Negotiations (Spiral fragment 5 of ?)
Fragment: Negotiations (5 of ?)
Fandom: Spiral (Pre-Canon, and pre-Alive)
Genre: General (Some humor, and some odd...darkness...er...)
Rating: T
Why: For air-mail fingers, mean!flirting, weird!flirting, and danishes straight out of your nightmares
Notes: Kiyotaka knows just where to hit you so it hurts... And then can befriend you and charm you anyway.
(Do NOT approach this man or attempt to use magic on him, instead call the wizarding police and tell them there's a frog gone wild in your front yard.)
Poor Yaiba. He's all angsty last chapter because he has no friends. Obviously. Er... Well Hizumi's more like his son than his brother, um. THIRTY YEAR AGE DIFFERENCE, MUCH?
Then again Kiyotaka and Yaiba are such crazy friends... It's like hanging out with upper-social-ladder women and watching the backstabbing and lip service all around in astonishment.
And Yaiba's got an unexpectedly nasty streak. (Or maybe not so unexpected.) Even his flirting is mean.
Oh...and there is a bit of weird flirting this chapter, I think. Yaiba was just being unexpectedly perverse. I bet he's already having trouble getting those test-tube babies together with Kiyotaka running around. Er... And Kiyotaka seems to have a masochistic streak...uhh...I blame Madoka. Really. She's the one who sent him to the hospital before, supposedly. (Someday, all of us need to get together and write fics about the possibilities there... We could get sappy and think he took a bullet for her, or we could let our imaginations run wild with sweet, sweet violence... ♥ Also, I need an excuse to write het. That's...totally not my only excuse, honest!)
Uh...and sending someone your little finger is supposed to be a mark of utmost sincerity in Japanese Culture. Usually as a sort of apology. Ouch.
Then again, American culture has a more highly developed view of the self than most if not ALL the other cultures of the world...we tend to have a pretty high view of free will and self governance and therefore less of a feeling of guilt. We like to justify our actions. (I usually notice this when I try to talk about religion. Even people who "share my faith" get into massive arguments with me about how my amazing beliefs screw up their notions of free will and therefore I'm wrong. *smile* Tremendous fun. I won't get into it here, but I have devestating logic. Hoo.)
I suppose the Japanese model comes from a culture less steeped in the ideals of "forgiveness" or "innocence". But I don't really know for sure. What I DO know, is you're less likely to walk away without any remorse whatsoever when you're minus a finger...
Kind of a long-term thing, there, after all... WHY am I thinking "the Subtle Knife" at a time like this?
For the record, I can't bake. I can cook just about anything else (except a decent white sauce, and I make a great fake alfredo sauce anyway, so nobody ever knows), but I can't bake to save my life. (I'm even a champion with the grill, might I add. My Churrasco is legendary.) I DO know some people use mayonaise when they make cake from a mix instead of oil, but aside from that I'm clueless. Most things I try to bake have something horribly wrong with them. And even if they taste fine, they look like something you'd scrape off the bottom of someone else's boot. So Kiyotaka's ability to bake is running to the edge of the theoretical things that I know divinely-touched people like my mother and younger sister excel at with their epic from-scratch baked-goods and all, but these are things that remain theoretical because I can never seem to do them myself.
(I'm far better at the wonderfully imprecise art of soup-making, and at making homemade marinades so delicious that the steer's glad it's died.)
In short, I don't know a thing about danishes firsthand.
My last attempt was quite a few years ago. You don't want to know what the oven looked like when I was done. I've mostly given up on ever learning how to bake. In hindsight I should consult with my male friends. (Most of them bake, ironically enough. It turns out I'm surrounded by people who make tiramisu the gods would die to taste while I can't seem to manage making sugar cookies out of a tube. I'd say it's a culture thing, but I don't think Hispanic men are reknowned typically as champion bakers, and technically with all the europe flowing through my veins, I should be able to manage something edible if that were how it worked. So, it's a mystery...)
Japanese dishes are usually something of the art of arrangement, too. So I'm a little intimidated by japanese cooking. Kiyo's going to stick to pastries. Not my fault if they happen to be mostly "europeanized" and all that. (I mean, what with his eating of doughnuts and Ayumu's lemon cream tarts, I should be able to get away with european pastries.)
-o-O-o-
-o-O-o- Negotiations: V -o-O-o-
-o-O-o-
Yaiba actually controlled his urge to turn around and strike whatever was touching him. His self control was astonishing. "Guess who!" Said a voice in his ear with perfect, animated, cheerful idiocy.
Yaiba tapped his forefinger against his desk, his voice impressively level. "...Kiyotaka Narumi, get your hands off my eyes before I give into my urge to dismember you."
The gloved hands lowered, "Haah. How terrible you are, even now..." The other sighed. His voice was muffled again.
Yaiba turned to look at him. He stared. "...Do your disguises just get worse and worse?"
"But I thought you liked my first bunny costume." Kiyotaka said.
"Only because I was granted permission to dissect it. If you murder me in that get-up, I'll find it in poor taste indeed. That's that murdered rabbit costume, isn't it? You shouldn't tempt me. I might pull off an ear, or use my letter opener."
"Haah." Kiyotaka said with a sigh, pulling off the rabbit-head. "Yaiba, you're terrible. I come here to give you my amazing cooking, and you say awful things about murder, dismemberment, and dissection. I really am hurt."
"I'm meant to care, and apologize?" Yaiba asked dully, glowering. "If you receive a finger in the mail, it won't be mine."
Kiyotaka grinned, and seated himself on the edge of the desk. He pretended not to notice the flare of Yaiba's nostrils, or the narrowing of his yellow eyes, busying himself with his pastries. "I made you danishes. Blueberry danishes."
Yaiba paused, then flattened his face over so he couldn't be read. He drummed his fingers against the arms of his chair. "...Get off my desk."
"Your twinkles are staring at me."
"Kiyotaka-!"
Kiyotaka just laughed, and slipped off the desk like an oversized schoolboy, dropping a danish on a napkin into Yaiba's lap. "For someone who's supposed to be the father of the new human race, you're always so gloomy."
"You'd be gloomy too if you found yourself continually assaulted by idiocy." Yaiba grumbled, scowling at him and retrieving the pastry from his lap with dignity, like it was all natural.
Kiyotaka smiled. "...I was surprised. Killing your own followers is a bit much, I thought. I didn't expect you to get that close. You must have good information sources."
"He wasn't one of mine. That individual was borderline Hunter anyway--though I'm sure even you didn't know that."
"No, I didn't." Kiyotaka replied, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise, thoughtfulness. "Hm. ...I should be more careful next time."
"Do so. If he's murdered because of your idiocy, I won't hesitate to make you pay for it. My knowledge of human anatomy is exceptional. I'm sure I could find an adequate way to torture for you." Yaiba replied evenly. "My knowledge of the nervous system is nearly as extensive as my genetic expertise."
Kiyotaka laughed. "Oh I don't want Hizumi harmed at all. I'll take good care of him."
"I have no reason to feel you any more competant at that than you are tasteful in your personal fashion."
"Haah, you're still faithless, aren't you?"
"You aren't the first man incapable of keeping with my specifications."
"Hm. You'll give yourself a headache making that kind of expression for too long." Kiyotaka said with a little smile, pointing a tracing finger against his own eyebrows.
"And you," Yaiba said, taking a bite of danish, furrows etching deeper into his pale forehead, "are in no way reducing my hatred for the human race by attempting to point out all my flaws and peculiarities. If you spoke the way you ought to, I might even keep you on and give you a minor position as a janitor. Or as a cabana boy." He licked his thumb.
Kiyotaka started to laugh. "That's...That's a surprisingly unsavory position you'd like to put me in, Yaiba."
"If you insist on being so informal-"
"Aah, but you're the one who started it."
"It doesn't matter who started it!" Yaiba snapped, flecks of pastry flying from his mouth. Kiyotaka grinned and dropped a napkin over the desk. The other just scowled at him for the indulgent gesture.
Kiyotaka folded his uneven fingers thoughtfully. "...You know, Yaiba, imagining how you got the personality you have when you started out like your brother is unexpectedly interesting to me."
"I don't have a brother. He's not my brother."
"Being faithless at a time like this won't change anything, Yaiba."
"Stop using my name like that." The other snarled. Kiyotaka just smiled at him and offered another danish. Yaiba glared at it, then snatched it up with a noise of irritation. "...Hizumi is my successor. We share no parentage, only genes. His true surrogate was a "vegetable" as the terminology goes--comatose, but with perfect bodily function. She brought him to term, and delivered through a cesarian section, and nursed by another woman. Both were permanantly silenced by my order. By that reasoning, he's as much my 'brother' as you are. Get your terminology right. Just because your own mother is clinically insane and keeps your successor on as a "younger brother" by no means forces me to assume the same falsehood."
"Hmm..." Kiyotaka sighed. "...It's a nicer term, though." he said, smiling over his folded fingers. "Though you don't seem exactly family-oriented."
"I despise your late-night visits enough even without tiring myself correcting you, Kiyotaka." Yaiba replied warily, licking his thumb without concern.
"Well you do seem exhausted lately. Two nights this week I've found you sleeping at your desk. I didn't want to bother you, so I left."
"You what?" Yaiba's eyes bulged. "...You're mistaken."
"You still have those nightmares?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Yaiba snapped, going very pale despite himself. The words had a muffled quality: I donf gnuw whaf fyour taghking aroud. He pulled the danish out of his mouth abruptly, swallowing, and making a face like he'd discovered it was made of fecal matter. "And your cooking is atrocious. Do you grease your pans with old mayonaise or are you simply unable to tell when oil is rancid?"
"Don't worry. I wouldn't dream of poisoning you, Yaiba." Kiyotaka said with a little smile, folding his uneven fingers together. "I'd be found out for sure if I did, and I owe you a more competant murder." He turned a beatific expression on the other, the coreners of his eyes crinkling. "When I kill you, I'll do it myself, with my own hands, and you won't struggle against me at all."
Yaiba's eyes narrowed. "...The day I ever bend to your will, is the day I go on my knees before you."
Kiyotaka gave a snicker. "You're probably thinking something distasteful again."
"You're delusional if you think you'll ever make me your bitch." Yaiba replied in a snarl.
"I didn't say anything of the sort!" Kiyotaka exclaimed, still laughing. "You're not a woman, Yaiba, and anyway, I like my women...a little forceful." He cracked a grin. "I like them to shout at me and throw things, and mm...kick my ass in the most literal sense. Really, being a detective is heaven for finding that kind of woman."
Yaiba stared at him. "...I...see..." He said slowly, strange suspicion in his eyes...uncertainty. The furrows dug deeply into his forehead. "And that differs from me how?"
"Why Yaiba, you're not a woman at all. And you despise me, right?" Kiyotaka said with a grin. "But I'm proud of you for admitting you have a bit of sweetness hidden under your personality somewhere."
Yaiba didn't say anything, but his expression flickered, and he rummaged through his desk for his cigarettes. "...You're delusional as ever."
"It's not my fault you're not my type." Kiyotaka said with a sigh, spreading his fingers.
"I'm exactly your type!" Yaiba snarled, fumbling with his lighter with a curse.
Kiyotaka laughed, taking the lighter from Yaiba's fingers, and sparking it with a thumb, holding the flame to the other's cigarette. "Well...Only if you were a woman." He murmured. His eyes locked on Yaiba's, and he smiled again, suddenly. The flame vanished. "Actually, you might be too gentle. Though I don't mind children in the slightest."
Yaiba stared at him, cigarette dangling from his lips as he spoke. "What the Hell are you talking about? Women with children? As though the former weren't bad enough all on their own?"
"Goodness, no. Just children. I like the way they think. How simple their world is, how they act on what they feel..." Kiyotaka said with a smile, putting the lighter down on the desk.
Yaiba's brows knitted. "...You have a lolita complex?" He ventured.
Kiyotaka burst into nervous laughter. "No, no, no! Not like that!" He chuckled. "We've gone entirely off-topic, anyway."
"You're...repulsive." Yaiba said finally, brows still knit, but in something like confusion now. He fiddled with the cigarette in his fingers, oddly uncertain.
"It's pretty simple, actually. I don't mind you because I see the childishness in your actions." Kiyotaka said, smiling. "The ways you react to things you don't like are so simple it's refreshing. There's very little pretense to it."
"I'm not simple." Yaiba snarled, slamming a palm against his desk. "And I'm not a child. If you want a child, then you have Hizumi the instant you defeat me and you can go seduce one of your detestable masculine women."
"Oh? So you like women submissive and docile?"
"I don't like women at all! You know that!" The other snapped, scoring a dark burn in the desk with a line of ash. He gave another curse under his breath, and glared at the cigarette perhaps a little too bitterly.
Kiyotaka just smiled. "...But you like me."
Yaiba stopped, and grimaced, He snuffed his cigarette in the blueberry center of his danish, the smell of burnt fruit mingling with the smell of the smoke. "You're...not a woman." He said flatly. "I wouldn't have chosen a rival I found inferior in any way." He paused, drumming his fingers against the desk. "Unfortunately, my research into your personality was...deficient."
"Ah. How frustrating for you. Is it too much then?" Kiyotaka asked, grinning.
"I can handle it, thank you." Yaiba said coldly, fixing him with a look of annoyance.
Kiyotaka smiled, playing with the ears of his rabbit-head, peering over it. The smile was a little sad, "...I haven't met anyone who can really handle me." He murmured.
Yaiba's mouth curled into a schoolboy smile, with cruelty leaking at the edges. "The fact you stick to women likely doesn't help."
Kiyotaka grinned, looking like he might laugh, but not laughing. "That's a terrible thing to say."
"I say many terrible things." Yaiba replied offhand, watching him closely.
"Do you mean every single one?" Kiyotaka asked with a little smile.
Yaiba's brows knit instantly, and his eyes narrowed. "Yes." He said coldly. "I mean every single one."
Kiyotaka smiled again, but was quiet. He turned his head, staring out the window behind the other. "That's a remarkable thing... I usually have difficulty trying to simplify what I'm thinking so it can be understood. I don't bother. It always manages to get misinterpreted. I wish I knew how you managed it..."
Yaiba's brows shifted slightly. "You'll just have to dissect me and find out." He said with an oddly listless carelessness.
Kiyotaka grinned. "I wouldn't dream of dissecting you, Yaiba. I don't like corpses. Or blood, really."
"Then why are you a homocide detective in the first place?" Yaiba asked with a scowl.
"Because I find criminals fascinating." Kiyotaka said easily, folding his uneven fingers into one another, "Just like children. If I can find a clean way to end things, it's usually better. I can make them neutralize themselves, and they become harmless. It's gratifying."
"A legitimate vocation for a heartless manipulative bastard. It suits you perfectly."
Kiyotaka smiled at that. "...I know you'd never admit if there was a single way I equaled you, much less surpassed you." He added.
"Since when do you equal or surpass me in anything?" Yaiba asked, dangerous with his serpentine-narrow eyes.
Kiyotaka's eyes glittered almost merrily and he didn't answer. "...What about you?"
Yaiba stared. "...What?"
"You're the worshipped leader of the business world, and an infamous genius in the realm of genetics and eugenics. Why did you become that? Why did you choose it?"
"I didn't choose it. I was excellent at it, and it was easy enough." Yaiba drawled, giving him a look of boredom. "I base in America because...You've heard of the myth of the self-made man? A man excelling in every area, in whatever he touches..." A faint, childishly cruel smile quirked the edges of his lips without warmth. "I am the self-made man. And I'm the face of the new human race."
"You do it because you can crush people."
Yaiba paused, then a nasty smile snaked onto his face. "There's that as well, I suppose..." He admitted. A little light of approval lit into his eyes again. "The business world is ruthless. One can be pitiless and still perfectly respected. One can be a criminal and too powerful to be denied, too influental to be stopped. Fear can be used to its maximum, and still be desired and worshipped." He folded his fingers together, resting his chin on them and studying Kiyotaka with a hint of interest. "Does that follow with your reasoning?"
"You can engage in childish cruelty, and still plan ahead. In business you can shine above all others even if you're cruel or unscrupled, and in fact you're respected if you seem to be both. But...you can also constantly check yourself for flaws, constantly assert yourself. For a person with nothing else, it provides reassurance." Kiyotaka said, with a smile. "Yes...it does fit with you well. It gives you what looks like everything, and best hides the nothingness-"
"Be quiet!" Yaiba snapped, the smile vanishing off his face. "What would you know about it?"
"Nothing maybe. I have a feeling. I always thought it was peculiar that you'd call your organization the 'Knights' if 'knight' was a term of servitude...but now I come to realize you enjoy the terror of lordship even while you look for a 'king'." Kiyotaka said reasonably, that smile still fixed on his lips, and in his dark eyes. "Deep down, you hate society because you can best it, and yet even in excellence it will enslave you-"
"I told you to shut up!" Yaiba snarled. "Is that it then, you think you can be a king? You'd seek to humiliate me in such a way? Is that your goal? To serve that bunch of fools and help them destroy the thing that would prove to be their betterment in the long run?"
"No." Kiyotaka murmured. He raised his eyes. "But I think I can be God. And I think I can bring you death, and topple you out of your immortal Eden."
"Get out." Yaiba hissed, rage in his eyes.
A look of mild annoyance crossed Kiyotaka's features, abruptly eliminating the smile. He stopped himself, then spoke in a careful, measured tone. "...You keep telling me to get out of your office." he said, with perfect graveness in his solemn features. "I'll listen a little longer, but I of all people would certainly understand that you wouldn't have called me here if you were really as all-powerful as you want others to think you are." He pulled the rabbit's-head back over his face.
"...I'm sorry I spoiled your good mood. You really were in rare form today...I'll have to visit another time." Kiyotaka murmured.
For a moment, something unusual, perhaps hesitation, maybe even a shadow of dismay flickered over Yaiba's face. But it passed quickly, and the expression hardened again. "I have no use for you as you are now. Don't come back until you can kill me." He growled.
Kiyotaka laughed muffledly, fixing Yaiba with an expressionless plush face. "Be patient with me a little while longer. I'll kill you soon enough."
"Just handle it." Yaiba spat, not looking at him. "And talk less. All your pointless chatter tires me. Save your lectures for schoolchildren and whores."
Kiyotaka stared at him with button-black plastic eyes. "...I don't mean to be tiresome or boring. The next time we meet, you'll have no choice but to have interest. The next time we meet, I'll make you weep." He murmured. Yaiba's eyes shot to him. "I apologize for it in advance. I look at myself and know I'm cruel, but it makes no difference." He said, muffled through the rabbit's head, bowing slightly, expression invisible.
"I don't weep." Yaiba sneered. "Your threats are as pointless and fruitless as ever, Kiyotaka. If you're going to do something then get it over with. Until then, I don't want to see you around here at all. I will have proof of the work of my underlings. You are no exception. If you can't handle it, I'll find someone else." The other snapped. He didn't have to say it explicitly, the insistant denial--I don't need you.
"Then I'll see you soon." Kiyotaka said, sketching a wave with a hint of sadness. "Goodbye, Yaiba."
"Don't come back until you have proof." Yaiba snarled at his retreating back, standing with fingers biting at the edges of his desk. "Or I'll kill you myself, do you hear me Kiyotaka Narumi?--I'll kill you!"
-o-O-o-
Fandom: Spiral (Pre-Canon, and pre-Alive)
Genre: General (Some humor, and some odd...darkness...er...)
Rating: T
Why: For air-mail fingers, mean!flirting, weird!flirting, and danishes straight out of your nightmares
Notes: Kiyotaka knows just where to hit you so it hurts... And then can befriend you and charm you anyway.
(Do NOT approach this man or attempt to use magic on him, instead call the wizarding police and tell them there's a frog gone wild in your front yard.)
Poor Yaiba. He's all angsty last chapter because he has no friends. Obviously. Er... Well Hizumi's more like his son than his brother, um. THIRTY YEAR AGE DIFFERENCE, MUCH?
Then again Kiyotaka and Yaiba are such crazy friends... It's like hanging out with upper-social-ladder women and watching the backstabbing and lip service all around in astonishment.
And Yaiba's got an unexpectedly nasty streak. (Or maybe not so unexpected.) Even his flirting is mean.
Oh...and there is a bit of weird flirting this chapter, I think. Yaiba was just being unexpectedly perverse. I bet he's already having trouble getting those test-tube babies together with Kiyotaka running around. Er... And Kiyotaka seems to have a masochistic streak...uhh...I blame Madoka. Really. She's the one who sent him to the hospital before, supposedly. (Someday, all of us need to get together and write fics about the possibilities there... We could get sappy and think he took a bullet for her, or we could let our imaginations run wild with sweet, sweet violence... ♥ Also, I need an excuse to write het. That's...totally not my only excuse, honest!)
Uh...and sending someone your little finger is supposed to be a mark of utmost sincerity in Japanese Culture. Usually as a sort of apology. Ouch.
Then again, American culture has a more highly developed view of the self than most if not ALL the other cultures of the world...we tend to have a pretty high view of free will and self governance and therefore less of a feeling of guilt. We like to justify our actions. (I usually notice this when I try to talk about religion. Even people who "share my faith" get into massive arguments with me about how my amazing beliefs screw up their notions of free will and therefore I'm wrong. *smile* Tremendous fun. I won't get into it here, but I have devestating logic. Hoo.)
I suppose the Japanese model comes from a culture less steeped in the ideals of "forgiveness" or "innocence". But I don't really know for sure. What I DO know, is you're less likely to walk away without any remorse whatsoever when you're minus a finger...
Kind of a long-term thing, there, after all... WHY am I thinking "the Subtle Knife" at a time like this?
For the record, I can't bake. I can cook just about anything else (except a decent white sauce, and I make a great fake alfredo sauce anyway, so nobody ever knows), but I can't bake to save my life. (I'm even a champion with the grill, might I add. My Churrasco is legendary.) I DO know some people use mayonaise when they make cake from a mix instead of oil, but aside from that I'm clueless. Most things I try to bake have something horribly wrong with them. And even if they taste fine, they look like something you'd scrape off the bottom of someone else's boot. So Kiyotaka's ability to bake is running to the edge of the theoretical things that I know divinely-touched people like my mother and younger sister excel at with their epic from-scratch baked-goods and all, but these are things that remain theoretical because I can never seem to do them myself.
(I'm far better at the wonderfully imprecise art of soup-making, and at making homemade marinades so delicious that the steer's glad it's died.)
In short, I don't know a thing about danishes firsthand.
My last attempt was quite a few years ago. You don't want to know what the oven looked like when I was done. I've mostly given up on ever learning how to bake. In hindsight I should consult with my male friends. (Most of them bake, ironically enough. It turns out I'm surrounded by people who make tiramisu the gods would die to taste while I can't seem to manage making sugar cookies out of a tube. I'd say it's a culture thing, but I don't think Hispanic men are reknowned typically as champion bakers, and technically with all the europe flowing through my veins, I should be able to manage something edible if that were how it worked. So, it's a mystery...)
Japanese dishes are usually something of the art of arrangement, too. So I'm a little intimidated by japanese cooking. Kiyo's going to stick to pastries. Not my fault if they happen to be mostly "europeanized" and all that. (I mean, what with his eating of doughnuts and Ayumu's lemon cream tarts, I should be able to get away with european pastries.)
-o-O-o-
-o-O-o- Negotiations: V -o-O-o-
-o-O-o-
Yaiba actually controlled his urge to turn around and strike whatever was touching him. His self control was astonishing. "Guess who!" Said a voice in his ear with perfect, animated, cheerful idiocy.
Yaiba tapped his forefinger against his desk, his voice impressively level. "...Kiyotaka Narumi, get your hands off my eyes before I give into my urge to dismember you."
The gloved hands lowered, "Haah. How terrible you are, even now..." The other sighed. His voice was muffled again.
Yaiba turned to look at him. He stared. "...Do your disguises just get worse and worse?"
"But I thought you liked my first bunny costume." Kiyotaka said.
"Only because I was granted permission to dissect it. If you murder me in that get-up, I'll find it in poor taste indeed. That's that murdered rabbit costume, isn't it? You shouldn't tempt me. I might pull off an ear, or use my letter opener."
"Haah." Kiyotaka said with a sigh, pulling off the rabbit-head. "Yaiba, you're terrible. I come here to give you my amazing cooking, and you say awful things about murder, dismemberment, and dissection. I really am hurt."
"I'm meant to care, and apologize?" Yaiba asked dully, glowering. "If you receive a finger in the mail, it won't be mine."
Kiyotaka grinned, and seated himself on the edge of the desk. He pretended not to notice the flare of Yaiba's nostrils, or the narrowing of his yellow eyes, busying himself with his pastries. "I made you danishes. Blueberry danishes."
Yaiba paused, then flattened his face over so he couldn't be read. He drummed his fingers against the arms of his chair. "...Get off my desk."
"Your twinkles are staring at me."
"Kiyotaka-!"
Kiyotaka just laughed, and slipped off the desk like an oversized schoolboy, dropping a danish on a napkin into Yaiba's lap. "For someone who's supposed to be the father of the new human race, you're always so gloomy."
"You'd be gloomy too if you found yourself continually assaulted by idiocy." Yaiba grumbled, scowling at him and retrieving the pastry from his lap with dignity, like it was all natural.
Kiyotaka smiled. "...I was surprised. Killing your own followers is a bit much, I thought. I didn't expect you to get that close. You must have good information sources."
"He wasn't one of mine. That individual was borderline Hunter anyway--though I'm sure even you didn't know that."
"No, I didn't." Kiyotaka replied, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise, thoughtfulness. "Hm. ...I should be more careful next time."
"Do so. If he's murdered because of your idiocy, I won't hesitate to make you pay for it. My knowledge of human anatomy is exceptional. I'm sure I could find an adequate way to torture for you." Yaiba replied evenly. "My knowledge of the nervous system is nearly as extensive as my genetic expertise."
Kiyotaka laughed. "Oh I don't want Hizumi harmed at all. I'll take good care of him."
"I have no reason to feel you any more competant at that than you are tasteful in your personal fashion."
"Haah, you're still faithless, aren't you?"
"You aren't the first man incapable of keeping with my specifications."
"Hm. You'll give yourself a headache making that kind of expression for too long." Kiyotaka said with a little smile, pointing a tracing finger against his own eyebrows.
"And you," Yaiba said, taking a bite of danish, furrows etching deeper into his pale forehead, "are in no way reducing my hatred for the human race by attempting to point out all my flaws and peculiarities. If you spoke the way you ought to, I might even keep you on and give you a minor position as a janitor. Or as a cabana boy." He licked his thumb.
Kiyotaka started to laugh. "That's...That's a surprisingly unsavory position you'd like to put me in, Yaiba."
"If you insist on being so informal-"
"Aah, but you're the one who started it."
"It doesn't matter who started it!" Yaiba snapped, flecks of pastry flying from his mouth. Kiyotaka grinned and dropped a napkin over the desk. The other just scowled at him for the indulgent gesture.
Kiyotaka folded his uneven fingers thoughtfully. "...You know, Yaiba, imagining how you got the personality you have when you started out like your brother is unexpectedly interesting to me."
"I don't have a brother. He's not my brother."
"Being faithless at a time like this won't change anything, Yaiba."
"Stop using my name like that." The other snarled. Kiyotaka just smiled at him and offered another danish. Yaiba glared at it, then snatched it up with a noise of irritation. "...Hizumi is my successor. We share no parentage, only genes. His true surrogate was a "vegetable" as the terminology goes--comatose, but with perfect bodily function. She brought him to term, and delivered through a cesarian section, and nursed by another woman. Both were permanantly silenced by my order. By that reasoning, he's as much my 'brother' as you are. Get your terminology right. Just because your own mother is clinically insane and keeps your successor on as a "younger brother" by no means forces me to assume the same falsehood."
"Hmm..." Kiyotaka sighed. "...It's a nicer term, though." he said, smiling over his folded fingers. "Though you don't seem exactly family-oriented."
"I despise your late-night visits enough even without tiring myself correcting you, Kiyotaka." Yaiba replied warily, licking his thumb without concern.
"Well you do seem exhausted lately. Two nights this week I've found you sleeping at your desk. I didn't want to bother you, so I left."
"You what?" Yaiba's eyes bulged. "...You're mistaken."
"You still have those nightmares?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Yaiba snapped, going very pale despite himself. The words had a muffled quality: I donf gnuw whaf fyour taghking aroud. He pulled the danish out of his mouth abruptly, swallowing, and making a face like he'd discovered it was made of fecal matter. "And your cooking is atrocious. Do you grease your pans with old mayonaise or are you simply unable to tell when oil is rancid?"
"Don't worry. I wouldn't dream of poisoning you, Yaiba." Kiyotaka said with a little smile, folding his uneven fingers together. "I'd be found out for sure if I did, and I owe you a more competant murder." He turned a beatific expression on the other, the coreners of his eyes crinkling. "When I kill you, I'll do it myself, with my own hands, and you won't struggle against me at all."
Yaiba's eyes narrowed. "...The day I ever bend to your will, is the day I go on my knees before you."
Kiyotaka gave a snicker. "You're probably thinking something distasteful again."
"You're delusional if you think you'll ever make me your bitch." Yaiba replied in a snarl.
"I didn't say anything of the sort!" Kiyotaka exclaimed, still laughing. "You're not a woman, Yaiba, and anyway, I like my women...a little forceful." He cracked a grin. "I like them to shout at me and throw things, and mm...kick my ass in the most literal sense. Really, being a detective is heaven for finding that kind of woman."
Yaiba stared at him. "...I...see..." He said slowly, strange suspicion in his eyes...uncertainty. The furrows dug deeply into his forehead. "And that differs from me how?"
"Why Yaiba, you're not a woman at all. And you despise me, right?" Kiyotaka said with a grin. "But I'm proud of you for admitting you have a bit of sweetness hidden under your personality somewhere."
Yaiba didn't say anything, but his expression flickered, and he rummaged through his desk for his cigarettes. "...You're delusional as ever."
"It's not my fault you're not my type." Kiyotaka said with a sigh, spreading his fingers.
"I'm exactly your type!" Yaiba snarled, fumbling with his lighter with a curse.
Kiyotaka laughed, taking the lighter from Yaiba's fingers, and sparking it with a thumb, holding the flame to the other's cigarette. "Well...Only if you were a woman." He murmured. His eyes locked on Yaiba's, and he smiled again, suddenly. The flame vanished. "Actually, you might be too gentle. Though I don't mind children in the slightest."
Yaiba stared at him, cigarette dangling from his lips as he spoke. "What the Hell are you talking about? Women with children? As though the former weren't bad enough all on their own?"
"Goodness, no. Just children. I like the way they think. How simple their world is, how they act on what they feel..." Kiyotaka said with a smile, putting the lighter down on the desk.
Yaiba's brows knitted. "...You have a lolita complex?" He ventured.
Kiyotaka burst into nervous laughter. "No, no, no! Not like that!" He chuckled. "We've gone entirely off-topic, anyway."
"You're...repulsive." Yaiba said finally, brows still knit, but in something like confusion now. He fiddled with the cigarette in his fingers, oddly uncertain.
"It's pretty simple, actually. I don't mind you because I see the childishness in your actions." Kiyotaka said, smiling. "The ways you react to things you don't like are so simple it's refreshing. There's very little pretense to it."
"I'm not simple." Yaiba snarled, slamming a palm against his desk. "And I'm not a child. If you want a child, then you have Hizumi the instant you defeat me and you can go seduce one of your detestable masculine women."
"Oh? So you like women submissive and docile?"
"I don't like women at all! You know that!" The other snapped, scoring a dark burn in the desk with a line of ash. He gave another curse under his breath, and glared at the cigarette perhaps a little too bitterly.
Kiyotaka just smiled. "...But you like me."
Yaiba stopped, and grimaced, He snuffed his cigarette in the blueberry center of his danish, the smell of burnt fruit mingling with the smell of the smoke. "You're...not a woman." He said flatly. "I wouldn't have chosen a rival I found inferior in any way." He paused, drumming his fingers against the desk. "Unfortunately, my research into your personality was...deficient."
"Ah. How frustrating for you. Is it too much then?" Kiyotaka asked, grinning.
"I can handle it, thank you." Yaiba said coldly, fixing him with a look of annoyance.
Kiyotaka smiled, playing with the ears of his rabbit-head, peering over it. The smile was a little sad, "...I haven't met anyone who can really handle me." He murmured.
Yaiba's mouth curled into a schoolboy smile, with cruelty leaking at the edges. "The fact you stick to women likely doesn't help."
Kiyotaka grinned, looking like he might laugh, but not laughing. "That's a terrible thing to say."
"I say many terrible things." Yaiba replied offhand, watching him closely.
"Do you mean every single one?" Kiyotaka asked with a little smile.
Yaiba's brows knit instantly, and his eyes narrowed. "Yes." He said coldly. "I mean every single one."
Kiyotaka smiled again, but was quiet. He turned his head, staring out the window behind the other. "That's a remarkable thing... I usually have difficulty trying to simplify what I'm thinking so it can be understood. I don't bother. It always manages to get misinterpreted. I wish I knew how you managed it..."
Yaiba's brows shifted slightly. "You'll just have to dissect me and find out." He said with an oddly listless carelessness.
Kiyotaka grinned. "I wouldn't dream of dissecting you, Yaiba. I don't like corpses. Or blood, really."
"Then why are you a homocide detective in the first place?" Yaiba asked with a scowl.
"Because I find criminals fascinating." Kiyotaka said easily, folding his uneven fingers into one another, "Just like children. If I can find a clean way to end things, it's usually better. I can make them neutralize themselves, and they become harmless. It's gratifying."
"A legitimate vocation for a heartless manipulative bastard. It suits you perfectly."
Kiyotaka smiled at that. "...I know you'd never admit if there was a single way I equaled you, much less surpassed you." He added.
"Since when do you equal or surpass me in anything?" Yaiba asked, dangerous with his serpentine-narrow eyes.
Kiyotaka's eyes glittered almost merrily and he didn't answer. "...What about you?"
Yaiba stared. "...What?"
"You're the worshipped leader of the business world, and an infamous genius in the realm of genetics and eugenics. Why did you become that? Why did you choose it?"
"I didn't choose it. I was excellent at it, and it was easy enough." Yaiba drawled, giving him a look of boredom. "I base in America because...You've heard of the myth of the self-made man? A man excelling in every area, in whatever he touches..." A faint, childishly cruel smile quirked the edges of his lips without warmth. "I am the self-made man. And I'm the face of the new human race."
"You do it because you can crush people."
Yaiba paused, then a nasty smile snaked onto his face. "There's that as well, I suppose..." He admitted. A little light of approval lit into his eyes again. "The business world is ruthless. One can be pitiless and still perfectly respected. One can be a criminal and too powerful to be denied, too influental to be stopped. Fear can be used to its maximum, and still be desired and worshipped." He folded his fingers together, resting his chin on them and studying Kiyotaka with a hint of interest. "Does that follow with your reasoning?"
"You can engage in childish cruelty, and still plan ahead. In business you can shine above all others even if you're cruel or unscrupled, and in fact you're respected if you seem to be both. But...you can also constantly check yourself for flaws, constantly assert yourself. For a person with nothing else, it provides reassurance." Kiyotaka said, with a smile. "Yes...it does fit with you well. It gives you what looks like everything, and best hides the nothingness-"
"Be quiet!" Yaiba snapped, the smile vanishing off his face. "What would you know about it?"
"Nothing maybe. I have a feeling. I always thought it was peculiar that you'd call your organization the 'Knights' if 'knight' was a term of servitude...but now I come to realize you enjoy the terror of lordship even while you look for a 'king'." Kiyotaka said reasonably, that smile still fixed on his lips, and in his dark eyes. "Deep down, you hate society because you can best it, and yet even in excellence it will enslave you-"
"I told you to shut up!" Yaiba snarled. "Is that it then, you think you can be a king? You'd seek to humiliate me in such a way? Is that your goal? To serve that bunch of fools and help them destroy the thing that would prove to be their betterment in the long run?"
"No." Kiyotaka murmured. He raised his eyes. "But I think I can be God. And I think I can bring you death, and topple you out of your immortal Eden."
"Get out." Yaiba hissed, rage in his eyes.
A look of mild annoyance crossed Kiyotaka's features, abruptly eliminating the smile. He stopped himself, then spoke in a careful, measured tone. "...You keep telling me to get out of your office." he said, with perfect graveness in his solemn features. "I'll listen a little longer, but I of all people would certainly understand that you wouldn't have called me here if you were really as all-powerful as you want others to think you are." He pulled the rabbit's-head back over his face.
"...I'm sorry I spoiled your good mood. You really were in rare form today...I'll have to visit another time." Kiyotaka murmured.
For a moment, something unusual, perhaps hesitation, maybe even a shadow of dismay flickered over Yaiba's face. But it passed quickly, and the expression hardened again. "I have no use for you as you are now. Don't come back until you can kill me." He growled.
Kiyotaka laughed muffledly, fixing Yaiba with an expressionless plush face. "Be patient with me a little while longer. I'll kill you soon enough."
"Just handle it." Yaiba spat, not looking at him. "And talk less. All your pointless chatter tires me. Save your lectures for schoolchildren and whores."
Kiyotaka stared at him with button-black plastic eyes. "...I don't mean to be tiresome or boring. The next time we meet, you'll have no choice but to have interest. The next time we meet, I'll make you weep." He murmured. Yaiba's eyes shot to him. "I apologize for it in advance. I look at myself and know I'm cruel, but it makes no difference." He said, muffled through the rabbit's head, bowing slightly, expression invisible.
"I don't weep." Yaiba sneered. "Your threats are as pointless and fruitless as ever, Kiyotaka. If you're going to do something then get it over with. Until then, I don't want to see you around here at all. I will have proof of the work of my underlings. You are no exception. If you can't handle it, I'll find someone else." The other snapped. He didn't have to say it explicitly, the insistant denial--I don't need you.
"Then I'll see you soon." Kiyotaka said, sketching a wave with a hint of sadness. "Goodbye, Yaiba."
"Don't come back until you have proof." Yaiba snarled at his retreating back, standing with fingers biting at the edges of his desk. "Or I'll kill you myself, do you hear me Kiyotaka Narumi?--I'll kill you!"
-o-O-o-