed his features. "If I may ask, how did things come to this?"

"It was, like, totes cra~zy, Doc!" Hifumi perked up and shook Jakurai’s hand back and forth. "So I was walking to work, right? But get this: I saw one of my clients carrying a knife! I was like, 'Why's she carrying a knife in public like that?!' but then I noticed she had this super scary look on her face." His face scrunched up, squinting and pursing his lips as if mimicking her expression. "And then! And then, she started running towards Yumeno-sensei --"

With Hifumi gesturing right at him, Jakurai's gaze locked onto his. Gentaro could have written pages upon pages as to what he imagined was going through Jakurai's mind, his face refusing to reveal any of this thoughts.

"-- so of course I had to do something!"

Eyes lingering on him for a moment more than necessary, Jakurai turned his attention back to Hifumi. "That's very admirable of you."

"Yes, indeed," Gentaro spoke up, finally finding his voice. He couldn't tell if what he said next was a lie or a truth. "I appreciate what he did for me, so I felt it right to see him to the hospital."

"Thank you for being there, Yumeno-kun," Jakurai said, his voice even. He might have been reading too deeply into it, seeing things that weren't there, but the smile Jakurai wore appeared to be stiff. "It's rather late so if you wish to go home, you may. I can take care of things from here."

For all Gentaro berated himself for not leaving as soon as he could've, he hesitated at Jakurai's words -- a demand, perhaps, under the guise of courtesy. In contrast, Hifumi's smile was kinder in spite of the weariness in his eyes. Gentaro's stomach twisted in knots. They were rivals on the stage, practically strangers outside the territory battles; he had no place at Hifumi's bedside, let alone seeing him to the hospital. Truly, he had no place here at all.

"Right then, I suppose I'll be taking my leave." Taking a step back, Gentaro bowed his head. "Thank you, Izanami..." He paused, the title hesitant to roll off his tongue. "...-san."  

"Take care, Yumeno-sensei," Hifumi said, chipper despite the fatigue evident all over him. He waved, albeit sluggishly. "Get home safely!"

Without a further word, Gentaro exited the room. His steps slowed down, however, as he heard Hifumi's loud voice from inside.

"Hey, Doc, did you hear anything about that woman? Is she doing all right?"

The conversation trailed off and Gentaro fell to a stop. All he'd ever known of Izanami Hifumi was that he charged recklessly into the future, that he was a man with no filter, that he was a wolf who blindly followed in the steps of of his pack leader. Upon the battle stage, he sung of naive ideals and self-praises; within Kabukicho's nightlife, he dared present himself as a perfect dream. He'd no regard for sensitivities, no sense of sympathy if his dises and careless words about his person had been anything to go by. But here Hifumi had gone and taken a knife meant for him without a second thought, asked him if he was unharmed like the bad blood between them didn't exist, and bade him farewell as if they were friends.

Had the situation been reversed, Gentaro wondered, would he have done the same? The answer to that was a resounding "no" -- or at least, it would've been before the events that transpired tonight. With the pressure of Hifumi's body lingering on his arms and his blood staining his sleeves a deep red, he regretted to admit that. Perhaps he was the one with no regard for others.

With a heavy heart and an even heavier conscious, Gentaro left Shinjuku Central Hospital.

[kateywlo]

'See you later’ To ‘Goodbye’ (Natsume Week Day 3; Memories/Dreams)

@natsumeweek   ‘See you later’ To ‘Goodbye’— Day 3 of Natsume Week; Memories/ Dreams

Humans were so deceitful. They played with their words but at the very most, sometimes they kept their promises. They were so weird. Humans were so entertaining but he hated that the most. The part that Madara hated the most was the way they had played and twisted their words around in a sense where it seemed like it didn’t make a difference but it truly did. A ‘see you later’ to a ‘goodbye’ wasn’t something he’d ever have expected.

————

Reiko allowed a hand to glide through her hair whilst she held out her bat horizontally towards Madara.

“Want to play a game with me? If I win, you have to write down your name on a sheet of paper. If I lose, you can eat me,” she said for the 50th time.

Madara was unamused and uninterested, “I have more important things to do than entertain humans,” he scoffed.

“Heh…” she smirked, mocking him, “Then a little human girl like me should be easy to defeat for someone as great as you, don’t you think?”

Madara was making no mistake in his refusal. What Reiko had in her eyes was something no other human would’ve had. They were sharp, fierce yet impossible to read. If anything, the only thing he could read was the constant playfulness of her. As a powerful youkai, he refused to play the part of a fool. She was strong for a human. Extremely strong. Perhaps even to his level, loathe as he was to admit it. There was actually a chance… that he would lose to a mere human girl.

Meanwhile, Reiko who had been sitting on the cliff edge inched closer to Madara’s paw and Lied herself down, proceeding to make herself comfortable.

Smiling to him, her amber brown irises met with his golden ones, “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up later ok?”

“Wha—” he protested. She was already closing her eyes and her breathing had been slower, she was certainly a fast sleeper. Grunting in distaste, he sighed in exasperation. Humans… he thought to himself.

Taking the opportunity while it was there, he glanced at her. The book of friends must’ve been somewhere on her. Although it certainly wasn’t visible if that were the case. She turned sideways during her supposed nap and he noted the Book of Friends was in a pocket of her skirt. Reaching his paw to it, he aimed for it until he found her grinning at him.

“I knew it,” she breathed and withdrew the book from her pocket, dangling the item in front of Madara, “You want this, don’t you?”

Her eyes were smiling and so was she. Humans were so very deceitful. Pretending she was sleeping when she actually wasn’t. “Leave now that you’re awake,” he said.

Smiling, she waved her farewell, “See you later,” she exclaimed. She’d be back tomorrow. He knew she would. That’s what she was always like.

Te following day, Reiko had come to duel him again. This time, she holds a brown paper bag, Japanese characters writing ‘Nanatsujiya’ on it. He glanced curiously at her as she ate and she turned to face him. Extending her hand outwards, she grinned, “It’s mochi from Nanatsujiya. Do you want one?”

“No,” he replied quickly. However, that ‘mochi’ of hers looked intriguing. It looked tasty. The softness and stretchiness of the mochi seemed very appealing, even to a youkai like him.

Dangling her legs off the cliff edge, she gazed at him. “You can’t have these,” she said, withdrawing yet another mochi and placing it into her mouth, “He gave it to me since I don’t stay out late as much anymore. He’s so weird.”

Madara had noted that she, who had always been playfully smiling, wore a sorrowful smile as she spoke about another human. She had never spoken about another human before. Youkai never really concerned themselves with gender but he was slightly— just slightly curious about the type of man she had spoken about. Although, her expression was swiftly replaced by a grin, “Want to play a game with me?”

“No,” he grunted. He no longer concerned himself with the amount of times that she had asked him the question. Heck, yesterday probably wasn’t the 50th time.

“I promise I’ll give you some next time,” she stated eagerly, “Mochi from Nanatsujiya.”

He scoffed derisively, “Do what you want.”

With that, he stood up and left for the skies. She stared at it and extended both her hands outwards, feeling the wind brush against her cheeks and her hair. There were times she wished to glide through the skies. If that happened, would she finally be able to have her own freedom? To be reborn as a bird youkai… it didn’t seem like a bad idea. Proceeding to lie herself down, she decided she’d take a nap. By the time she had woken up, it had been dark and the sky was clouded. Madara wasn’t back yet. Smiling to herself, she sighed. She was supposed to get back by evening. Glancing at the empty mochi bag she obtained as a reward for not staying out late, she wondered what he’d think of this.

———

The following day, rain had pelted downwards on Madara. It made him wet yet it added a rather glossy shine to his snow white fur. Resting himself, he laid himself down. What did Reiko find comfortable about this position? He didn’t know but he could hardly hear himself over the sound of the rain.

“Madara!”

Turning to the sound of the voice, he saw Reiko and stood on his paws abruptly, shocked at her appearance. Weren’t humans not supposed to go out in this sort of weather? Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought. After all, it had just been a presumption of his. She ran to him, soaked yet still energetic. Her blonde hair stuck to the sides of her face and her forehead due to the rain. She was smiling as the rain pelted downwards onto her. She held a bag that had the word Nanatsujiya, “I’ve come to fulfil my promise!” she grinned. Placing the brown paper bag beside him, she began to step backwards, “I’ve got to head back home now.”

Madara had been genuinely surprised. Why would she still have kept her promise in weather like this? Wouldn’t people have just waited until the next day. Just as she was about to leave, it had all happened so suddenly. Lost in the moment, they hadn’t heard the signs of a landslide. The place she was standing crumbled beneath her feet due to the landslide and the wetness of the dirt.

Falling, she barely just grabbed onto a branch. She seemingly sighed of relief and glanced downwards. She had never been aware of the river beneath the cliff until now and it had been flooding. Smiling awkwardly, she wondered how to bring herself upwards. Fortunately, there were a few branches quite the distance from each other but if she took each of them, it’d only be a chore to get herself back to land.

“Reiko, I’ll help you up,” Madara states as he raised himself upwards.

Almost instantly, she shook her head. “This is something I have to do myself. Also, I hate to lose. I can’t lose against something as simple as this,” she replied.

“You fool!” he snapped, “Do you intend to die? And what about the Book of Friends?”

“I left it at home today and… I’m sure no one will mind if I died, that’s what they’re always telling me after all,” she sighed, “Just kidding. I won’t die.”

Reaching outwards to another branch to hoist herself upwards, she took it, feeling the wood chip at her skin. As she was about to reach for another, the one that she held also crumbled down and she descended into the flooding river. All Madara heard was the loud splash of her falling into the body of water. Instantly disregarding what she had said, he searched for her, calling her name out desperately.

Humans were so fickle. They were deceiving, foolish, short-lived and weak. He knew that. However, in just that one moment, he had felt himself move before any thoughts passed his mind and he knew he’d become as brash as those humans.

———

One month later, Reiko appeared suddenly again. She had visible injuries but was grinning nonetheless, “I told you I hated to lose.”

“Fool,” Madara commented.

However, in her hands, she  held a variety of food. “This is an offering to you Madara,” she stated, “While I was there, in the river, I heard you calling out for me.”

She grinned at him while he snorted derisively at her, “You must’ve been hearing things.”

“Heh… maybe I was then,” she hummed.

Loathe as he was to admit it, he glanced at her. He was worried. She had taken a month to return yet she seemed as though she was in perfect condition now. Although, as if interrupting his train of thoughts, she began to take out the food from the bags she had brought, “Yakisoba… omelette rice, takoyaki, candy apples, grilled squid… no mochi from Nanatsujiya today!” she exclaimed, instantaneously swiping the omelette rice and offered the rest for him.

As she was eating her omelette rice, he had noted that the wind blew the book of friends open considering she had brought it with her today. Noticing that a grain of rice fell in between two pages, he was about to speak up but she hadn’t said anything, rather gazing at him with those playful like eyes of hers. Spooning the last serve of omelette rice into her mouth, she grinned, “Don’t you want to play a game with me?”

“No,” he replied, “How many times must I refuse you?”

“Who knows?” she replied whilst grinning. She had stood up and went to the edge of where the cliff edge had used to be. Stretching her hands out, she hummed softly and slowly, wondering what it’d be like if she were a bird youkai.

Spinning on her heel, she smiled mysteriously and ran past him, waving to him, “Goodbye Madara!”

He stared at her and glanced at the food she had left behind. It was fragrant. Tomorrow, he knew she’d be back. That’s what always happened. That’s how she always worked. She’d come to ask him if he wanted to duel her like the petty human she was but surprisingly enough, he had come to enjoy the meetings that happened between the two.

However, the following day, the skies were clear and she hadn’t appeared. The day after, she didn’t appear. He didn’t concern himself with human time but… for a long, long time, she never appeared. She did speak of how she moved from relative to relative and from prefecture to prefecture, perhaps that had happened again.

He decided to roam the skies for her presence, wondering where she was. At last, he had spotted her walking behind a man and a woman. Descending on a building close by, he noted that those two adults had met with another pair and Reiko seemingly joined them without reluctance and walked off. This… was probably going to be the last time he saw her. He got that feeling and if just once, he wanted them to roam the skies together but it seemed only like a wishful dream now.

--------

“Nyanko-sensei!” Natsume called as he ran towards the fortune cat.

As if understanding his speech with only a call of his name, Madara had transformed into his original form, his snow white fur and the patterns of red that lined his fur. Natsume had instantly hoisted himself upwards onto the back of the great youkai and they roamed the skies together.

Strangely… a strong sense of nostalgia overcame Madara.

Youkai retained memories far longer than humans ever had. One fateful encounter with a human was something that’d stick with them for the remainder of their life while a human would probably forget it. Humans… were so very ephemeral.

[ronniesshoes]

Keep Yourself Alive

Previous

Hands occupied with two steaming cups of to-go coffee, he escapes the London drizzle by nudging the door to the second-hand bookstore open with his shoulder. At the sound of the bell above the door, the store owner appears from the back room, but upon seeing him merely fixes his coffee a pointed look before disappearing again, completely ignoring Roger's dazzling smile. Not fazed, he directs it at the two other customers instead, puts down his coffees on the counter, and makes for the stairs.

He has always thought it rather creepy how the oxygen seems to leave the air the further down the stairs he goes, and by the time he has reached the foot of the staircase, he is struggling to breathe properly. The air is heavy with the smell of old books, and the single customer in the room is something of a fossil, skin paper thin and hair a wisp of cotton.

Smiling politely to the old man, Roger walks into the adjoining room, immediately spotting Brian towering high above the ground on a step ladder, slotting books into one of the cases, his back to Roger.

He is about to say something wonderfully witty about ladders and long-limbed guitarists, but Brian beats him to it.

"Give me a minute," Brian says, not turning to look at him.

Feeling somewhat deflated, Roger picks at the worn cover of a book in the bookcase next to him, slightly put out by the less than warm welcome. "How'd you know it was me?"

"I could sense your obnoxious personality long before you entered the room."

"Gee, thanks."

Brian doesn't reply, but he starts climbing carefully down the ladder, and when he turns to Roger, a smile is playing on his lips.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, then?"

"Well I was in the area, and—"

"You were in the area," Brian interrupts, voice flat.

"Yes, picking up strings for John's bass," Roger says with patience, lifting his arm demonstratively so the plastic bag around his wrist dangles, and continues, "and I happened to remember that you didn't have time to pack a lunch this morning, and I also know that are you left to yourself, you’re going to convince yourself that it's not worth spending money on, and because you really must eat, I thought we could have lunch together!"

"I'd be flattered by the amount of care if I didn't happen to know that there quite conveniently lies a Wasabi just around the corner," Brian says, moving the ladder so it’s not blocking the bookcase.

"There does?" Roger says, feigning thoughtfulness, "that is convenient ..."

Brian snorts. "Alright then, let's go before I change my mind."

Once presented with a cup of coffee, Brian's already unusually good mood brightens, and Roger is almost feeling brave enough to ask the question he’s been dying to ask ever since Brian forgave him five days ago.

He doesn’t, though, and Brian speaks instead. “Are you going with Freddie and Deaks later?”

“No,” Roger says regretfully, “I’ve got some readings to do.”

It isn’t that he usually bothers to do more than skim the provided pre-lecture notes, but with exams just around the corner, he has decided he might as well prepare for the last lecture of the year.

“What about you?” he asks, secretly hoping that Brian stays at home as well, because otherwise he’ll have to ditch his readings. His social life is undeniably more important to him than school, and no way he is staying home reading if everybody else is out having fun.

“I think I’ll stay home as well,” Brian says, and Roger hopes the relief he feels isn’t showing too much, “been a rather busy week.”

All of Brian’s weeks are rather busy, but he usually agrees to at least one pint come the weekend. Roger glances at him, wondering if this is where he asks him if something is wrong. Then they reach Wasabi, and he can’t speak because he is downing the rest of his coffee before throwing the cup in a nearby litter bin.

Brian holds the door open for him, and as he sees the rows of sushi boxes, he promptly forgets all about the questions he wants to ask. He wants to buy everything, and pores over the boxes for what he thinks must be at least five minutes, but in the end it’s a tie between the Hana set and the Harmony set.

“Bri, I need your help,” he says, just as Brian finishes paying for his brown rice Yasai set, and holds up both boxes, “do I want the Hana set or the Harmony set? Or perhaps the Rainbow set, but it only has 14 pieces. Unless I buy the chicken yakisoba as w—where are you going? I’m speaking to you!”

“Just choose something,” Brian says, sounding bored. He has situated himself at a nearby table, and is now opening his box to begin the slow, meticulous process of spreading equal amounts of wasabi and pickled ginger on his sushi.

A bit offended, but determined not to show it, Roger turns away from Brian and walks up to pay for the Harmony set. He lingers by the snacks long enough to bore the cashier, and promises himself to stop by a Tesco later.

He sits down next to Brian. “Are you staying home tomorrow as well?”

“What’s happening tomorrow?”

“One of Tim’s friends is hosting a—you know, party thing,” he says between mouthfuls of sushi, “how can you not know this? Tim even mentioned it when he was here. Oh, and a few from Freddie’s gay crowd’s coming as well.”

“Don’t call them that,” Brian says, not for the first time.

“Thought you were looking to get laid,” he says, reaching for Brian’s soya.

“How—”

“Freddie told me. And he’s right, you’re seriously tense these days.”

“I’m not tense, I’ve just been—you know. Busy.”

“Which makes you tense.”

Brian puts down his chopsticks in favour of taking a sip of coffee. Then he watches Roger for a long moment, so long that Roger begins to feel slightly uncomfortable, and quickly shoves his last piece of sushi into his mouth instead.

“What would you do if you were in my position?” Brian asks eventually, picking up his chopsticks again.

Roger thinks the answer is pretty obvious, but says anyway, “probably cut myself some slack and not work three jobs outside school.”

“If you got an offer like mine,” Brian says with an expression that says that he thinks Roger is being difficult, “if you were to choose between going and staying.”

“I’m never gonna be in a position like that,” Roger says.

Brian gives him a look, but Roger means what he says. Brian has this whole complicated relationship with his parents, one which seems to built on guilt and expectations and love a little too fierce, and while Roger loves his parents very much, he wouldn’t let them get a say in something regarding his future. And as for school, well, he’s only doing it until the band gets on its feet.

“You know what I would do,” he says at last.

Brian picks up a piece of sushi, studies it carefully. “Right.”

“Have you talked to John about it?” Roger asks, sorry he cannot help even though he feels he should be able to, “I think he would understand. Better than Fred and I, at least.”

“Ah, no, haven’t. Want the rest of this?” Brian asks, pushing his box towards Roger.

“Thanks,” Roger says carefully, “but you’ve barely eaten anything.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Brian says, picking up his cup of coffee, “besides, I have to get back soon.”

So that's what they do. Roger eats the rest of the sushi, Brian drinks the last of his coffee, and then Brian goes back to the shop at Charing Cross Road. Roger watches his retreating back for a second, wondering why he always feels like he's missing something when he talks to Brian. Then he goes to find Freddie.

Beyond Retro is downstairs as well, but unlike the bookstore, it’s possible to breathe, and even though it smells like old clothes, it's a fairly nice store. Full of wannabe hippies, of course, but he supposes they have to buy their overpriced second-hand clothes somewhere. As soon as he steps inside, he spots Freddie behind counter, dressed in satin trousers and a flowery, embroidered jacket, and chatting to a customer in a weird, fringed cape with horses on.

"I'm out in twenty minutes, darling, if you'll wait here?" Freddie says when the customer leaves and Roger has is just about done judging everyone’s outfits.

"Sure," Roger says, about to ask if he can come to the backroom to play Candy Crush, but then Freddie steps out from behind the counter and gestures for him to follow.

They weave in and out between clothing racks, Freddie occasionally going through one at lightning speed, picking out ugly shirts and Levi's, a pair of red trousers and a velvet jacket, before he hands it all to Roger. "I want you to try this, I think it might fit you."

Roger would really much rather play Candy Crush and almost says so, but Freddie is already walking away, and so he grudgingly follows.

It's not so bad when he's in the fitting room, and he quite likes both jacket and red trousers. The Levi's fit him well, but they are expensive, and he already have several pairs back home. The shirts are not so bad on, but the colours are dull and they smell a bit weird. Roger has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that anyone would wear this back in the 1970s, let alone now. It looks good on Freddie though, and Roger himself has a couple of things back home—gifted to him by Freddie—which he quite likes, but was he to browse the store by himself, he doesn't think he would even try something on.

"Roger?" Freddie calls a while later, when Roger has tried it all on and become distracted by his phone.

"In here."

“Don’t sit on the floor, dear,” Freddie tuts, “get up and let me see you.”

Roger does, with some difficulty, and turns around when Freddie tells him to.

"I like the jacket on you," Freddie says, looking at him critically, “not with that shirt, though. How about this one?”

Roger makes a face. “I really don’t like that one.”

“Try it with the red trousers.”

Figuring it’ll be over sooner if he just does what Freddie tells him, he strips down to his underwear, accepting trousers and shirt from Freddie.

“It’s not very professional to ogle your potential customers, is it?” Roger asks, fastening the buttons. Not that it bothers him, but he thinks Freddie could at least pretend not to look.

“Are you kidding, it’s the best part of the job,” Freddie says, in that way that makes Roger question whether he is joking or not, “it’s not the first time I’ve lured a customer into the fitting rooms.”

“Please spare me the details,” Roger says, pained.

“What do you think of this?” Freddie asks, moving out of the way so Roger can look himself in the mirror.

“It’s better,” Roger admits.

“You can also pair it with these,” Freddie says, picking up a pair of discarded Levi’s, “they’re a shade darker, it’ll look better than with the light ones.”

They finally leave the store 15 minutes later, but only after Roger has tried on every possible combination, plus a satin top and a pair of shoes which he may have fallen a little bit in love with.

"I haven't had lunch yet,” Freddie says as they step out on the street, “we can eat at Wasabi if you want?"

"If you insist," Roger says, unable to help a grin forming.

Freddie glances at him, amused. “I really don’t.”

“Aw come one, it’s been ages!”

Once inside, Roger goes straight for the Hana set, smiling widely at the cashier when he pays because he is not ashamed.

“That was fast,” Freddie says, joining him a moment later, “did you have sushi earlier?”

“No,” Roger says, letting out a little sigh of happiness.

They take the tube to Notting Hill Gate and walk the rest of the way to Portobello Road where Mary is waiting by the stand.

“You’re late,” she says, looking unhappy even as Freddie apologises and greets her with a kiss on the cheek, “I have a lecture in 40 minutes.”

They usually manage the stand alone, but other than actual vintage clothes, they also sell some of Mary’s creations, and if an emergency comes up, she will, albeit unwillingly, take over for awhile. Today Freddie had a morning shift he couldn’t get out of, and Roger a mind-numbing 8am class which he barely survived, and only because of three iced coffees and the pack of Jaffa Cakes in his bag.

“See you later,” Mary says, and it’s only when she tries to hug him goodbye that Roger realises he’s zoned out.

Not much time passes before he finds himself missing his warm, not actually yellow, snowsuit, and he looks with envy at Freddie, who is wearing very nice gloves and a new vintage fur coat. It was of course fake fur when showed to Brian, but Roger suspects it really is not. Suppressing a shiver, Roger buries his hands, red and stiff from the cold, deeper in his pockets.

“What do you want for your gloves?” he asks.

Freddie eyes him over the rim of his thermo mug. “A blowjob.”

“Freddie, come ooon.”

“Alright, give me your hands,” Freddie sighs, putting his tea down and taking off his gloves.

Eagerly, Roger does, and Freddie sandwiches them between his own for a moment before he starts massaging life back into his hands. Then two women stop by the stall, and Freddie and his nice, warm hands leave him cold and miserable once again. At least he can light a smoke now, he thinks, patting his pockets for his pack of cigarettes.

"You really shouldn't smoke near the clothes," Freddie says, once their customers have left with one of Mary's dresses.

"We're outside," he complains, but stubs it out anyway, because it’s a lousy argument and he knows it.

Freddie sits down on the folding chair and reaches for his tea. "Have you bought your Christmas presents yet?"

"Only for you and John."

"Oh?" Freddie says, a glint in his dark eyes, "what did you get us?"

"For John I bought that Yellow Submarine box set from HappySocks," Roger says, reaching for Freddie's forgotten gloves, "and for you a great, big bag of coal."

"Now that was a disappointing ending to that sentence," Freddie says, and Roger swats his shoulder with one of the gloves, "been naughty, have I?"

"When aren't you?" he says, nudging Freddie's expensive boot with the toe of his own, "what about you?"

Freddie sighs, loud and dramatic. "I have no fucking idea what to get Brian and John, to be honest."

"That super expensive chess set for John, and more books he'll never read for Brian. There."

"Chess set?" Freddie asks, an incredulous look on his face, "John plays chess?"

"Not that I know of," Roger shrugs, "no, it's that super rare, super expensive Lord of the Rings chess set he's been lusting after the past four years."

"I think not," Freddie says, cradling his mug in his lap.

Roger rolls his eyes, fondly.

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He goes straight for the shower once he gets home, hands and feet so cold it takes him a minute to undo the laces and kick off his Docs. He lets the water run hot while removing his lenses and stripping off his clothes, leaving it on the floor which is already strewn with several pairs of dirty socks and boxers, pyjama bottoms, and a jumper he recognises as John's. The water is scalding hot when he steps under the spray, but it doesn't warm him up, even when his skin turns an angry red. Shivering, he reaches for the soap, wishing for all the world that he was back home in Cornwall, taking a long bath while Mum made dinner.

He ends up standing in the shower for 20 minutes even after he has finished washing, the thought leaving the warmth of the shower not the least tempting. At last he turns off the water, does a half-hearted attempt at drying the floor with a towel, and secures another one (dry and clean) around his waist.

John is on his bed reading, earphones in and barely acknowledging him when Roger steps into the room. Stepping over one of John’s hobbit feet slippers, he passes his own empty closet and opens John's instead, not prepared to find nothing but a sock and a pair of distressingly short shorts in bright yellow.

“Uhm, John?” he says, but realises he probably can’t hear anything when the music sounding from his earphones is so loud Roger easily recognises it as ABBA. He throws the shorts at him. “John? Where are all your clothes?”

“Dirty,” John replies, having moved one earphone, “I think I have a pair of clean jeans somewhere, though. And a sock, but I was planning on wearing it myself if I can find the other.”

Roger looks back into the closet, then opens his own. It’s just as glaringly empty. “We should probably do laundry tomorrow,” he says, as much as he dreads the thought. John nods briefly and puts his earphone back in.

Beginning to feel a bit cold standing there in only a towel, Roger leaves the room in favour of raiding Freddie’s closet.

Upon entering his room, he quickly discovers that Freddie did mean it when he said he didn’t want Roger to borrow his clothes. Disbelieving, he gives the padlock on the closet doors a tug.

“Why?” he asks loudly, jumping when a windswept Brian appears in the doorway.

“Hi?” he says, red-nosed and hair a mess.

“I need you to tell me where Freddie keeps his key,” Roger urges, stretching his hands out towards Brian and almost accidentally flashing him when the towel around his waist loosens. He hastily secures it.

“I don’t know where it is,” Brian says, working a hand through his no longer close-cropped curls, “but I imagine he put a lock on for a reason. Something about you borrowing his clothes and he having to retreat it from under your bed along with dirty socks and underwear. He wasn’t happy.”

“But I need clothes! What am I gonna do tomorrow?”

“You could actually do your laundry.”

“That doesn’t help me now,” Roger says, pulling at the lock one last time before turning around to see Brian sitting cross-legged on the bed. He widens his eyes slightly, purses his lips just a little. “Unless I can borrow some of yours?”

“It’s much too large for you,” Brian says warily.

“I can borrow a pair of jeans from John. Between the two of us, we’ve got two pair of trousers, one t-shirt, and three socks, and none of them are even Christmassy.” He very badly needs John to do his laundry, because while his usual sock collection is fairly impressive, his Christmas socks are simply epic. Then because Brians looks like he needs more convincing, he gestures to the lower part of his body with a grin, “please? I'll let you have a peek?”

Brian scowls. "You're disgusting."

"What? You've chased dick since birth but you don't want to see mine?” Roger says, feigning offence, “honestly, what a kick in the balls."

Brian almost smiles at that one, but attempts to cover it by rolling his eyes. "Just take what you need and leave me alone.”

"Thanks, Bri," Roger says cheerfully, "I knew I could count on you!"

“But you have to promise to do your laundry tomorrow.”

“‘Course,” he says, having already opened Brian’s closet. It’s not as impressive as Freddie’s, who organises his clothes by colour and material, but Brian’s system is fairly neat, too ... Roger lets out a snort of laughter. “Do you actually fold your underwear?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Brian asks, as if the answer isn't obvious.

“Nothing,” Roger says, picking out an awful, brightly coloured sweater, “seriously though, this one? Where did you even get this?”

“If you’re going to insult my clothes, then feel free to leave,” Brian says, and Roger can just picture his face right now, eyes narrowed and mouth an unhappy line.

“Oh but it’s very stylish,” Roger says, putting on a pair of underwear before throwing the towel aside, “hey, wanna go shopping tomorrow?”

Brian doesn’t deign himself to answer that, and so Roger picks out a pair of almost decent and very comfy-looking pyjama bottoms, a wine red jumper that doesn’t look half bad, a shirt and a pair of underwear for John, socks, and another shirt which is most definitely Freddie’s and must have gotten there by mistake, before thanking Brian and leaving him to his readings or whatever it is he does when he is not working.

John leaves for his pub crawl with Freddie soon after, and Roger figures he might as well do his readings and get it over with. He then proceeds to procrastinate wildly for an hour or so, making the ultimate motivational playlist—Rolling Stones and Bruce Springsteen, Suzi Quatro and Aerosmith, some Blondie, and every hard-hitting, Tusk era, Lindsey Buckingham song—and playing four or five rounds of Candy Crush.

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It's only half past nine when he finishes his readings and throws himself on his bed. He would be a right sad twat to go to bed this early, but he doesn’t want to join Freddie and John when they have already been out for hours.

Deciding to see what Brian is up to, he leaves the comfort of his bed and shuffles into the kitchen. He puts on the kettle, retreats Brian's Nasa mug and one of the tall, blue glasses from the cupboard along with two boxes of tea, one Earl Grey, the other the citrussy stuff Freddie brings home from God knows where. Humming along to the faint sound of music still playing from his room, he dumps the teabags into mug and glass along with a spoonful of sugar and milk for Brian, and has put it all away again by the time the water finishes boiling.

He only realises his mistake by the time he is halfway between the kitchen and Brian’s room. With a sigh of annoyance, he stops, holding both cups as far from his face as possible, wanting to smack himself for not taking off his glasses before making tea. He feels a bit of an idiot standing like this, but he figures it’s better than entering Brian’s room with fogged up glasses and tripping over something.

When he feels fairly confident that is not going to happen, he crosses the floor and pushes down the door handle with his elbow for the second time today.

"I made you tea," he announces, kicking the door shut with his foot. Brian looks up from where he is sitting on his bed with a book, propped up by pillows against the headboard and dressed in pyjamas already, a thankful smile instantly visible on his face.

“Hold this,” he says, handing Brian both teas and climbs onto the bed, taking off his glasses and putting them on the nightstand.

"The Martian Chronicles! Oh, I loved that one," he says once he has settled and got his glass back, noticing the cover of the book Brian has put down in favour of sipping his tea.

"Yeah?" Brian says, an amused smile on his lips, "why’s that?"

“It’s science fiction, what’s not to like?”

“What an inspiring and insightful response,” Brian says, hiding his smile behind the rim of his cup.

“Ugh,” Roger says, “why do you always want an hour long talk on every book we’ve read? I liked that the characters and their actions were believable above all. I mean, what we see are only snapshots, so the author really has to make every word count, and he does—I think he describes the human race perfectly, which is both sad and a bit scary, but, well. It just moved me, I suppose. And anyway, it’s way better than Fahrenheit 451, couldn’t even finish that one.”

Brian, who up until now has listened with obvious interest and agreement, now looks so offended that Roger can’t help but laugh.

"You don't like Fahrenheit?"

Roger blows on his tea. "I don't exactly dislike it, it was just a bit disappointing, I suppose. I had such high hopes after reading this one, and it's supposed to be a classic and all that jazz,” he says, waving a hand demonstratively, “it just didn't live up to my expectations."

"I see." Brian says slowly, like he’s considering exactly how many layers of diplomacy he needs to wrap his vehement disagreement in.

“Of course it’s still relevant,” he adds hastily when Brian looks like he’s about to start on his soliloquy, pulling it out of his arse as he goes, "as we continues to dumb down education and, uh—”

“Yes?” Brian prompts, looking very amused.

“And I mean, the government are already spying on us, it’s not unlikely it’ll evolve, so. Still very much relevant.”

Brian actually laughs at that. “Good point.”

"You know," Roger says, settling more comfortably into the pillows, “you should read aloud.”

"I should, should I?"

"Yes, you've got a nice reading voice, and I've been reading all evening and I made you tea."

"A compelling argument," Brian says, picking up the book. "Any preference as to what I shall read?"

"The one with the guy who plants trees, Green Morning or something."

"All right."

As Brian starts reading, Roger puts down his tea and creeps under the covers, surprised as always by just how soft Brian's bed is, and feeling just a bit envious that him and John got the smaller room and only have room for twin beds. Then he figures it doesn’t really matter, because he is here now, and the warmth from covers and tea and the proximity of Brian's body makes him sleepy. He snuggles a bit closer to Brian, nose almost touching the thigh of his pyjamas, and it doesn't take long before he lets himself drift.

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When Roger comes to, he is almost positive that it is morning. Either that, or the angry red behind his eyelids means that someone is holding a flashlight over his face. Which regrettably wouldn’t be the first time.

Then comes a lazy drawl which Roger recognises as Brian’s, except Brian never sounds like that unless it’s weekend and he has got at least nine hours of sleep.

"Have you seen?" he says, "I've landed Roger Taylor in my bed."

Roger thinks that perhaps he should respond to that, but then John’s voice sounds, offensively flat. "What a catch."

It is possible that they keep talking after that, but if Roger is honest, he wouldn’t be able to recall a single word later. He does, however, register that the warm weight pressed against his cheek disappear, and he thinks he hears a chuckle follow his noise of protest.

Then the bed dips down again, and he snuggles closer to warm body creeping under the sheets. He is certain his name is being called, but figures it’ll stop if he ignores it.

"Roger, wake up."

Even through half-closed eyes, John doesn't look like he is feeling very well. "Did you have fun last night?" Roger asks, wincing when his voice comes out all hoarse and scratchy.

"It was all right," John says, closing his eyes, "Freddie bought me drinks, and now Bri's making me breakfast."

Roger perks up. "He is?"

"Hmm," John says, eyes still closed. "Promised to wake you."

Roger yawns. "I'm very much awake."

Now that John has mentioned it, Roger clearly hears Brian clattering around with pots and pans in the kitchen, and he wonders what he is going to make, pancakes dripping with syrup or scrambled eggs and bacon …

John appears to have fallen asleep, and Roger nudges him gently. "John?"

"Hm?"

He means to ask John if he knows what Brian is making for breakfast, but John’s eyes seem to have trouble staying open, and the risk of having his question ignored is too great. Instead he points at the poster on the opposite wall.

"Have you noticed this?" he asks, shifting a bit to left and beckoning John close again. "If you lie right here, it looks like Jimmy Page is looking you right in the eye."

“Creepy,” is John’s unenthusiastic response.

“Or titillating,” Roger hints. John lets out a snort. “If you’re into that sort of thing, I mean.”

"I doubt he’s put much thought into it," John yawns.

"Of course he has! He likes the whole—” Roger waves a hand, searching for the word, “voyeuristic thing.”

“And I suppose he told you so,” John says, looking sceptic.

"’Course not, Freddie did."

John wrinkles his nose.

"Anyway, it makes sense, doesn't it? His attraction towards Page, I mean. It's the whole narcissistic thing—you're bound to be more attracted to someone who looks like you."

"Says who?"

"It's obvious—I mean, look at Brian—he thinks Jimmy Page is the best looking guy since, well, ever. He plays guitar, he's pale and spindly and long-fingered, got that dark, curly hair, and high cheekbones. Who else do we know who looks like that? Brian!" Roger says, because it’s pretty obvious. To further prove his point, he adds, "so, like, take the four of us. If two of us were to pair up, it would most likely be Brian and Freddie, simply because they look more like the other."

"Or maybe because they are both gay," John says, an amused smile now on his face.

“Well, that too,” he admits, “but you see what I mean, don't you? That's why Debbie and I would be the perfect match."

"I’m not having this discussion with you again,” John says, getting out of bed at impressive speed considering he was mid-yawn a moment before, “she’s too old, it’s creepy.”

“I don’t want to do her now,” Roger calls after him, getting out of bed himself, “although … she is pretty fit for her age.”

“Not listening,” John says, already out of the door and with his hands coming up to cover his ears.

Roger takes off then, leaping onto an unsuspecting John’s back.

“Oh god,” John groans, before he collapses on the floor, Roger tumbling off him.

“Ow,” he says, even though John took most of the fall.

A wonderful scent wafting in from the kitchen hits his nostrils just then, and he is up in a second, about to scramble towards it when John trips him and he is back on the floor.

“You are such a pain,” John says, sounding out of breath.

“What on Earth are you two doing?”

“Er,” Roger says, “getting ready for breakfast?”

“I see,” Freddie says. He seems fresh out of the shower, and except his slightly puffy eyes, he doesn’t look like someone who has been out drinking.

“How are you not hangover?” Roger asks, shifting slightly on the cold floor, uncomfortable but not so much that he would consider getting up.

“Bananas, coconut water, and vitamin B,” says Freddie lightly, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe breakfast is ready.”

“I swear he makes this shit up,” Roger says when Freddie has left.

John gracelessly gets to his feet. “Coconut water has never sounded more unappealing to me than it does right now. Are you coming?”

“Right behind you,” Roger says, not moving. John leaves him then.

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After a long, indulgent breakfast, Brian leaves for work and Freddie goes back to Portobello Market, Roger promising to join him when he’s has finished doing his laundry. He figures it’ll take a couple of hours, tops, but once both laundry baskets and the chairs have been emptied and Roger has gathered another pile from under their beds, it becomes clear that it can’t possibly be done by one round. It’s also impossible to cross the room without tripping over the very large piles, something John unintentionally demonstrates when he tries to get to the door. Who knew they had this much clothing.

“Do we have to sort it into different colours?” Roger says from the safety of his bed, “what did we do the last time?”

“I don’t think there has been a last time.”

“That can’t be right, we’ve lived here for almost a year,” Roger says, but then he thinks about it, and perhaps it’s not too much of a stretch—both Freddie and John brings their laundry when they visit their mums, and if some of Roger’s clothes end up amongst it, John doesn’t mind and Freddie doesn’t notice, and their mums definitely don’t. It’s also not uncommon for them to borrow each other’s clothes, which makes it even easier to get out of laundry, because if yours have been borrowed, you demand they wash it, and if the other way around, it’s easy to slip it into the other’s hamper. Brian is the only one who actually knows how to work the washing machine and frequently gives them shit for passing it onto their mothers, but Roger did get him to do his once, so it’s not absurd to think he would do it again. True, he was absolutely piss drunk, and he still saw himself fit to rant about responsibility and adulthood, but the main point is that he did it.

“I’m pretty sure we need a separate wash for underwear,” John says, scrunching up his nose as he reaches for a pair of boxers, “but I don’t think we can fill the machine with underwear only.”

“Brian?” Roger suggests, and John throws the boxers aside and picks up his phone from the floor. He puts in on speaker, and they listen it silence until Brian picks up after fifth ring.

“Yes?” he says, sounding only mildly annoyed.

“Hi Bri,” John greets, and Roger doesn’t know how anyone could be annoyed when it’s John calling, “we need your help with laundry. So, we figured we should divide it into different piles, yes?”

“Whites, colours, blacks, and towels, linens, and underwear. Read the tags, and don’t call me while I’m at work,” Brian finishes, and the line goes dead.

“Right,” Roger says, picking up the nearest garment, “this is both black and white, which pile does it go into?”

“Freddie’s hamper?” John suggests.

When they have sorted all their clothes, Freddie’s pile, which consists of everything that doesn’t fit into the categories Brian mentioned, is almost as big as the blacks pile. Roger thinks they might have to sneak a few pieces into Brian’s as well, and maybe some under their beds.

“Alright, let’s start with blacks,” Roger says, trying to gather the whole pile in his arms. He doesn’t succeed—he always thought himself a rather colourful person, but clearly he is wrong, because there are a lot of black clothes. Or a lot in general, he supposes.

John picks up the rest and follows him to the hall where the washing machine is. It’s a big, ugly thing, and Roger feels a little faint upon seeing all the different settings.

“So, what, we just … put it in?”

“I think so,” John says, looking as much at a loss as Roger feels.

Opening the machine proves to be another problem—it appears to be stuck, even when he uses both hands, and Roger is afraid he might break it if he pulls any harder.

Then John presses a conveniently labeled ‘On/Off’ button, and Roger almost falls on his butt when it suddenly opens.

When he sends him a glare, the corners of John’s mouth lift in a smile that no doubt is supposed to communicate ‘consider this payback’.

Roger looks back on the rows of buttons. “Okay, so. Daily cotton or daily synthetics? Delicates? Don’t think we have much of that. Anti odour? That must be a good thing, right?”

John shrugs.

“This is your field! You should know how to do this. It’s electrical, right? So go … engineer it, or whatever,” Roger says, because really, if John doesn’t know, how are ordinary people supposed to?

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Roger says, not usually ready to give up after such a short amount of time, but. It’s pretty difficult stuff, this whole laundry business. “We can’t call Brian—we can call Brian! It’s practically an emergency!”

John looks like he is about to protest, but then thinks better of it. Roger has his phone out in a second.

“Hey Bri!” he greets, ignoring Brian’s less warm ‘what?’, “how’s work? You know, we’re having a bit of trouble—”

“Can’t it wait ‘til I get home?”

“But Bri, you made me promise to do laundry today, and we are both out of clothes; you can’t let us attend Tim’s friend’s thing without a stitch on.”

“I genuinely hate both of you,” Brian says. Always has trouble expressing his fondness, Brian does. Then he sighs, “all right, what’s the problem?”

“How do we start it?”

“Are your clothes in the machine?”

“Uhm,” Roger says, glancing at the clothes still on the floor from when he tried to open the door, “no?”

“That would be a start,” Brian says with thinly veiled impatience.

“All right, hold on,” Roger says, placing his phone on the washing machine before he begins filling it with clothes. He can almost hear Brian rolling his eyes.

“Am I right when I say you didn’t look at the labels even though I told you to?” Brian says when Roger has announced he is done.

Roger exchanges a sheepish glance with John. “Uh … Possibly, yes.”

“Okay, I’ll show you how to do it properly once I get home, for now you can go with Mixed. Have you filled it with detergent?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” he says, reaching for a random bottle, “but, like, do I just pour it into the drum?” he asks, puzzled. It doesn’t sound right.

John takes the bottle from him and switches it for another one labelled DARKS.

“There a small drawer in the top left corner,” Brian says, “fill the cap with detergent, pour it into the second compartment, and close it again.”

“Right,” Roger says, carefully following Brian’s instructions.

“Now turn the knob to 8 and press the start button,” Brian says, speaking quickly now, “et voilà! See you later.” And the line goes dead again.

“That wasn’t so hard!” Roger says, not able to help a grin forming.

“So you don’t mind doing the rest?” John asks as they walk back into the living room.

“Are you kidding? It’s still a lot of work.”

“If you win three rounds before the others get home, I’ll do the rest,” John says, waving a Wii remote.

Roger snatches from the coffee table and throws himself on the couch. “You’re on!”

♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛

Many hours and a lot of laundry later, Roger fits himself into his best jeans, newly washed and tumble dried, cuffs them just enough to show off his creepers but not so much that the tattoo on his ankle is visible, and picks out two shirts to go with it.

The others are in the living room watching The Two Towers, and Roger stops for a moment to appreciate a soaked Viggo Mortensen kicking orc arse. When the scene switches to something less interesting, he steps in front of the TV and holds up both shirts.

"Okay, which of these will get me laid tonight?"

Brian cocks his head to the side as if regarding both but doesn’t offer an opinion, and John’s eyes simply glaze over, as they always do on such occasions.

He turns to Freddie, hopeful.

"Oh but the green one would look magnificent on Brian," Freddie says, snatching it from him and holding it up in front of Brian, "brings out your eyes, dear."

Roger smiles patiently. “I don’t think you heard my question.”

"Oh let him have it, it's not like it’ll lessen your chances," Freddie says. “And for the other one, you really shouldn’t wear it if you insist on rolling up your sleeves. The girls may fawn over your flower tattoo, but I assure you no one will bed you if you wear that colour combination.”

“I don’t think—”

“Let me help you,” Freddie says, removing a purring Ziggy from his lap, who immediately jumps onto John’s lap instead where it starts kneading. John looks like he would rather be anywhere else.

The thing about Ziggy is that he really doesn’t like people—the exception being Freddie, of course, who claims to have a spiritual connection to him, and John, who strongly dislikes cats. He tolerates Brian, mostly because he’s the one who feeds him, but Roger he hates as much as any guest who dares enter the flat. Roger doesn’t mind too much, figures he can’t be well liked by everyone—at least he doesn’t take it personally like Brian, who, even after many pitiful attempts to win it over, still tries too hard.

“Roger?”

“Freddie, I really don’t see how it matters that the colour of my clothes and tattoos match,” Roger tries, trying to catch up with Freddie’s purposeful strides across the living room floor.

“I know you don’t,” Freddie says, looking through his newly washed clothes, “and it pains me.”

Roger suppresses a sigh.

“Here, try this one,” Freddie says, handing him a shirt almost identical to the other one, and Roger grudgingly puts it on, wondering if this is going to take as long as it did yesterday.

When Freddie has finally chosen an acceptable shirt to go along with jeans and shoes and skin, Roger rolls up the sleeves of his shirt so the cluster of coloured cornflowers on his left forearm is showing, because no matter what Freddie says, he's had much success with it in the past.

They leave soon after, all together for once, but then Freddie runs back to check Ziggy’s bowls and Brian, regrettably, to get his new selfie stick, gifted to him by the animal shelter he volunteers at last week for reasons unknown to Roger.

He knows, of course, that he should leave it be, that it makes Brian happy and relaxed if just for a short moment in his tragically busy life, but Roger swears he’ll throw it in the toilet the next time he finds a video of himself sleeping or Freddie eating carrots or John watching Mamma Mia on their Facebook page. He can't very well delete it, but he fears they might not be taken seriously, and really, he has to talk to Freddie about it.

When Brian insists they take a group shot, Roger doesn't bother to hide his sour expression.

♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛

To his credit, Freddie’s shirt pick does help Roger getting laid. Of course it could also be his incredibly good looks and undeniable charm, but Roger is willing to give credit to both Freddie and his weird rules about colour combinations. Still, that is not an excuse for Freddie to keep pestering him when he’s clearly, er, busy.

“Why don’t you just give me your wallet, go do your thing, and afterwards you can both come find me and drinks will be on me?” Freddie says, like he's being reasonable.

“It’s not on you if you’re using my money,” Roger mutters, not knowing why he bothers. They had been so close to slipping into the bedroom unnoticed. Trust Freddie to ruin that.

“I’ll pay you back.”

Knowing Freddie will keep bugging him about it until he gets what he wants, Roger relents, if only to shut him up. With a helpful hand from Dominique, his wallet is retrieved from his back pocket and lobbed at Freddie, who catches it with a grin and an "enjoy yourselves."

Of course, when they do finish—Roger feeling sated in a way he hasn't for a long time—Freddie is nowhere to be found, and then Dominique, perhaps tired, perhaps not really caring about finding Roger's friends, kisses him on the cheek and tells him goodbye.

He can’t find John or Brian either—someone tells him they went home already, another that there had been talk about going to a nearby club. Doing his best to hide his annoyance, Roger says goodbye to the people he knows, and then leaves the house to find a tube station. It’s when he gets there 10 minutes later that he realises he left his Oyster card in his wallet, which, along with Freddie, is probably halfway across town by now. His phone is almost out of battery, and even if it wasn’t, the chance of getting hold of Freddie is minimal at best. John and Brian could be anywhere, and even though he could go back to the house and find someone to stay with, he doesn’t much fancy having to go through another four hours of drinking only to be able to kip on some stranger’s couch. With a kick to a lamp post and half a minute of cursing Freddie, Roger retrieves his earphones from his pocket, puts his phone on flight mode, and begins the walk home.

It takes him a little more than an hour to get home, and if he is completely honest, he doesn’t mind too much. It’s cold, yes, but he has his earphones in and hands buried in his pocket, and London looks best at night, the dark, velvet sky and the bright city lights.

The door is open when he enters the flat, but all lights are out, and he trips over a pair of shoes but doesn’t bother turning on the lights himself. He figures that whoever is home has gone straight to bed, but Roger doesn’t feel tired yet and makes a line for Brian's room, wanting to borrow his copy of The Martian Chronicles. He is still humming along to his music when he pushes the door open, impressed but very glad that his phone hasn’t run out of battery yet, but the sight that meets him makes him stop dead in his tracks. There, on full display on his bed, is Brian—naked, on his stomach, and with a blond guy Roger vaguely recognises on top of him. What must have been seconds feels like a lifetime as Roger stares into the stranger's eyes, a lifetime where they just keep fucking, their breathing heavy and the bed springs creaking, and Roger's eyes accidentally dart to where they are joined. Something like disgust coils tight in his stomach, and he barely registers Brian scrambling to—cover up, back away, reach for him, maybe, because he is backing out of the room, only pausing to grab his shoes before he flees the flat.

Next

[moriacavandish]

Growing old is a gift

What is it like being one year from the big 50? It's such a loaded question.  I look back and it amazes me that I’m this old.  It also reminds me of my failures, my mistakes, my joys and triumphs.  All I can say about life so far. It's a bit of a drama, a few tear jerkers and a lot of comedy.  Which year is my favorite year? Every single one.  Which is my least favorite? Every single one.  Being a parent was and is the most amazing thing that whatever creator or alien or whatever the latest conspiracy theorist believes being a parent is the most amazing frightening crazy time of a person's life.  The struggle,  the wonder if you will kill them before they turn 18.

I can say my son survived.  Barely.  After he left out, it was really hard, I found myself asking who am I? Who was I, and who will I become? I can say as an almost grown up, at least my body is grown up, older, brittle, sore, and don’ t get me started on my brain.  Ooops let me get back there. Now what was I saying right barely avoiding killing my teenager.  Growing a little creature in your belly changes you, I don’t mean looking down and I don’t have toes. I felt secure suddenly as if I knew what I was meant to do with my life.  I made good choices and I made some really bad choices, but all in all parenting shaped me, it soothed the anxiety and the fear of not knowing who I was. Or where I belonged.  So when my son left home, I fell hard.  All the old questions came back.  It wasn’t just the emotional change but the dramatic changes in my life, and routine.  I no longer had to spend 23 hour of the day caring, and loving and feeding and changing a life.  I was no longer needed as a primary caregiver.  I was totally lost.  I am proud to say I am only slightly lost now.  I started to look at the good things. I met my soulmate, good thing, I published my first article? Good things.. I discovered I like to eat cookies, as much as I like baking them.  I learned to love myself, to be patient when it came to the questions that still flood my head. Who am I? I am Moria, silly , funny, lovable, a loud snorer and generally a kind person, a little temper, and I cry if I can’t get a fish off my hook when I am fishing.

There were a few good things about getting older.  I remember the day my doctor suggested, perhaps it was time for a hysterectomy.  I could have been naked in seconds. I could just see that, he turns to get me a referral and I’m naked and ready.  Bring it on!  For a week before the surgery all I could think was no more Aunt flow, no more on the rag, and no more woman's special time of the month. Special, not the five letter word starting with a B,  I was thinking.  No other creature on this planet can bleed for 4 to 7 days and not be dead.  I would pass by the wall of Girl crap at the grocery store, you know what I mean ladies.  Feminine products cover an entire wall or shelf.  It is vast don’t forget to bring water, or you might not make it to the other side.  Is there really a need for 40000 types of pads, and another 10000 brands of tampons.  But on this day I smiled, pointed at this box then that bag.  I don’t need you, or you, and you forget about it. People are walking past and glancing curiously as I do a little happy dance.  I stood proudly hands on my hips, laughing ha, I am a non bleeder! I laugh again, deeply from that menopausal belly I am free! I laugh again.. And pee. Fuck. Head down I take a few steps to the wall of old lady incontinence products. I sigh, and say aloud, Fuck.  It's alway a trade isn’t it folks. You lose something and gain something.  Besides what's a little pee, here and there.

I notice, my body is a symphony in itself.  Ready and bend down and POP, stand up and CRACK, turn and CRUNCH, take a step and BAM you twist your ankle. I would bow, but my ankle…

The human body goes through 2 puberties ladies. We have all gone through one, but no one tells you after 40, you go through it again.  Ladies, no matter how much we run on our damned treadmill  there's always going to be that one spot that never gets smaller.  Muffin top, that's a word I don’t appreciate. Why ruin the muffin’s reputation? They didn’t do anything wrong. Why name that layer of fat that tips over your jeans muffin tops?  Muffin tops are yummy, they taste good and they make you happy.  Again leave the muffin alone.  Do you remember when your legs didn’t rub together when you walked, so far all it's gotten me is a nausty rash and I can barely move every second day of the week.  This leads to me ordering take out Japanese. Can’t cook if you can’t lift anything heavy, like a frying pan.  I tell myself if I order Japanese its fish, it's seaweed. How many calories could there possibly be? Then I order the chicken yakisoba and an order of deep fried vegetable tempura.  Ding ding ding there's a few million calories. Back on the elliptical. Truly it's a terrible cycle.  At some point I assume I’ll just eat as I work out.  

What was I saying? I ask my partner that all the time, I can be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly I forget the next word coming from my mouth.  Who does this? At least I keep my partner laughing, some days he just watches the chaos, have you ever been making food,  you toss the box and have to dig in the garbage can to retrieve it because after four minutes I can’t remember how high to cook it on. I’m lying for 2 minutes.  Then rummaging again into the trash to look at it once more.  I sometimes laugh at myself. But for the most part, I just stare at my dogs and ask them, Really?  Dogs, get dogs they said, they are so amazing, you will love them always.  Not totally correct, don’t get me wrong I love my two Chihuahuas 99.999% of the time, Mackie and Lola Mae.  But for 4 pound and 5 pound dogs they have a way of taking up most of a queen size bed. They don’t follow the rules very well, and if you don’t give them what they want they will hide under a blanket on their 300 dollar sofa and bark at me, forever. I own a sofa and recliner yet I spend most of my time on the floor.  Get dogs, they said it would be fun.  It's fun, when they don’t listen, and run straight up to a skunk’s ass.  Rock paper scissors is how we decide who does the bathing.  We all know that it is a stupid game;  and I do the washing.  Getting back to the memory thing? Cause in point re read the last paragraph as it had nothing to do really with memory more  to do with dogs.

 I once lost my wallet for an entire month.  What about when someone asks you what your children's year of birth is? Is there anyone out there that suddenly freezes and starts counting toes? Anyone ever play find your glasses? I prefer Clue. Ever forget a phone number! Your own phone number?  God help me cell phones have made me stupid.  Who memorizes numbers anymore.  If you look at my kitchen wall, it's covered in sticky notes. I started buying multi colored packs, at least it looks pretty.  

Regardless I look forward to new things, I am still learning, still healing and still laughing.  Life has a way of surprising us, I heard someone say once, “Growing old is a gift.” how true those words are. Stay funny, laugh make mistakes,  have the big slice of cake!

[operakitten]

y’all I cook a lot and have done....even more quarantine cooking in the last six weeks lol

mostly this is for my own damn reference because 98% of these meals were a++  but can confirm all are super tasty

instant pot 15 bean chili with 1 lb beyond meat and about 1 lb sweet potato instead of the 2 lb ground turkey it calls for (will be using leftovers for chili dogs and probably chili mac as well, super tasty)

marinated baked peanut tempeh over a bowl of kale, quinoa, a quick homemade cabbage slaw, carrot ribbons and asian roasted potatoes and broccoli because I already had carrots and wanted to use up some baby potatoes that were going bad (we’ve had this two or three times, it’s great)

sweet potato and black bean tacos and a sweet potato and kale salad based on that recipe, where I just used a quarter of the sweet potatoes I’d already roasted for the tacos and omitted the pumpkin seeds because I had none (tahini dressings are in, everyone should try one)

cinnamon apple quick bread, subbing monkfruit sweetener for the sugars because it’s lower points on weight watchers for my mom. DELICIOUS, EVERYONE SHOULD MAKE THIS

pav bhaji with turmeric rice that I just made in my instant pot instead because it was quicker. I served the rice with I think three different indian recipes because it’s good and my mom doesn’t like white rice (make the pav bhaji because I love priya)

spicy sweet sambal pork noodles that would have been much better if I’d followed the recipe as written, but we’ve been quarantined so I used pork tips instead of ground pork and added some veggies. still pretty good!!!

I’m fairly certain I also made chicken yakisoba but perhaps not this exact recipe. honestly we’ve been on lockdown for six weeks I’m surprised I remembered this much. 

patty melt sandwiches with beyond burgers. I used a slightly different recipe for the sauce (no relish because I fucking hate it), and cut the cheese in half because we are lactose intolerant in this household. served once with homemade sweet potato fries (garlic powder, salt, paprika, a little cayenne. bake them at whatever you like baking fries at) and once with zucchini fritters? or possibly zucchini fries, zucchini does not work well on my silicon baking pads so they were a failure. the burgers were fucking dope though

chickpeas and also pinto beans because my mom eats like, half a can of beans every day with her lunch and nobody had any canned beans. the beans were about as good as beans can be, which is to say don’t expect them to change your life, but they were nice. would make them in my instant pot instead next time.

baked apples with oatmeal filling, again with monkfruit because we wanted something pie-y but I didn’t want to make pie crust and also I think I was out of flour at the time

cheese and yogurt quick bread which I made I think three or four times and then I had to go back to work so now I’m not baking as much. quick, great with soup, 10/10 I love quick breads. I probably used fat free greek yogurt because that’s who I am as a person, regardless of what the recipe actually says

chickpea tikka masala, I think substituting coconut milk with fat free half and half because that is what was on hand and I am not actually vegan. pretty good but honestly this was six weeks ago I remember nothing about it other than I like it

yeast-free cinnamon rolls because I discovered all my yeast is dead and there’s NO FUCKING YEAST ANYWHERE. again, I substituted monkfruit sweetener. these were DELICIOUS, and they were actually better cold the next day. talk about a sugar high

tomato and lentil curry, which I make every time I remember the recipe, which is probably every six weeks or so. it’s sooooooo good and it makes a ton. again, I might have subbed fat free half and half for the coconut milk but it’s deliciousssssss

I’m not 100% positive I’ve made this during quarantine but I’ve for sure thought about it because I’ve made it six or seven times before and it is GOOD. lentil soup. the recipe is literally called the best lentil soup ever and aside from like. a JUST lentils and aromatics soup at our local mediterranean restaurant, it’s pretty much the best lentil soup ever. IT HAS TEXTURE, which is important. a mix of textures, even better

sweet potato, kale, and chickpea soup that also has farro (or barley, or cooked quinoa, they’re all good) and cayenne and curry powder and it is WONDERFUL. sweet, spicy, salty, great blend of textures. LOVE THIS SOUP

french-ish onion soup because I bought a shit ton of onions and also I love onion soup. IT’S GREAT.

fancy beans on toast that you should not eat if you want the actual experience of eating beans on toast because it’s nothing like that. like, if you are really craving beans on toast, eat that. it was fancy beans served with a toast accompaniment, but it was nice the next day over spaghetti.

spaghetti with homemade meatballs that were, you guessed it, made with beyond meat!!!. I used oatmeal as my filler instead of breadcrumbs because that is what I had, and damn it, we substitute during quarantine! super yummy, a little messy because beyond meat is sticky raw in a way that real meat is not, but 10/10 would make and consume again

a chicken, sausage and rice skillet that I make pretty frequently for meal prep for work. I use 2.5 cups of rice, about 3 cups of broth, and cut the sausage content way down because I make these for lunches and the chicken sausage at costco is expensive (10 servings instead of 6-8, I think). I often don’t have shallots so I just use onion, today I’m out of peas so tomorrow I’ll probably add some chopped broccoli for veg. it’s also good with mushrooms! I add a little cayenne because that’s what I like. again, I make this in my instant pot so I just hit the rice button and seal after I’ve deglazed my pan (and I often don’t toast my rice). YUMMY

saag feta because priya is right and it might be better with feta??? it’s real good guys.

bbq jackfruit tacos with a side of roasted potatoes and cilantro lime coleslaw. I made 3 portions of jackfruit, so I used the rest of the dry seasoning on the potatoes and roasted them in a little oil at 425 for I think 35 minutes. the recipe is obviously for sandwiches but I didn’t have buns and I DID have corn tortillas. hence the different coleslaw. I do use the jalapeno, did not use a blender because I live on the wild side, and add maybe 1/4 cup of ranch dressing because I’m not that wild and also it tastes good.

also, cold and spicy asian noodles and poutine from the good and cheap cookbook. I believe I also made the roasted potatoes with chilies into tacos because I’m like that

and HOLY CHRIST I JUST REALIZED HOW MUCH COOKING I’VE DONE. we’re pretty good about eating our leftovers and usually only eat out on weekends (which we’re still doing via carryout to support our local restaurants), but there’s usually like, a hot dog night or sandwiches or just scavenge the freezer for food from thanksgiving nights. I HAVE COOKED A LOT

[goldenworldsabound]

Chapter 11 - I’m Going To Learn To Be Strong

tw brief mention of assault, not covered in detail

Wendy was bummed in the morning to have to go to work, and importantly, to not have Shizuo nearby. Last night’s events were distracting to her as she boarded the subway, blushing faintly as she recalled them. She shook her head as she got close to work, trying to clear her mind. She could think about that more later.

By the end of the day she was sufficiently distracted from those thoughts, busy at work. She headed off to the new dojo.

She was glad that no one there seemed to already know her and her relationship with Shizuo, or if they did, they kept quiet about it. She focused on the exercises and training.

At the end of the session, a small girl followed her outside.

“Um, Big Sis, where are you from?” Akane asked, looking up at her curiously.

“I’m from America, Akane-chan.” Wendy said, smiling. “I live here now, in Ikebukuro.” She had met this little girl in class. The youngest student by far.

Akane looked amazed. “Wow! Can you say something in American for me?”

Wendy laughed. “Well, it’s English, but sure!” She paused, thinking. “<My name is Wendy and I’m going to learn to be strong!>”

Akane clapped a bit, cheering. “Wow! What did that mean?”

“My name is Wendy, and I’m going to learn to be strong.” She repeated in Japanese, smiling down at Akane.

“I see you started at this dojo after all, Wendy-chan.”

“Oh! Akabayashi-san!” Wendy recognized his voice right away, and turned to see him. He was leaning against a car, and Wendy suspected he had been there for some time.

“Akabayashi, Akabayashi, you know Wendy-senpai?” Akane asked, running over to him and looking excited.

“We’ve met a few times.” He said, smiling at Akane. He looked at Wendy.

“She’s so cool huh!” Akane said, grinning at Wendy.

“She is.” Akabayashi agreed.

“A-ah, thank you, Akane-chan, Akabayashi-san.” She smiled nervously. This was...the granddaughter of the head Awakusu? She was just a child. Not what she was expecting at all. She was adorable though.

They smiled back at her. “Well, we need to go now, Akane-chan.”

“Mm! Bye Wendy-senpai!” Akane waved as she got in the car with Akabayashi.

“I’ll see you soon!” Wendy yelled back, as they left.

Boy, that was a lot to take in. She headed home, grabbing some fast food on the way so she could just eat and pass out.

-------------------------------------------------------------

“First day at the dojo was today.” Wendy texted Shizuo as she scarfed down her fast food.

“How did it go?”

“I’m so weak. To be honest I was just happy no one seemed to recognize me. I also...might have met someone vaguely important, but she happens to be a small child. Who would have thought.”

“An important child?”

“I’ll tell you about it later this week. Oh, I know, why don’t you come by Wednesday after my training session? And bring yakisoba again!” She smiled to herself. It had become kind of a thing with them to bring in fast food yakisoba to eat. A reminder of their first meetings.

“Sounds good.” Shizuo replied.

That settled, Wendy texted Celty next.

“<Do you want to come by tomorrow to discuss...the barriers? I’m too tired from training today.>”

“<I can do that. Training? For what?>” Celty responded quickly. Wendy thought she must be at home.

“<To learn to fight. Mostly to defend myself, just in case.>”

“<Good idea. If you ever want a sparring partner, let me know.>”

“<Thanks! I’ll probably take you up on that. I admit I asked Shizuo (like an idiot) and he shot me down pretty fast lol>”

“<Yeah, that makes sense. He has no sense of holding back at all. I promise you I do. :)>”

“<Yeah...I’m exhausted, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow!>”

Wendy plopped her head on the table, not bothering to check the next message when her phone buzzed. She was tired. No exaggeration there.

The barriers...she hadn’t given that any thought. Of course her time with Shizuo had been better spent, and she hadn’t talked to him about it at all. He seemed to think Celty had saved them after all...how would he react to it, she wondered.

Of course, she’d only used the barriers (as far as she knew) in life or death situations. They had been huge, expansive things, and she had been left feeling completely exhausted afterwards, both times. If that was going to happen every time, it was hardly a good way to protect herself.

She wondered how she did it. She sat up, trying to imagine projecting a barrier in front of her hand, which she held out a little in front of her. Nothing happened. She didn’t...feel anything. She sighed, lowering her hand. Taking a deep breath, she dramatically raised her hand and grunted, trying to push all her energy into her hand. Still nothing.

She leaned back and groaned. She was too tired for this anyway. Begrudgingly she stood up, lingering for a moment before putting away the leftovers. As she came back into the living room, she shifted into a defensive stance she had learned today, and tried again, grunting. That felt better, stronger, but still, no blue shield.

She laughed at herself a bit, shaking her head. “<Get a grip. You don’t have a damn clue what this is.>” She laughed again, talking to herself. Wendy headed into bed, wondering if Shizuo would believe her if she couldn’t reproduce it…

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Work, work, work.

Wendy stepped out of the subway station, and smiled as she heard the whinny roar of Celty’s bike. She approached the street, and Celty seemed to materialize out of the shadows.

“<I thought I’d drive you home.>” A shadow helmet wrapped itself around Wendy. Wendy nodded.

“<Thank you! You’re too kind.>” She hopped on behind Celty, holding tight to her.

They arrived and sat on the couch together.

“<I wanted to talk to you about those barriers. If you could harness them, they could prove very useful.>”

Wendy sighed. “<I think so too but...I don’t know how. I tried a little bit last night, but...it didn’t work.>” She hung her head.

“<What did you try?>”

“<Er...well...I kinda just, you know,  moved my arms around and focused and hoped for the best.>” She said, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

Celty stared at her, saying nothing for a moment. “<Did you expect that to work?>”

“<I mean...I was being a bit optimistic perhaps…>”

Celty seemed to giggle. “<Well, if that’s all you tried, it’s much too early to give up.>” Wendy looked at her curiously, but still a bit despondent. “<I thought I could tell you a bit about how it feels to use my powers.>”

She went on to explain with demonstrations the sort of feeling she got when she used hers. Wendy nodded along.

“<Now! You try!>” Celty held the phone out dramatically, trying to invigorate her friend.

“<Okay!>” Wendy leapt to her feet, concentrating her energy, eyes closed. She opened them, and with a yell pushed her hand forward. Nothing happened.

She sighed, feeling tears well in the corner of her eyes. “<I don’t know, Celty...I never had to focus to do it before. Every time I’ve done it, I was scared, and protecting someone, and maybe those are the conditions to do it.>”

“<There must be something else to it.>” Celty thought for a moment. “<Don’t think, just do what comes naturally.>”

“<Celty...okay…>” She sighed, not feeling her heart in it. “<Maybe we could go outside…>” Celty agreed, and they went and found a quiet alley nearby. It was thankfully empty.

“<Just try things that feel natural.>” Celty instructed.

Wendy shrugged a bit, but started moving around. She swiftly moved her hand in one direction, then the other a different direction, the motions feeling fluid. She imagined blocking the fists from those boys she had encountered in a similar alleyway. A swift movement to a place and then a sudden stop. She repeated these actions.

Suddenly, as her right hand rose to block an imaginary attack from above, as she imagined the blue barrier hovering over her arm, it appeared. It was curved and went the length her arm had gone. It was fairly large and she marveled at it, before dropping her arm and willing it to fade away.

“<Celty! Did you see?>” She cried out, excited as a small child. She turned to Celty, and suddenly felt light-headed. She crouched down, feeling tired.

“<Are you okay, Wendy? That was fantastic!>” She crouched down as well, body language suggesting concern.

“<Just a bit...tired.>” Her head cleared, and she stood up. She definitely could feel that it had taken a lot out of her. “<I want to try again.>”

She imagined an incoming fist from the front, and swiftly brought her left arm in front of her, willing the barrier to appear in the same way she had before. An even large barrier appeared, centered on her arm, spreading out in front of her protectively.

“<W-woah…>” She said, dropping her arm and the barrier with it. Suddenly she lurched forward, and Celty caught her from the side.

“<Please be careful. This seems to take a lot out of you.>” Celty helped her stand up again.

Wendy grinned at her. “<But I figured it out! That second one...was a lot bigger...and I feel a lot more drained from it.>”

“<Let’s head back to your place while we discuss it, okay? Er, I don’t mean to brush you off, I’m just concerned. It’s really amazing! I didn’t know humans could do such things.>”

Wendy frowned as they started walking. “<I don’t think humans can do that…>” She said quietly.

Celty typed quickly. “<Well, there are always exceptions. No one should be as strong as Shizuo, and modern medicine can’t explain him. It doesn’t mean you aren’t a human.>” Having an idea, she continued. “<And even if you aren’t human, you’re in good company, right?>” The last bit was more of a joke.

“<Ah...I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so fixated on ‘being human’...I just wish I knew where these powers came from. You know that you’re a Dullahan, and Anri-san knows that she has Saika...where are my powers from?>” She hugged herself. “<Is there a cost to using them?>”

“<Wendy. I’ll look into this for you. I understand what you mean.>” She put a hand on Wendy’s shoulder.

“<Thank you, Celty…>”

They arrived back at Wendy’s home.

“<Before I leave...if you do want to practice it more, I suggest making sure you’re at home. Don’t overexert yourself. I think focusing on smaller shields would be beneficial, from what you said earlier.>”

Wendy nodded in agreement. “That makes sense. Thank you, for everything, Celty.” They hugged.

Celty left. Wendy tried to put her feelings into words.

It was like...she had to consciously think to be blocking attacks. It wasn’t surprising this had never come up. Until Ikebukuro, she’d never been in a fight in her life. And even when she was in a fight here, she had accepted that she would be hit. Her blocking was hardly an attempt. If she had really believed she could block the blow, it would have happened. But at that time, she didn’t.

When she had been in that car crash she had been young. And young Wendy had prayed to stop the car and protect everyone, and believed that her prayers would be answered. And so they were - by herself.

With Shizuo it was even more clear cut. She was going to block the bullet from hitting him with her body. The intention was clear enough. It was the intention that mattered. And the intensity of that intention seemed to indicate the size. More intention, bigger size. She could learn to control this, if she practiced.

Would this happen in training? Only if she willed it to. She concluded.

Satisfied, she headed towards her bed. Once she was ready for sleep and sitting on her bed, she thought she’d try one more time. She imagined a small projectile coming at her. She moved her arm to block it’s imagined course, and sure enough the shield appeared. It was bigger than she wanted, covering most of her arm rather than just the area the bullet would hit.

She dropped it, and fell backwards onto the bed, woozy. She needed to practice, to see if she could train this reaction out of herself. Again, it would be little use if she passed out while using it.

She crawled properly into bed and promptly fell asleep, exhausted.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday she went to the dojo again. Akane seemed happy to see her, and Wendy found that she was glad to see Akane as well. She found that she was still a bit sore, but seeing the young girl working so hard helped her push through.

After they were finished, as they changed back to normal clothes in the locker room, Wendy thought to ask Akane something.

“Hey Akane-chan, why did you start training like this?”

Akane frowned a bit. “I have someone I’m supposed to...to kill.” She looked sad. “I don’t want to kill him though...so I’m trying to figure out a way not to...but I need to be stronger.” She clenched her fists.

“O-oh.” Wendy replied, totally surprised. “Well I...definitely think it’s best if you can avoid killing him.” She said.

“Why are you training?” Akane parroted back.

“Oh! Um, I want to be able to protect myself.” She replied, smiling.

They headed out of the locker room. “Let’s get stronger together!” Akane yelled. As per usual, Akabayashi was already there waiting. “Bye Big Sis!” She yelled as she ran to Akabayashi, who gave a brief wave to Wendy.

Wendy smiled at them as they left. She headed to the nearest station.

As she arrived there, a voice she hated to hear caught her attention.

“Hello hello, Wendy-chan.” Izaya strode in front of her, stopping her path forward.

“Izaya-san…” Wendy murmured back, eyeing him nervously. Fuck. “Look, I need to go home, so if you wouldn’t mind…” She walked around him.

“Well, that’s fine with me. I’ll follow you until you let me talk to you.” He said, keeping pace with her.

Wendy stopped. It was distinctly possible Shizuo was waiting at her stop, or at her apartment. Either way, she wanted to be sure Izaya didn’t come into contact with him. She turned to face him.

“Okay. Let’s talk here then.” She crossed her arms nervously.

Izaya smiled an empty smile at her. She resisted the urge to shiver.

“No need to worry, I just want to know how things are going with my friend Shizu-chan.” He said, staring at her.

She waited for him to say more but he kept staring. “Er...pretty good.” She replied, squirming a bit under his gaze.

He leaned in close to her suddenly, faces inches apart. “It would be easier for you if the two of you broke up.” He whispered, before laughing loudly in her face. “It’ll only be so long before you become his biggest weakness! A weakness that could destroy him. So isn’t it the right thing to do for you to break up with him?”

She stared back at him, thin-lipped. “...I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” She knew he was trying to manipulate her, but she couldn’t help but feel that what he was saying made sense.

“But I suppose you might just be very selfish, and don’t understand the consequences yet. After all, maybe you think Shizu-chan can protect you. But-”

“He can’t protect me.” Wendy said flatly. “He’s not here right now, to protect me from you. This isn’t a huge revelation.”

Izaya frowned at her for a moment, before grinning wider. “I see. You think things will be okay even though he can’t protect you? How foolish of you.” He could see that she was getting angry, which pleased him. “But like I said, if you keep getting close to him, and then something happens to you…” His eyes were slits, glinting dangerously even as he smiled. “It might destroy him.”

She lowered her gaze. She didn’t have anything to say that. There was some truth, but it was only selfish if she didn’t really believe she was putting herself in danger. If she truly understood the risk she was taking, she didn’t imagine that it was selfish. It was risky for her as well. She didn’t want to die.

He pulled out his knife, fidgeting with it. She stared at it, fearful suddenly.

“I’ll give you some time to make your choices. But I won’t hold back, darling.” He looked calm at a glance, but something in his eyes spoke of madness, cunning. “In the meantime, have a parting gift of mine.”

He swiped at her cheek with the knife. She flung her arms up, closing her eyes, cursing and willing the shield to appear.

She felt the sting of the blade on her cheek. Had she failed? Hot blood dripped down. She opened her eyes. No, she had done it...the shield just went more vertical than horizontal, and hadn’t protected her face fully. She hadn’t been clear about what she wanted.

“Oh?” Izaya seemed curious. His knife had slid across it and barely nicked her cheek, rather than the long cut he was hoping for. “How interesting...well, we’ll meet again another time.”

He took off, running out of sight quickly. Wendy dropped the shield, stumbling over to lean on a nearby railing. She breathed heavily. Shit. Shit. Who should she call?

She called Celty. The phone answered, no voice on the other end. “<Celty...I’m sorry to ask of you but...I’m at ____ Station and I...could really use some help getting home. You can text me back your answer. I’ll tell you more when you’re here…>” She hung up, closing her eyes briefly as she willed the light-headedness and the stinging on her cheek to go away.

Bing! The text from Celty was in. “<On my way. Stay safe until I get there.>” She relaxed a bit. She touched the cut on her cheek. Who knew if that knife was even clean...she needed to get it cleaned up as soon as she got home.

She felt that she should text Shizuo something. That she would be late. That he shouldn’t come? She wasn’t sure what to do. Izaya’s words were eating at her already, but she didn’t think she should share them with him. She didn’t see any good coming from that.

She also pondered that Celty would want to take her to see Shinra for the cut. If that was the case she’d have to let Shizuo know.

The tell-tale whinny of Celty’s bike rattled in the distance, and Wendy stood up, finally able to steady herself. “Celty…” She cried out as the bike arrived on the street, pulling off to meet her.

Celty took one look at her. “<What happened, Wendy?>”

She looked to the side. She couldn’t lie to Celty. “<Izaya. He...threatened me. And tried to cut my face...a parting gift…>” She murmured the last part. “<Ah, as you can see, he did...still get me...but I shielded...I just didn’t shield good enough...and now he knows about that…>” She was talking with little emotion in her voice. “<Can you...take me home? Shizuo is going to be waiting for me there...but I’m scared…>”

Celty put a hand on her shoulder. “<Of course I can. As for Izaya...we’ll figure out something.>” She knew Wendy wasn’t telling the whole story, but that seemed a lot to ask of her at the moment. The woman seemed like she was fighting off tears and anger, keeping her voice flat to hide either. “<I’d ask that you come let Shinra see that cut but he’s out at a job now...please take care of it and don’t hesitate to let me know if it gets worse.>”

Wendy nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Celty let her phone slide down her sleeve, and the shadowy helmet manifested around Wendy. She got onto the bike after Celty, gripping her perhaps a bit tighter than usual, and they sped off.

--------------------------------------------------------

Shizuo checked the time, waiting outside Wendy’s door with the yakisoba. He had been a bit early, but she should have been here by now. He frowned a bit. Maybe she got lost coming home from her dojo? He didn’t want to bother her with a message yet.

He heard the recognizable sounds of Celty’s bike approaching, and he peered down the street. He tilted his head at the sight. Celty had a passenger? He couldn’t see the face of course, but that outfit looked kind of like Wendy…

He walked down to the street, plastic bag of fast food still in hand. Celty came to a stop, and Wendy got off the back, helmet still on.

“Is everything okay?” Shizuo asked, looking between Wendy and Celty. Wendy didn’t respond, still hiding in the helmet. Celty started typing something out.

“<Take care of her, okay? It’s not my place to say.>”

Shizuo read her message and looked a bit more concerned.

“<Thank you, Celty.>” Wendy’s voice was muffled from the helmet, but even Shizuo understood those English words in that form.

Celty nodded. The helmet dissipated, and she rode off.

Shizuo stared at Wendy’s face, seeing the cut and the dried blood running down her cheek. Wendy didn’t look at him, but tears were welling in her eyes, threatening to overflow.

“Wendy...what happened?” He walked over to her, grabbing her hands.

She looked up at him, and the tears spilled out. She started to cry harder, burying her face in his chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay...I’m here, no one can hurt you anymore…” He squeezed her tightly. “Let’s get you inside though, we need to clean you up.”

She pulled away, sniffling, trying to pull herself together. The blood mingling with the tears was starting to make a mess. Keeping her eyes downcast, she took his free hand and they walked to her apartment, going inside.

He put the food down, and once she’d taken off her boots, he scooped her up. She didn’t make her normal squeaky sound, but merely lost control of her tears again.

“Oh, Wendy…” He said, looking incredibly sad. In the back of his mind, he thought that someone likely had done this, but he tried to keep that anger at bay by assuming it was possible it happened without another person being involved.

He brought her to the bathroom, and set her down on the closed toilet. He grabbed a small washcloth, wetting it. He kneeled in front of her, and started to clean her face off. She sniffled, meeting his concerned gaze bashfully before looking away. She felt weak, vulnerable, exposed like this, having him take care of her. But she was scared to tell him what had happened, and that part of her tears were from her fear that she would be his undoing in the end.

“Okay, all cleaned up.” He looked at the lightly bloodied towel, and observed his bloodied vest. Luckily, he had a ton of experience getting blood out of his clothes. He put them in the sink and started soaking them.

“Um, let’s see...is there anything else I can do? For the wound?” He was terrible at taking care of himself, and he had no idea how to take care of someone else’s cuts..

“An...anti-septic cream.” Wendy muttered, pointing to a drawer. Shizuo opened it and found the mentioned cream.

“Ah, this stuff stings, doesn’t it? Hold tight.” He put a bit on his finger, and then onto her cut. She winced as it stung. He frowned, eyes soft. “It’s done now, it’s okay.” He had noticed some bandages in the drawer as well, so he took one out and put it over the cut. “There. All done.”

He continued to kneel in front of her. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asked.

Wendy made no reaction, until her stomach suddenly rumbled. She blushed in surprise.

“Okay, let’s eat first.” Shizuo said, trying to hide his concern with a light chuckle. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, and they walked back to the living room. He pulled out the containers of yakisoba and disposable silverware, and they sat on the couch to eat.

She sighed heavily before starting to shove food into her face. Shizuo watched her, still concerned, still the creeping suspicion that someone was involved...it was starting to make him angry, how scared she was, that she had been hurt…

SNAP.

He broke his chopsticks. He stared at them. He hadn’t even realized he was gripping them tighter.

Wendy saw this too. She finished chewing and swallowed, looking at him.

“Um...I’m sorry I...it’s hard to...I’m also scared…” She wasn’t feeling able to finish her sentences and hoped he understood some of it.

In a moment of thoughtfulness, Shizuo walked over to Wendy’s recycling bin and pulled out a few empty soda cans. He sat down again, placing them on the table in front of him. He held one of them.

In response to her quizzical look, “You can tell me now, if you want. When...if...I lose my cool, I’ll just crush these soda cans.”

Wendy nodded.

“On the way home...Izaya...found me.” She heard the sound of metal being crushed. “He...threatened me…” CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH “...and tried to cut my face. I was able to block part of it but, he cut me still…” CRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCH

She looked over at Shizuo finally. A vein was angrily bulging in his neck, and he was gritting his teeth, crushing the cans into pulp. His eyes were wide and furious.

“B-but the good news is that I...blocked part of his cut. And this is something I wanted to tell you about tonight…”

Shizuo breathed heavily, looking at her, calming down as he became curious about what she meant.

“I have...some sort of...weird power.” She stood up, and breathed in deep. She recalled the feeling of the knife coming at her, the panic, and this time she moved one of her arms swiftly across her body. The shield appeared.

Shizuo peered over his glasses at it, silent for a moment.

Wendy dropped the shield and fell onto the couch.

“Wendy...that was amazing!” Shizuo said, failing to notice Wendy’s exhaustion. “That’s way cooler than anything I can do!”

She smiled weakly at him. “That’s not true...all I can do is defend...but I get exhausted doing so. You can actually stop your enemies and defeat them.” She replied, matter-of-factly.

He shook his head. “But in the process, I always get cut up. And it doesn’t bother me, but what you’re doing...is something I simply can’t do. It’s amazing.”

She smiled. “Perhaps we could make a great team, then.” She half-joked. “But, Shizuo...do you remember when that man tried to shoot you? And I pushed forward? Celty and I agree that her darkness didn’t reach us in time. The thing that stopped the bullet...was me.”

Shizuo blinked at her. “But...I didn’t see it that time…”

Wendy poked the bridge of his glasses. “These are kind of blue-ish purple, right? That’s why you couldn’t see it.” She pulled back. “But that was a huge shield, because I didn’t even know I was doing it...and that’s why I fainted. It seems to use a lot of energy so far, I’m trying to make smaller shields so that it’s sustainable. The big ones take too much out of me…” She explained her understanding to him, and he listened intently.

When she was done, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You’re amazing, Wendy.”

But I failed to stop an attack from Izaya. And it’s not enough to protect me yet… She thought. Until I can protect myself, I am a burden to you. She didn’t dare vocalize these thoughts to Shizuo. His reaction...she couldn’t bear it if he was sad, and she was worried he might get mad at her, too…

“I...I guess. Tell me that once I’ve mastered it.” She replied weakly.

“I’ll say it then too.” He replied confidently. Confident in her.

“A-anyway, today was exhausting…” She started eating again. “I met a small girl at the dojo. Purple hair, and, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but she has ties to the yakuza!”

“Akane-chan?” Shizuo asked.

Wendy froze, food halfway to her mouth. “You know her?”

“It’s...kind of a funny story.” He explained to Wendy about how Akane had tried to tase him to death (it had zero effect), thanks to “that fucking fleabag CRUNCRUNCH”, but he had saved her, and she had taken a liking to him after that.

“I see...she’s adorable, isn’t she?” Wendy said back. “I’m glad you’re on better terms now…” I should talk to Akabayashi about this, since it sounds like she still thinks she needs to kill him, for some reason…

“She is. Make sure not to hurt her or anything, the Awakusu-kai are nothing to joke about.” Shizuo instructed. “Just try not to get involved with them at all, really.”

Wendy smiled but inside she was laughing a bit. Oh, if only he knew that she was friends with a terrifying man in the Awakusu-kai. Maybe she should tell him. Well, maybe later. There’d been enough tonight.

Finished eating, she snuggled up to him, exhausted. He put his arm around her, smiling softly. She felt herself starting to fall asleep.

“Sh-Shizuo…” She mumbled.

“Hm?”

She tugged on his shirt. “Don’t leave, mmkay?”

“Of course not.” He kissed her forehead.

“Mm sleepy…”

“Let’s get you to bed, then. I’ll clean up.” He gently carried her to the bedroom. He turned around as she undressed and crawled into bed. Once that was done, he leaned over her sleepy, smiling face, and gently kissed her lips. She moaned lightly. “Sleep well. I’ll be in bed soon.”

She wanted to stay awake until he came back, but very quickly after he left the room she fell asleep.

He put away the food, and finished up his process for getting blood out of things, throwing the clothes in the washer. Once they were done, he hung them up to dry. He thought about a lot of things. He was going to kill Izaya, even more than before. He tried not to think about that. He wondered if he needed to find a way to provide better protection to Wendy, and how he could do that. He didn’t come to any conclusions.

With everything taken care of, he took off his shirt and belt and joined Wendy in the bed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

She was in the airport in Budapest. But the man, who had a face she no longer remembered anyway, had a face she recognized instead. Everything played out the same. She helped him with directions, and he helped carry her things, and as they said good-bye he shoved his tongue in her mouth. She pushed him off, and it was then she realized why she recognized the face.

It was Izaya.

-----------------------------------------------------

She woke up suddenly, breathing heavily. Shizuo was wrapped protectively around her, the biggest, warmest spoon.

She started to cry. Why was this coming back to her now, and why like this. Why with the face of someone else? She sat up, trying not to disturb Shizuo. He shifted a bit. Suddenly, she started to sob, squeaking a little as she tried to hold it in.

Shizuo opened his eyes, sitting up as he took in the situation. “Hey, what’s wrong? It’s okay, I’m here.” He wrapped his arms around her.

“A bad memory...a nightmare…” She whispered back through her sobs. “I never told you, but...I was assaulted, I-” She was getting agitated.

“You don’t need to tell me about it now, Wendy. Let’s work on calming down so you can sleep, okay?”

She nodded dully. The meaning of the dream finally struck her.

There were many ways to break her, and in turn, to break him. Physical harm was one, but violating her...that was another. She cursed internally, willing this memory away, willing this not to happen.

Shizuo gently laid her back down, wrapping around her again, hoping she would fall asleep. Eventually, they both did.