#Susumu fic

[khushireadsandrambles]

Reunion- Fruitful or Disaster?

The dark clouds reflected in the deep magenta eyes of a certain dual haired boy with face painted, as he looked outside the window while sitting on window's broad edge with no emotions on his Face. The World Championships has ended, his Grandfather was hauled away by Cops whom Mr. Dickinson had called, and he learned that his Parents had landed. He scoffed. Parents. His Father who seemingly didn't cared enough, his Mother, who just silently accepted everything. Maybe, maybe this covering the emotions thing was something that went through family. 

Its fine, I'm here, ain't I? 

He broke out of his reverie as he heard the female voice whisper in his ear, the Flame Empress and the very personification of coming back from dead, his Dranzer, his Phoenix, His Suzaku, whisper in his ear. Smiling mildly for miniscule of second, he held the blue Beyblade to his chest. Once again Tyson was Hero, once again, he lost his Chance to defeat the world Champion. Maybe, next time?

"Kai?" And the same boy had called him. Whipping his head towards the blue haired boy with a scowl on his face, he cocked an eyebrow. "Mr. Dickinson calls you." Ray said from Tyson's side. Kai sighed heavily, he had known the stout man ever since he was Kid, as Mr. Dickinson used to visit his Father, until he was 6, his Father left, and his Grandfather threw him into Abbey. He couldn't deny that man, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't.

Hopping off the Window edge, Kai joined Tyson and Ray as the three walked out. "Hey Kai, you okay buddy?" Tyson asked, clearly concerned about the older boy. Kai riled Tyson up to the wall, but after the blue haired Boy had saved him from Lake Baikal and readily accepted him back in team, Kai might have softened up a bit to him. "Hn." Kai let out his usual, ignorant grunt, which made Tyson smile.

Dragoon says he is really worried. Well he shouldn't be, though Kai, as he walked beside the two. Soon their soft padding came to an halt when they entered in the floor's lounge area. Kai's eyes keenly took in everyone. Mr. Dickinson sat on a sofa with Tyson's Grandfather, Ryunnosuke or Ryu 'Gramps' Granger sat beside him. Tyson dark haired Father, Tatsuya Granger was on another couch, looking keenly through some files. Hitoshi, or better called Hiro by everyone, Tyson's Archaeologist Brother stood near the window, in a serious conversation over his phone with someone. Then, just then, his eyes fell on someone who made his breath stop.

"I lost again dad!" A little Kai had whined and pouted as his Father laughed fondly and ruffled his hairs.

"Well your Father is working hard, we have to reward him." His Mother's crimson eyes had twinkled with mirth as she looked at his Father.

"Either you chose Hiwatari Enterprises and stay here or chose those Bey spinning tops and get out of my House!" His Grandfather had screamed hoarse, as his crimson eyes trembled with fear, his throat screaming when his Father glanced at him worriedly, and chose Beyblades.

He reached out,

He cried,

He screamed,

He choked on his tears,

But nothing mattered.

His Father didn't turn.

He hadn't realised that while he was staring at his Father in disbelief and many emotions passed through his eyes, Max had noticed him. The blonde's whole frame actually turned relieved, as he chirped. "Kai!!" And broke him out of his reverie. Kai barely had time to recollect himself as Max came hopping to him and hugged him, making Ray and Tyson widen their eyes in alarm. Kai's first instinct was to push him away so hard that he was thrown off into the wall, but he restrained himself. He somehow couldn't bring himself to do that. Especially after what Max had done. No matter how much Kai was being a little shit, no matter how many times he had brushed them off harshly, rebuked them, called them names, and treated them as shit, even betraying them for power... Max, or anyone in that matter, never called him out on it. They let him go, and they accepted him back, as if he was never gone.

Susumu and Misaki, moreover Susumu, tensed when he realised that his son was standing in front of him. After a shocked gasp left Misaki's mouth, followed by a small sob she tried hard to contain. He slowly looked up. Dressed in dark turquoise baggy pants and a fitting tank top, with a scarf tied around his neck that he knew was of Misaki, stood his son. He wasn't the six year old small boy who ran into his arms with his Dranzer, he was now fourteen year old headstrong and stern Captain of World Champion Team Bladebreakers. 

Kai looked at his Mother, and his eyes started burning. No. Nah, Nope. Nada. No tears. You can't break down. Somehow managing to tear away his eyes, Kai looked at Mr. Dickinson. "Mr. Dickinson, Ray said you called me?" He asked. Stanley Dickinson had known all the four Boys ever since they were Kids. His keen and experienced eyes penetrated through the mask of 'Everything is fine and I don't need anyone' and looked right into the vulnerability of the boy, who didn't even cared of hiding his emotions. He was glad his Dranzer was back, he was glad that he had friends he knew could rely on (despite his ass not wanting to admit), He was not sure of how to react after seeing his Parents, especially Father, after so long, but most of it, he was exhausted. Tired. 

"Well Kai you see, we will need your Help with the Boys from Abbey. My Russian is quiet rough, you see." Blatant Lie. Kai knew the man had perfect Russian.

"If you say so." He said and turned to go. "Kai!" His feet halted when he heard his Father. "You have grown stronger.." He said softly, looking at his son with so much adoration. "Son?" Kai scoffed, his eyes shielded by his hairs. Ray, Tyson, Max, and probably everyone knew that either this will go good, or down the drain hole. "I don't have a Father." He said coldly, and walked out swiftly, closing his eyes when he heard his Mother's sobs. He knew his Friends would come behind, but he didn't cared. He kept walking. He kept walking until he reached a dark hallway and growled, hitting his fist on the wall over and over again, until it bled. "Kai?"

"Ray, please go." He said quietly. But Ray didn't go.

He stayed there, and gently held Kai's shoulder, pressing it as if saying, 'Everything will be fine.'

..............................................................................................................................

Since your girl was angsty af and sick. Hiro Granger is Manga-wise in this Fanfiction because Manga Hiro is so good-

Tagging y'll here please tell me how it is and no, as much as I love Ray and Kai, I ship Mariah and Ray (might turn it RayxKai if my mood goes that way.)

@bladengineer (A BIG SHOUTOUT SHE KINDA INSPIRED ME TO RITE THIS) @juliafernandez @wyborg @mybeypage @deathycat @kaireiluv @beybladecrc @purple-cup-cake @where-them-kinomiya-at @kaihiwatari777 @sherukira @itsbeen20years @beybladenerd @beyblader-observations @jollyrolls @firephoenixkai @beybladeimagines (I love your imagines sm) @aquariasmoon @maxmiz @teabiscs @bladerbunny @ch4isutta @poison-needles @ayamyn

[steadydinosaurcherryblossom]

Tagged @playingmyselfafiddle 🥰

10 songs I've been listening to lately

Wardruna - Lyfjaberg

Blackmore's Night - The Circle

Enya - The Humming

Inkubus Sukkubus - Wytches Chant

Susumu Hirasawa - Niwashi King

ЛЁДЪ — Хребет Урала

Мельница - Держи

Blackmore's Night I still remember

FAUN - Federkleid

World of Warcraft Music & Ambience & Peace 24/7 Livestream (I love sitting on this stream and writing fics to the music of my beloved Azeroth)

@skninasblog, @onewhale, @longeyelashedtragedy, @imgnaf, @pfeffermuhle (if they want)😏

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤️

Oh gosh I have so many fics this is an almost impossible ask, but I'll roll with the ones I have the strongest feelings about right now in this moment (as I scroll through my AO3 history)

and my sleeves are growing wet with the moisture dripping through [Mononogatari, Malevolent Spirits, Hyoma/Botan] - My most recent fic and the first time I've been the first fic in the tag! Just a little bit of hurt/comfort to soothe my soul. Still waiting for the tag wranglers to create an official tag on AO3 for it, but this was a lot of fun and I feel absolutely normal about this series, don't check

Seven Nights [Hakuouki, Yamazaki Susumu/Yukimura Chizuru, 🍋] - First completed multichapter in a non-AnS fandom! It's a slice of life/post war/home renovation fic the whole way down and I loved writing it.

the abyss gazed unto thee [Hakuouki, no pairing] - NECROMANCY 🙌🙌🙌

A Place at the Table [Akagami no Shirayukihime, Snow White with the Red Hair, Happy Family] - Gen slice of life series about Obi, Ryuu, and Shirayuki bonding over food. It soothes my heart writing it and going back to read it 💖

Initiate [Gokushufudou, Way of the Househusband, no pairing] - I mean, YES, canon pairing but it's not the focus on the fic. The focus is Tatsu finding a home and a sense of belonging in the community. It was my first fic outside of AnS, period!, and by kudos is my top fic on AO3.

[frozen-fountain]

Ten Songs, Ten People

Tagged by the lovely @late-to-the-fandom.

Rules: Put a wip/character/etc playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up. Describe how they relate to your WIPs or worldbuilding.

Tagging: @hrh-spinach, @ourspecial, @bowieandthemickjaggernauts, @laboradorescence, @keioschaos when you get home, @punkass-diogenes, @the--calamity, @visualheresy, and @danceswithdarkspawn. You guys all seem to have interesting taste in music so I'd love to see what you come up with.

Without further ado, and from my multi-fandom plot bunny playlist:

How to Be Invisible by Kate Bush

This is the Shera song for me. It's even the working title (probably to be discarded) of a fic I want to write centered on her, in which learns the deceptive power that can come with being small and easily overlooked. Ostensibly my attempt at a tournament arc, she's going behind enemy lines to do some espionage none of the loud and identifiable main cast could ever get away with.

Sleep is a Curse by Maudlin of the Well

I've been finding this one really useful for getting into Cloud's post-canon headspace as I see it. Ostensibly excited for everything they're doing to make it up to the planet for allowing them a second chance, he's still dissociating his way through village council meetings, fixating on his mistakes, and wondering if humanity enjoying a brief moment of singularity before the end wasn't the better option after all.

Rings of Earth by Kayo Dot

If this series had an anime adaptation I'd want this as the ED. Walking around with the ghosts of the industrialised old world at every turn.

Gospel For a New Century by Yves Tumor

An instrumental version of this was my mental soundtrack for the gang's slow motion entrance into the museum during the Dulosis heist. Plus, I was listening to this album a ton during the early days of lockdown which is when I was first gahtering my ideas for this project, so it always takes me back.

Church Burns by Zeal and Ardor

I couldn't get this one out of my head when I was writing Barret arguing with his id in the form of Dyne, and the shards left behind from everything that happened in Corel and then Midgar.

Killing Game by Skinny Puppy

This is my go-to "Moment of unpleasant revelation and subsequent breakdown" song, and I currently associate it most strongly with Vincent's trip to Gongaga and realising what he should actually feel guilty about.

The Cockfighter by Scott Walker

I find this avant-garde composition about the trial of Adolf Eichmann surprisingly great for writing action to. If it's a really ugly, bloodthirsty, gritty fight, at least. The shifts and lulls in its tone and rhythm work really well in guiding bouts of exhaustion and trash talk and renewed energising vitriol.

Maw by Chelsea Wolfe

I played this on repeat when I wrote my Anima fic, but it's a good song in general for handling the liminal and suspended feeling that comes with a significant shock or loss begins to sink in.

Love Song by Susumu Hirasawa

I played this as I wrote, rewrote, and edited Elmyra and Marlene watching the lifestream rise, and I can't listen to it without crying anymore.

Then Came the Wave by Atoma

I associate this one with the World of Ruin in FFVI, and particularly Celes alone on the raft, not knowing what if anything waits for her beyond the island she woke up on but facing down the horizon anyway.

[dayseternal-blog]

In a NH angst fic, is it a no-go to have some smut between one of them and another character(s)? Or should it only be implied when it happens?

It's not a no-go. I've read a few different fics and written scenes like this, so it depends on what you want to show...

Here is my advice!

"Smut" refers to any kind of sexual intimacy, from touching and petting over clothing to full-on naked lemons. You can write as far and as detailed as you want into the deed.

Something to think about: What do you hope to impress upon a reader from this smut scene?

I'm assuming that since it's a NaruHina fic but the smut scene is between one of them and a different character, your main objective would be PAIN 😭😭💔💔💔.

But what else? What kind of character development are you hoping to achieve through the scene? What do you want the reader to understand?

For scenes in chapters 1 & 2 in my "White Lilies," I show Naruto touching and kissing an OC Rumi. They never actually get down to it, mostly because I didn't want to inflict that kind of damage on myself or on the reader. My intention here was to show that Naruto and Rumi's relationship is progressing too fast and at a very surface-level. I also wanted to show that Rumi is a "good" character. She is in love and she wants Naruto to love her back. She is not a villain, which complicates the narrative beyond "hate the competing love interest." I wanted to show that Naruto is Not in love and that he doesn't understand what love is. I used smut scenes to convey the physicality of their relationship as well as the youthful, immature dynamic between them.

Another scene I can immediately recall is @sessakag's "Secrets of the Hidden Leaf" where in Chapter 1, there is a short, paragraph-length scene that reveals Naruto's past sexual experience with previous women. In terms of character development, we come to learn that Naruto had a humiliating first time. Yet true to form, he overcomes his problems and is able to empathize with Hinata's nervousness.

Oooh, also Chapters 16 & 17 of "I want you to cry" by Devahhole, Naruto and Sakura are close to doing it. For character development, we see how this Naruto really lacks morals. We also get another example of Sakura's reluctance that hints at her repressed sexuality.

In terms of the plot of the story, does this smut scene serve a good purpose?

For "White Lilies," the Naruto/Rumi smut scenes are sort of necessary. Yes, I could have implied their physical intimacy without describing it, but overall the scenes serve as a contributing factor to his bouts of sickness. Naruto gains an understanding of sexual intimacy, thereby catalyzing his jealousy of Susumu.

Same with "I want you to cry." Devahhole uses the Naruto/Sakura smut to push Hinata into revealing her crazy sides. Plot-wise, it was necessary.

Another example! In Chapter 7 of "Side Effects" by Cheating Death, we see Hinata molested on the train and Naruto molested at a bar. These scenes are meant to drive home the fact that the drugs being used on them have negative effects. Later on, videos of these scenes are also used to coerce them further into being taken advantage of in the study. "Side Effects" has many, many scenes of graphic non-con, which are all an important aspect of the plot.

How do you expect readers to react?

In chapter 3 of "Mending Hearts" by NotosK, Hinata and Toneri are about to take the next step in their relationship. The scene serves 2 purposes. Readers come to understand that Hinata is feeling pressured into it and does not truly love him. Second, the author wants us to hate Toneri!

In "Side Effects," Cheating Death was surprised by the readers' reactions, not expecting so many of them to be upset by the non-con, even though they warned the readers beforehand. Ffnet does not have as comprehensive of a tagging system as AO3, so it's likely that many readers started the fic not expecting so much non-con. If you publish your fic on AO3, simply tag appropriately and leave serious author's notes on the chapter to warn readers. For ffnet or other sites, put warnings in your story summary.

For my "White Lilies," readers expected Naruto/Hinata smut due to the Naruto/Rumi smut. This is definitely a desired reaction! Same for "Side Effects." Cheating Death makes extremely graphic smut between Naruto and Hinata to balance the noncon smut, which readers expected. If you have one of them getting into the smutty with a different character, readers will expect smut later on between Naruto and Hinata.

Most NH writers won't write the actual deed with a different character. Most get as far as nakedness. In terms of rape and noncon with a different chara, usually it's implied. But there are a million different ways to express smut.

How detailed do you want the smut?

Consider @char-lotteral's Chapter 1 of "On the Outside Looking In," where Naruto walks in on Sasuke and Hinata doing it. It's implied, but through Naruto's pov, we get a sense of how passionate it was. Also consider "Secrets of the Hidden Leaf," where Naruto's inexperience is described as "shuddering and howling like an idiot" and so forth.

Or! You can go all-out like Cheating Death in the bonus scene of "Side Effects." I think Cheating Death does a great job of expressing Naruto's and Hinata's conflicting feelings during the smut scenes with other people.

In the end, consider what kind of emotions you are focusing on. Is it possible for you to express those emotions without getting graphic? Do you need to be graphic to express those emotions?

In my "Genghis Khan" fic, I don't describe him doing it with Shion at all because there aren't any emotions for Naruto involved. I can achieve the fuckboy character development without getting graphic. I can hint on his experience with others, and that is enough to get my point across.

Hope this helps! As reference, take a look at the links I put in so that you can get an idea of what you want to write.

Be prepared that the more graphic you are, the more angsty it is, and the more negatively emotional your readers' comments may be. You may also receive flames, but that's mostly avoidable if you warn and tag appropriately. Even with being clear, though, there will be people who have little control over themselves, so just be aware! Moderate your comment section or reply kindly to such people and it won't be too big a deal.

[macawritesupdates]

Hey, I really love your fics. My favorite is whichever one updated most recently 💗 until the next one updates it's a never-ending cycle. Anyway, I was re reading the yuuji files, and it made me curious: Are we going to get more itadori family lore? I love the little tidbits that we have, like how they all need to know how to survive and can't tell other people their real birthdays because of a forgotten promise, its so cool. Will we get to learn what the real promise was or meet the underworld God? Even if we don't, it's still fun world building. I just can't stop thinking about the possibilities. Oh man and that's not even mentioning susumu mistaking yuuji for a young God I know it's a bit of comedy but is there more to it I mean yuuji is just out here unintentionally turning curses into cute babies and earning the loyalty of powerful spirits so I wonder if there's more going on here. It would be hilarious if he ascended to godhood entirely on accident that just seems like a yuuji thing to do tbh. I also wanted to ask if you've seen the latest leaks for jjk I have an idea for a prompt based off of them but I don't want to spoil anything for you.

There is going to be much more Itadori lore for sure! That chapter is two away and going to be a big one for sure <3 A lot is going to be answered hehe!

And the god reference...oh it is going to be coming back time and time again! One of those little threats that is weaving forward <3

And I am caught up on the spoilers, so you can be free in your requests dear anon! Thank you for the kind words and the comment! It is much appreciated!!

[cursedvibes]

If it's not too much, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10 for the Itadori family. Sorry in advance!

No need to apologize! I'm assuming you mean Yuuji, Jin, Kenjaku and Wasuke?

3. A song that reminds me of them

I have so many, it was hard to narrow it down to one for each

Yuuji: Hirasawa Susumu - Royal Road Paradise

Jin: Nostalghia - Stockholm Syndrome

Kenjaku: Oliver Holmes - Maybe You Should Be

Wasuke: Glass Animal - Domestic Bliss

KenJin (because it fits too well not to be mentioned): kostromin - Моя голова винтом

4. How many people I ship them with

I don't really ship Yuuji with anyone, but there's some ItaFushi, ItaKugi and ItaTodo fanart I like and I think they can be nice as background ships in fics. For Jin I don't have any ships besides Kaori and Kenjaku. I have thought about him and Si-woo though, assuming he left to work with Kenjaku and isn't dead. Si-woo could be a bad but not too bad influence for him and I would just like to see them interact. Besides Jin, I ship Kenjaku with Mahito and Kashimo. Although I have pondered some hatefucking between them and Wasuke. Or with Yuki. Wasuke/getting a non-fatal break from this family. Absolute OTP.

5. My favourite ship of them

KenJin. And none really for Yuuji or Wasuke.

6. My least favourite ship of them

JinToji...I just don't see the point or the appeal except that they both reproduced. Usually it also feels very...Straight (as is sadly the case with a lot of shipping material involving Jin). GoYuu. Generally all ships between Yuuji and his mentors (like Nanami & Higuruma), but GoYuu is especially prevalent so that one it is. GoKen. There is some fanart I like of them, but it's just everywhere and I can't stand to see it anymore. I also think people lean way too heavily on Kenjaku being apparently obsessed with Gojo, eventhough they haven't mentioned him once since he was sealed. I don't see him being more special to them than any other six eyes user. More a nuisance. Also shipping Kenjaku with Yuuji or Choso (neither of them deserves that), but I think that's obvious.

10. Describe the character in one sentence

Already did that for Yuuji, Kenjaku and Jin, so Wasuke: Watched everyone he cared about die and had to watch how his last living family member inevitably fall into the hands of the person who ruined his entire life.

[sabraeal]

If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

A million years ago (2018), I held a raffle to celebrate having 500 followers, and @bubblesthemonsterartist​​ was the winner of the grand prize-- five fics of her choosing. These and the other winners were all supposed to have their fics post in 2019, over the 12 weeks I was taking off after I had my second son. Unfortunately, MANY THINGS OCCURRED, and now I have finally, FINALLY made it through all my backlog to grant Joanna her wishes. And this was her first request, because I left her BOY in the SNOW on her BIRTHDAY 🤣

Gray light filters through her sheer curtains, hesitantly washing over her room as if it would hate to impose. It has none of the determination of the winter sun, muting pastels into something just shy of monochrome, like a reel of film left out of its can to age. It’s...nice. Cozy even; the perfect weather for a day where there’s no classes to rush to nor study sessions to sweat through, no place to go nor person she needs to be. She’s just Chizuru, and for a moment, that’s enough.

It never lasts.

Her phone vibrates across the bedside table, tooting and carrying on until it bumps into the lamp, buzzing angrily at the inconvenience. It’s barely a breath’s worth of fuss, but Chizuru flops over, brushing her fingers over the screen like touch might soothe it. Or at least, she tries-- the sleeve of her sweater’s slumped, making paws where fingers should be.

Chizuru blinks, but sleep clings stubbornly to her lashes, making the world bleary and indistinct. It takes a good rub to get them clear, wool scratching where she can’t shake away her sleeve, and--

And this is Father’s cardigan, the one she’d kept before everything went into storage. He might not be a large man, but it’s too big for her by far; she wears it around the house when she’s got a craving to be cozy, but it’s not meant for bed. Even now it’s knotted up in the blanket, toggles tangled in the crochet, tugging in places never meant to give.

Her hand hovers, a flinch away from one of those knots. “This isn’t my blanket...?”

Not the one she sleeps under, at least. No, this is a throw, one she keeps across the room on her desk chair for when the little space heater beneath it manages to serve better as a footrest. And when she moves it aside--

Oh my, those are her jeans. The same ones from yesterday, along with the worn T-shirt she changed into after Yamazaki--

“Yamazaki,” she gasps, scrambling for the phone. It takes shoving her sleeves up past her elbows, but she scoops it up, cradling it in both her palms. Oh, how she misses her tiny flip phone, even if Shinpachi called it dinosaur technology; at least then she’d been able to hold it and type at the same time. Now she just has to swipe with her thumbs, hoping it’ll rouse enough to show the home screen.

It flickers on, reluctantly informing her that it’s 10:24 am, and she has a blast email from the university, one that reminds the student body to drive safely and make good decisions over break. There’s also a text from Sen, one that starts, busy now but we can drop by after xmas 🎄, and below that--

[Susumu Yamazaki] Arrived at my parents. Hope I didn’t keep you up. Sleep well.

Chizuru groans, forehead dropping to her fists. After that whole production about him checking in, and she couldn’t even do him the favor of staying awake long enough to appreciate it.

[Me] Oh please don’t worry about me!! I fell asleep waiting 😂

It’d be silly to wait for him to reply. Her phone slips from her fingers, cradled by the crochet slung between her legs. If she was asleep before he got in, it would only make sense that he was still--

[Susumu Yamazaki] Must have been pretty tired. I only live 20min out.

[Me] You must have taken longer than that! It’s 20 min under regular driving conditions but there was all that snow

There’s a long pause, long enough that Chizuru pecks out, Right?, fingers hesitating over each letter. Her thumb’s hovering right over SEND when the phone buzzes, screen scrolling up to read:

[Suzumu Yamazaki] Almost called last night but glad I didn’t. Looks like you needed that sleep :)

[Me] Oh no don’t worry!! I wouldn’t have minded!! It would be nice to hear your voice

“Oh!” The phone jolts from her fingers, shock making even the rubber case sear. That’s what she gets for typing too fast for her brain to catch up; sure, it had sounded so nice in her head, but now that it’s out in the cold hard reality of text...

It’s too much. Like she’s trying to-- to--

Susumu Yamazaki is typing...

“Please don’t,” she moans, slapping her hands over her ears. “I didn’t mean it! I mean, I did, but not in a weird way. Ugh.”

The message disappears. No, flickers, on and off, until it finally settles back to a steady, Susumu Yamazaki is typing...

There’s no reason for him to take that long to reply, not unless he’s trying to find a polite way to say, you’re being really weird, or maybe, is there something wrong with you?

She can’t watch. Mercifully, the screen flicks off. It may not change the fact that he’s writing a scathing dissertation about her poor socialization, but at least she doesn’t have to witness it.

It does, however, display, [Hachiro] eta 30min

“Wh-what?”

Her fingers fumble across the screen, never quite managing to slide up enough to get it open, not until she picks it up in one hand and shakes. It shouldn’t work-- percussive maintenance only works on machines with cogs and springs, Saito has told her too many times to count, not computer chips-- and yet, here she sits, staring down at a string of texts timestamped twenty minutes ago.

[Hachiro] good morning chizu! mom has me out running her chores today 😒 but looks like some of them are going to take me past your place maybe if i have time i’ll swing by your place been a while since we’ve been able to hang out 😄 k all done eta 30min

“Oh,” she breathes. “But what am I going to do with Souji?”

When Chizuru had first moved in to the house, hair shorn and clothes baggy, hoping that her compression bra could do the heavy lifting when it came to masculine body shapes, the doorbell had been a stately sort of tune. Bing-bong ding-dong, the mark of a Real Adult entering their home, like Professor Hijikata, or sometimes even Dean Kondo.

Westminster chime, Shinpachi told her, with so much confidence she could only stare. What? I can know stuff. They used it at my school.

Private school. Souji tossed his hair out of his eyes. Fuckin’ prep.

Hey! Shinpachi’s a big guy, only a few inches shy of Harada and twice as wide in the shoulders. But even still, he can shrink so small, folding in on himself like a sulking child. I don’t think there’s any need for-- for hurtful language.

Harada only snorted, Rich kid.

Either way, she’d liked that one. Sure, it went on a little long, and if they got multiple packages in a day the halls started to feel a little cloister-like, as if she’d really been sent away to a nunnery the way Father used to tease. But at least when she answered the door, people looked impressed, or at least impassive.

That is not the chime that rings today, though.

“I didn’t even know they made doorbells with that,” Harada mutters from under his covers as she sprints past, tearing the towel from her head.

They don’t, Chizuru’s pretty sure, but she doesn’t have the breath to reply, or even curse Souji’s ability to turn even the most innocuous objects into landmines. No, she only has enough to manage a shrill, “I’ve got it!” before pounding down the stairs, hoping she can move quicker than Souji’s sense for chaos.

She flings open the door, wet hair stiffening in the cold, and there is Hachiro, perfect as always, a smile already dawning on his handsome face.

“Morning, Chizu.” He lifts a gloved hand, shaking the snow from his lazy curls. “It’s good to--” Hachiro blinks-- “is that ‘Through the Fire and Flames?’“

“Sorry to make you rush.” Hachiro toes off his shoes-- boots, really, by their treads, but they still look nicer than anything else on the tray-- not dripping a single drop of slush onto the floor. “You’re usually such an early riser, I never thought you’d still be...” He hesitates, clearing his throat. “...In bed.”

It’s silly to blush, but she does, ducking her head against her shoulder. “I was, um, up late last night. Not for bad reasons! Just, er, dragged my feet getting to bed.”

“It’s quiet in here today.” He steps up beside her, his elbow giving hers a playful bump. “Are we alone for once?”

“Er...no. Harada’s in bed, last I checked.” She’s not really sure he knows there’s hours before noon, but that’s not what Hachiro’s asking. “And Souji is, um...around, I’m sure. Somewhere.”

His mouth twists, but it smooths to handsomeness so quick it’s barely more than a trick of the eye. “Good thing I brought breakfast, then.”

He holds up a bag, glossy and bright and oh-so pink, the logo cute, if unfamiliar. “Mom had me go into town today, and it took me right past that new pastry place. The one that used to be Mastudaira’s?”

“Ah, that one! It’s...Meiji now?” She pushes up to her toes, peeking through the handles for a glimpse of wax paper  and crackled crusts. The reality, however, leaves her disappointed; instead of vanilla cream or cinnamon custard, she just sees...cardboard. Sleek, branded cardboard with pink ribbons wrapped around it, but still, she settles back on her heels underwhelmed. “Let me go get some plates. Maybe even a knife, or um, forks?”

Hachiro’s dimple deepens, smile tugged to one side. “Hands should be fine, Chizu. They’re not that fancy.”

“Oh, er, right.” Her cheeks burn as she pads past him toward the kitchen. “Just plates then.”

She expects him to duck into the parlor; the front one is typically where guests drift toward, the TV and sectional conveying entertainment area without the undeniable frat boy aura of the back parlor’s pool table and darts. But instead, Hachiro follows her into the kitchen, settling the bag on the counter as she drags out her step stool.

The cabinets aren’t terribly high-- if she stands on tip-toe, she can even reach the lower shelf with only the smallest tweak in her shoulder. It’s just that the top one, or well, either of the middle ones--

“Do you want me to get them?” He steps up behind her, close enough that she can feel the chill rolling off his skin, even through his sweater. “I don’t mind, you know. Must have these long arms for a reason.”

“No, no,” she assure him, getting one knee up onto the marble. “I can get them. Please, take a seat. We can--” ah, is it awkward to ask if he want to go to the parlor now that they’re already here? Would that seem pointed, like she’s insinuating he did something wrong, or-- “pick wherever you’d like to sit. I’ll be down in just a moment.”

His jaw sets, the way it used to before he’d start a scrap with one of the neighborhood boys, but instead of resorting to a full nelson to get his way, Hachiro simply steps back with a sigh. “If you say so.”

I’ve been small my whole life, she nearly tells him, I think I know how to manage it by now. It’s the sort of thing nine-year-old Chizuru would have said, puffed up and proud as she pumped higher and higher on the swings. She’d broken her arm jumping off them, fighting back tears as Hachiro ran to get the teacher.

“I’ve been wanting to try this for a while,” she says instead.

He glances up, wide-eyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.  My dad came out this way for work trips all the time, and he would tell me how delicious their specials were. Linguini and clams. Roasted quail on yam puree. All sorts of stuff.” Her smile twists, wry as she hops down, two plates in hand. “When I first came out here, I thought I could at least save up for a table at Matsudaira’s, even if it was just for myself. I was heartbroken when I saw the empty storefront.”

“I would never have guessed. When we were kids you hated that sort of thing.” His head tilts, curious, watching her beneath heavy lids as she sets the dish in front of him. “Is that something that interests you now?”

“Oh, no.” She hops up onto the stool, feet dangling from the rungs. “I just thought...I don’t know. It’s silly really. I mean, since my dad liked it, I just thought...”

Chizuru’s not good at this, the whole...talking about it thing. Her feelings are so...so vast, like looking out over prairie as the lightning comes down, or an ocean as the storm rises. She’s not like the professor, able to take these things and distill them down to their essence, plastering perfection onto the page for everyone else to consume. They don’t squeeze down into those little boxes, becoming something easy to handle, they’re just--

“It would make you feel like you’re with him.”

Her chin jerks up, meeting his patient smile. “That’s what you mean right? If you could do something he enjoyed so much, it might feel like the distance wasn’t so much.”

Warmth blooms beneath her breast, a heat that scintillates out to her limbs and back, chest squeezing tight. Even sitting there, her skin tingling, she can’t decide whether it’s a good feeling, or...something else. Something complicated.

“Yes. That.” The words leave her on a gasp, a sigh she no longer has the breath for. It’s silly to be so worked up, to care so much about not having to explain, that she sets her hands to work, glossy bag slipping against her fingers. “But then Meiji opened up, and I know it’s not the same thing, not even a little, but...”

“It’s close enough.” The bag’s top clenches shut as he puts his hand over hers, giving her a squeeze she feels down to her toes. One that stops as quickly as it starts; she barely has time to blink before he’s retreated to his side of the table, smile slanted and inscrutable. “Once he’s done with his done with his sabbatical, I’m sure your father would love to go with you.”

There’s something lodged between the muscles of her throat, brittle as a pitted stone and ragged as a sob, and she can’t trust herself to speak around it, not without risking its escape. So she nods instead, the motion doing nothing to knock it loose, only ache.

She tries to grab the boxes, flimsy little things that bend under the weight of her grip, but her fingers keep falling numbly off them, nicking her knuckles on their corners. It’s as if her hands know what to do, but her mind can’t focus on making them do it, at least not with any sort of skill.

“You’ll like what I picked, I think,” Hachiro tells her, lifting up one of the boxes with a delicacy and elegance she could only dream of. “I haven’t seen them around here before. They’re called maritozzi.”

“It...sounds fancy,” she agrees, glancing dubiously down at the package he’s placed in her palms. “It’s not...hard to eat, is it?”

His mouth quirks at a corner, and for a moment, he looks almost as roguish as he had at age ten, just minus the bruises. He’d been chubbier then, all the sweeping curves of his face softened by baby fat and his nanny’s cooking, but beneath that it’s the same bones, the same boy that had cried when a bully pushed him off the jungle gym, and then sat on him a week later when he’d tried to do it to Chizuru.

“Not at all.” His voice is different now, not deep like his father’s but full. Masculine, but pretty enough that the choir director would still compliment him if he ever went back. “They’re deceptively simple, actually.”

She braces herself, pressing at the corners until the paper hinge gives, and then-- “Oh.”

“See?” Hachiro’s too kind to laugh, but she hears the hint of one his his voice as she lifts the little bun from its box, careful to keep cream off her fingers. “Nothing to be worried about.”

There really is nothing strange about them, save that she’s never seen anything quite like them. The roll’s only the size of her palm, split down the middle and filled to the brim with black-flecked whipped cream, smoothed over until it looks natural, as if it were all one piece. “Is that real vanilla?”

His shoulder lifts, casual. “So I would assume.”

She takes a bite, or at least she tries to-- like anything with a filling, she nearly has to unhinge her jaw to keep cream from making a bid for freedom. But that first taste hits her tongue, and oh, it’s so, so good.

“So,” Hachiro hums. “Where is your father now?”

Her mouth is full-- he knows it’s full, he just saw her take a bite-- and yet he’s sitting there so mildly, as if it’s normal to hold a conversation this way, like she might not choke herself trying to swallow enough down to speak. Not that she wants to-- oh no, she needs every second plausible chewing can give her if she wants a believable answer, one that won’t make him give her that look, the one he had the morning he moved away--

“Er...” She takes one last swallow, loud enough that his eyebrows lift at the gulp. “I’m not quite sure! He moves around a lot for his research. I think...the South Pacific right now? His connection’s been iffy since he left the mainland.”

“Too bad,” he drawls, too mild to be sincere. “I take it that means he won’t be home for Christmas?”

She picks off a piece of roll, dipping it in the cream. “Ah...no. But, um, I think he’s going to call tonight!”

“That’s something.” Mr. Iba used to have a way of saying nothing so nicely it sounded like a judgement, and it’s clear that Hachiro’s inherited his gift. “Do you have anything planned for Christmas Day?”

“N-no.” It hadn’t bothered her, not really, but now that she’s said it out loud it feels...sad. Incomplete. Like watching an orphan in the first act of a holiday film, before Santa or the spirit of Christmas or whatever gets involved. “I’m just staying in, I think.”

His eyebrows lift higher. “Here?”

It’s not until she glances up, trailing an assessing eye over the kitchen’s corners, that she realizes the house is hardly festive. There’s a tree in the front parlor-- it used to be by the side of the highway, growing quite peacefully past the guardrail before Shinpachi and Heisuke had driven by a few weeks ago, pulling over and declaring it the perfect Christmas tree, and chopped it down with a set of hatchets they found under the seat of the SUV. It’s been a funny story to relay to Sen-- it’s only illegal if you get caught, she’d said, but Kiku says they’re stupid-- but when she looks at Hachiro...

Ah, well, the son of a judge may not have the same opinion about it. Nor appreciate their dubiously legal decor.

“It’ll be fun!” Chizuru says instead, forcing a smile onto her face. “Hajime left me his Netflix password, so I have all the Christmas Prince movies right at my fingertips!”

“That sounds like a pretty nice day, actually.” To her surprise, he’s sincere, smiling as he take his own bite of his bun. “Though I don’t think Saito’s going to forgive you for the damage you’ll do to his recommendeds.”

Her mouth twitches behind her napkin. “Don’t worry, he told me I could watch whatever I wanted...as long as I stay on the profile he made for me.”

A grin breaks across his lips, just as mischievous as when he used to pluck his mother’s cookies off the counter. “Oh, I see, you’ve already been quarantined.”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘special accommodations,’“ she informs him, doing a terrible job of hiding her smile. “It’s very kind he offered at all. He denies he even has an account when Souji asks.”

“Who could blame him?” Hachiro rubs his fingers, dislodging crumbs while his good humor smooths to vague distaste. “I shudder to think what might entertain that guy.”

True crime documentaries and Tarantino movies from her experience, but Chizuru doubts that will help her any. Not when his first impression of Souji had been ‘that guy looks like he pulled wings off flies for fun as a kid.’

“Anyway.” Hachiro clears his throat, arms folding stiffly behind his empty plate. How he eats so quickly, she’ll never know; she’s only three bites in and already her stomach is protesting. “I know you have you plans, but my mom wanted me to ask if you’d come over out place for dinner tomorrow. Her and dad are dying for an excuse to see you again.”

“O-oh!” Her cheeks heat, warm enough she’s sure he can see it. “Would they really--? Um...”

It’s been years since she’s seen them; the same with Hachiro until she tripped over him outside Hijikata’s class. But her memories of them, of their kitchen--

It’s like another home, one warmer and more full than her own. There had certainly been weeks where she’d been there more often than her own house. The ones where Father had to work late on his research, leaving her with leftovers-- and her too short to reach the microwave. But it had never occurred to her that she might be anything more than a suffered annoyance, yet one more mouth to feed when they had two growing boys. To be a wanted guest in a home like that...

Her mouth works, and she takes a bite of her pastry, waiting until is sits like lead in her stomach before she says, “I...I couldn’t possibly impose--”

“Of course you can.” He laughs, so easy, so careless, as if it should be obvious. “It’s hardly an imposition when you’re invited. Look, she even put you on my list! Right under dropping off the charity gifts, it says, get Chizuru--”

Her hand flicks up, deflecting the paper he pulls from his pocket. “I believe you,” she squeaks, barely able to look at it. “You don’t have to, um, show me.”

He hesitates, a smirk shoring up one side of his smile as he slips it back in. “All right. But you’ll come, won’t you? I’ll even pick you up.”

“Um...” His offer’s more than tempting, but the thought of showing up in their home empty-handed... “I don’t think--”

“If you’re worrying about gifts, don’t.”

Chizuru jolts in her seat, feet just barely catching her before she can topple out of it. How did he--?

“My mom said to say your presence is present enough. It’s corny, but she means it.” His gaze flicks to hers, too warm to hold, like cider fresh from the pot. “I think so too, if that matters.”

“Oh,” she breathes. It’s all so nice, but it’s also too much, like sticking frostbitten hands right into the fire, and she doesn’t know if she’s warming up or burning--

“You know, Iba, I can tell you hang out with Hijikata.” Souji sweeps into the kitchen like funeral shroud, leaving a pall over the kitchen with nothing more than a drawl. “You both don’t know how to take a hint. And by that I mean, the door is over there.”

“Okita,” Hachiro manages, his smile so saccharine her teeth ache. “I see you’ve decided to make another attempt at human socialization. I applaud your courage.”

When Souji grins it’s all teeth, prowling around until he stands at her shoulder. “Well, you know, I keep telling myself that no matter what I do, I’ll never sound as stupid as you striking out. And then I have all the motivation I need to keep going on.”

“We all have to find inspiration somewhere, even if it’s only from our own imagination.” Hachiro glows with a grace so serene that paintings of saints would patina with envy. “Ah, it seems I didn’t bring enough pastries for all of us. Looks like you’ll have to go figure out something else on your own.”

“It’s okay.” A long fingers reach past her shoulder, plucking the bun off her plate. There’s a soft crackle right above her ear, and oh, she doesn’t need to turn around to know where the crumbs tumbling down her shoulder come from. “I figured something out.”

“That,” Hachiro grits out, his smile finally as strained as his patience, “is for Chizuru.”

Souji’s arm dangles lazily off her shoulder, hand close enough that if he just tensed his fingers enough to curl, he’d brush below her clavicle. It’s...distracting. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

“I think--”

“So are you actually gonna go to this loser’s house? Hang out with his parents?” Souji snorts, bending close enough for his hair to tickle over her ear. “Food poisoning sounds more fun.”

A breath hisses between Hachiro’s teeth, but still he only says, so calm, “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”

Around the last of her pastry, Souji mumbles an unfortunately clear, “No.” With a swallow, he adds, “I’m having fun right now.”

“Is that so?” Hachiro’s mouth cants to a dangerous angle. “Then maybe you could--”

There is an end to this suggestion, Chizuru can see the way his mouth moves to make it, eyes glinting like a knife beneath the kitchen lights. But it’s impossible to make out what it might be, not with what sounds like a stampede coming down the back stairs.

“Hey, guys anyone seen my shir--” Harada hauls himself up short, nearly clipping his head on the top of the door. “Oh, how you doin’, Iba? Didn’t expect to see you here.”

One arm hooked over the chair back shifts Hachiro’s posture from high alert to casually confident, Souji entirely forgotten. “It was short notice. Sorry for the surprise.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” His giant hand paws at the towel slung around his shoulder, lifting it to dab at his hairline, and-- oh no, he’s not-- he’s--

“Would it kill you to keep your clothes on?” Souji grumbles, slinking from her shoulders to glare from a safe distance like a particularly hostile housecat.

The past three months had exposed her to so much bared boy flesh-- so much she’s sure Shinpachi only begrudgingly tolerates any clothes that aren’t made out of jersey or spandex-- that it’s practically the wallpaper now, utterly unnoticeable unless she’s got her nose pressed to it. But now that Harada is here, strolling through the kitchen, shirtless and dripping right in front of Hachiro, casually advertising her every day, well--

Chizuru can’t blame Souji; she’d like an excuse to slip out of this situation too.

“It might.” Harada scratches at the scar that bisects his stomach, thoughtful. “So does this mean the professor’s coming by too?”

Hachiro laughs, shaking his head, as if just gym shorts were a perfectly normal outfit for a grown man to wear in company. “No, as much as I’d like to see him today, I’m afraid it’s only me. I just stopped in to invite Chizuru to Christmas dinner.”

There’s no reason for it, not at all-- only minutes ago the offer had been as welcome a surprise as it was terrifying-- but now ever muscle stiffens, her knuckles white where they grip the countertop. As if somehow everyone knowing made it-- it--

A coy smirk hovers at the corners of his mouth, a silent tease ready to unravel her. “Oh, that sounds--” Harada glances down at where she sits, and his confusion snuffs his mischief as quick as a match-- “er...nice?”

“You mean stupid,” Souji mutters, but if Hachiro hears him, he doesn’t show it.

“I think so too.” It’s hard to resist when he smiles at her, bright and warm as the best summer day. “My parents will be so happy to see you again.”

“Oh.” Harada’s eyes widen until she can see whites around them. “That’s, uh...I didn’t realize you guys were...serious?”

Chizuru’s hands fly up, waving as if that might help dispel-- er, whatever this is. “Ah! That’s not-- we’re not together. We’re just-- we were neighbors in elementary school. I’ve explained this before...”

“O...kay,” Harada says, just as Souji adds, “See, I told you it was stupid.”

“They haven’t seen her for a long time,” Hachiro explains smoothly, making it all sound so normal, the way she never could. “That’s why they’re so excited.”

“It’s very kind of you to, um, offer, but I don’t--” Guilt’s been nibbling at her since he invited her, but now it takes huge, gulping bites, her confidence as tattered as lettuce left in the crisper. “I mean, do you really think that, er--?”

“Really collecting husbands now, aren’t you, Chizuru?” Souji snorts. “Don’t you already have one stalker that thinks you’re married to him? And now this jackoff’s taking you to meet his parents.”

Hachiro finally turns to him, flushed and out of patience. “Do you have a problem?”

“Yeah, your fa--”

“I--I’m not!” Her hands slap the counter, too loud, but it gets their attention, as little as she likes having it. “I mean, not collecting husbands. No, I mean, I’m not doing that either, but I’m also--” she takes a steeling breath-- “I’m not going. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Hachiro’s brow knits, the skin there as furrowed as his frown below. “You don’t need to listen to him, Chizuru. There’s nothing wrong about coming over, or weird either. You’re always welcome at our house.”

“I’m not. I mean, I know, I’m not listening to him. It’s just--”

There’s a thousand things she wants to say, a hundred explanations that bloom and rot off the vine. But none of them fit, none of them are what she means. There’s no way to say, it still feels too intimate without implying I don’t want to lead you on, nor I miss my dad without also saying I’m going to waste my life waiting for a phone call.

“I’m not,” she repeats, stronger this time. “Thank you for the invitation, Hachiro, it means a lot to me. But, um, I just finished exams last night, and I’ve really been looking forward to some down time. I just don’t think I’m ready to be good company.”

“You’re always good company,” he tells her, unconvinced. “But if you’re sure...”

“We’ll take good care of her.” Harada slings an arms around her shoulders, squeezing her close enough to catch a whiff of his bodywash. “I promise, no sad Chizuru. And maybe you can stop by again after the holidays and hang. Shinpachi and Saito are gonna be sad they missed you, man.”

Hachiro spares her one last lingering look before he sighs, easing into his laid-back lounge. “Sounds like a good time. Maybe we can even get Toshi in on it...”

He might be on errand for his mom, but Hachiro hardly seems in a hurry when he makes his way to the door, the late afternoon sun already threatening to fall behind the horizon.

“You’ll call me if you change you mind?” he mutters as he zips his coat, sending her a concerned glance. “Really, I’m happy to come out and get you, Any time.”

“R-really!” She pats his shoulder, giving him her best big-girl smile. “I’ll be fine. But thank you. If I do change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

His gloved hand lingers on the handle for a long moment before he manages, “Merry Christmas, Chizu.”

“Ah, you too!” He’s nearly got the door shut behind him when she adds, “Tell your parents I said hello!”

It closes with a soft shunk, the cold air displaced with a huff, and she slumps, all the tension gone out of her limbs--

“Wow,” Harada snorts. “You know, I thought Shinpachi could come on a little strong, but that was a whole other weight class. You should have told me he was your ex, I wouldn’t have backed him up.”

“He’s not! He’s just...overprotective.” She’s flushed as she slips past him to the kitchen, desperate to avoid that knowing side-eye. “He used to look out for me when we were small, and then we lost touch, and now...I...I guess he feels like it’s his job to make sure I’m taken care of.”

He nods, arms folding across his chest-- a detail she can note now that he’s put on a shirt. “So he’s making up for lost time.”

It’s weird to think of it like that, like taking care of her might be something to miss, rather just a burden that’s been foisted upon him. “Ah, I...guess, yeah.”

Souji scoffs from his corner, perched up by the sink like a judgemental cat. “Making up for lost blue balls is more like it.”

Harada ignores him, stepping close to put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, if you want to do a Christmas thing, we can just do one here. It may be just the three of us--”

“Count me out.” Souji hops off his perch, clinging to the walls like he expects someone to chase him out with a broom. Or worse, try to pet him. “I don’t do lame ass Christmas stuff.”

“All right.” Harada huffs out a laugh as Souji skulks up the stairs, shaking his head. “Just the two of us then. Maybe we’ll pop some movies on TV, make some popcorn? I can even get some hot chocolate going as long as you don’t mind it coming from a packet.”

He winks, and for a moment, it sounds...so nice. To be able to sit her phone on the arm of the couch and not have to worry about whether she might miss a call, or about whether she’s interrupting by taking it. To have company while she waits, a distraction, something to make her feel less like she’s missing Christmas, and more like something new--

“Mine will be slutty, of course,” he rumbles, so close to her side he nearly looms. There’s a smile when he says it, a twinkle in his eye, and sure it’s supposed to be a joke, but-- but she’s been here long enough to know that friend tends to be a stepping stone to fuckbuddy when it comes to Harada. Not something he plans, but something he falls into; a fiction he fools himself into believing right up until his flavor of the week walks out of his room in his shirt.

Movies and cocoa sounds like the perfect evening with friends, but there’s also something...intimate about it. Two people on that couch, curled up in one corner, sharing heat under the same blanket...Harada might have the best of intentions, but she’s not convinced he knows how to hang out with a girl and not have sex. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, so to speak, so long as everyone is having a good time. But for Chizuru...

Chizuru can imagine it. She would lay her head on his shoulder-- or rather, somewhere in the vacinity of his shoulder-- letting his hand creep around her rib cage, thumb brushing right below the lower limits of her bra. It would shock her; she’s not the type of girl who lets boys this close, but Harada’s always felt safe, treating her more like a mascot than a woman. She’d look up, confused, and he’d look down, fond, and then he’d lean in, bending down, and down--

and down--

and down--

Ah, he’s just...too tall for her. Sen may have told her that was part of the fun when it came to being just a hair below average, but when Chizuru considers the health of his spine--

She turns her head, hiding her grimace. “No, I think I’m-- I’ll be fine on my own.”

It’s Harada’s turn to look concerned now. “Are you sure, Chizuru? It’s really no problem for me to--?”

“I’m sure,” she says, firmer, in the same tone her father used to keep inspectors from asking more questions. The last thing she needs is for him to get the idea in his head to why; your height is daunting, is not an answer she want to have to explain, nor is, and I think you’re too experienced to stop at holding hands, too.

“Don’t worry,” she says instead, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “A day by myself is just what I need. Now, what do we want for dinner?”

It’s dark by the time she gets back to her room, her bedside table the only light in the room. She pads over to it, curious, wondering just why she might have left it--

“Oh no,” she gasps, hurrying over. “My phone, I’ve left it here all day!”

Missed texts and university emails stretch across the screen, but she doesn’t spare them a glance, thumb nudging her past every icon until she’s sure-- no voicemail, no missed calls, no emails with greetings from tropical climes. It’s Christmas wherever Father is, but he hasn’t thought of her.

“He’s not up yet,” she tells herself, the sound of the words calming her when thoughts can’t. “There’s lots of time zones in the Pacific. He’s probably just in one that’s still asleep. Waiting for Santa, I bet!”

That gets her to laugh, the strange ache in her chest easing as she settles on the bed, looking through what’s she’s missed. More holiday greetings from Sen and Kimigiku it seems, filled with semi-ironic usage of stickers; a message from Hijikata telling her to take it easy over break, and not to let the boys run her ragged; blast texts from classmates she’s friendly with, impersonal maybe, but Chizuru’s happy to be thought of; and--

[Susumu Yamazaki] I could call now if you like

She blinks, stymied. “Call? Why would he...?”

With a tap the chat unfurls beneath her fingertips. The message its at the bottom of the screen, timestamp that morning, a few minutes after her own text, one that read--

“Oh!” She claps a hand to her cheek, mortified. “Oh my gosh.”

[Me] I’m so sorry!! I didn’t see this until now!! Hachiro sprung a surprise visit on me. I had to get ready quick!! 😱 Well actually I was asleep when he sent the text. 😴 So it wasn’t meant to be a surprise. But it was!! 🤣

She sighs, letting the phone drop to her lap. Yamazaki’s at home with his parents, doing...whatever families do at holidays. It’s too much to hope he’s sitting around, waiting for her text even after she let him sit for a whole day unanswered. It’d be her just deserts to wait for hours, hoping--

[Susumu Yamazaki] That would do it.

She stares, speechless, her thumbs hanging limp on the screen. “Is he really...?”

[Susumu Yamazaki] Iba hasn’t been by in a while. Did you have a good time?

[Me] It was nice to see him! 😄 His parents wanted him to invite me over for Christmas. Hachiro must have told them my dad’s on sabbatical.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Is that were you’ll be tomorrow? That was kind of them.

[Me] Ah no. It felt too weird to see them for such a big event when we haven’t seen each other for like seven years. And plus I don’t have gifts! 😂

[Susumu Yamazaki] Iba’s parents wouldn’t care about something like that. Not if they’re anything like him.

[Me] Ah I didn’t mean to imply they would!! 😧 They definitely wouldn’t!! They’re so kind!! It just...felt rude. And I wanted to wait for my dad to call. So staying in seems like the best option all around.😄

[Susumu Yamazaki] Is there something planned at the house? Never asked you guys, I guess.

[Me] Sanosuke offered to do something festive tomorrow, but Souji isn’t interested.🤭

[Susumu Yamazaki] Okita hasn’t met a positive experience he couldn’t make worse. So what are you doing with Harada?

[Me] Nothing!! 😂 Sano is super nice. He’s just also very...friendly? A little too friendly I guess. I know he didn’t mean anything by it but being alone just the two of us... You know how he is.

[Susumu Yamazaki] lol Didn’t want to tell you what to do. But he has his reputation for a reason. Will you be okay by yourself? Or is it cool to not have plans?

I’m fine!! sits in the box, ready to send, but for once, Chizuru hesitates. It’s easy to give out niceties to Harada or Hachiro-- they want to be assured she’s all right, that they don’t have to worry about her. But Yamazaki has never asked her a question he doesn’t want a real answer to. To give him some stock response...it feels like lying, even if it was to put him at ease.

[Me] A little of both if that makes sense?

There’s no delay before he replies, I don’t want to pry. Do you want to talk about it?

Her fingers squeeze tight around the case, rubber buttons biting into the fleshy bits of her knuckles. She’s not used to doing this, to admitting things aren’t always sunshine, but somehow it’s easier to press the buttons than it is to speak the words, and once she starts it pours out of her, flooding the screen.

[Me] It’s just that Christmas was a big deal with my dad. It’s weird to not do anything for it? But also no one can be my dad? So if I spent it with other people I’d feel like I’d have to prentend it’s just as good. So if I’m by myself there’s no pressure to do that. I can just let it be bad or only okay. No one has to feel like they’re not enough. But also that feels a little lonely? So I don’t know. At least this way I’m the only one who has to worry about it.

The second she finishes, a tidal wave of regret threats to pull her under, to drown her in her own words. What was she thinking, telling him all that? He can’t have possibly wanted--

[Susumu Yamzaki] If you want

Chizuru blinks, eyes fixed to the screen. It’s a mistake, she knows; only half a sentence and there’s a frantic way Susumu Yamazaki is typing keeps showing up on her screen before it disappears once again. But still, she can’t look away, not when she’s pours all her thoughts out like pus from a boil, and his first reaction isn’t, Ew.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Sorry. Cat was helping.

She’s known Yamazaki for three months, and yet that’s the most personal piece of information she’s ever heard about him. She want to ask him all about it, whether it’s male or female, if it’s a calico or a tabby or something else she’s never heard of. Siamese, maybe? She can picture him with one of those.

Her lips clamp together, trying to swallow down a wiry giggle. Yamazaki has a cat. Or at least his parents do. There’s one on him right now, weaving through his arms, trying to get attention as he types. And he’s giving it to her instead.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Anyway. If you get lonely you can call me. I certainly don’t mind that I’m not your dad.

[Me] I’d like that. As long as you don’t mind that I WILL be watching the Christmas Prince and its associated films.

[Susumu Yamazaki] We can watch them together. There’s an app. It will be a relief to have an excuse not to interact with my family for a few hours.

There’s a knot in her throat when she hesitates, slowly typing out, If you don’t mind.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Not at all. I’ve been asked a total of nine times why I’m not going into acupunture. Even the Christmas Prince will be an improvement.

[Me] Okay!! Do you mind waiting a little bit? I’m waiting for my dad to call.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Take as long as you need.

When she wakes up, it’s with a start. The bedside lamp is off-- ah, she doesn’t remember doing that-- and so it’s with her hands that she reaches out, trying to locate rubber corners through her covers.

“I can’t believe I missed it,” she gasps, ragged with frustration. “He finally calls, and I’m not even--”

The screen lights up when she lifts it, but it doesn’t show a call, oh no, but--

[😽] dont say i never get u guys ne thing 🤗

She blinks, kitty face coming into focus. “The house chat?”

[😽] merry xmas u mfs 🎄🎅 www.ujkyo.edu/news dont say i never get u guys ne thing 🤗

[mochiimiiki]

| Hakuouki |

Masterlist

Key:

• oneshots/ drabbles: 👛

• Fics: 🍡

• SMAU: 💄

• Requests: 🌸

• Headcanons: 🍒

Shinsengumi:

Hijikata Toshizō

Harada Sanosuke

Nagakura Shinpachi

Yamazaki Susumu

Saitou Hajime

Toudou Heisuke

Souma Kazue

Sannan Keisuke

Okita Souji

Oni:

Kazama Chikage

Shiranui Kyo

Amagiri Kyuuju

Other:

Sakamoto Ryouma

Iba Hachiro

[hxhhasmysoul]

13, 14 and 47 for the writing ask please :)

Thank you for the ask <3

13. Do you listen to music while you write?  If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

I often do listen to music. I usually listen to the Naked and Famous, Chvrches, Bats for Lashes, Sevdaliza, Susumu Hirasawa, Kate Bush (my default smut writing music), Everything Everything, iamamiwhoami or Annie Lennox. I'm surely forgetting some others XD. But I sometimes just listen to some other song that catches my attention. I like basic pop music.

14. What is your favorite location and position to write in?

When I commuted a for long distances in one bus/train, I liked to write there. Being stuck there was kind of motivating to distract myself. Now that I don't do that anymore I just write at my desk on my PC. I don't know if I particularly like it but writing on the bed on a laptop or phone doesn't really work well, I switch to reading then way too fast.

47. Is there a trope that you’ve written before but are now sick of?

Considering how few stories I've written, not really. I tend to write long stories that don't really depend on a trope that much. Like they have tropes in them, obviously, it's just that I feel that shot one shot fics are usually more trope dependent. Like the conceit is often a trope. While longer stories are more plot heavy and the tropes don't dominate them as much. Actually most of my stories tend to lose readership over time because even if I incorporate tropes and list them in the tags, they often are just bits of a larger whole, or jumping off points and it's very clear that in the fanifc space, where many people come for the trope dopamine shots, it's not what they are looking for. And I'm very much a wherever the story takes me kinda writer. I wrote a story with an incubus for one hxh fandom event and my beta at the time said: "there's going to be a sextra to this one", when I explained the idea to her. Initially I agreed with her but as I was writing it, both of the characters felt very ace to me. So obviously there wasn't a sextra to it. And actually I had the decency not to tag it with an incubus au tag because it's not even based on the pop cultural and traditional mythos for that kind of creature, but something I made up because I actually don't exactly like the mythos... It's funny that I've done it twice already, took a trope I don't actually like and twisted it so that I would like it... But that's for my own enjoyment, for readers it's very hit and miss. XD

___________

Fanfiction Writing Asks

[in-the-gardens-of-inspiration]

From @alpharaposa

Rules: make a 24-hour poll with the names of your WIPs, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner receives.

Not all of these are published yet ;3c

Below the line is a sentence spiel abt each of the fics~

(defenestrate the) window of opportunity : A post-Final-Getsuga-Tenshou Kurosaki Ichigo is tossed into HeroAca'verse, this impacts a lotta people- Midoriya Izuku, Shinshou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta, Yagi Toshinori, Sasai Susumu- but more than impacting the lives of the people around him, Ichigo finds he still is connected to both halves of Zangetsu (as well as some extras.)

glass prisms : lmao second verse, same as the first, no be serious Lilac. A post-versus-Future-Byakuran Sawada Tsunayoshi and a post-Final-Getsuga-Tenshou Kurosaki Ichigo wake up in a hospital in the HeroAca'verse, and eventually three skies (>:D) walk into U.A.'s 1-A classroom.

Be A Hero! : A slow burn crossover, wherein Marinette Dupain-Cheng makes bonds, breaks bonds, saves godlings, gets kinda-sorta-maybe adopted by godlings, gets a partner she can rely on, a new Order is established, (and also lionised,) not necessarily in that order: and, have I mentioned the dimensional instability yet?

halfway between the black and gray : I like aliens, I like wacky crossovers, I like wacky crossovers involving aliens, and snark-to-snark combat; aaaaaand I also think I could make Voltron: Legendary Defender a little more interesting/a little less worse with the addition of Ben Tennyson.

worth two lions (yet here i am) : A giftfic for Wolfsrainrules; posing such a question as 'what if Sawada Nana was the daughter of the Arcobaleno Fon?', worth two lions is my answer- featuring kiddo shenanigans, arson, and the beginnings of a beautiful (terrifiying) team between half-feral cousins.

(don't you ever for a second get to thinking) you're irreplaceable : There's something going on in Paris, and halfway-incompetant emotional terrorists, temporary disappearances, lying liars who lie, and unreliable superhero partners are only the half of it- ome thing's for sure though, Marinette Dupain-Cheng's got her work cut out for her.

per ardua ad astera: on supervillainy : Let me pose you a question, 'what makes a villain?'- is it the acts (atrocities) one commits, the thefts, the fraud, the debasement of the sanctity of peoples lives- or how often is it that a villain is a villain because they come into ideological conflict with the heroes or the authorities? As history tries to repeat itself, and people have to live with the consequences of the fallout, more and more people, who once buried their heads in the sand, start asking questions that will take months, if not years to unravel from a tangled web spanning almost 3 decades- civilians, heroes, and villains alike.

murky reality : Disappearences, mystery ailments, and people whispering of spirits, this is not unknown news to the Gaang- the sleepy hill town in the Earth Kingdom almost begs to differ.. as Aang, Sokka, Katara, Toph, Zuko, and Suki investigate, the shadows grow longer.

Thunderhead : During Cloud Strife's mako coma, Gaia bestows a boon- a gift and a duty all in one, becoming a weapon, yet not a WEAPON against the Calamity; as the time for the final confrontation between the Planet's Champion and the Son of the Calamity draws closer, a storm brews- then all too soon, a thunderstorm breaks, and Cloud must face "Sephiroth", and JENOVA with his dying will.

balance-maker, balance-breaker : Finding out that having saved Paris is simply not enough for some people, and the Pocket God Collective of Marinette Dupain-Cheng feels that their hands are forced, and it's now the time to take drastic measures to protect their (child) human; and so Marinette wakes up a child in body, in another dimension, there are shenanigans afoot; but then the developing peace is knocked down a flight of stairs by a monster that leaves most, if not all, of the kwami deeply afraid of what might happen to their Marinette and her new found family.

at full speed through the stubborn night! : When the kwamis of Precognition, Evolution, and Constitution come to you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, grim-faced and a breath away from paralysed with worry aboit your well-being in the very near future, well, you listen, and with the rest of the pocket godlings that decided along the way that freeing them made you their perfect-yet-human Guardian, you plan; if only they told you about the interdimensional instability that would serve as your cover for getting the hell out of dodge-- so 'you' drift in and out of clarity for a few years, before everything meshes and Tailor D. Fortuna Rinne opens her eyes to her hidden memories, and powers-- but rumours fly fast o'er the seas, and not one, but two thought-lost overpowered Paramecia Devil Fruits just reek of bad news to the World Government and Navy.

[talesofzero]

La Douleur Exquise - Ch. 9

Leijiverse Brothel AU; Chapter 9 - The Case of Beige 

I’ve been on a bit of a break from Leijiverse writing, but here’s a Christmas present for @not-actually-harry-potter who is very sweet and deserves many things, including a chapter about anger Daiba.

There are too many Zeros in the Leijiverse, and I should stop pulling such obscure characters.

~5600 words

Captain needed a new rule - all clients needed to strip before all the sex stuff. The assholes kept trying to sneak stuff in under their clothes. Next time one of the guys tried to tell me they had nice clients and that not all clients were human-shaped dumpsters, I would remind them of the client who was stupid enough to not only rough-up Mamoru but also to stab me with a tiny pocket knife.

He should have brought a bigger knife if he wanted to do any real damage. I guess a bigger one wouldn’t have fit in his boot, but the small one fit into my side with all the force of a bug bite. His grip made for an easy target. Grabbing his wrist with one hand, I slammed the heel of the other into the back of his elbow. The resounding crunch of his bones sent him into a screaming fit. I didn’t even have to kick him down. He dropped to the floor on his own, cradling his arm.

Left his stupid, tiny knife in my side though, asshole. As soon as I yanked it out, blood spread out along my sleep shirt in a heated pool. “This had better wash out,” I growled as I tugged my wristband off and slapped it on the client’s arm instead. The band lit up in a bright flash of blue, turning the bastard turned into a twitchy mess. Captain made me use weird shit to put down clients. Beating them bloody would have worked just fine, but he insisted on tasing or drugs to knock them out. That just wasn’t satisfying enough. The bastards deserved a few good breaks and bruises.

But whatever. Captain’s orders.

With the client glitching out like a busted hologram on the floor, I stepped over him and up to Mamoru. The Kodais never had trouble when they were together, but being alone left them open to danger, and Mamoru worked to blink away a daze. Blood dripped from his lips. Judging by the way his cheek was starting to bruise, his teeth had cut into the inside. “Come on,” I said, taking him by the arm to lead him to his feet. “Let’s get you away from this bastard. I’ll get Captain to take care of him.”

Mamoru stumbled like the carpet was sliding out from under his feet. His hands landed on my shoulders for stability. “Can’t believe he hit my face,” he said as I dragged him toward the door. “I need that.”

“Next time you decide to take a dick of a client, tell him to hit you in the brain since you sure don’t need that.”

He whined like an abused dog, but judging by his cutesy pout, he was just fishing for sympathy. “Daiba, be nice to me. I just got beat up.”

“Yeah-yeah.” As I snapped the door shut, the wound in my side seemed to sink its fangs in deeper. I couldn’t hold back a wince.

Mamoru must not have been that dazed because he noticed. “What’s wrong?” But even before the question was all the way out of his mouth, his eyes found the blood that had crept its way toward the buttons of my shirt. The grip on my shoulder became a vise, spinning me to face him. “Is that your blood? Daiba!?”

“It’s fine,” I said with a shrug. When the panic didn’t leave his eyes, I held up the knife, still coated in my blood. “It’s such a small knife. It couldn’t do much.”

Fear iced over his expression, and though he opened his mouth, nothing came out at first. The claws in my shoulder dragged me toward the second flight of stairs. When he did speak, his voice was so thin that it sounded lost in a breeze. “We’re taking you to the infirmary.”

“We need to tell Captain about the client.”

“I will tell him! But we need for you to stop bleeding. Shit, Daiba, you got stabbed!”

“It’s whatever.”

Mamoru started chewing my ear off like he wasn’t the one who’d gotten his ass kicked in the first place. I was a bodyguard. Getting in fights and taking hits was my job, but all the guys yelled at me when I did what I was supposed to. Even before I started work at the brothel, it was like that.

They shouldn’t have cared. No one should have. Where I came from, useless street kids were as plentiful as the rats and heaps of trash littering the planet. All I did there was fight, and no one cared. Well, the guys whose asses I kicked might have cared, but I sure as hell didn’t.

I didn’t pay enough attention to remember which gang was which. They all flaunted dumb names like “White Tigers” or “Poison Fang,” but they were all the same. A bunch of weak dogs roaming in packs to look tougher. I let them be as long as they didn’t bother me. The burned husk of an apartment on Fifth Street was mine, and they knew that. As long as they kept away, I didn’t care enough to fight them.

Their heads were too damn big, though. Bastards always picked a fight when I went out into the streets. The worst bunch was some group named after a shark or fish or whatever. I got to know them too well for my liking. Because of that, I recognized the sounds of their voices in time to stop me from turning down one of my usual haunts.

“You’re clearly not from around here,” the one with the tattooed face said. “So I guess you don’t know the rules.”

“Yeah, just give us your stuff,” chimed in another voice I matched to a scrawny guy in my memories who’d been egging the rest on in our last brawl. That bastard was going to hurt. He’d been the one to throw in the pipe that busted my leg. The all-too-familiar sound of the hollow metal ringing and scraping along the concrete echoed out from the alley.

The third voice sent my blood boiling. “We don’t need any violence,” he said, the same one who’d swung that pipe into my leg like an ax to a tree. I’d been dragging around a limp for days, trying to avoid fights while it recovered. Being injured would slow me down, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to dish out some revenge.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” someone I didn’t recognize added. “You would not come out unscathed. Walk away, and we can leave this.” He sounded older than any of the gang kids. Though his voice was calm, it held the dark edge of a threat.

Whatever. I’d kick his ass too if I had to.

He made for a helpful distraction as I launched myself around the corner. Tattoo turned just in time for my elbow to shatter his nose. When he hunched over to clutch at his face, my knee met his gut. For all his talk, he went down in a heap without a fight.

Scrawny came next. He was too tall for my elbows and knees to be much help. I couldn’t chance breaking my fingers on his ugly mug, so I punched him in the throat instead. People always try to curl in on themselves when they take a bad hit, try to hunker down and protect everything vital. That made my job easier because I was cursed to be short. Once Scrawny ducked his head enough to be in my range, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and smashed his face into the brick wall.

That left Pipe, who forced me to jump back as he aimed to crack my skull open. My right leg staggered under me, protesting my weight with nauseating flashes of pain. A strangled yelp tore up my throat, and Pipe’s eyes lit up with a sadistic recognition. “I remember you,” he laughed as his pipe swung back around and cracked into my leg again.

I had to hiss air between my teeth to keep from screaming. The pain burned so hot that the rest of my body seemed chilled. The deafening crack of a blaster cut through the air, and I found Pipe clutching his empty hand to his chest with a wince. His weapon clattered to the ground.

As the burnt smell of the gunshot tinged the air, the last man in the alley steadied his aim again and spoke in such a low voice that it could have been a growl. “Leave.”

I wasn’t going to fuck with anyone wielding a gun, but while the other bastards scurried off back to whatever pits they crawled out of, my first step brought the ground up to meet me. My leg roared with pain so overwhelming that my eyelids fluttered before I could yank them back open.

“There’s no way you’re moving on that,” the gunman said. The edge was gone from his voice, replaced with a flat drawl of reality. He sounded far too close for my liking. “Stay still.”                                                                                             

He hung over me, close enough that I could see the dark brown of his one eye even in the dim light from our moons. His arm clutched me around the shoulders, keeping me upright. He could fuck right off with all of that.

“Don’t touch me!” I sent a jab straight for his face, but the crushing grip of his hand caught mine.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as I tried to yank my hand free. “You helped me, and I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t fight them to help you,” I snarled. Only when I let the tension out of my arm did he release his grip. “I just had some business with those assholes. If you came to this planet looking like that, you’re dumb enough that you deserve to get jumped.”

Gunman had clothes so nice I’d only seen them in pictures. It seemed too fancy, like a costume. “Maybe, but I could handle them,” he said. I wanted to tell him that a gun wouldn’t save him forever, but his hand pressed on my thigh where the damned pipe had just hit. He may not have put any pressure on the bruise. I couldn’t tell. Just the weight of his hand was enough to send my stomach rolling from the pain. Exhaustion hit me like a wall, my eyes rolling back.

“Damn,” he hissed. His voice was enough for me to grab onto to stay conscious, shaking away the dark edges on my vision. “That’s, uh, not good.”

“S’fine,” I said. “Get away from me.”

“My name is Harlock,” he said like I’d asked. “I employ a doctor. Let me take you to him.”

I may not have gone to school much, but I was not that stupid. Too many of the other guys on the streets went missing for me to trust some rich asshole with a gun. “Hell no!”

“Then let me contact your family-”

“Don’t have one.”

Silence bit at us for a breath. “Sorry,” he said. “I suppose I should have known. Listen, I understand why you wouldn’t want to trust me, but I came to this planet looking for someone to hire - a bodyguard. I know a number of skilled mercenaries work in this area, so that was my original intent, but why don’t you let me hire you instead? You seem plenty capable.”

“Thought you said you could handle yourself.” My words tinged with a slur. Sleep pulled at me like grasping hands reaching from the ground.

“You wouldn’t be guarding me. You’d be looking after my employees.”

“Who’re they? I don’t look after assholes.” I’d never looked after anyone but myself. Gangs weren’t for me. I couldn’t get along with anyone else, and Harlock didn’t know what he was talking about. Or he was lying. That seemed more likely.

“No,” he said. “You’ll be fighting the assholes.”

“I’ll consider it.” Considering time was a half-second, and that was enough to assure me Harlock was bad news. “No,” I decided.

“Let me get you to a doctor regardless.”

“I’m fine.” I would have been even better if he would have let go of me, actually.

Harlock heaved a sigh. “Look, I’m not a medical professional, and even I can tell that leg is broken.”

He was obviously no professional because my leg was not broken, just bruised. I would have noticed a break. “Really?” I drawled in disbelief. “And how are you so sure?”

“I can feel the bone sticking out of place”

“Bullshit!” When I placed my hand on my thigh, though, I could feel the way my skin had shifted in an uneven ridge beneath the fabric of my pants. “Well… It’ll heal eventually.” The pain didn’t seem like enough to be a break, so I guessed it could have been some knot instead. After all, I could still move my leg. As I pulled my knee inward, aiming to stand, the pain morphed into a tidal wave that dragged me under. My vision slipped to black, and I could hear Harlock barking something. None of it was clear enough to understand.

All I could make sense of was the pain until that blinked out too.

I woke in what must have been a hospital room. Too damn bright and white to be anything else. I had to squint to make out much of anything. The bed was the first I’d slept on in ages that didn’t jab me with metal springs. As my eyes adjusted, I spotted a man standing at my side. He wore a dark green uniform I didn’t recognize. His hair was so silky and neat that it looked more like a cat’s fur than hair. Brunet strands framed his face and dark brown eyes, which focused on the drip feed of some drug. The tube leading from the vial hooked to a needle port in the crook of my arm. My hand shot to it, ready to free myself from whatever he was using to drug me.

“Don’t,” he said, so sharp and sudden that I froze. His gaze had not left the clear liquid. “That’s just going to hurt. If you try to take it out, I’ll give you a bigger needle to replace it, so calm yourself. It’s just an antibiotic.”

Though I didn’t pull the needle free, I kept my hand on the port as I eyed him. “Who are you?”

“You are an idiot.” Still not looking at me, he gestured to the patch on his sleeve. The embroidered red x looked like the symbols on first aid kits I stole. That made him a walking first aid kit, I guessed.

“I’m not an idiot,” I snapped. “Doctors are supposed to wear white coats, so what are you?”

When his gaze did turn to me, the snobby irritation in his voice and expression did not change. “I am a medical sexaroid. Call me Zero if you must, though Doctor works as well. I am the one who fixed you, so you should be thankful.”

Thankful, my ass. I wasn’t staying anywhere with some fucked-up sex robot.

“I’ve set your broken leg,” he continued, “and I saw to your skull fracture. You must have had that for some time. I imagine the headaches were troublesome, and you must have been bleeding from your eyes, yes?”

That was enough to keep me put. “How’d you know?”

“Doc-tor,” he repeated with emphasis.

Though I held back some choice insults, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Okay, how’d you know, Doctor?”

His expression remained dull as he breathed a slow sigh. “The brain damage must have been worse than I thought. It doesn’t matter. I fixed what I could. I also cleaned out the infection in your lungs, and I removed that disgusting lice infestation from your hair. When was the last time you even bathed? Actually, I don’t want to know.”

For a robot, he was a huge dick. I guessed the robotic laws didn’t apply to emotional harm, not that he looked like a robot. He could have just been lying to be an even bigger dick.

“The last thing that needs proper attention is the malnourishment,” he said, crossing his arms, “and that is a simple fix. Some food will be brought shortly.”

He didn’t move when I reached up and poked at his cheek. Though he did feel like skin, he was cold and stiff like a corpse. “You don’t look like a robot,” I said.

He batted my hand away as he spoke. “Android. Not a robot. It’s in the name - sexa-roid.”

“Yeah, I’m more worried about the sex part. What the fuck is up with that?”

“It’s a catch-all term. The original sexaroids were built with an obvious, carnal purpose in mind, but as we were further developed, our uses became varied. My creator didn’t like calling me a sexaroid, but technically I am one due to some overlapping mechanics. Trying to have sex with me is not recommended, though, and will result in removal of some non-vital parts.”

As he spoke, I worked my way into a proper sitting position despite whatever drugs were weighing me down. I felt no less confused when he finished. “Is it that people can’t have sex with you, or that you don’t want them to?” I asked.

“Yes. Now stop asking stupid questions or you’ll be getting your pills the other way.”

“What other way?”

His dim eyes blinked twice before he shook his head. “Nevermind. Your food is here.”

Before I could tell him he was malfunctioning, the door across the room swung inward. Another man, older looking than the sex robot doctor but still not that old, strode in focused on the tray of dishes in his hands. His brow knitted in concentration as he tried to keep whatever was on there from spilling. When he did look my way, his eyes brightened like an eager puppy’s. “So good to see you up,” he said. “I made you some food.”

He could have brought me anything, laced with poison or drugs or whatever, and I would have scarfed it down. My stomach seemed to be eating itself, turning into a gaping hole in my gut. I was always hungry.

What he set down across my lap was actually damn good, just about the best thing I’d ever eaten. It was some kind of potato soup, so warm it heated me from my chest to my fingers and toes. The man had to tell me not to eat it too fast because I all-but gagged myself on the spoon in my rush.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said with a smile. “I don’t get such compliments on my cooking often.”

I hadn’t said anything, too busy chewing on the spoon. He didn’t seem to mind.

“My name is Warrius Zero. I work here.”

My eyes narrowed as I looked back to the doctor. “Wasn’t your name Zero too? Is this some kind of cult?” And if Second Zero worked at the hospital, he sure didn’t dress for the part. He had the same sort of fancy costume that I’d seen on Harlock.

“If you must know, my creator named me after him,” the doctor said. “Now shut up and drink your water.”

Glaring at him out of the corner of my eye, I chugged the water and slammed the empty glass back down on the tray. Despite my attempt at defiance, he smirked.

“Would you mind giving us your name as well?” Second Zero asked, still with that kind smile.

“I don’t like to give my name out to weirdos in suspicious hospitals.” Or anyone else, honestly. No one needed my name. It wasn’t as though we were going to be pals.

“If you tell me your name, I’ll bring you more soup.”

“Daiba. Tadashi Daiba.”

He was good on his word, and as I ate two more bowls of soup, I found myself with more odd visitors. The hospital had a weird dress code because they all wore a rainbow of vests. First came the alien, who didn’t say anything but looked so starry-eyed as he clasped my hands that I couldn’t bring myself to dislike him. The guy called Dick lived up to his name, an annoying prick. He kept trying to ruffle my hair until I bit him. The brothers were fine, kind of weird with their constant arguing, but they didn’t try to touch me beyond a handshake.

My first non-guy visitor also didn’t wear a stupid vest. She dressed casually and appraised me with the same suspicion I gave her. “How old are you?” she asked.

Not that it was any of her business, but I set to counting back the winters, trying to recall how long it had been since my last proper birthday. My planet had about two cycles for every Earth one, so that was…

“Fourteen? Fifteen?” I looked up from my fingers. I didn’t have enough to help me count. “I don’t know.”

“Oh jeez.” Her head listed to the side, and her arms crossed. “Well, you’re not exactly what I asked for, but I’ve heard good things about your fighting ability. It’ll be nice to work with you once you’re back on your feet. I’m Kei, also a bodyguard.”

My spine shot straight. “I didn’t agree to that job! And I didn’t ask for anyone’s help, so I don’t owe any of you anything.” If they expected payment or servitude for fixing me up, they would be sorely disappointed.  

Her smile turned into a smirk. “Too bad. You’re stuck with us now. With how rough you were when the captain brought you in, there’s no way the boys are going to let you go back to that planet. What did you even do to wind up like that?”

That wasn’t her business either, and I was not going to let her gloss over the more important topic. “What do you mean ‘back to that planet?’ Where the hell are we? I’m leaving! You can’t keep me here!”

“You’re on a satellite,” Harlock said as he slipped in like a shadow through the open door. “You have no money for transportation, so unless you have some other method of space traversal, you’d do well to make yourself comfortable for the time being.” He placed himself beside Kei, his expression stony in response to my glare. “Sorry for taking so long to come see you. You seem to be doing much better. I’m glad. Now before you try to attack me-”

I wasn’t just going to try. I was going to destroy him.

“-I’m going to once again offer you the position of bodyguard for Arcadia.”

“Arcadia? The whorehouse?” I’d heard whispers of it back home, a place notorious for being outside of the law’s reach. “Is this sex trafficking? What the fuck!?”

The doctor sighed as I tried to launch myself out of the bed to kick Harlock’s ass. I forgot about the cast on my leg. The awkward extra weight dragged me down, and my cheek smacked against the icy floor.

“You’d be a bodyguard for the sex workers, not one yourself,” Harlock said as Kei picked me up by the scruff of my hospital gown and tossed me back into bed. “You already met them, all of the prostitutes in my employment.”

The only people I’d met were all those guys, so they must have been the whores. While I didn’t know what a whore was supposed to look like, I had a feeling those guys weren’t typical. That also brought up some weird questions about those brothers that I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers to.

“Your job would be to subdue any clients who aim to bring harm to my employees,” Harlock continued. “I have strict rules of consent, and I don’t tolerate troublesome clients. They tend to be quite wealthy and think they can get away with whatever they’d like because of it. If you need to rough them up some to get the message across, that’s fine by me.”

If I’d been kidnapped just so I could fight for them, I wasn’t sure I could be mad about it. Fighting was all I was good at, all I knew how to do. I didn’t mind having to crack a few skulls in exchange for having all the lice gone. Damn things drove me crazy, so I would have killed a man if it meant being rid of them. Getting to wail on some affluent assholes was just a plus. “So I’d just get to beat up rich bastards?” I asked.

Harlock shrugged. “More or less.”

Damn, I would have done that for free.

“Okay, I’ll work here, but only if I get more food.”

“That was easy,” Kei muttered.

A smile tugged at Harlock’s lips. “Your meals will be covered along with your room. I’m happy to have you aboard, Daiba.”

“Great, so can I get more potato soup?”

That soup was the first meal anyone had made for me in years. Monono’s cooking was great, and I loved all the sweets Kei brought from far-off places for me to try, but nothing beat that soup. It was every warmth and comfort Arcadia had given me. Every time I wound up in the infirmary with that asshole doctor, Zero would make it for me. Even when he was half-asleep at 3 AM.

I’d lost some time to the drugs Doctor gave me for surgery, but when I woke, Mamoru was sitting on the cot beside mine as his brother berated him. The two of them both had bowls of soup in their hands, and Zero was dozing in a chair near the foot of my bed. When Doctor noticed me awake, he helped me ease into a sitting position. As he handed me my own bowl of soup, he said that Harlock had taken care of the stab-happy client.

That was all I knew about what happened to bad clients - Harlock “took care” of them. I got to throw out troublemakers, but the real sick bastards I just put down. After Harlock took over, I never saw them again, and that was fine by me.

Other than the dark stain of a bruise on his cheek, Mamoru looked alright. “It won’t happen again,” he was telling his brother. “I was just careless. I’ll be more careful.”

No, I was careless. I should have gotten to him faster, should have noticed the client was trouble at the beginning. If I’d been any slower, that knife could have done some real damage. I would not let that happen again.

“Daiba’s the one to be upset over,” Mamoru continued when the concern didn’t ease from Susumu’s face. “Go fret about him. Doc gave me an all clear, not even a concussion. There’s no need to worry.”

After adjusting the drip of whatever he was drugging me with this round, Doctor sighed and went over to Zero, who was two seconds from falling out of the chair. Doctor hooked his arm under Zero’s and pulled him to his feet, murmuring, “Let’s just get you to bed before there’s another injury, alright?”

Zero’s head lolled as he fought to hold onto some form of consciousness. “Hm? What? Where are we going? Is Daiba okay?”

Their voices echoed as they reached the hall. “Daiba is fine. He’s too stubborn to let a knife bother him. Now how does sleep sound?”

“Sleep is good. I love sleep. I love you.”

“Right, yes, I love you too.”

“Zero’s cute when he’s tired,” Mamoru said. “And he’s got the right idea. I should get back to my room before Doc wants to run any more tests. You should get some sleep too, Susumu. Your client is coming tomorrow.”

Susumu’s lips tightened to a thin line as he helped his brother to his feet. Whether he was upset about Mamoru’s condition, or the idea of his client, I wasn’t sure, but I hated that royal bastard. His smug face and sweeping, flashy mannerisms made me want to knock him out. Mamoru and Susumu almost never had troubles with clients when they were together. Weird as it was, I hoped the two of them could pair up again. I wanted that royal guy gone as soon as possible. As much as I hated him, though, I hoped he wouldn’t give me a reason to kick his ass.

Mamoru came up to my side and squeezed me in a bone-crushing hug until Susumu barked at him about my stitches. While I wanted to be angry at him too, I didn’t hate the hugs. The guys didn’t need to know it. I wasn’t going to say I wanted hugs or anything. I didn’t, really, but I wasn’t going to say no to one if the guys wanted to hug me.

Unless it was Dick because he could fuck off.

“Thanks, kid,” Mamoru said as he pulled away. “But next time don’t scare me like that, alright?”

“I’m fine,” I reminded him.

“I know, and I know it’s your job to look after us, but I’m still allowed to worry when you get hurt.”

When Susumu hugged me, he clung like static, pressed tight with his face buried in my shoulder. “Thank you for looking after my idiot brother,” he murmured. “I know this room can be cold. Do you need anything?”

He didn’t let go, still hanging on me, so I put my arms around him too. Unsure what else to do, I patted his back. “I wish I could go back to my room, but I know the doctor won’t let me,” I said.

“Yeah, he’s stubborn,” Susumu sighed, pulling back with a worn smile. “But don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.”

As they headed for the hall, Mamoru whispered, “We will?”

Susumu said something I couldn’t hear in return, but I could see him smiling. They didn’t turn off the lights when they left. The Doctor would if he felt like it.

Putting my bowl aside on the table, I eased myself back down despite the ache in my side. I swore it hurt more after the stitches, feeling like it might tear open again at any moment. Once I’d flopped onto my back, though, the pain fell away. Sleep came easy for the two seconds I was allowed to have it.

“Hey, Daiba.”

I cracked one eye open to find one staring back in return. Kneeling at my side, Captain forced a weak smile and started patting my hair. “Sorry to wake you, but I took care of him. He won’t come back.”

“Of course.” My words slurred in rebellion. “You always do, Captain.”

He never touched me except to drag me away from bad clients, so the patting confused me. The fear burning his eye was unnatural too, something he never let show. “I’ll be more careful in checking for weapons,” he breathed more than said. “I’m very sorry.”

Oh, guilt. That was it. Captain didn’t need to feel guilty for my sake. None of them did, yet it kept happening. I was just their shield, a thing to be used. They didn’t need to feel bad for a shield when it took a hit. If I broke, that was my own fault, not theirs. They’d done enough for me, taking me in and looking after my wounds, making me food, giving me affection in their own weird ways. In return, I would take a knife or a bullet. Anything for them. The only ones who’d ever cared about me.

“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s not the first time I’ve been stabbed.”

Captain winced. “You are a magnet for trouble, you know?” he sighed, standing. Some form of a kiss brushed against my forehead and bangs. “You did a good job, Daiba. Get some rest.”

He flicked the light off as he slipped out, and once again, I fell into a doze. And once again, someone dragged me out of it.

The bed shifted under the weight of heavy hands and knees. “Daiba, are you okay?” whispered a small voice, so sweet I swore I’d get a toothache just from hearing him. “Susumu said you got stabbed.” Looking like he might collapse and fall asleep against me at any moment, Tadashi sat at my side in his pink pajamas, lips drawn to a pout.

“I-I’m alright.” But my face was getting hot. He was close enough that sitting up would have knocked our heads together, not that I could sit up easily. “You can go back to bed.”

Tadashi nodded. “The Kodais said it’s cold in here, but don’t worry,” he said through a yawn. Tugging up the blankets, he settled himself under them and flopped his head down against my pillow. “I will help.”

Though he seemed to pass out in seconds, I could no longer grasp sleep. Our noses almost touched in the small space of the bed. Had either of us been any bigger, it wouldn’t have worked, but he was so small. My hand trembled as I reached beneath the sheets and took hold of his. He slept on without a twitch, yet I felt a burning in my chest. Like the potato soup but painful. Like wanting to cry, maybe.

I hadn’t cried in so long. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like, but he made me remember. He made me want to as I pressed myself closer to him and listened to his soft breathing. No one was allowed to get near him. He was too small, too fragile. No one but me.

[macawritesupdates]

Hey essay anon here, I got everything turned in. Thank God that's finally over. now I get to relax and enjoy your fun comedy fics. I bet lessons will be super relaxing with no emotional gut punches 😃

*opens fic: it starts with yuuji thinking back to his childhood trauma of unintentional neglect from his grandfather due to health issues and how he was isolated and lonely as a child so he simply began to act like a clown to get any positive attention at all

🥺😢😭

Hey wait that hurts oh no oh god in chapter one he was having sex that he didn't really enjoy its clearly the same kind of behavior just made worse over time oh man absolutely wonderful characterization but also why must you hurt me.

Thank God sukuna just experienced sympathy for the first time in his life. It's wild to think that his brand of possessive love might be just what yuuji needs after a lifetime of loneliness.

Loved the theme park. I didn't even think of gojo, I was just fully willing to accept that the parks mascot was some sort of protective spirit or God or smt. Like that cat who became a kami of a train station, you know. Honestly, it would be hilarious if a spirit like susumu got confused and mistook a theme park for a shine that needed protection.

I'm gonna cry over yuuji taking notes on what kinds of food sukuna actually likes he is the best boy alive.

Ya know what sukuna can have a little over protective yuuji dealing with assholes for him as a treat. I loved that good for them.

Oh fuck yes ending on a high note with some good old fashioned breeding kink and cuddling... wait yuuji sukuna the pull out method doesn't work very well ... guys no this is how we accidentally knock up the king of curses! ... actually... that would be pretty hot 🫣😈😎

Yuuji 's sadness got through and Sukuna felt something and is like I'm going to take the brat to a theme park because that will make him stop being sad and get back to hating me!

It helps to build their weird relationship, that's for sure! Both of them hating but having to deal with the other one has...feelings??? It is a fun fic to play with, def my guilty pleasure fic to write! Thank you for your kind comments and glad you got everything turned in! <3

[taizi]

Could you write 66 or 70 for natsume from that prompt list?? Love your stuff!

PROMPTS LIST

66. “Is that blood?” “No?” “That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.”

x

Natsume is home late. This in itself isn’t worrying; the four missed calls, on the other hand?

The door slides shut quietly behind him, and there’s unobtrusive rustling in the genkan as he slips off his shoes and hangs up his jacket. He comes around the corner like a ghost, pale and tired, with his cat held to his chest the way he used to hold him when they were high school students, when he didn’t have anything else to hold. 

He stops short in the hallway. Likely, he wasn’t expecting all of his roommates to be up waiting for him, seated around the kitchen table like some sort of grave council. Raising an eyebrow, Taki gestures at the empty chair. 

“Sit,” she says in her sweet, low voice. 

Natsume is smart enough not to take it as a request. He sits. 

“I told you they’d be angry, brat,” Nyanko-sensei says without sympathy. He worms out of Natsume’s arms, removing himself from the line of fire like the absolute coward he is, and circles the table to hop up into Tanuma’s lap instead. 

Natsume tracks his progress with a glare. Nishimura leans across the table and taps it with his fingers, twice, just loud enough to get his attention. 

“Hey,” he says. In the warm light of the kitchen at two o’clock in the morning, his expression is earnest. “You promised.”

It’s simple, but it tears through Natsume’s defenses like a fist through a rice paper door. Nishimura has always been the best at that. Kitamoto watches the fight drain out of Natsume before he even had a chance to do anything with it. 

“I know,” Natsume says, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I was on my way home from work, and-- “

“Hold the phone,” Shibata says, holding up both hands to stall any further excuses. He points at Natsume’s sleeve. “Is that blood?”

Natsume blinks and looks down at himself. He gives it some thought before he says, “No?”

“That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question,” Kitamoto informs him, feeling a sudden and intense sympathy for all the shit his mother put up with during his teen years. He scoots his chair back enough that he can turn and face Natsume properly, waving impatiently until his friend surrenders the arm in question. Working the sleeve up reveals a relatively minor wound; it looks more like a scrape than a scratch, about the width and length of Kitamoto’s palm. It isn’t bleeding anymore, but Kitamoto glances up and says, “Satchan, grab the first aid kit?”

Nishimura makes a face, but pushes away from the table and thumps down the hall toward the first-floor bathroom. They have medical supplies tucked away everywhere in this big old house, but the first aid kit in the first floor bathroom has the cartoon bandaids that Nishimura so loves to impose on his family. 

Natsume looks grimly resigned to his fate. His long hair is slipping out of its tail on all sides, and there’s a leaf stuck to his sweater, and splatters of mud all the way up to the knees of his pants. 

“I really am sorry,” he says softly. 

Tanuma tucks Nyanko-sensei into the crook of his arm and gets out of his chair. Taki leans across the table and offers her hands. Natsume slips his free hand into both of hers and she holds it tight. 

“Can you tell me why you didn’t answer your phone?” she asks.

He winces. “It died. I forgot to charge it again.”

Kitamoto finds himself mollified by the excuse. It’s very on-brand for their technologically-disinclined friend, and better than thinking he’d been ignoring them all night. And the scrape on his arm isn’t really that bad; they’ve both had worse from crashing their bikes when they were kids. 

Shibata opens his mouth, clearly less than satisfied, but Nishimura chooses that moment to return and cuts him off as neatly as if he’d timed it that way. 

“I’m getting you a power bank for that stupid phone tomorrow,” he says. The mood of the room is shifting already, lightening as he meets Natsume’s eyes and smiles crookedly at him. Forgiven, that smile says. “Susumu and I are going shopping anyway. You don’t have to work, right? Wanna come along?”

Natsume’s eyes are wide and moon-like. Sometimes he still looks the way he did when they first knew him, when he was fourteen and so lonely it hurt just looking at him. It’s been almost a decade since then, and he hasn’t spent a single day alone since, and he’s so loved now it’s a wonder he hasn’t suffocated from it yet... but sometimes he lets himself forget. 

It’s nights like these, when he comes home to everyone waiting up for him, worried for him, that help him remember. 

He smiles back. The tired shadows seem to peel back from his face one by one.

Tanuma returns from the stove with a steaming mug that he sets by Natsume’s elbow. He tugs gently on the end of Natsume’s ponytail before he sits down, a gesture that means as much as one of Nishimura’s full-body hugs. 

Kitamoto packs the scrape with ointment and gauze, and wraps it with a dressing, relieved for the hundredth time that he decided to follow his mother into the field of medicine, after all. For the little cut closer to Natsume’s elbow, he picks out a pink bandaid with little white rabbits on it, and smooths it carefully into place. 

“Okay,” Kitamoto says. “You’ll live.”

“Of course he will,” Nyanko-sensei mutters shortly, closing his eyes and laying his head on Tanuma’s knee. “With you lot around, what choice does he have?”

“Some of us have to work in the morning and need some sleep,” Shibata says in a very haughty tone for someone whose work consists of lounging on the sofa and not-writing on his laptop for most of the day and then writing furiously for an hour to meet some deadline or another. “So start talking, Takashi. I wanna hear everything.”

Natsume twists his arm around to get a good luck at the bandaid. When he sees it, his smile widens. The ghosts all fall away until it’s just him, and his family, and the six of them seated together around a table more comfortably meant for four. The kitchen is warm, and none of the nighttime darkness dares to reach them inside. 

No darkness ever reaches them here. 

[maybekatherine]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 宇宙戦艦ヤマト | Space Battleship Yamato | Star Blazers (Anime 1974-2009) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Mori Yuki | Nova Forrester, Kodai Susumu | Derek Wildstar, Dessler | Desslock (Space Battleship Yamato), Kodai Miyuki Additional Tags: Whumptober 2021, Brain Damage, Future Fic, Near Future, Family Angst, Family Dynamics, Severe Disability, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Muteness, Prayer, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Series: Part 31 of Whumptober 2021, Part 3 of The Trilogy I'm Not Going to Write Summary:

Dessler visits the Kodai household.

Whumptober Day 31: Hurt & Comfort

[sacred-gayze]

Late night mood.