#Kaname was turned on fr | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceejaykayess · 2 years

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Spoilers for one of the big twists of AI, and implied spoilers for Nirvana Initiative. Close-ups of the left and right under the cut. Also a long ass related one shot, because I’m incorrigible, I guess.

Aha, I said I would. Here’s my own take on Falco!Date. If you’ve seen some of my other art, you probably would have been able to pick up on some design cues I took for this mf. My bigger inspirations for this do come from other AITSF artists that have posted their own takes on the big guy, none of which I can name because I don’t pay a lot of attention. Stuff like wearing his hair in a spiky ponytail, wearing a purple shirt in his old style, and even the idea of dying his hair.

For this, I guess I was still experimenting on my design, considering some tiny differences. Like, I kept struggling to think of how to have Date wear his poggers coat open to show off his shirt without it looking silly. Then my brain blew up when I realised you could just button on the same side. So, now his chest is exposed, which is a win.

I wanted Date to wear only one of his gloves, partially as a way to distinguish my own idea of him and partially because I think mismatching designs are really cool. Love Date’s eyes. With my last post, I jokingly decided that Date’s now missing right glove was given to Hitomi as a keepsake. On the topic, I wanted Date to have his right hand ungloved so he could feel his Evolver without any interference, but wanted him to keep his other glove so he can still touch evidence without leaving prints. I always intended his left hand to be gloved and his right hand to be ungloved but I probably fucked up with my first Falco!Date fic way back an got my left and right confused. Cause my left isn’t his left, and so on.

His shoes are different. Look, I love Date’s real boots, but I don’t have a clue if he and Saito share a shoe size or not, and I was too embarrassed to ask the ether to compare the models, and I can’t see any feasible way for Date to wear boots the wrong size, so I decided to go with his old shoes. Kept the purple socks, though. They cute.

About his hair, I mentioned I took inspiration from someone else. In their post, they had it so Date tried to imitate his old appearance in Saito’s body, which included dying his hair the old shade of blond. So, I wanted to take that basic concept here. The tips of his lengthened hair are dyed the same shade of blond as Saito’s, which are all held bundled in his ponytail. Since there’s no way his hair’d get this long after only 3 months and a week, I... mentally just put this design as post (or during the 6 years later side) of Nirvana Initiative, where during his break he grew his hair out and had some people dyed his hair a bit.

It might be a bit obvious from the writing, but... the two Dates and his zoomed in eyes on the left are based on using the Date and Falco concept art sheets from AITSF, while the full body and zoomed in Date face are me drawing freehand with no reference. Which... isn’t great, I definitely need more practice, but I’m too bitch for that, so. I think the closeup of his face is nice, though.

“Date, what are you doing?” Her voice bit through the room with accusation and no small amount of vitriol, but he could hear the curiousity underneath it. They had been living together for almost six years, you know.

Yes, Date, I know.

Shush. Turning to his... roommate? Friend? Daughter? All of the above? Turning to Mizuki, he showed off the piece of clothing held firmly in both hands. The mysterious and yet so familiar purple, the firm and reclusive collar, the subtle diamond texture... all things he would associate with the person he would call Kaname Date.

“Ah, well, you know,” off to a great start, bud. “I’m just... thinking about putting on my coat.” There, easy.

“Why?”

Ah. Well.

“I mean...,” It makes me feel like myself, and not a fake in my own skin.

Date...

“I spent a lot of money on this coat, and wouldn’t it be a waste not to wear it?”

“Sure, but...” And here she looks from the coat in his hands, to his face, to a specific spot on his face, before settling on his face, hand tapping on her workout bench. “Why now? It’s almost Spring soon.”

She has a point there, Date. The average temperature has been rising recently. Just this week it has increased by 3.6 degrees centigrade. While there is no guarantee that next month will continue this trend, it is still likely that-

“Okay, okay, I get it, Aiba. I just... want to wear the coat, okay? I had been meaning to for a while now, but it just... it didn’t feel right.” Not without you.

...

“...kay.”

“Hm?” Date looked down from where his gaze must have wandered listening to Aiba. Mizuki was looking down, fiddling with her hands. At his mumble, she looked back up, grey eyes looking... understanding, in a way that made Date feel weak in relief and self-loathing.

“I said, okay. Geez, do you need to get your ears cleaned too, along with your smelly old man clothes?”

“Hey! These clothes don’t smell!” A beat passes, occupied by a sniff. “Much.”

Their little jab war would have continued if not for Mizuki heading it off with an important question.

“Are you sure that’s even gonna fit you? You’re, uh... a bit wider than you used to be.”

At the question, Date confidently waves his hand.

“That’ll be fine. I’ve been thinking of this for a while, y’know. If I heat the leather up, then I can make it remould to my more masculine form.”

She narrows her eyes at that, and suddenly Date felt like a fool. But before she could even comment, his partner cut in aloud.

“Date, I do not believe you have the equipment required to perform such a procedure in your home. Furthermore, I find it dubious to attempt such a procedure without any practice, or assistance. As well, I-”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll have you with me, won’t I, Aiba?” The question was simple, but behind it was a silent plea. As he stared into space, waiting with something cold beginning to coil in his spine, his partner remained silent. Then, a kind voice.

“Of course, Date. Always.”

He couldn’t help the warm smile that spilled across his ragged face, not even when Mizuki smiled at the two of them like a proud mother seeing her children get along. Which is an odd metaphor to use given their relationship, but not the point. Wanting to eradicate the embarrassment he felt, Date instead chose to taunt.

“Ha! Now I’ll be just fine with my clothes, Mizuki, you non-believer!”

Her smiling visage was quickly replaced with a glare and a growl. The two began another of their many bouts, with the third member of their little family chipping in every now and then. Date began to wear his old leather coat and pants not even a week later, seeming more comfortable in his own skin than he had in the last three months.

“Hey, Mr. Date.”

He took a deep swig of his bourbon and quickly swallowed, ignoring the burn as he turns to his subordinate. An aesthetically familiar head looks back, cheeks almost as red as his left eye.

“What is it, Ryuki?”

He smiled, like he usually would whenever he was drunk and his name was said. It was kinda cute, Date supposed, in a similar way to an old dog still wagging its tail whenever it saw its owner. Ryuki gestured exaggeratedly towards his hands, one wrapped around his glass, and the other tapping on the bar counter.

“It’sh your hands, Mr Date.”

Oh, he’s starting to slur, now. Have they really been here so long? It didn’t even feel like he spent that much time with Ryuki... Aiba, do you mind-

Yes, Date, I can drive you and Ryuki home. Again.

Thaaanks. Now, back to his subordinate.

“What about them?”

They were certainly larger than the ones he had used the last six years. Thicker and harder, too. His dexterity hasn’t suffered any, luckily enough, but he still sometimes thinks his hand is smaller than it is when he tries to reach through a tight gap. The skin was rougher, not scar-covered, but he wouldn’t have been surprised. Oh, and he was-

“Why’re yoou only wearing a glove on oone of them?”

And he was wearing a glove on one of them. His left hand, specifically.

“Well, Ryuki, my wonderful subordinate. Gloves are helpful in our profession, as they let us manually interact with any evidence we find without having to significantly worry about leaving any prints behind that could interfere with the investigator’s investigation. They aren’t a requirement, of course, but I would always recommend to have at least one on you.”

He’s smiling again, face flushing even brighter red- is that healthy?- but he waves his hand.

“Nooo, I already know that, Mr. Date! You told me months ago!” He did? Maybe he’s more drunk than he thought... “I mean, why are you only wearing one glove now? You used to wear two.”

Now he could feel his face start to blush.

“Ah, well, you see, I-”

He gave the spare glove to Hitomi, as a keepsake.

Aiba, you traitor! Was that over comms!?

Yes.

Ugghhh...

“Uh, please ignore that, won’t you, Ryuki? It’s a little embarrassing. And, I only gave it to her because I thought she could use it, okay!? No other reason!”

He said that, but he couldn’t help looking at his gloved hand, and imagining its partner being worn by the woman he wanted to one day call his partner, in love and life, even if he doesn’t feel worthy of even trying.

And because he couldn’t help it, he missed the way Ryuki’s face seemed to go lax, the way his flush shrank away and the way his expression showed his yearning sorrow. By the time Date turned around, Ryuki’s expression had once again become a dopy smile, and their night continued on.

He found himself sitting in that place again, back against the stairs as he stares out at the shrine grounds. No matter how long it’s been, six years or twelve, it never changes. Even the tree Mizuki had knocked down so long ago had been replanted and regrown.

He had told her, once, that this place made him feel calm. At peace. That was true, but there was probably more to it than he realised. This was, after all, the place he had first met the love of, he’ll admit it, his life. It was also a place he had often come to with the first girl he had thought of as a daughter. Obliquely, some part of him wondered if that little girl, now a grown woman in her own right, still wanted him to fulfill that wish of hers. If, even if he did, she would bother to call him Dad.

It frustrated him. That no matter how hard he tried, it was as if the world was determined to tear him away from the things he loved. It frustrated him, that he didn’t have the strength to force his way past the world. Not when he wants to most, at least. And what frustrated him the most, is how no one blamed him for it.

It verged on blame. Mizuki’s screams, Ryuki’s sobs, Aiba’s reticence. But it never tipped over. They asked why he never came home earlier, and he answers, and that’s that. No blame. And he refuses to ask for forgiveness. He refuses to talk about it, doesn’t want to force himself onto anyone after they all had over half a decade of not needing to be weighed down by him.

And it frustrated him. Because it wasn’t much more than an excuse. Because he was scared of being hated by the people he loves, for something he couldn’t control. Because he knows that if he just asked, just talked about it, they would. They would tell him there was nothing to forgive, they would understand, and they would even try to bring him back into their lives, rather than just the portions that he had to force himself into.

So, here he was. At the place he felt most at peace, all alone. Hoping that those Gods he didn’t believe in, that he would otherwise curse and rue, might finally offer him some sort of boon for the bullshit he could call his life. Instead, what he got was...

“Oh, it’s you. The old man.”

He blinks, before looking over. Her voice threw him for a bit, he thought his roommate-friend-daughter if he could even call her that anymore had found him while he was sulking. Instead, a glance out his good eye showed a familiar looking girl wearing the most outlandish clothes he had ever seen, and that was even taking Gen into account.

“Hey, kid.”

The greeting came unbidden, competing and eventually domineering over the natural thought to call her Mizuki and the overcompensating instinct to call her Bibi. Her slight grimace showed that he was probably damned no matter what.

“Ugh. Just call me Bibi, old man.”

“Alright, alright...”

He stared as she calmly approached, eventually taking a spot next to him on the stairs of the shrine. He blinked as she closed her eyes and hummed. She seemed cool as a cucumber, but he was feeling pretty awkward. He had to break the ice, somehow.

“So, uh... what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t respond, and for a moment Date felt a spark of irritation light up. It was quickly extinguished when she answered, though.

“Oh, you know. Just doing everyone a favour and looking for a certain idiot of an old man that went missing and still hasn’t bothered to get a phone yet.”

Ouch.

“H-hey. I’ve got a phone. I just... forgot to give my number out, is all...”

He could feel her judging him, her artificially heterochromatic eyes piercing straight through his leather coat and weathered body straight to his heart. He was certain that if Aiba were here, she would mock him for forgetting something so obvious. Hell, if she were here, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

Before he could ponder further on his own incompetence, Bibi stuck her hand out to Date, making a give gesture. Date raised a brow. Bibi furrowed her brow before aggressively continuing the gesture. Date could only tilt his head in response. It was Bibi that lost their impromptu staring contest, speaking.

“Your phone. Give me your phone.”

Her voice was harsh and clipped, so Date hardly hesitated in fishing the old thing out of his pocket. It was old, especially in this day and age, and worn being second-hand and all. But it was sturdy, and had seen him through many a job. Bibi grabbed it from his hand and started clicking through the menus. Eventually, she must have found something since she took a few seconds to stare before hitting the power button and tossing it back. Date could only grab it completely lost.

“Alright, old man. What’s your problem?”

“Huh?”

Date could only stare in shock. She comes up to him, invades his private time, insults him and demands his phone, and he’s the one with the problem? Kids these days...

“Your problem. Why are you out here, instead of... I dunno, spending time with your friends? Your girlfriend? Your daughters, maybe?”

Oh, great. This is what he gets for asking the gods for anything.

“Well, you know... it’s peaceful out here. I just needed some fresh air.”

“With no way to contact you? Right.”

“They’d have found me eventually. I mean, you did, and we hardly know each other.”

“Ha.”

The two sat in silence. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. Date ran his gloveless right hand through his hair. His real hair, not the admittedly impressive synthetic fibres for his facemask. He couldn’t help but grimace. The last six years have not been super helpful for his hygiene, especially with all the travelling. His fingers eventually reached the dry ends of his hair, bleached near white.

“You know, I’ve never seen you with that face. At least, not personally.”

Date looked over, a brow raised. Bibi was just staring off into the distance.

“I had seen you a few times, with that new face near Mizuki. It had worried me a lot back then. Even when Mama would show me your old profile and called you a friend, I still worried. I felt so much better when you started wearing that mask. It felt a lot simpler, even if that was actually the face of someone that tried to hurt Mizuki. But, it felt like wearing the mask made everyone else a bit sadder. Even you.”

Date silently stared. Looking down, he found himself looking at the hollow face mask. One of the only connections he had to a past he didn’t know those last six years. It was horrible. Back then, he loved it and hated it at the same time, but he never knew why. Could never place that it was a feeling of wonderful familiarity, of the same face in the mirror, of a sign of six years lived in blissful ignorance with people he called his family. Could never place that it was a feeling of hatred and pain, of a sneering face looking down as his left eye ached, of a sign of a tragedy that could have occurred, that should have occurred, that had occurred and then had not occurred.

“But, you know, when you went missing, I would go take a look around sometimes. Whenever I was feeling up to it. But the face I was looking for had always been yours. Not the mask’s. I think I like you better like this. What about you?”

Then she turned to him, completely serious. For a moment, Date could appreciate that Mizuki would grow up to look every bit like the total badass she always was. But, that was only for a moment. For the next few questions, he considered.

“I... I don’t really know. Back then, all I wanted to be was Kaname Date. Even if there was a part of me that wanted to take care of what Falco had left behind, to accept what Falco was, there was so much more that wanted to just... run away. That wanted to keep on raising Mizuki, that wanted to keep on investigating with Aiba, that wanted to look in the mirror and see a friend instead of a stranger, an enemy. But then, the Church happened... and I was just Date. No Falco, no Kaname. Just, Date. And I lived my life, and saw my face as my own reflection, and I worked, and I grew my hair out. And then I saw that news report and it all came back to me, Kaname and Falco and Date all forced together and tied into a ruined ribbon named Kaname Date.”

He leaned over, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped, flesh and leather rubbing together. His throat ached, but he needed to force this out.

“But I don’t know who Kaname Date is, anymore. Is he the man with the black hair and eyes, gloveless and hopelessly in love? Is he the handsome secret agent clad in layers of black and purple, AI-Ball in tow? Or is he the labourer who grew his hair out, that hung out at bars with co-workers and helped out at local orphanages on the way, who dyed his hair that familiar shade of blond? Who... is Kaname Date to everyone else?”

His ears were ringing. His eye was burning. He took in one deep breath, then another, trying to regain his cool. He didn’t want to cry, not now. Especially not in front of that face. The yawning gap in his head had never felt so hollow, not since those days when the hole seemed to reach straight though his heart, forcing him to find some middle ground as Kaname Date.

Eventually, he caught his breath and cleared his vision enough to rise back to a sitting position with some amount of confidence. He didn’t want to look to his right. Instead, all he could do was laugh.

“Heh. Look at me, spilling my guts to a stranger. I really have changed, huh?”

The words felt bitter on his tongue. An aged bitterness, one that burns through the tongue.

His only response was the sound of rustling, then the creaking of the wooden steps. He couldn’t help but turn to see.

“Well, sometimes you need a stranger to spill your guts to. We’re way less likely to judge, y’know?”

She was standing, and took a step off the porch. She stopped so her back faced Date.

“I can’t tell you who Kaname Date is. No one can, I don’t think. Only you can figure out who you are, you know? But, you don’t have to do it alone. Because you’re not. You have family and friends who’ll help out, who’ll learn who Kaname Date is right along with you. Don’t you think that sounds like a better solution than sulking alone?”

Having said her piece, she began to walk off, leaving Date alone with her words. But she stopped again, this time turning around.

“Personally, I like this you better than any of those other options. Maybe try tying your hair up, though, you look like a creep about to drag someone into a river.”

Then she left, leaving with the last word.

“Damn brat.”

Date couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t a bad kid. Looking down at his hands, one gloved in purple and the other bare and calloused, Date wondered. She liked this him better than the other options? He huffed. Sure like to keep it straightforward, huh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a hair tie he would keep spare for work. Grabbing his hair, he tied it up in a low ponytail. Taking a deep breath of the shrine air, Date finally felt some of that frustration start to ease, some of his turmoil calmed. He still had a lot to do and say, but for now, this felt like a good first step.

Then his phone started to ring, with an familiar unknown number. Picking it up, he brought it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Kaname? Is that you?”

“...Hitomi?”

Damn brat.

#ai the somnium files #ai the somnium files nirvana initiative #kaname date #hayato yagyu #art #story #mizuki okiura #kuruto ryuki #mizuki kuranushi #God this dragged on #I am not even remotely confident in my portrayal of Bibi #I am so sorry

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