Fandom 34
[Title] Make-Up, Make-Out
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio/Battle Royale
[Rating] PG-13 for swearing and mention of prostitution
[Notes/Summary] Hirono's getting tired of the Love Shockers. Mention of Hirono/Shinji.
“Is this a trick?” Mimura said, as Hirono got to the top of the concrete steps and strode out onto the roof space. “Are your gal pals going to leap out from behind the air vents and stab me?”
“Hey, this is your turf, not mine.”
“You're the one who asked to meet me, though.”
“If you thought it was a trap, why'd you fucking come?” Why'd I fucking ask you, she added in her head. Mimura's know-it-all attitude was a pain in the ass at the best of times, and right now, when she was planning something that sounded dumber and dumber the more she thought about it...
Mimura winked at her. “Maybe I was hoping for an offer of a rooftop make-out.”
Hirono raised her middle finger at him.
“Hey, come on, it's not like it hasn't happened before.”
“When I'm smashed or just got away from Onishima or really really horny. I wanted to talk to you. God knows why, you're still a twat.”
Mimura shrugged. The robotic arm hanging over his shoulders twitched, angled a can of spray paint, began painting jagged white lines on the wall.
“And that's still creepy as fuck, just so you know,” Hirono said.
“It's my turf, babe. Like you said.” He glanced over at the view: the waves and waves of lit-up streets and bars and the skyscrapers in the distance. Hirono followed his gaze, scowled at the lights all over the sky. Mostly Benten-cho made her feel like dancing or partying or making out - with Mimura or others - but right now it was all just... decorations and rubbish. At least Shibuya was honest about its squeaky-clean image and don't litter policies.
“Geez, you really are in a mood,” Mimura said. “Okay... so... talk, I guess?” He sounded puzzled enough that Hirono smirked. She nearly said something along the lines of him not being used to actually speaking to women, but that'd kick-start another round of sarcasm and she'd only be putting off the inevitable.
“So I'm figuring I'm quitting the Love Shockers,” she said, fake-casual, and made herself look right at Mimura like it was no big deal. Pleasingly, he actually looked surprised, before he pulled on the too-cool face again.
“So... what brought that on?” he said at last.
Silence but for the hiss of spray paint and radio rustle and a thumping beat from a club a few doors down. She hated filling silence but she'd wanted to say this out loud to someone, hadn't she?
“It's getting to be a bit of a head-fuck,” she said. “I mean, I only joined because I figured it'd be nice not having to put up with guys, and, you know, they don't take any shit, right? And I don't exactly have the l33t skillz to join your dork patrol. And me and Mitsuko go way back...”
Mimura didn't actually say something like yeah, all the way to showing guys your panties behind the bike sheds for candy. On the other hand, that meant she had to go on talking.
“I thought like it was just a gimmick, you know? I mean, yeah, men suck, fine, I could get behind that as a mission statement or whatever. And I knew when we were flat broke one of us would probably pick some guy up, fine, that's cool. And I'm fine with stabbing someone if, like, you have to -”
“Right, those innocent bystanders were asking for it -”
“Ha fucking ha. But she's... so I told you about Yoshimi?”
“New kid, you gave her the dye job and spandex the other week, yep, I remember.”
“She's not... Mitsuko's been making her do shit and it's pissing me off.” It wasn't so much pissing her off as making her feel stuff she didn't want to, but there was no way she was gonna tell Mimura of all people that. “And... saying other stuff. She wants to... take it big, I think. She's been talking about yakuza, for fuck's sake. And other stuff, saying how there're a bunch of dumb bitches like Yoshimi who get dumped by their boyfriend and run away from home as a tantrum and they'll come to us 'cause we're the broken ones and people'd... pay good money for... and I'm sorry, but when the hell did it become a life of crime rather'n just covering the walls in paint and skating away from the cops?”
A pause, then Mimura said, “That kind of is a life of crime -”
Hirono sneered at him. Behind him, the tag was almost complete, radiating out like cracks in the concrete or a flower or something.
“Why're you telling me all this?” he said at last. “I mean... you want me to go back and tell the others, warn 'em she's looking to expand? Because if you're trying to start a war -”
“You can do what you want.” Hirono really wanted to leap onto the nearest air shaft or railing and grind away from him, but she'd started this conversation, she could see it through. “I told Yoshimi she should get the hell out and she won't listen, she says there's nowhere else. Way I see it, Mitsuko'll throw me under the bus as soon as it suits her, so I'm out. I'll go renegade or see if another gang shows up. But I wanted to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because make-out buddies tell make-out buddies things like that? Fuck, I don't know.”
She kind of did, though. Mimura liked to pretend he was the cool hacker, the anarchist, the guy who triggered blackouts and created viruses just for fun and made out with hot girls in the meantime. He liked to pretend that was all there was to him, like he'd never existed before he'd had a third arm and night vision goggles. Just like she'd worked really damn hard on the gang girl bitch image, armoured herself up with a knife and spiked hair. She figured if anyone understood how terrifying it was to stop pretending, he would. Even if he'd never admit it.
“Anyway,” she said, because all this feelings chat was making her twitchy. “That's all. Like I said... do what you want.”
“I always do,” he said, grinning. “Well... for what it's worth, I think you're well out of there, Mitsuko's always been a psychotic bitch even by your gang's standards. So... there, if you wanted me to validate your choices...”
“I really don't need validation from the king of geekdom,” she said, automatic, but kind of glad at the same time.
“You're sticking around, though? Not leaving the city?”
“Hell, no. Like I said, I'll go renegade.”
“Cool. Make sure your new look's a skimpy one.” Before she could flip him off again, he said, fake-casual, “You ever need a hand, though... the Tanks'll have your back. Unless it's a turf war thing, but you know. Make-out buddies don't let make-out buddies get arrested.” He smiled. “Anyway, the night's young and I've got anti-vandalism ordinances to break. Fancy celebrating your newly acquired gang-free status?”
Hirono found herself smiling back and if inside she was sort of wobbling, well, he'd never know. She nodded, followed him to the edge of the roof. Jumped into the glittering city.
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio/Battle Royale
[Rating] PG-13 for swearing and mention of prostitution
[Notes/Summary] Hirono's getting tired of the Love Shockers. Mention of Hirono/Shinji.
“Is this a trick?” Mimura said, as Hirono got to the top of the concrete steps and strode out onto the roof space. “Are your gal pals going to leap out from behind the air vents and stab me?”
“Hey, this is your turf, not mine.”
“You're the one who asked to meet me, though.”
“If you thought it was a trap, why'd you fucking come?” Why'd I fucking ask you, she added in her head. Mimura's know-it-all attitude was a pain in the ass at the best of times, and right now, when she was planning something that sounded dumber and dumber the more she thought about it...
Mimura winked at her. “Maybe I was hoping for an offer of a rooftop make-out.”
Hirono raised her middle finger at him.
“Hey, come on, it's not like it hasn't happened before.”
“When I'm smashed or just got away from Onishima or really really horny. I wanted to talk to you. God knows why, you're still a twat.”
Mimura shrugged. The robotic arm hanging over his shoulders twitched, angled a can of spray paint, began painting jagged white lines on the wall.
“And that's still creepy as fuck, just so you know,” Hirono said.
“It's my turf, babe. Like you said.” He glanced over at the view: the waves and waves of lit-up streets and bars and the skyscrapers in the distance. Hirono followed his gaze, scowled at the lights all over the sky. Mostly Benten-cho made her feel like dancing or partying or making out - with Mimura or others - but right now it was all just... decorations and rubbish. At least Shibuya was honest about its squeaky-clean image and don't litter policies.
“Geez, you really are in a mood,” Mimura said. “Okay... so... talk, I guess?” He sounded puzzled enough that Hirono smirked. She nearly said something along the lines of him not being used to actually speaking to women, but that'd kick-start another round of sarcasm and she'd only be putting off the inevitable.
“So I'm figuring I'm quitting the Love Shockers,” she said, fake-casual, and made herself look right at Mimura like it was no big deal. Pleasingly, he actually looked surprised, before he pulled on the too-cool face again.
“So... what brought that on?” he said at last.
Silence but for the hiss of spray paint and radio rustle and a thumping beat from a club a few doors down. She hated filling silence but she'd wanted to say this out loud to someone, hadn't she?
“It's getting to be a bit of a head-fuck,” she said. “I mean, I only joined because I figured it'd be nice not having to put up with guys, and, you know, they don't take any shit, right? And I don't exactly have the l33t skillz to join your dork patrol. And me and Mitsuko go way back...”
Mimura didn't actually say something like yeah, all the way to showing guys your panties behind the bike sheds for candy. On the other hand, that meant she had to go on talking.
“I thought like it was just a gimmick, you know? I mean, yeah, men suck, fine, I could get behind that as a mission statement or whatever. And I knew when we were flat broke one of us would probably pick some guy up, fine, that's cool. And I'm fine with stabbing someone if, like, you have to -”
“Right, those innocent bystanders were asking for it -”
“Ha fucking ha. But she's... so I told you about Yoshimi?”
“New kid, you gave her the dye job and spandex the other week, yep, I remember.”
“She's not... Mitsuko's been making her do shit and it's pissing me off.” It wasn't so much pissing her off as making her feel stuff she didn't want to, but there was no way she was gonna tell Mimura of all people that. “And... saying other stuff. She wants to... take it big, I think. She's been talking about yakuza, for fuck's sake. And other stuff, saying how there're a bunch of dumb bitches like Yoshimi who get dumped by their boyfriend and run away from home as a tantrum and they'll come to us 'cause we're the broken ones and people'd... pay good money for... and I'm sorry, but when the hell did it become a life of crime rather'n just covering the walls in paint and skating away from the cops?”
A pause, then Mimura said, “That kind of is a life of crime -”
Hirono sneered at him. Behind him, the tag was almost complete, radiating out like cracks in the concrete or a flower or something.
“Why're you telling me all this?” he said at last. “I mean... you want me to go back and tell the others, warn 'em she's looking to expand? Because if you're trying to start a war -”
“You can do what you want.” Hirono really wanted to leap onto the nearest air shaft or railing and grind away from him, but she'd started this conversation, she could see it through. “I told Yoshimi she should get the hell out and she won't listen, she says there's nowhere else. Way I see it, Mitsuko'll throw me under the bus as soon as it suits her, so I'm out. I'll go renegade or see if another gang shows up. But I wanted to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because make-out buddies tell make-out buddies things like that? Fuck, I don't know.”
She kind of did, though. Mimura liked to pretend he was the cool hacker, the anarchist, the guy who triggered blackouts and created viruses just for fun and made out with hot girls in the meantime. He liked to pretend that was all there was to him, like he'd never existed before he'd had a third arm and night vision goggles. Just like she'd worked really damn hard on the gang girl bitch image, armoured herself up with a knife and spiked hair. She figured if anyone understood how terrifying it was to stop pretending, he would. Even if he'd never admit it.
“Anyway,” she said, because all this feelings chat was making her twitchy. “That's all. Like I said... do what you want.”
“I always do,” he said, grinning. “Well... for what it's worth, I think you're well out of there, Mitsuko's always been a psychotic bitch even by your gang's standards. So... there, if you wanted me to validate your choices...”
“I really don't need validation from the king of geekdom,” she said, automatic, but kind of glad at the same time.
“You're sticking around, though? Not leaving the city?”
“Hell, no. Like I said, I'll go renegade.”
“Cool. Make sure your new look's a skimpy one.” Before she could flip him off again, he said, fake-casual, “You ever need a hand, though... the Tanks'll have your back. Unless it's a turf war thing, but you know. Make-out buddies don't let make-out buddies get arrested.” He smiled. “Anyway, the night's young and I've got anti-vandalism ordinances to break. Fancy celebrating your newly acquired gang-free status?”
Hirono found herself smiling back and if inside she was sort of wobbling, well, he'd never know. She nodded, followed him to the edge of the roof. Jumped into the glittering city.