Nakama luv: TricK and Gokusen challenges
For mklutz and miya_ respectively. I, uh, decided I should start in the middle of the alphabet?
Fandom: TricK
Pairing: Ueda/Naoko
Word count: 887
Summary: "You can never lie to me Ueda-san," she says. What a joke.
Ueda was always afraid of being lied to.
Well, that wasn’t technically true considering he didn’t faint at the mere thought of it in the I’m-terrified-Mommy-don’t-hurt-me way, but the very idea of being lied to agitated him and made him want to challenge that suspicion with a “Why don’t you do your best?” judo chop to the shoulder. He believed only people were capable of lying to him of course. What with his master analytical skills deducing all natural phenomenons, it was why he was in the investigative line of work and, considering his day job, why he met a lot of really slick liars.
Thankfully his assistant, Naoko Yamada, was not one of them.
“I can’t believe you threatened to deport me to Guatemala if I didn’t help you,” she hissed, “I’m not Johnny, I don’t even look like...wherever that part of the world is. I hate you Ueda-san.”
Regardless of the fact that they were standing face to face with the leader of the cult they had infiltrated, Yamada had refused to let go of his minor coercive tactics. It was kind of flattering in a demented way, and Ueda always enjoyed validation of his superior skills. But now was the time for business and he elbowed her in the shoulder as the most subtle way he could tell her to shut up.
“Welcome my questioning wanderers, to paradise.”
“It looks like a hole in the wall,” Yamada said blandly. Yep, not very slick.
Ueda intervened, saying, “Forgive my assistant, grand Ishkabibile.”
“Ishkabibble.”
“You’re an idiot,” Yamada muttered. And Ueda deduced she was probably directing it more at him than anyone else. She was so transparent.
The grand Ishkabibble didn’t seem to care about her surly attitude, instead focusing on Ueda. “Well, considering the manners of your assistant, I should be surprised you have any hope of challenging our spiritual master.”
“Ahahah, well, it’s just a matter of being a Tokyo profess-saywha?” Ueda trailed off, all of a sudden realizing that despite the Ishkabibble’s winning smile, he was insulting him. The former good mood he had developed on the onset of their journey suddenly soured. “I think you’re underestimating me, you don’t know what I have up my sleeve.”
The grand Ishkabibble made a sniggering sound. He then turned around and made a signal for the rest of his adherents to follow suit in their laughter.
Ueda felt a distinct unease at their response. He was used to Yamada laughing at him, she did it all the time, but that was Yamada. He didn’t need her respect or acceptance, he could just easily...
“I bet he could,” Yamada declared. She had stepped in front of him in his preoccupied state, armed with nothing else but a deck of cards.
Ueda’s master analytical skills knew that meant trouble. Yamada already had taken the Ishkabibble to the side and started to explain whatever process of new card trick she had thought up. Ueda tried to lean over and listen in but Yamada shuffled away, with a self-satisfied smirk as the cult leader nodded and showed a specific card to his fawning masses. Then, after everything was finished, he slipped it in her deck of cards.
Ueda was completely bewildered.
“Ueda-san,” Yamada said, that rare voice of authority leaking into her when she knew exactly what was going on. Not that it never backfired on her... “please reach into your right sleeve and pull out a card.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ueda started to say, even as his hand-of no conscious thought of his own-decided to reach up and scratch at his wrist, removing from it a Queen of Hearts.
The pride was evident on Yamada’s face as the crowd gasped in shock. “See, what did I tell you, Ueda-san is more than a match for you Ishibaba.”
“This...this isn’t over!” said the grand Ishkabibble, who made motion for the rest of the group to storm off in a huff. “You’ll see the might of true spiritual power soon!”
Ueda knew that was a lie, he was happy to amend the mental narration of his new book that the cult had fallen to his superior powers. It was all because of human reasoning. Even now, he was posing and reciting the events in his own ‘interpretation’ while staring off at the horizon.
Yamada looked expectant for a minute, shifting from foot to foot as if he would speak to her. She then muttered, “You’re such an idiot Ueda-san. I can’t stand you.”
That snapped Ueda out of it, and he gave her a puzzled stare. “You, what’s wrong with you. I gave you this chance and you decide to make a fool of yourself.”
“Idiot Ueda!”
The physics professor could not understand her at all. She was so annoying, so aggravating, and such a horrible liar. He was confident that the main reason he kept such a crass and marginally attractive woman around was that she could easily reveal herself to him.
But one thing was left unexplained. “So, why did you bother with that card trick?”
“I...” Yamada stammered, before turning off in a huff she declared. “I’m not talking to you!”
“Really now?”
“Shut up, Ueda-san.”
“That’s talking to me.”
“Shut up!”
She really was a horrible liar, it was almost like telling the truth.
Fandom: Gokusen
Pairing: Shin/Yankumi
Word count: 1,200 (okay, so I lied on this one...)
Summary: Humans are flawed creatures and they make flawed promises.
Despite terminology, mistrustful natures rarely came out of natural inclination. For Sawada Shin, it was not something cultivated from discernment and logical processes, although he had both of those in abundance. Instead it grew like a weed in his mind, like ivy seeping into the stonework of a wall. If given the chance, he would have preferred to trust people and believe they could be genuinely good, but that would only make him a fool.
Shin devoted himself to a harsh contract that for as long as he was self-reliant he would not be deceived by the hollow offers others gave him, no matter how tempting it sounded. The sweeter the proposal, the more likely it was to be left unfulfilled and discarded. It could be a sign of weakness, which is why even though he would do anything for his friends, he did not depend on them.
They never saw the apartment he lived in all by himself. Spartan accommodations, with narrow windows that could only show the night sky and the neon lights of a local bar. He didn’t mind those at all, preferring to stare up at either at the starless sky or blank walls. They held nothing for him, no potential, no differences. It was a perfect barrier from the rest of the world.
When his father, Sawada Shotaro, first won a seat as a senator, he had spun young Shin around in his arms to celebrate. He had never done it before, but the joy over his accomplishment was so great that the formal man did his best with stiff arms and a gangly boy already too old for it. “This job means that doors will open for you, Shin,” he had said. “I promise you this, your father will ensure you a path to a bright success. Then we can match in accomplishments.”
It meant nothing of course. All his father’s power was good for was used at the whims of a man who never believed in his own child, so all that instead of fighting the accusation he simply found the least problematic way of shoving Shin out of his responsibility. Because power was only useful for the ones wielding it, not their allies, not their sons, not anyone who was held in their whims through proffered rewards.
That was why Sawada Shin hated promises.
Natsumi’s pledges were those of a child, where even at the age of sixteen she would offer her pinkie finger as if it would lend weight to her promise. Her offenses were forgivable because they were broken out of her inability rather than her inclination. She never meant to fail him, and he could remember how her young face looked on expectantly when he walked away from their home. She had promised him she wouldn’t cry when he left, even though he knew tears were streaming down her face.
He didn’t expect her to be strong enough and not cry. It was okay, because at least she didn’t cry out even with the weight of both expectant parents on her now, and she didn’t run out to cling to him, which would have been the only thing that might have had enough power to stop him. He loved her too much to leave if she followed him. He loved her dearly as any true big brother would, wishing somehow that he had enough power to ensure she never had to break a promise she wanted to keep.
His mother never promised him anything, and that was how he could stop himself from hating her when she sat silently by and poured tea as his father demeaned them all. Sawada Kyoko offered him nothing to feel disappointed in, and for that he could offer the same kindness of being silent for or against her.
He was okay with being alone. He didn’t mind so much that he could never really trust anyone, not even his closest friends, most certainly not any adult. The solitude may have produced a dull ache over time, but it was something he could rely on without fail.
Then a knock came at the door, and without even realizing it Shin suppressed a smirk as if he could have predicted the arrival. He rolled up from his position on the floor and went to answer it, schooling his features to be as bland and unamused as possible.
“Oh, Yankumi, why are you here with food again?”
The spry math teacher had a triumphant grin on her features as she hefted up a large sack of the kyuudon she must have picked up from Midorikawa’s famous diner. Shin had to stop from snorting in laughter, remembering the last incident of food and how badly she tried to cover up her mistakes.
“Hey Sawada, don’t think I didn’t notice how you gave your lunch away to Kuma this afternoon,” Yankumi said in sing-song, obviously pleased with her detective skills. She managed to shift the large amounts of food into one arm and reached up and ruffled his hair. It was quite a feat she didn’t tumble over from the imbalance, but Shin had to remind himself sometimes that no matter how much of a ditz she appeared to be, Yamaguchi Kumiko was also a formidable fighter.
“Ah, so what if I did? It’s not like I’m going to starve.”
Yankumi’s previous aura of command vanished as soon as that goofy smile came back again. “You’re damn right you’re not going to starve. I made a promise I’d take care of all of you, because you’re my students!” The kyuudon bowls appeared to be a little squished and lukewarm from the journey. “I’m going to make sure you all make it to graduation, even if it means I have to shove food in your mouths!”
Shin rolled his eyes and took the bowl without protest. He figured it would just be easier to play along than contradict her now. Not because he was scared of her, even when she was completely submerged in her Ooeda personality, she was still dorky Yankumi. Just because she could kick his ass didn’t mean she would be able to, and that was a large difference in his mind.
“Yay, ittadakimasu!” Yankumi declared and gorged in, noodles and beef flying just as much back in the bowl as in her mouth.
No, Shin thought, the fact that she was a yakuza heir was not why he respected her. It was not her power that made him feel like smiling, but that she "wasted" it on stupid little efforts like bringing food down to him because he felt lonely, laughing with the students as companions instead of her subordinates. It might be very easy for the fourth-generation “Ojou” of the Ooeda group to coerce people into doing what she wanted, but she promised them she would help them graduate as their teacher, not as a yakuza heir.
And for some reason, seeing Yankumi with her hair out of pigtails and a satisfied smile in her place as she ate in his apartment, Shin wanted to believe that she could do it. Even if she wasn’t as reliable as these walls, he more than wanted to believe her.
Fandom: TricK
Pairing: Ueda/Naoko
Word count: 887
Summary: "You can never lie to me Ueda-san," she says. What a joke.
Ueda was always afraid of being lied to.
Well, that wasn’t technically true considering he didn’t faint at the mere thought of it in the I’m-terrified-Mommy-don’t-hurt-me way, but the very idea of being lied to agitated him and made him want to challenge that suspicion with a “Why don’t you do your best?” judo chop to the shoulder. He believed only people were capable of lying to him of course. What with his master analytical skills deducing all natural phenomenons, it was why he was in the investigative line of work and, considering his day job, why he met a lot of really slick liars.
Thankfully his assistant, Naoko Yamada, was not one of them.
“I can’t believe you threatened to deport me to Guatemala if I didn’t help you,” she hissed, “I’m not Johnny, I don’t even look like...wherever that part of the world is. I hate you Ueda-san.”
Regardless of the fact that they were standing face to face with the leader of the cult they had infiltrated, Yamada had refused to let go of his minor coercive tactics. It was kind of flattering in a demented way, and Ueda always enjoyed validation of his superior skills. But now was the time for business and he elbowed her in the shoulder as the most subtle way he could tell her to shut up.
“Welcome my questioning wanderers, to paradise.”
“It looks like a hole in the wall,” Yamada said blandly. Yep, not very slick.
Ueda intervened, saying, “Forgive my assistant, grand Ishkabibile.”
“Ishkabibble.”
“You’re an idiot,” Yamada muttered. And Ueda deduced she was probably directing it more at him than anyone else. She was so transparent.
The grand Ishkabibble didn’t seem to care about her surly attitude, instead focusing on Ueda. “Well, considering the manners of your assistant, I should be surprised you have any hope of challenging our spiritual master.”
“Ahahah, well, it’s just a matter of being a Tokyo profess-saywha?” Ueda trailed off, all of a sudden realizing that despite the Ishkabibble’s winning smile, he was insulting him. The former good mood he had developed on the onset of their journey suddenly soured. “I think you’re underestimating me, you don’t know what I have up my sleeve.”
The grand Ishkabibble made a sniggering sound. He then turned around and made a signal for the rest of his adherents to follow suit in their laughter.
Ueda felt a distinct unease at their response. He was used to Yamada laughing at him, she did it all the time, but that was Yamada. He didn’t need her respect or acceptance, he could just easily...
“I bet he could,” Yamada declared. She had stepped in front of him in his preoccupied state, armed with nothing else but a deck of cards.
Ueda’s master analytical skills knew that meant trouble. Yamada already had taken the Ishkabibble to the side and started to explain whatever process of new card trick she had thought up. Ueda tried to lean over and listen in but Yamada shuffled away, with a self-satisfied smirk as the cult leader nodded and showed a specific card to his fawning masses. Then, after everything was finished, he slipped it in her deck of cards.
Ueda was completely bewildered.
“Ueda-san,” Yamada said, that rare voice of authority leaking into her when she knew exactly what was going on. Not that it never backfired on her... “please reach into your right sleeve and pull out a card.”
“Don’t be silly,” Ueda started to say, even as his hand-of no conscious thought of his own-decided to reach up and scratch at his wrist, removing from it a Queen of Hearts.
The pride was evident on Yamada’s face as the crowd gasped in shock. “See, what did I tell you, Ueda-san is more than a match for you Ishibaba.”
“This...this isn’t over!” said the grand Ishkabibble, who made motion for the rest of the group to storm off in a huff. “You’ll see the might of true spiritual power soon!”
Ueda knew that was a lie, he was happy to amend the mental narration of his new book that the cult had fallen to his superior powers. It was all because of human reasoning. Even now, he was posing and reciting the events in his own ‘interpretation’ while staring off at the horizon.
Yamada looked expectant for a minute, shifting from foot to foot as if he would speak to her. She then muttered, “You’re such an idiot Ueda-san. I can’t stand you.”
That snapped Ueda out of it, and he gave her a puzzled stare. “You, what’s wrong with you. I gave you this chance and you decide to make a fool of yourself.”
“Idiot Ueda!”
The physics professor could not understand her at all. She was so annoying, so aggravating, and such a horrible liar. He was confident that the main reason he kept such a crass and marginally attractive woman around was that she could easily reveal herself to him.
But one thing was left unexplained. “So, why did you bother with that card trick?”
“I...” Yamada stammered, before turning off in a huff she declared. “I’m not talking to you!”
“Really now?”
“Shut up, Ueda-san.”
“That’s talking to me.”
“Shut up!”
She really was a horrible liar, it was almost like telling the truth.
Fandom: Gokusen
Pairing: Shin/Yankumi
Word count: 1,200 (okay, so I lied on this one...)
Summary: Humans are flawed creatures and they make flawed promises.
Despite terminology, mistrustful natures rarely came out of natural inclination. For Sawada Shin, it was not something cultivated from discernment and logical processes, although he had both of those in abundance. Instead it grew like a weed in his mind, like ivy seeping into the stonework of a wall. If given the chance, he would have preferred to trust people and believe they could be genuinely good, but that would only make him a fool.
Shin devoted himself to a harsh contract that for as long as he was self-reliant he would not be deceived by the hollow offers others gave him, no matter how tempting it sounded. The sweeter the proposal, the more likely it was to be left unfulfilled and discarded. It could be a sign of weakness, which is why even though he would do anything for his friends, he did not depend on them.
They never saw the apartment he lived in all by himself. Spartan accommodations, with narrow windows that could only show the night sky and the neon lights of a local bar. He didn’t mind those at all, preferring to stare up at either at the starless sky or blank walls. They held nothing for him, no potential, no differences. It was a perfect barrier from the rest of the world.
When his father, Sawada Shotaro, first won a seat as a senator, he had spun young Shin around in his arms to celebrate. He had never done it before, but the joy over his accomplishment was so great that the formal man did his best with stiff arms and a gangly boy already too old for it. “This job means that doors will open for you, Shin,” he had said. “I promise you this, your father will ensure you a path to a bright success. Then we can match in accomplishments.”
It meant nothing of course. All his father’s power was good for was used at the whims of a man who never believed in his own child, so all that instead of fighting the accusation he simply found the least problematic way of shoving Shin out of his responsibility. Because power was only useful for the ones wielding it, not their allies, not their sons, not anyone who was held in their whims through proffered rewards.
That was why Sawada Shin hated promises.
Natsumi’s pledges were those of a child, where even at the age of sixteen she would offer her pinkie finger as if it would lend weight to her promise. Her offenses were forgivable because they were broken out of her inability rather than her inclination. She never meant to fail him, and he could remember how her young face looked on expectantly when he walked away from their home. She had promised him she wouldn’t cry when he left, even though he knew tears were streaming down her face.
He didn’t expect her to be strong enough and not cry. It was okay, because at least she didn’t cry out even with the weight of both expectant parents on her now, and she didn’t run out to cling to him, which would have been the only thing that might have had enough power to stop him. He loved her too much to leave if she followed him. He loved her dearly as any true big brother would, wishing somehow that he had enough power to ensure she never had to break a promise she wanted to keep.
His mother never promised him anything, and that was how he could stop himself from hating her when she sat silently by and poured tea as his father demeaned them all. Sawada Kyoko offered him nothing to feel disappointed in, and for that he could offer the same kindness of being silent for or against her.
He was okay with being alone. He didn’t mind so much that he could never really trust anyone, not even his closest friends, most certainly not any adult. The solitude may have produced a dull ache over time, but it was something he could rely on without fail.
Then a knock came at the door, and without even realizing it Shin suppressed a smirk as if he could have predicted the arrival. He rolled up from his position on the floor and went to answer it, schooling his features to be as bland and unamused as possible.
“Oh, Yankumi, why are you here with food again?”
The spry math teacher had a triumphant grin on her features as she hefted up a large sack of the kyuudon she must have picked up from Midorikawa’s famous diner. Shin had to stop from snorting in laughter, remembering the last incident of food and how badly she tried to cover up her mistakes.
“Hey Sawada, don’t think I didn’t notice how you gave your lunch away to Kuma this afternoon,” Yankumi said in sing-song, obviously pleased with her detective skills. She managed to shift the large amounts of food into one arm and reached up and ruffled his hair. It was quite a feat she didn’t tumble over from the imbalance, but Shin had to remind himself sometimes that no matter how much of a ditz she appeared to be, Yamaguchi Kumiko was also a formidable fighter.
“Ah, so what if I did? It’s not like I’m going to starve.”
Yankumi’s previous aura of command vanished as soon as that goofy smile came back again. “You’re damn right you’re not going to starve. I made a promise I’d take care of all of you, because you’re my students!” The kyuudon bowls appeared to be a little squished and lukewarm from the journey. “I’m going to make sure you all make it to graduation, even if it means I have to shove food in your mouths!”
Shin rolled his eyes and took the bowl without protest. He figured it would just be easier to play along than contradict her now. Not because he was scared of her, even when she was completely submerged in her Ooeda personality, she was still dorky Yankumi. Just because she could kick his ass didn’t mean she would be able to, and that was a large difference in his mind.
“Yay, ittadakimasu!” Yankumi declared and gorged in, noodles and beef flying just as much back in the bowl as in her mouth.
No, Shin thought, the fact that she was a yakuza heir was not why he respected her. It was not her power that made him feel like smiling, but that she "wasted" it on stupid little efforts like bringing food down to him because he felt lonely, laughing with the students as companions instead of her subordinates. It might be very easy for the fourth-generation “Ojou” of the Ooeda group to coerce people into doing what she wanted, but she promised them she would help them graduate as their teacher, not as a yakuza heir.
And for some reason, seeing Yankumi with her hair out of pigtails and a satisfied smile in her place as she ate in his apartment, Shin wanted to believe that she could do it. Even if she wasn’t as reliable as these walls, he more than wanted to believe her.