[Pippa] 10-minute ficbits v.2
As before, more or less.
prompt: this picture
G, AU, Yara(/Yamaryo?)
The air was choking, thick and heavy with the scent of hundreds of plants and the constant screeching buzz of the insects and birds in the forest around him. Sweat rolled down his tanned skin, soaking into a shirt already drenched from the intense humidity. Yara was moving on autopilot now, feet tramping through the leaves on the forest floor with a rustling crush that was almost lost beneath the caw and shriek of birds fluttering high up in the canopy.
He had set out early that morning before the sky was truly light, although as always the heat had not faded overnight and he had felt stifled almost as soon as he had stepped outside. It felt as though it was mid-afternoon by now, although Yara had checked the bulky watch on his right wrist not half an hour ago and knew it was still only around midday. Not long to go now, surely. He had to be reaching his destination soon.
Sure enough, just ahead, the trees and tangles of undergrowth began to thin out, and before long Yara could make out patches of blue sky instead of the greenish glow that filtered down through the leaves. Although there was scarcely any breeze, even the thought of reaching the clearing and escaping the choking hold of the forest made Yara's breathing ease, made his footsteps fall more quickly. He shoved aside the thick plant tendrils and large, waxy leaves, almost stumbling in his haste to reach the clearing.
And there it was. Just as they had told him. The outer buildings had long since fallen into disrepair, but atop the flight of stone steps the temple still stood, red and gold and shining just like the day it had been built. For a moment, Yara found himself frozen in place, chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath, sweat dripping into his eyes and making them sting.
"Greetings," came a voice, and Yara's gaze snapped down with a frown as he searched for its origin. From behind one of the derelict buildings came a young man, dressed simply in cream and brown, carrying a wooden-handled broom. "I heard you coming," he explained with a shy smile that somehow managed to light up his whole face. "You must be tired. Come up to the temple and have some refreshment?"
"…Is that okay?" Yara asked, reaching for his flask of water. "You don't have to-"
"Of course, it's fine!" the young man said, grinning wider and nodding toward the stone steps. "You're more than welcome here."
~
prompt: silver
G, AU, Hayashi (plus YaraThey)
Hayashi shivered, rubbing his bare hands together in a pitiful attempt to bring more warmth into his system. His breath puffed from his lips in clouds of white that drifted slowly across the courtyard, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he stood watch, waiting, endlessly waiting.
They had been gone for a week now, the two of them. He had protested against being left behind to begin with, feeling excluded, feeling pushed aside until Yara had fixed him with a gaze as strong as steel and reminded him of the importance of keeping the home safe while they were further afield. Hayashi hadn't minded after that, warmed with a touch of pride, even, at being trusted with the task of running the house while Yara and the other two were gone. The days had gone by quickly at first, but now, halfway into the second week, Hayashi couldn't help but feel a little twinge of anxiety tugging at his ribcage. They should have been back by now, surely.
Hayashi looked up, squinting against the brightness of the white sky, sun shining brightly behind the thick clouds that covered the city. The weather was rapidly turning cooler, Hayashi realised with a frown as he looked down: the ground in the shadow of the gate was still silvered with the dusting of frost that had yet to disappear. He hoped they would return soon.
The harsh sound of hooves against cobbles cracked through the air and ricocheted off the walls as Yara and Eda both clattered onto the street and up to the gate, and Hayashi startled into action, rushing forward to wrench the large wooden doors open.
"Get the medical kit," Yara snapped as he rode in, an unconscious form lolling in front of him. "He's injured."
Eda dismounted in an instant and ran into the house, while Hayashi hurried to help Yara off the horse with the unconscious boy. "Who is he?" Hayashi asked.
Yara grunted as he hauled the boy's dead weight off the black mare. "He's a Yamamoto."
~
prompt: sky
G, AU, Yara + Eda
He was lucky to catch sight of movement in the air before they were caught. "Get down," Yara said, dropping immediately as the long tendrils drifted slowly through the air toward them, almost invisible in the dry, rippling waves of desert heat. They were fine, soft, like crinkled strands of lace or threads of silk and soft wool… and Yara knew that to be touched by one even for an instant meant death. He heard a grunt as, behind him, Eda hit the ground and froze, making use of the twelve-inch safe space between the sand and the drifting tentacles of the jellyfish that drifted lazily through the sky above them. It was always a dangerous time of day to be outside, and they'd known the risks long before setting out. There was nothing for it, though: between the confines of their safe house and the weapons store at the edge of the desert was a five-mile stretch of open ground, and the skies were never clear of danger. Better to travel during daylight and risk the jellies than chance the unspeakable horrors of the night. Yara glanced up, raising his head just enough to see the way ahead. Sand stuck to the sweat on his cheek and prickled against his skin but he didn't dare move further, body tense as the bloom slowly moved its way over their prostrate bodies.
"Is it clear yet?" Eda's voice came from somewhere near Yara's knee, muffled as Eda spoke into the bandana covering the lower half of his face. Yara nudged at Eda's ribcage with his foot, working out exactly where the other man lay before wriggling against the ground, trying to create enough of an indentation in the sand for him to…
With a grunt, Yara rolled over onto his back, pulling his shoulders in and shoving his hips down to keep his body as small as possible, within the twelve-inch gap. He looked up, and froze.
"…Not yet," he managed to croak, voice tight as the jellyfish hovered overhead, undulating and drifting slowly, excruciatingly slowly. He could see right up into its core, Yara realised, and felt his mouth become even more dry. Despite the heat of the day Yara felt his blood run cold, and he willed himself to keep calm as the lacy tendrils floated only inches above his face. The safe space at ground level was an estimate only; there was no guarantee-- and Yara willed his mind to shut up, shut up shut up because thoughts like that were of no use to anybody and they still had to get to the arsenal and back before sunset. A tiny scorpion skittered across the sand a short way from Yara's head and he resisted the urge to flinch.
~
prompt: games
PG, AU, Yara + Takahashi
It was a deep and steady rumble, a growl not quite like thunder but more like… Takahashi mentally paused to find the right word. More like the sound of a giant wave crashing against rocks, like a wave made of lions' roars and hissing steam. He blanched. "Will we be up against lions?" he asked, looking across the narrow cell to where Yara sat on the opposite bench, feet firmly planted on the dusty ground before him.
"Possibly," Yara acknowledged, his own catlike eyes sharp and alert. "But it's impossible to be certain until the gates are open, you know that. You remember what I told you, though?"
"Neck and belly," Takahashi quoted, with a nod. He paused. "Or… it's not warships, is it? We would have heard if they'd been filling the place with water, wouldn't we?"
"Ryu," Yara said, fixing the young man with a steely glare. "You're losing your focus again. Control yourself. We'll make it out alive."
And Takahashi believed him. He didn't know why but he did, and little by little the ripples of panic subsided and the hissing roar of the crowd faded into a buzz at the back of his mind.
With a screech of rusting metal, their cell door opened.
~
prompt: disguise
G, Yokoo + Nikaido (implied one-sided Yokoo/Senga etc?)
Yokoo turns away, willing himself not to snap, not to retort with the rapid crackle of words that fizzle on the tip of his tongue. He steps back, physically distancing himself, and the words go unsaid. It's not enough: Nikaido is still there, cheeks blazing and eyes fierce, waiting for Yokoo to respond, to say anything. He can't do this. Yokoo makes to grab for his bag, fingers catching on the material and nearly dropping it as he heads for the door, and Nikaido calls out, Hey! I'm still talking to you! but Yokoo has already gone.
Not far enough, it seems. Just a short distance down the corridor Nikaido catches him again, grabs at his arm and Yokoo shoves him off, twisting in the younger man's grasp and wrenching away. "Let go, Nika!" he snaps, but he can't do it, can't stay shut off like this. Nikaido doesn't deserve to be shut out like this. He turns back with a grimace, and it's a wonder Nikaido doesn't punch him, given how his face clouds with mutinous discontentment.
"I'm not going to say anything to him," Yokoo says, finally speaking in the even tone that has eluded him until now. "He only has eyes for you anyway. You don't have anything to worry about. Besides, it's not what's good for the group." He blinks at Nikaido's impatient scoff, frowns, and continues. "He's already got you, and Tama-chan has Miyacchi, Taisuke has… and, well, that's just how it goes." He meets Nikaido's gaze then, refusing to back down.
"So, what, you're just going to do nothing? Just… keep quiet and never speak a word about how you feel, ever?" Nikaido's embarrassed anger from earlier has faded. Yokoo doesn't like how his words sound now: uncomfortably close to disappointment. Nikaido continues, regardless. "If that's true, then it's pitiful. You're pitiful."
"Well, I didn't ask for your opinion, did I!" Yokoo finally snaps, turning on his heel and walking toward the exit. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, a thudding anger that sends embarrassed heat flooding to his face. He knows exactly why Nikaido's words sting so much, and it makes him all the more irritable. "Damn it, Nika," Yokoo growls to himself as he shoves at the door at the end of the corridor. If only what Nika had said wasn't so damn true.
~
prompt: this picture
G, AU, Yara(/Yamaryo?)
The air was choking, thick and heavy with the scent of hundreds of plants and the constant screeching buzz of the insects and birds in the forest around him. Sweat rolled down his tanned skin, soaking into a shirt already drenched from the intense humidity. Yara was moving on autopilot now, feet tramping through the leaves on the forest floor with a rustling crush that was almost lost beneath the caw and shriek of birds fluttering high up in the canopy.
He had set out early that morning before the sky was truly light, although as always the heat had not faded overnight and he had felt stifled almost as soon as he had stepped outside. It felt as though it was mid-afternoon by now, although Yara had checked the bulky watch on his right wrist not half an hour ago and knew it was still only around midday. Not long to go now, surely. He had to be reaching his destination soon.
Sure enough, just ahead, the trees and tangles of undergrowth began to thin out, and before long Yara could make out patches of blue sky instead of the greenish glow that filtered down through the leaves. Although there was scarcely any breeze, even the thought of reaching the clearing and escaping the choking hold of the forest made Yara's breathing ease, made his footsteps fall more quickly. He shoved aside the thick plant tendrils and large, waxy leaves, almost stumbling in his haste to reach the clearing.
And there it was. Just as they had told him. The outer buildings had long since fallen into disrepair, but atop the flight of stone steps the temple still stood, red and gold and shining just like the day it had been built. For a moment, Yara found himself frozen in place, chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath, sweat dripping into his eyes and making them sting.
"Greetings," came a voice, and Yara's gaze snapped down with a frown as he searched for its origin. From behind one of the derelict buildings came a young man, dressed simply in cream and brown, carrying a wooden-handled broom. "I heard you coming," he explained with a shy smile that somehow managed to light up his whole face. "You must be tired. Come up to the temple and have some refreshment?"
"…Is that okay?" Yara asked, reaching for his flask of water. "You don't have to-"
"Of course, it's fine!" the young man said, grinning wider and nodding toward the stone steps. "You're more than welcome here."
~
prompt: silver
G, AU, Hayashi (plus YaraThey)
Hayashi shivered, rubbing his bare hands together in a pitiful attempt to bring more warmth into his system. His breath puffed from his lips in clouds of white that drifted slowly across the courtyard, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he stood watch, waiting, endlessly waiting.
They had been gone for a week now, the two of them. He had protested against being left behind to begin with, feeling excluded, feeling pushed aside until Yara had fixed him with a gaze as strong as steel and reminded him of the importance of keeping the home safe while they were further afield. Hayashi hadn't minded after that, warmed with a touch of pride, even, at being trusted with the task of running the house while Yara and the other two were gone. The days had gone by quickly at first, but now, halfway into the second week, Hayashi couldn't help but feel a little twinge of anxiety tugging at his ribcage. They should have been back by now, surely.
Hayashi looked up, squinting against the brightness of the white sky, sun shining brightly behind the thick clouds that covered the city. The weather was rapidly turning cooler, Hayashi realised with a frown as he looked down: the ground in the shadow of the gate was still silvered with the dusting of frost that had yet to disappear. He hoped they would return soon.
The harsh sound of hooves against cobbles cracked through the air and ricocheted off the walls as Yara and Eda both clattered onto the street and up to the gate, and Hayashi startled into action, rushing forward to wrench the large wooden doors open.
"Get the medical kit," Yara snapped as he rode in, an unconscious form lolling in front of him. "He's injured."
Eda dismounted in an instant and ran into the house, while Hayashi hurried to help Yara off the horse with the unconscious boy. "Who is he?" Hayashi asked.
Yara grunted as he hauled the boy's dead weight off the black mare. "He's a Yamamoto."
~
prompt: sky
G, AU, Yara + Eda
He was lucky to catch sight of movement in the air before they were caught. "Get down," Yara said, dropping immediately as the long tendrils drifted slowly through the air toward them, almost invisible in the dry, rippling waves of desert heat. They were fine, soft, like crinkled strands of lace or threads of silk and soft wool… and Yara knew that to be touched by one even for an instant meant death. He heard a grunt as, behind him, Eda hit the ground and froze, making use of the twelve-inch safe space between the sand and the drifting tentacles of the jellyfish that drifted lazily through the sky above them. It was always a dangerous time of day to be outside, and they'd known the risks long before setting out. There was nothing for it, though: between the confines of their safe house and the weapons store at the edge of the desert was a five-mile stretch of open ground, and the skies were never clear of danger. Better to travel during daylight and risk the jellies than chance the unspeakable horrors of the night. Yara glanced up, raising his head just enough to see the way ahead. Sand stuck to the sweat on his cheek and prickled against his skin but he didn't dare move further, body tense as the bloom slowly moved its way over their prostrate bodies.
"Is it clear yet?" Eda's voice came from somewhere near Yara's knee, muffled as Eda spoke into the bandana covering the lower half of his face. Yara nudged at Eda's ribcage with his foot, working out exactly where the other man lay before wriggling against the ground, trying to create enough of an indentation in the sand for him to…
With a grunt, Yara rolled over onto his back, pulling his shoulders in and shoving his hips down to keep his body as small as possible, within the twelve-inch gap. He looked up, and froze.
"…Not yet," he managed to croak, voice tight as the jellyfish hovered overhead, undulating and drifting slowly, excruciatingly slowly. He could see right up into its core, Yara realised, and felt his mouth become even more dry. Despite the heat of the day Yara felt his blood run cold, and he willed himself to keep calm as the lacy tendrils floated only inches above his face. The safe space at ground level was an estimate only; there was no guarantee-- and Yara willed his mind to shut up, shut up shut up because thoughts like that were of no use to anybody and they still had to get to the arsenal and back before sunset. A tiny scorpion skittered across the sand a short way from Yara's head and he resisted the urge to flinch.
~
prompt: games
PG, AU, Yara + Takahashi
It was a deep and steady rumble, a growl not quite like thunder but more like… Takahashi mentally paused to find the right word. More like the sound of a giant wave crashing against rocks, like a wave made of lions' roars and hissing steam. He blanched. "Will we be up against lions?" he asked, looking across the narrow cell to where Yara sat on the opposite bench, feet firmly planted on the dusty ground before him.
"Possibly," Yara acknowledged, his own catlike eyes sharp and alert. "But it's impossible to be certain until the gates are open, you know that. You remember what I told you, though?"
"Neck and belly," Takahashi quoted, with a nod. He paused. "Or… it's not warships, is it? We would have heard if they'd been filling the place with water, wouldn't we?"
"Ryu," Yara said, fixing the young man with a steely glare. "You're losing your focus again. Control yourself. We'll make it out alive."
And Takahashi believed him. He didn't know why but he did, and little by little the ripples of panic subsided and the hissing roar of the crowd faded into a buzz at the back of his mind.
With a screech of rusting metal, their cell door opened.
~
prompt: disguise
G, Yokoo + Nikaido (implied one-sided Yokoo/Senga etc?)
Yokoo turns away, willing himself not to snap, not to retort with the rapid crackle of words that fizzle on the tip of his tongue. He steps back, physically distancing himself, and the words go unsaid. It's not enough: Nikaido is still there, cheeks blazing and eyes fierce, waiting for Yokoo to respond, to say anything. He can't do this. Yokoo makes to grab for his bag, fingers catching on the material and nearly dropping it as he heads for the door, and Nikaido calls out, Hey! I'm still talking to you! but Yokoo has already gone.
Not far enough, it seems. Just a short distance down the corridor Nikaido catches him again, grabs at his arm and Yokoo shoves him off, twisting in the younger man's grasp and wrenching away. "Let go, Nika!" he snaps, but he can't do it, can't stay shut off like this. Nikaido doesn't deserve to be shut out like this. He turns back with a grimace, and it's a wonder Nikaido doesn't punch him, given how his face clouds with mutinous discontentment.
"I'm not going to say anything to him," Yokoo says, finally speaking in the even tone that has eluded him until now. "He only has eyes for you anyway. You don't have anything to worry about. Besides, it's not what's good for the group." He blinks at Nikaido's impatient scoff, frowns, and continues. "He's already got you, and Tama-chan has Miyacchi, Taisuke has… and, well, that's just how it goes." He meets Nikaido's gaze then, refusing to back down.
"So, what, you're just going to do nothing? Just… keep quiet and never speak a word about how you feel, ever?" Nikaido's embarrassed anger from earlier has faded. Yokoo doesn't like how his words sound now: uncomfortably close to disappointment. Nikaido continues, regardless. "If that's true, then it's pitiful. You're pitiful."
"Well, I didn't ask for your opinion, did I!" Yokoo finally snaps, turning on his heel and walking toward the exit. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, a thudding anger that sends embarrassed heat flooding to his face. He knows exactly why Nikaido's words sting so much, and it makes him all the more irritable. "Damn it, Nika," Yokoo growls to himself as he shoves at the door at the end of the corridor. If only what Nika had said wasn't so damn true.
~