Arashi (ninoexchange fic): Proper Etiquette (2/3)
Title: Proper Etiquette for Nurturing Team Cohesion
6. SHO
Sho ached. Every part of his body ached. In the three days since Nino and Aiba had forced them to start their bitter schedule of, in Aiba's words, "night training, just like superheroes," Sho had accumulated more blisters and bruises than he had places to put them all. When he moved, he made the sounds of a broken Jack-in-the-Box: half-hearted pops and cracks of broken internal machinery that led, after much furious lever cranking, to a depressed and over-tired Jack at the end of his wilted spring. Sho wasn't quite at the depressed stage yet, but certainly his bones and muscles were giving him some kind of premonition for the future.
At the same time though, fatigue, lack of sleep, and overcaffination aside, Sho was feeling pretty good (emotionally, not physically) about the state of their haphazard pro-bending team. For a group that Nino basically pulled together based two parts on luck, one part on the support afforded by long-term friendships, and one part on who knows what, the three of them (five, including Aiba and Nino) were getting along quite well together. Ohno was clearly the brunt of the talent of the group, but Jun was surprisingly good at assessing their abilities and knowing when and where his own attacks would be most effective, and Sho, the most lacking player in the trio, could take some measure of pride in his powerful attacks, even if his aim needed some improvement. It was reassuring that they were anywhere close to decent at all though, considering how little time they had to prepare and their original mishmash of fighting styles. Although, maybe there'd been nowhere to go but up: Sho had to admit that he wasn't too optimistic about the state of affairs after that first ridiculous meeting in Nino's apartment, in which the entire set-up felt like some over-the-top joke. A mediocre earthbender, duplicitous firebender, and foreign waterbender walked into a bar. The earthbender ordered a scotch on the rocks; the bartender asked, "Strong?" and the earthbender said, "Not really." The firebender ordered a Flaming Hotman; the bartender asked, "You want that fired up?" and the firebender said, "No, because it'd get me fired too." The waterbender ordered a glass of ice; the bartender asked, "People don't drink down in the South?" and the waterbender said, "No, it was outlawed because it apparently caused symptoms of Midnight Sun Madness."
"I don't get it," said Aiba, after Sho recited his joke.
"Your jokes suck. You're missing a coherent punchline," Nino said, eyes caught on Jun and Ohno tossing strands of fire and water at each other in the middle of the arena ring. They were moving like dancers, their elements as their ribbons. Sho was on break with the administrative non-benders of the group after Ohno had tossed water at him one too many times and he ended up with clogged ears and faulty balance; now he was sitting beside Aiba, head cocked at a ninety degree angle to the left, waiting for his half of his hearing to return.
"It's a play on words," explained Sho, affronted. "Down in the South, as the name of a drink that Southerners created. Do you get it?"
"Oohhh," said Aiba. "Well. Good try, Sho-chan."
"Sucks," said Nino, before calling out, "Oh-chan! To your left! Good form!"
"Nino, you don't know anything about waterbending form. Stop drooling over Oh-chan," said Aiba, scruffing a hand through Nino's hair.
"I'm not!" said Nino, who continued to stare unabashedly at Ohno.
"We should stick you in the pool," continued Aiba. "You can refill the whole thing with your spit."
Sho laughed. "That's disgusting!"
"Hey, do you think Oh-chan's really good at spitballs?" Aiba said.
"We," said Nino firmly, "are a highly professional and mature pro-bending team, Aiba-san." He cupped hands around his mouth and bellowed, "JUN! YOUR FACE LOOKS LIKE A BUTT!" then ducked when a dart of fire came flying at him.
"We should talk about the competition," said Aiba, absently batting at Nino's head again, where a few strands of hair had singed. "Practise is great and all, but if we get a feel for the other teams' weaknesses, we'll know where to hit them for the knockout."
"I think we should take advantage of our underdog quality," suggested Nino. "Act it up a little, even. We should all get mismatched uniforms with holes in the knees or something. Thrift shop fashion. And put bandages all over Sho-chan's face."
"What?" Sho squawked. "Why me?"
"Because you're the underdog of the underdogs," said Nino with too much cheer. "You're the under-underdog. You're the weakest link. You're the runt of the litter. People will judge our ability on you; the worse they think you are, the less chance they'll bet on our team to win."
"That's your strategy?" Aiba shouts, nearly tripping over himself as he shot to his feet. "You want to make us look bad and screw the odds on us winning?"
"Yeah," Nino grinned. "The longer we can make it look like every win we have is a fluke, the better it'll be."
"That is literally the worst gaming strategy I've ever heard."
"That's because you think of it in terms of being a champion. I'm thinking of it in terms of profit margins. What's wrong with Sho?"
Sho was lying down, curled onto his side on the narrow beam of the bench. There was literally no other reaction he could muster in lieu of Nino's explanation. This was apparently the sad truth of Sho's lot in life now: to be negative publicity. What White Lotus Society master would ever accept Sho now? He'd be given nicknames he'd never live down, like, Sucky Sho or Clumsy Sakurai or something; hell, Nino probably would perpetuate some of them himself.
"I think you broke him," said Aiba.
"Sho-chan, don't be like that," said Nino. "You're actually our ace in the hole! You've got a mean swing and it's like, impossible to knock you down! You're great! I only want you to act worthless during our matches, okay?"
"Not okay," said Sho.
"Let's put it up for discussion later," Nino said, reaching over to pat Sho on the butt, a well-intentioned there, there that Sho couldn't help but interpret as ha ha, your life.
The talk didn't come, though. As soon as Jun had had enough of practise, he packed up his training gear (custom fit, of course, whereas the rest of them were stuck borrowing the general-use sets provided by the gym, which had probably hugged over a hundred bodies each, and were covered more by irregular patches than their original material), had a quick sniping session with Nino, and left.
"Drown in your coffee!" Nino shouted after Jun's retreating form. "Choke on your coffee grinds!"
"Get a haircut!" Jun shouted back.
"Can you guys leave off the insults for at least one day?" Sho implored. "It's seriously like you're out to make each other miserable."
"That's his life goal, though!" Nino said, frowning severely. "I keep on telling him to tell his parents that he's participating in the stupid tournament and he always makes up some excuse not to. Like, how is he planning to explain him showing up at the tournament, which is being broadcast on radio? Fake names aren't going to work if people fucking recognize you by sight."
"It's not your business, Nino," Aiba scolded. "Although yeah, Jun-kun's kind of screwed. Should we stage an intervention?"
"No," Sho said immediately. Aiba's interventions never accomplished what they were supposed to, despite plenty of psychological scarring.
"Let's just let him suffer," said Nino, flicking his hair back, his default apathetic expression back on his face like a mask. "As long as he doesn't mess up the team, then he can do whatever he wants."
"Are you guys even friends?" Ohno blurted, looking strangely at Nino. Nino blanched. "Because I thought you were friends. And friends should help each other out."
"You don't get it, Oh-chan!" Nino said. "I've tried with Jun-kun, really, I have. But he's not like the rest of us, I think he got his mind warped by all the money he grew up with. I want him to be happy with himself, but things are never that simple with him."
And, despite whatever anyone might think of the nobility of Ninomiya Kazunari's intentions, Sho knew that Nino was telling the truth here.
The story was (and who knew how much of this was fact, since the source was Nino's own mouth, which was connected to Nino's baffling specimen of a brain) that one sunny day Nino had been strolling through town, minding his own business (Sho sincerely doubted that), and had overheard an argument at one of the stalls in the Long Dragon Alley, which were notoriously avoided by anyone who knew of its shady reputation - which, apparently, Matsumoto Jun didn't. Nino didn't hear the subject under debate but it apparently had something to do with knock-off tea leaves, and a large quantity of money. Naturally, Nino gravitated over to the commotion, and in a complicated series of verbal spars, charged himself in a bet with the owner of the stall over a game of cards, and won back the money that had been ripped off from Jun. The owner, of course a gang member, was far from a happy loser, and raised his fist as soon as Nino turned his back. His arm, however, was stopped mid-trajectory by a burst of fire lighting up the man's shirt. This Nino immediately pinpointed as Jun's doing, impossible as it may have seemed at the time, given Jun's family history. He'd tailed Jun ("It's not stalking if you actually have something to talk to him about!") after the crowd around the alley had dispersed, and struck up a conversation. One week later, Sho dropped by Nino's place to hang out and found Nino half-naked on the floor with the heir of Matsumoto textiles straddling him, shirt open, hickeys all the way down his pale neck. Sho's introduction to those two's relationship had been Nino's disclaimer: "I swear this isn't a con."
Despite their acerbic attitude towards each other, no one could deny that those two cared for each other too. Because Nino didn't waste time hanging around people he disliked, and Jun had spent a large number of hours visiting Nino in the early weeks of their so-called affair (Nino didn't like to call it a relationship, and Jun hated any synonym of "partner"), so much so that Sho had gotten used to seeing him sprawled like a suffering model across Nino's ratty furniture, and inescapably got to know Jun -- if not as a friend, then at least as a respected acquaintance. So Sho also knew about Jun's difficulties with his family, had heard the sputtering end of a few intense conversations in which Nino blatantly told Jun to stop hiding his abilities and Jun politely told Nino to go fuck himself. It was because Nino, raised by a mother who believed in a self-discovery method of child-rearing, had never bothered to be someone that he wasn't, and couldn't understand why anyone would bother to put up a facade like that. Jun loved bending, and it was the biggest secret of his life. It was frustrating for Nino to see Jun repeatedly deny his enjoyment of a skill he clearly possessed; though Nino envied Jun's wealthy lifestyle, he couldn't empathize with the social pressures that came with such a high net worth. It was one of a few sore spots that continued to crop up, like a stubborn weed, during their time together, and as far as Sho knew, when they'd broken up, Nino had given up trying to change Jun's mind about anything more.
This was another reason why Sho had been hesitant about Jun being on the team: he and Nino had loose ends, and that kind of drama had no place in a professional sport competition. He had been optimistic, since they surprisingly all got along so well, but Sho, just like Aiba and Nino, had assumed that Jun had worked things out with his parents before joining the team. But he hadn't, and the longer he put it off, the more likely it would get to be a problem for them.
"I just," Ohno said, jutting out his lower jaw in a pout, "I want Jun-kun to stay on the team. That's all."
"What," Nino blinked. "You think he'll ditch?" He scoffed. "We'll be getting our competition schedule tomorrow. There's no way he'd quit so close to the tournament."
---
Except he did. The next day, Jun was a no-show, leaving Ohno and Sho to practise alone, Aiba drilling them half-heartedly, as Nino sat nearby and watched them, eyebrows drawn and pensive. The day after, too, there was no Jun, but Aiba came to practise brandishing a note that had been delivered to his office, written on an official Matsumoto Textiles letterhead.
I deeply apologize for my lack of attendance. I'm afraid I will have to withdraw from the team due to familial obligation. Please send my regards to the others, and I wish you the best of luck during the tournament. Enclosed, as a token of my regret, you'll find a cheque that should cover some new uniforms for the team. -- J.
Nino spent a long time considering the letter, turning over the envelope in his hands like it held some kind of puzzle to solve.
"The thing that annoys me most is how politely and formally he wrote it," he said at last.
"What are we going to do?" Aiba asked anxiously. "Our first match is in three days. Is that enough time to find a new firebender and train him?"
"That's going to be tough," said Sho.
"Too tough," agreed Nino. "It'd be easier to just keep our old one."
"Nino, don't be ridiculous," said Aiba. "Jun-kun quit! He got caught and his family won't let him play. We should have planned for this, really. Why didn't we plan for this?"
"Because I thought he would grow a pair, that's why. It's a fucking sport, why is his family making such a big deal out of it? Why is it so bad to bend?"
"Not this again," groaned Sho. "Didn't you bother reading any of the anti-bending flyers last year? Some people dislike bending because for a long time, the criminal gangs of the city used bending to unfairly take advantage of non-benders, as well as perpetuating the stigma that people who can't bend are somehow inferior to those who can. Jun's family got their start providing clothes to the Fire Nation immigrants who'd first established roots in the Earth Kingdom colonies, but because there was little governing structure before Fire Lord Zuko took over the rule, it deferred to bending officials to dictate the laws of the colonies. And they were biased towards other firebenders, because everything in those days was all about military strength. I suppose that resentment about how non-benders were treated back then has lasted through the family. I doubt they're super extremists or anything, but just because Amon's out of the picture now doesn't mean people still won't sympathize with his beliefs."
"That is the lamest shit I've ever heard," said Nino.
"You asked!"
"Just because their grandparents got the short end of the stick, their son can't realize his full potential?"
"I'm not happy about it either," Sho said, "but I'm just saying that Jun's parents have their reasons."
Nino scoffed. "Okay, fine, his family seriously needs to revaluate their priorities. If Jun can't get through to them, then maybe we'll just have to give them an extra little push."
Sho felt a chill run down his spine.
"What," he said, "what are you planning?"
Nino smirked.
---
7. AIBA
Although he'd officially graduated from his humble beginnings in the sauce-splattered kitchens of The Giant Koi Grillhouse, Aiba had retained his appreciation for restaurants and their cuisine, regardless of the degree of healthy, cleanliness, and strange ingredients used. His interest in food had stemmed from a young age, in his grandmother's tiny apartment, him sitting on the counter, legs swinging, as she narrated a cooking process that eventually led to an Aiba-sized plate full of delicious dinner. While he'd still lived in his old apartment complex, he frequently created new dishes, as far away as conventional recipes as he could get away with, and bring them up three floors for Nino to try. Since he'd gotten his new job at Future Industries, though, he'd found himself with enough disposable income to comfortably go out to eat twice a week, and this was a task Aiba took on with the same enthusiasm he devoted to flying contraptions and finding new uses for dry ice - which was a lot. He had probably visited at least half the restaurants in Republic City by now. Sometimes Sho joined him, if he wasn't mired in studying, since Sho shared Aiba's joy for eating, and the two of them would pass a fun dinner with a few drinks, then head over to Nino's place afterwards to offer him any leftovers they might have. Often though, it was easier to drop by a place himself on the way home from work, too tired to cook for himself; it was during one of these solo ventures into one of Republic City's more classier establishments that Aiba accidentally bumped into Jun, having dinner with his family.
Aiba had been invited to the Matsumoto table, had a good, if slightly awkward time eating with them, and had gone home with the knowledge that, because the restaurant owner was a relative, the whole family dined at The Soaring Boar every second Saturday of the month, and Aiba was welcome back anytime.
"Please please please please promise not to associate yourself with me when you get there," Aiba said, hands clasped together even though it was literally impossible for Nino to see him through the bathroom door. "You will make me look really really really bad. I've eaten there a few times now and they know my name, Nino. Nino, are you listening to me? Nino."
"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate!" Nino shouted through the door. "How on earth do girls manage not to stab themselves in the eye with these things, seriously."
"If you get me banned from that restaurant, I'm revoking my friendship with you, Nino. Remember that Official Best Friend card I gave you when we were ten? I'm going to ask for it back."
"Oh, that hand-drawn thing? I threw it away ages ago."
Aiba threw himself on the floor of his apartment in despair. "You don't understand how good their teriyaki beef is!!"
"This was your idea in the first place! Don't complain now that I'm actually doing it!"
"This wasn't my idea! I said that you might have trouble getting in looking like you usually do! Because it's a high class place, Nino! Ironed shirts and no sandals allowed, that kind of thing. I didn't say anything about dressing up as a girl!"
"This is a better idea, then," Nino said, and his voice was so smug Aiba wanted to punch the door by proxy. "A girl can get away with asking for a table near the handsome Matsumoto-san."
"It will still be creepy! Incredibly creepy and weird."
"That's why you need at least two girls," said Nino. "Stop fidgeting, or I'll get mascara everywhere."
"Ow," piped up Ohno's voice.
"You blinked!"
"Sorry."
Aiba rolled onto his back and sighed at the ceiling. He might as well just bid goodbye to the team now - there was no way to get another firebender on such short notice, and Nino's so-called plan to retrieve Jun was, in Aiba's opinion, doomed from the start. Aiba had a lot of experience with doomed plans, so he knew what he was talking about. Dressing up as women, going to The Soaring Boar, schmoozing past the waiter to get a table near the reserved seating for the Matsumotos, then creating some sort of ruckus in which the essentialism of bending was debated, quickly escalating to a potential fight, then forcing Jun to swoop in with his firebending in order to save the day-- it'd out him as a firebender and then a hero, said Nino, but Aiba was wary. Someone was bound to get wrapped up by metalbending police by the end of the night. The good thing about the type of experiments that Aiba was familiar with, those involving hazardous reagents and/or craft supplies, was that no matter how big of a mess he created, no one's feelings were going to get hurt. The sodium bicarbonate didn't care if it got lit on fire or whatever. People tended not to like that so much, though, outside of a pro-bending ring. Aiba got the impression that Jun's parents wouldn't exactly react favourably to "unfortunately getting caught in the fight" of a mild-faced waterbender and surly non-bender in drag, but according to Nino, that was the point.
If Sho were here, he'd practically be on his knees pleading with Nino to see some sense, but Sho was working the weekend shift at his library this week, which left Aiba outnumbered two to one.
And come to think of it, wasn't it unfair how easily Ohno let himself get roped into this thing? There had to be faster ways than this to earn enough money for passage back to the Southern Islands. But he seemed to take to Nino like... like Nino took to him. In the span of about a week, they'd gone from complete strangers bonded through common enemies, to roommates in Nino's dinky little apartment where Ohno bunked on the living room floor and apparently found it comfortable, to this, now: conspirators in crime and make-up.
And, if the wet, smacking sounds that were emitting from inside the bathroom were any indication, they'd fast become something else too.
"Are you making out in there?" Aiba shouted, raising a fist to rap on the door.
"No," Nino said firmly, which was followed by a chorus of giggles.
"And you're all dressed up?" Aiba demanded.
"So what if we are?"
Aiba rattled the doorknob. "Then open up. 'Cause I want to watch."
---
Now, pulling up to the street curb to help two beautiful ladies (cough) into Aiba's even more beautiful dark green Satomobile, that was thirty seconds of a scene straight out of Aiba's most romantic and least nonsensical fantasies. Aiba felt quite dapper himself, dressed in his best white shirt, black slacks, and a brown overcoat. His vehicle, in comparison, wasn't nearly as trim and fit, since Aiba could only afford to buy a used one, but its paint coat still had some lustre and it purred gorgeously under Aiba's hand. Ohno was definitely impressed with it, his red-lipped mouth slacking open a little as Aiba hopped out of the front seat and opened the door to the passenger's side.
"After you, my lady," Aiba smiled, waving Ohno inside.
And lady or not, Ohno totally pulled off the look. Nino, inexplicably, as he often tended to be, had procured two sets of wigs and size two dresses, as well as matching heels (on the shorter side, but that was expected), from some mysterious place and had arranged Ohno and him to look female with a level of care that shocked, confused, and aroused in Aiba feelings of suspicious and of... other stuff. Aiba, having known Nino for so long, had seen the man in enough crazy situations (usually of their own creation) that Nino dressed up as a girl really didn't pull anything out of Aiba besides an appreciative once-over - and that was more for the novelty aspect than anything, because one look at Nino's apathetic expression and there was no doubt in Aiba's mind who it was under that black lace one-piece and side-swept fringe of bangs. Ohno Satoshi, on the other hand - Ohno was lovely. Long brown hair, doe eyes, pouty lips, long, slender fingers, and an overall demure countenance suited Ohno's deep blue blouse and skirt outfit like a model on a catwalk.
When Aiba jokingly kissed Ohno on the back of his hand as Ohno sat down in the seat, Ohno giggled softly, and Aiba almost blushed. Disturbing!
"Don't you dare ogle Oh-chan while we're in the car with you," warned Nino, throwing open the door to the back seat and crawling in with all the grace of a schoolboy growing into his limbs. "If we get into an accident and get thrown in jail, we're going to have to call Sho-chan and I don't really want him to see us like this."
"Why not?" Aiba teased, settling into the driver's side and revving up the engine. "Afraid he'll be ashamed of you?"
"Afraid he'll hit on me, more like."
"Aw, but Sho-chan has standards, Nino."
"Just drive," Nino snapped, reaching from the back seat to flick the side of Aiba's head. Aiba burst out laughing - Nino had even painted his nails red.
They arrived at The Soaring Boar a quarter after eight, and Aiba took them around to park two blocks away. "So his dad is the one who has a weird goatee thing, it's like someone drew a thick line around the bottom of his chin. Sort of like Avatar Aang's beard! Except a zillion times less cool. His uncle is the guy with the really thick glasses and he's taller than Jun's dad. His mom is really really pretty and you'll recognize her right away because she looks like Jun. His aunt has grey hair and the few times I've seen her, it's always been in a bun. Jun-kun always sits by his dad, then it's his sister on his other side."
"Great, thanks," said Nino, trying to fit his feet back in his shoes. He'd taken them off as soon as he'd buckled his seatbelt.
"Nino," Aiba said, catching Nino's wrist. "Don't hurt anyone, okay?"
"It's just going to be a little water," Nino reassured him. "And if Jun-kun's reactions are as fast as you've trained them to be, the only mess is going to be a bit of steam."
"Because I want our team back too, but not if we get Jun-kun in lots of trouble."
Nino paused. "Just what kind of trouble do you think he can get into?"
"Like, he can lose his job and get cut off financially -- or, or what if his dad disowns him or something, for being a bender?"
"They're living in a world of benders," Nino said. "Statistically speaking, some of their employees must be benders. Their customers are benders. Bending isn't even a new thing! And the anti-bending rebellion fell through last year! They're probably just scared of change."
"Grudges can last a long time, though," Ohno piped up. "Once a guy in my village left his brother on an ice float for two days because they fought over the same girl five years ago."
"Whatever," Nino said. "I just want Jun to rejoin the team without that huge guilt riding him all the time. Don't tell me that's not a good thing."
"It's a good thing," Aiba agreed. "But then your plan better work, Nino."
"Come on. You think I'd dress up like this for any old occasion?" He grinned. "Come on, Oh-chan. We've got people to woo."
---
8. OHNO
Nino said that he made a disgustingly good girl, and Ohno didn't know how he should feel about that. Nino's compliments, Ohno had quickly learned, could either be really sweet or really backhanded. Ohno liked both, but the backhanded ones were harder to react to. Nino had asked him, while they'd put the finishing touches on Ohno's disguise, how weird he felt doing this for a person he didn't really know very well, with a person he didn't really know very well.
Ohno had turned to Nino, eyebrows raised. "I know you pretty well, I think."
"Oh yeah? What am I thinking, right now then?"
"You're thinking I'm really hot," Ohno had said simply, and leaned a bit into Nino's space.
Nino had laughed outright. "How could you tell?"
"You keep patting my butt."
"You should wear skirts all the time," Nino had replied.
The day Ohno's family decided that he would be the one to take the long voyage to Republic City, Ohno had gone to sleep that night with visions of meeting all sorts of strange people there, cool people, people who could make sushi in ways that he'd never seen before. His home village near the South Pole was a beautiful place, crystal blue water and ice floats glistening on top like jagged edges of diamonds, the high sun warm on your face and the ocean air cool on your skin - it was what Ohno was familiar with, and Ohno was curious to see how Republic City would match up in comparison. From the few black and white photographs he'd seen of the city, he'd armed himself with the knowledge that it would be crowded, busy, and full of colour. He wasn't wrong about that. But he also came in with the notion that everyone in Republic City would be - not exactly alien, but definitely operating in a separate league from the traditional Southern Water Tribe ways that Ohno had grown up with. He hadn't even considered that he might fit in here. Besides, it was going to be a trip not for fun, but for practicality.
But somehow, he met Nino and then Aiba and then Sho and Jun, and somehow, Ohno felt good about it all. Nino had accompanied him to the post office the other day so Ohno could send a wire home telling them that he was more or less stranded and he'd lost his only source of income, and Ohno had spent a long time at the counter, drafting his message. In the end, he'd kept it simple: he told his parents that he had met some nice people, found a place to live, and was working on earning enough money for the trip home, and please not to worry. He signed it off with, "Sorry about the pearl. But it's fun here. Satoshi." He didn't want them to be lighting oil lamps for him every night, waiting for his return by a deadline.
He wondered if he ought to feel more anxious to make it back home. Ohno's entire life, he'd been plagued with a personality that resembled molasses -- things came slowly to him. and he wasn't predisposed to rushing; it wasn't that he couldn't manage doing things quickly, but he just preferred to move at his own pace. He felt a lot less stressed that way. So while it wasn't surprising that he wasn't choosing the quickest path between him and home, it was notable, even to Ohno's subpar observational skills, that he actually wanted to take his time with the journey. He was enjoying it here in Republic City. It was exciting. Pro-bending was fun. The people were nice. Nino too. Ohno liked Nino. That night after their first foray as a pro-bending team, Sho, Aiba and Jun had gone home, leaving Ohno to realize that he hadn't planned anything for accommodations since he'd arrived in the city, and suddenly had nowhere to go. But Nino had only grinned, jostled him into motion with a bump to the shoulder, and led him back to his tiny apartment, like Ohno was some old friend from school and not someone he'd only met that day. Ohno appreciated that. Ohno was a boat lost at sea, and Nino was the anchor who'd attached itself to him.
It was Nino who kissed Ohno, the next morning, after Ohno had scarfed down the omelette rice Nino made him and had said it was delicious. When Nino pulled away, he'd looked nervous, just a bit, like he was on the verge of saying a lot of big things, but instead settled for "Okay?" Ohno hadn't thought about it very hard; just nodded, then pulled Nino to him again.
He didn't know what it meant, to be with Nino like this. But it seemed to be the way that the tides were pushing him, and who was Ohno to paddle back against the current?
Even if it meant cross-dressing and performing some elaborate prank on a rich friend, who may or may not be an ex-boyfriend (Nino was very ambiguous about that answer).
"You good? Follow my lead," Nino said, as they made their hopefully-not-too-obviously-wobbly way to the entrance of the restaurant. Nino was the one who did the talking in a deceptively sweet, tinkling voice, but it was Ohno who was shoved in the host's face, his stuffed bra bouncing slightly. If the host noticed their Adam's apples, he didn't give any indication, and had merely smirked indulgently as Nino requested seats close to house Matsumoto's. Maybe they actually got requests like this often? Ohno found it baffling. His village had a population of 306 and everyone knew everyone else; it wouldn't be possible to pull stunts like this over there. But somehow, in short order, they found themselves at a table for three in the posterior, left side of the floor, in clear view of a much larger table adjacent to them, which donned a RESERVED sign in its dead centre.
"They're not here yet?" Nino griped, when he noticed. "Isn't it past eight already?"
"Maybe they're running late," Ohno suggested.
"Well, how late can they possibly be?"
Ohno shrugged. "How can I tell?"
"You can't. It was a rhetorical question. Here, do you want bread?" Nino pushed over the tiny bread basket that came complimentary with their table and promptly ignored Ohno in favour of browsing the menu. Ohno reached for the butter plate and helped himself. The bread turned out to be delicious: moist and soft, and just a tiny hint of sugar. Dresses and heels aside, it could have been just them on an ordinary date.
They waited a while longer, continually shaking off the attempts of their waiter to take their orders. Nino would point to the empty seat between them with a chagrined smile and ask for another few minutes for their missing friend to show up.
"Maybe they're not coming this week," Ohno said. He was on his tenth slice of bread.
Nino frowned, saying nothing. But a bit more time passed, and eventually, he broke. Underneath the table, the sharp toe of Nino's heel kicked Ohno in the ankle. "Yo, I'm bored," he said. "Let's go make out in the washroom or something."
"The girls' washroom?" Ohno said, jaw frozen mid-chew.
"Hm," Nino said, revaluating. "Okay, how about the custodial closet?"
---
They'd actually rehearsed their lines on the ride over the restaurant -- or at least, Nino had made Ohno recite his parts. Three times. His lines were: But benders keep the balance of the world; my great-grandfather died in The Hundred Year War in order to protect us; Yes, from high school, Soo Yin; We're all part of the balance, non-benders too!; Don't you make me waterbend you; Last chance; Fine!; Oh damn; I think you're right, we all need to help maintain the balance, and keep from judging others, I'm glad we had this talk; thank you kind, handsome sir, for your firebending help, what's your name? Supposedly Nino would make the conversation flow so that Ohno would know exactly when to speak up, but Ohno wasn't really sure.
There was an element of improvisation to the whole thing, though, that didn't seem to bother Nino at all. Here they were, squeezed into a dark, tiny closet packed full with mops, brooms, buckets, and the stringent odour of cleaning supplies, and Nino was grinning, eyes alight, small hands nimble across Ohno's arms and back, nuzzling at Ohno's neck like he hadn't a care in the world. Ohno was feeling more inhibited, but he couldn't help but react favourably to Nino's touches, Nino's kisses, the way that Nino's hips were bumping into Ohno's.
That they were both wearing dresses, in makeup and wigs, somehow made it exponentially hotter. Ohno hadn't even known Nino could tease like this: purposely making his voice breathy as he purred Ohno's name, whimpering when Ohno trailed his teeth across the sharp line of Nino's jaw, licking his red-painted lips but only allowing Ohno light, fleeting kisses in order to avoid smearing their lipstick, acting every bit like a shy schoolgirl from the waist up while resolutely trying to hump Ohno's leg through the material of their dresses from the waist down. The closet held the same cool temperature that the rest of the building did, but it heated up quickly, probably powered by the volcanic-like reactions that were exploding up from within Ohno, out of his mouth in steady pants.
"You want to do it?" Nino asked, voice lilting, his smile crooked and wide. "Good thing about dresses. Hike them up, and you're ready to go."
"I," Ohno swallowed. Weren't they here for something? Something that was kind of important? Nino was purposely rubbing his crotch over Ohno's, squirming deliciously when Ohno trailed his fingers along the seam of his ass, and Ohno really couldn't remember, for the life of him, what exactly the agenda was for tonight except that this, now, was usurping everything.
"I can tell you do," Nino said, laughing. He yanked Ohno's hand further down, reaching between Nino's parted legs, fingering the edge of his dress. "You want to see me with my skirt rucked up, panties hanging from one leg, heels wrapped around your back-"
Oh yeah. Nino was wearing panties. Fuck.
They'd already had a quick romp earlier when Nino had stepped out from behind the shower curtain in nothing but a black, lace-trimmed bra and underwear, his cock bulging oddly in the confines of the material, and though Nino's face had been vaguely uncomfortable as he adjusted his undergarments, that expression had melted away pretty quickly once he caught sight of Ohno staring at him with a frankly paralyzing intensity. Ohno had felt bad enough doing it in Aiba's bathroom, against Aiba's sink, no less, but it was just really, really hard to say no to Nino, and it was apparently a task made impossible if Nino was in girl clothes. He knew that if he actually laid a finger on Nino's panties now, he would be a doomed man. But they were in a closet. In a fancy eatery. Dressed as girls. Waiting for Jun! The whole situation was so weird and arousing that Ohno had no idea what to do.
"I'm fucking wet for you," Nino whispered, and Ohno clutched at Nino's back so hard that he was afraid he'd rip the fabric.
Nino pulled up his dress far enough to sling his left leg over Ohno's right thigh, pulling himself in roughly, leaning his full weight onto Ohno, twining his arms around Ohno's neck, and Ohno ducked his nose into Nino's shoulder, taking a huge sniff of the perfume Nino had sprayed on before they left Aiba's place, mouth open to taste-
The door opened, flooding the interior with white light. Ohno froze. Nino froze.
An employee, in black and white uniform, stood there, staring.
"Uh," he said.
This was, of course, when Jun happened to walk by.
part 3
6. SHO
Sho ached. Every part of his body ached. In the three days since Nino and Aiba had forced them to start their bitter schedule of, in Aiba's words, "night training, just like superheroes," Sho had accumulated more blisters and bruises than he had places to put them all. When he moved, he made the sounds of a broken Jack-in-the-Box: half-hearted pops and cracks of broken internal machinery that led, after much furious lever cranking, to a depressed and over-tired Jack at the end of his wilted spring. Sho wasn't quite at the depressed stage yet, but certainly his bones and muscles were giving him some kind of premonition for the future.
At the same time though, fatigue, lack of sleep, and overcaffination aside, Sho was feeling pretty good (emotionally, not physically) about the state of their haphazard pro-bending team. For a group that Nino basically pulled together based two parts on luck, one part on the support afforded by long-term friendships, and one part on who knows what, the three of them (five, including Aiba and Nino) were getting along quite well together. Ohno was clearly the brunt of the talent of the group, but Jun was surprisingly good at assessing their abilities and knowing when and where his own attacks would be most effective, and Sho, the most lacking player in the trio, could take some measure of pride in his powerful attacks, even if his aim needed some improvement. It was reassuring that they were anywhere close to decent at all though, considering how little time they had to prepare and their original mishmash of fighting styles. Although, maybe there'd been nowhere to go but up: Sho had to admit that he wasn't too optimistic about the state of affairs after that first ridiculous meeting in Nino's apartment, in which the entire set-up felt like some over-the-top joke. A mediocre earthbender, duplicitous firebender, and foreign waterbender walked into a bar. The earthbender ordered a scotch on the rocks; the bartender asked, "Strong?" and the earthbender said, "Not really." The firebender ordered a Flaming Hotman; the bartender asked, "You want that fired up?" and the firebender said, "No, because it'd get me fired too." The waterbender ordered a glass of ice; the bartender asked, "People don't drink down in the South?" and the waterbender said, "No, it was outlawed because it apparently caused symptoms of Midnight Sun Madness."
"I don't get it," said Aiba, after Sho recited his joke.
"Your jokes suck. You're missing a coherent punchline," Nino said, eyes caught on Jun and Ohno tossing strands of fire and water at each other in the middle of the arena ring. They were moving like dancers, their elements as their ribbons. Sho was on break with the administrative non-benders of the group after Ohno had tossed water at him one too many times and he ended up with clogged ears and faulty balance; now he was sitting beside Aiba, head cocked at a ninety degree angle to the left, waiting for his half of his hearing to return.
"It's a play on words," explained Sho, affronted. "Down in the South, as the name of a drink that Southerners created. Do you get it?"
"Oohhh," said Aiba. "Well. Good try, Sho-chan."
"Sucks," said Nino, before calling out, "Oh-chan! To your left! Good form!"
"Nino, you don't know anything about waterbending form. Stop drooling over Oh-chan," said Aiba, scruffing a hand through Nino's hair.
"I'm not!" said Nino, who continued to stare unabashedly at Ohno.
"We should stick you in the pool," continued Aiba. "You can refill the whole thing with your spit."
Sho laughed. "That's disgusting!"
"Hey, do you think Oh-chan's really good at spitballs?" Aiba said.
"We," said Nino firmly, "are a highly professional and mature pro-bending team, Aiba-san." He cupped hands around his mouth and bellowed, "JUN! YOUR FACE LOOKS LIKE A BUTT!" then ducked when a dart of fire came flying at him.
"We should talk about the competition," said Aiba, absently batting at Nino's head again, where a few strands of hair had singed. "Practise is great and all, but if we get a feel for the other teams' weaknesses, we'll know where to hit them for the knockout."
"I think we should take advantage of our underdog quality," suggested Nino. "Act it up a little, even. We should all get mismatched uniforms with holes in the knees or something. Thrift shop fashion. And put bandages all over Sho-chan's face."
"What?" Sho squawked. "Why me?"
"Because you're the underdog of the underdogs," said Nino with too much cheer. "You're the under-underdog. You're the weakest link. You're the runt of the litter. People will judge our ability on you; the worse they think you are, the less chance they'll bet on our team to win."
"That's your strategy?" Aiba shouts, nearly tripping over himself as he shot to his feet. "You want to make us look bad and screw the odds on us winning?"
"Yeah," Nino grinned. "The longer we can make it look like every win we have is a fluke, the better it'll be."
"That is literally the worst gaming strategy I've ever heard."
"That's because you think of it in terms of being a champion. I'm thinking of it in terms of profit margins. What's wrong with Sho?"
Sho was lying down, curled onto his side on the narrow beam of the bench. There was literally no other reaction he could muster in lieu of Nino's explanation. This was apparently the sad truth of Sho's lot in life now: to be negative publicity. What White Lotus Society master would ever accept Sho now? He'd be given nicknames he'd never live down, like, Sucky Sho or Clumsy Sakurai or something; hell, Nino probably would perpetuate some of them himself.
"I think you broke him," said Aiba.
"Sho-chan, don't be like that," said Nino. "You're actually our ace in the hole! You've got a mean swing and it's like, impossible to knock you down! You're great! I only want you to act worthless during our matches, okay?"
"Not okay," said Sho.
"Let's put it up for discussion later," Nino said, reaching over to pat Sho on the butt, a well-intentioned there, there that Sho couldn't help but interpret as ha ha, your life.
The talk didn't come, though. As soon as Jun had had enough of practise, he packed up his training gear (custom fit, of course, whereas the rest of them were stuck borrowing the general-use sets provided by the gym, which had probably hugged over a hundred bodies each, and were covered more by irregular patches than their original material), had a quick sniping session with Nino, and left.
"Drown in your coffee!" Nino shouted after Jun's retreating form. "Choke on your coffee grinds!"
"Get a haircut!" Jun shouted back.
"Can you guys leave off the insults for at least one day?" Sho implored. "It's seriously like you're out to make each other miserable."
"That's his life goal, though!" Nino said, frowning severely. "I keep on telling him to tell his parents that he's participating in the stupid tournament and he always makes up some excuse not to. Like, how is he planning to explain him showing up at the tournament, which is being broadcast on radio? Fake names aren't going to work if people fucking recognize you by sight."
"It's not your business, Nino," Aiba scolded. "Although yeah, Jun-kun's kind of screwed. Should we stage an intervention?"
"No," Sho said immediately. Aiba's interventions never accomplished what they were supposed to, despite plenty of psychological scarring.
"Let's just let him suffer," said Nino, flicking his hair back, his default apathetic expression back on his face like a mask. "As long as he doesn't mess up the team, then he can do whatever he wants."
"Are you guys even friends?" Ohno blurted, looking strangely at Nino. Nino blanched. "Because I thought you were friends. And friends should help each other out."
"You don't get it, Oh-chan!" Nino said. "I've tried with Jun-kun, really, I have. But he's not like the rest of us, I think he got his mind warped by all the money he grew up with. I want him to be happy with himself, but things are never that simple with him."
And, despite whatever anyone might think of the nobility of Ninomiya Kazunari's intentions, Sho knew that Nino was telling the truth here.
The story was (and who knew how much of this was fact, since the source was Nino's own mouth, which was connected to Nino's baffling specimen of a brain) that one sunny day Nino had been strolling through town, minding his own business (Sho sincerely doubted that), and had overheard an argument at one of the stalls in the Long Dragon Alley, which were notoriously avoided by anyone who knew of its shady reputation - which, apparently, Matsumoto Jun didn't. Nino didn't hear the subject under debate but it apparently had something to do with knock-off tea leaves, and a large quantity of money. Naturally, Nino gravitated over to the commotion, and in a complicated series of verbal spars, charged himself in a bet with the owner of the stall over a game of cards, and won back the money that had been ripped off from Jun. The owner, of course a gang member, was far from a happy loser, and raised his fist as soon as Nino turned his back. His arm, however, was stopped mid-trajectory by a burst of fire lighting up the man's shirt. This Nino immediately pinpointed as Jun's doing, impossible as it may have seemed at the time, given Jun's family history. He'd tailed Jun ("It's not stalking if you actually have something to talk to him about!") after the crowd around the alley had dispersed, and struck up a conversation. One week later, Sho dropped by Nino's place to hang out and found Nino half-naked on the floor with the heir of Matsumoto textiles straddling him, shirt open, hickeys all the way down his pale neck. Sho's introduction to those two's relationship had been Nino's disclaimer: "I swear this isn't a con."
Despite their acerbic attitude towards each other, no one could deny that those two cared for each other too. Because Nino didn't waste time hanging around people he disliked, and Jun had spent a large number of hours visiting Nino in the early weeks of their so-called affair (Nino didn't like to call it a relationship, and Jun hated any synonym of "partner"), so much so that Sho had gotten used to seeing him sprawled like a suffering model across Nino's ratty furniture, and inescapably got to know Jun -- if not as a friend, then at least as a respected acquaintance. So Sho also knew about Jun's difficulties with his family, had heard the sputtering end of a few intense conversations in which Nino blatantly told Jun to stop hiding his abilities and Jun politely told Nino to go fuck himself. It was because Nino, raised by a mother who believed in a self-discovery method of child-rearing, had never bothered to be someone that he wasn't, and couldn't understand why anyone would bother to put up a facade like that. Jun loved bending, and it was the biggest secret of his life. It was frustrating for Nino to see Jun repeatedly deny his enjoyment of a skill he clearly possessed; though Nino envied Jun's wealthy lifestyle, he couldn't empathize with the social pressures that came with such a high net worth. It was one of a few sore spots that continued to crop up, like a stubborn weed, during their time together, and as far as Sho knew, when they'd broken up, Nino had given up trying to change Jun's mind about anything more.
This was another reason why Sho had been hesitant about Jun being on the team: he and Nino had loose ends, and that kind of drama had no place in a professional sport competition. He had been optimistic, since they surprisingly all got along so well, but Sho, just like Aiba and Nino, had assumed that Jun had worked things out with his parents before joining the team. But he hadn't, and the longer he put it off, the more likely it would get to be a problem for them.
"I just," Ohno said, jutting out his lower jaw in a pout, "I want Jun-kun to stay on the team. That's all."
"What," Nino blinked. "You think he'll ditch?" He scoffed. "We'll be getting our competition schedule tomorrow. There's no way he'd quit so close to the tournament."
---
Except he did. The next day, Jun was a no-show, leaving Ohno and Sho to practise alone, Aiba drilling them half-heartedly, as Nino sat nearby and watched them, eyebrows drawn and pensive. The day after, too, there was no Jun, but Aiba came to practise brandishing a note that had been delivered to his office, written on an official Matsumoto Textiles letterhead.
I deeply apologize for my lack of attendance. I'm afraid I will have to withdraw from the team due to familial obligation. Please send my regards to the others, and I wish you the best of luck during the tournament. Enclosed, as a token of my regret, you'll find a cheque that should cover some new uniforms for the team. -- J.
Nino spent a long time considering the letter, turning over the envelope in his hands like it held some kind of puzzle to solve.
"The thing that annoys me most is how politely and formally he wrote it," he said at last.
"What are we going to do?" Aiba asked anxiously. "Our first match is in three days. Is that enough time to find a new firebender and train him?"
"That's going to be tough," said Sho.
"Too tough," agreed Nino. "It'd be easier to just keep our old one."
"Nino, don't be ridiculous," said Aiba. "Jun-kun quit! He got caught and his family won't let him play. We should have planned for this, really. Why didn't we plan for this?"
"Because I thought he would grow a pair, that's why. It's a fucking sport, why is his family making such a big deal out of it? Why is it so bad to bend?"
"Not this again," groaned Sho. "Didn't you bother reading any of the anti-bending flyers last year? Some people dislike bending because for a long time, the criminal gangs of the city used bending to unfairly take advantage of non-benders, as well as perpetuating the stigma that people who can't bend are somehow inferior to those who can. Jun's family got their start providing clothes to the Fire Nation immigrants who'd first established roots in the Earth Kingdom colonies, but because there was little governing structure before Fire Lord Zuko took over the rule, it deferred to bending officials to dictate the laws of the colonies. And they were biased towards other firebenders, because everything in those days was all about military strength. I suppose that resentment about how non-benders were treated back then has lasted through the family. I doubt they're super extremists or anything, but just because Amon's out of the picture now doesn't mean people still won't sympathize with his beliefs."
"That is the lamest shit I've ever heard," said Nino.
"You asked!"
"Just because their grandparents got the short end of the stick, their son can't realize his full potential?"
"I'm not happy about it either," Sho said, "but I'm just saying that Jun's parents have their reasons."
Nino scoffed. "Okay, fine, his family seriously needs to revaluate their priorities. If Jun can't get through to them, then maybe we'll just have to give them an extra little push."
Sho felt a chill run down his spine.
"What," he said, "what are you planning?"
Nino smirked.
---
7. AIBA
Although he'd officially graduated from his humble beginnings in the sauce-splattered kitchens of The Giant Koi Grillhouse, Aiba had retained his appreciation for restaurants and their cuisine, regardless of the degree of healthy, cleanliness, and strange ingredients used. His interest in food had stemmed from a young age, in his grandmother's tiny apartment, him sitting on the counter, legs swinging, as she narrated a cooking process that eventually led to an Aiba-sized plate full of delicious dinner. While he'd still lived in his old apartment complex, he frequently created new dishes, as far away as conventional recipes as he could get away with, and bring them up three floors for Nino to try. Since he'd gotten his new job at Future Industries, though, he'd found himself with enough disposable income to comfortably go out to eat twice a week, and this was a task Aiba took on with the same enthusiasm he devoted to flying contraptions and finding new uses for dry ice - which was a lot. He had probably visited at least half the restaurants in Republic City by now. Sometimes Sho joined him, if he wasn't mired in studying, since Sho shared Aiba's joy for eating, and the two of them would pass a fun dinner with a few drinks, then head over to Nino's place afterwards to offer him any leftovers they might have. Often though, it was easier to drop by a place himself on the way home from work, too tired to cook for himself; it was during one of these solo ventures into one of Republic City's more classier establishments that Aiba accidentally bumped into Jun, having dinner with his family.
Aiba had been invited to the Matsumoto table, had a good, if slightly awkward time eating with them, and had gone home with the knowledge that, because the restaurant owner was a relative, the whole family dined at The Soaring Boar every second Saturday of the month, and Aiba was welcome back anytime.
"Please please please please promise not to associate yourself with me when you get there," Aiba said, hands clasped together even though it was literally impossible for Nino to see him through the bathroom door. "You will make me look really really really bad. I've eaten there a few times now and they know my name, Nino. Nino, are you listening to me? Nino."
"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate!" Nino shouted through the door. "How on earth do girls manage not to stab themselves in the eye with these things, seriously."
"If you get me banned from that restaurant, I'm revoking my friendship with you, Nino. Remember that Official Best Friend card I gave you when we were ten? I'm going to ask for it back."
"Oh, that hand-drawn thing? I threw it away ages ago."
Aiba threw himself on the floor of his apartment in despair. "You don't understand how good their teriyaki beef is!!"
"This was your idea in the first place! Don't complain now that I'm actually doing it!"
"This wasn't my idea! I said that you might have trouble getting in looking like you usually do! Because it's a high class place, Nino! Ironed shirts and no sandals allowed, that kind of thing. I didn't say anything about dressing up as a girl!"
"This is a better idea, then," Nino said, and his voice was so smug Aiba wanted to punch the door by proxy. "A girl can get away with asking for a table near the handsome Matsumoto-san."
"It will still be creepy! Incredibly creepy and weird."
"That's why you need at least two girls," said Nino. "Stop fidgeting, or I'll get mascara everywhere."
"Ow," piped up Ohno's voice.
"You blinked!"
"Sorry."
Aiba rolled onto his back and sighed at the ceiling. He might as well just bid goodbye to the team now - there was no way to get another firebender on such short notice, and Nino's so-called plan to retrieve Jun was, in Aiba's opinion, doomed from the start. Aiba had a lot of experience with doomed plans, so he knew what he was talking about. Dressing up as women, going to The Soaring Boar, schmoozing past the waiter to get a table near the reserved seating for the Matsumotos, then creating some sort of ruckus in which the essentialism of bending was debated, quickly escalating to a potential fight, then forcing Jun to swoop in with his firebending in order to save the day-- it'd out him as a firebender and then a hero, said Nino, but Aiba was wary. Someone was bound to get wrapped up by metalbending police by the end of the night. The good thing about the type of experiments that Aiba was familiar with, those involving hazardous reagents and/or craft supplies, was that no matter how big of a mess he created, no one's feelings were going to get hurt. The sodium bicarbonate didn't care if it got lit on fire or whatever. People tended not to like that so much, though, outside of a pro-bending ring. Aiba got the impression that Jun's parents wouldn't exactly react favourably to "unfortunately getting caught in the fight" of a mild-faced waterbender and surly non-bender in drag, but according to Nino, that was the point.
If Sho were here, he'd practically be on his knees pleading with Nino to see some sense, but Sho was working the weekend shift at his library this week, which left Aiba outnumbered two to one.
And come to think of it, wasn't it unfair how easily Ohno let himself get roped into this thing? There had to be faster ways than this to earn enough money for passage back to the Southern Islands. But he seemed to take to Nino like... like Nino took to him. In the span of about a week, they'd gone from complete strangers bonded through common enemies, to roommates in Nino's dinky little apartment where Ohno bunked on the living room floor and apparently found it comfortable, to this, now: conspirators in crime and make-up.
And, if the wet, smacking sounds that were emitting from inside the bathroom were any indication, they'd fast become something else too.
"Are you making out in there?" Aiba shouted, raising a fist to rap on the door.
"No," Nino said firmly, which was followed by a chorus of giggles.
"And you're all dressed up?" Aiba demanded.
"So what if we are?"
Aiba rattled the doorknob. "Then open up. 'Cause I want to watch."
---
Now, pulling up to the street curb to help two beautiful ladies (cough) into Aiba's even more beautiful dark green Satomobile, that was thirty seconds of a scene straight out of Aiba's most romantic and least nonsensical fantasies. Aiba felt quite dapper himself, dressed in his best white shirt, black slacks, and a brown overcoat. His vehicle, in comparison, wasn't nearly as trim and fit, since Aiba could only afford to buy a used one, but its paint coat still had some lustre and it purred gorgeously under Aiba's hand. Ohno was definitely impressed with it, his red-lipped mouth slacking open a little as Aiba hopped out of the front seat and opened the door to the passenger's side.
"After you, my lady," Aiba smiled, waving Ohno inside.
And lady or not, Ohno totally pulled off the look. Nino, inexplicably, as he often tended to be, had procured two sets of wigs and size two dresses, as well as matching heels (on the shorter side, but that was expected), from some mysterious place and had arranged Ohno and him to look female with a level of care that shocked, confused, and aroused in Aiba feelings of suspicious and of... other stuff. Aiba, having known Nino for so long, had seen the man in enough crazy situations (usually of their own creation) that Nino dressed up as a girl really didn't pull anything out of Aiba besides an appreciative once-over - and that was more for the novelty aspect than anything, because one look at Nino's apathetic expression and there was no doubt in Aiba's mind who it was under that black lace one-piece and side-swept fringe of bangs. Ohno Satoshi, on the other hand - Ohno was lovely. Long brown hair, doe eyes, pouty lips, long, slender fingers, and an overall demure countenance suited Ohno's deep blue blouse and skirt outfit like a model on a catwalk.
When Aiba jokingly kissed Ohno on the back of his hand as Ohno sat down in the seat, Ohno giggled softly, and Aiba almost blushed. Disturbing!
"Don't you dare ogle Oh-chan while we're in the car with you," warned Nino, throwing open the door to the back seat and crawling in with all the grace of a schoolboy growing into his limbs. "If we get into an accident and get thrown in jail, we're going to have to call Sho-chan and I don't really want him to see us like this."
"Why not?" Aiba teased, settling into the driver's side and revving up the engine. "Afraid he'll be ashamed of you?"
"Afraid he'll hit on me, more like."
"Aw, but Sho-chan has standards, Nino."
"Just drive," Nino snapped, reaching from the back seat to flick the side of Aiba's head. Aiba burst out laughing - Nino had even painted his nails red.
They arrived at The Soaring Boar a quarter after eight, and Aiba took them around to park two blocks away. "So his dad is the one who has a weird goatee thing, it's like someone drew a thick line around the bottom of his chin. Sort of like Avatar Aang's beard! Except a zillion times less cool. His uncle is the guy with the really thick glasses and he's taller than Jun's dad. His mom is really really pretty and you'll recognize her right away because she looks like Jun. His aunt has grey hair and the few times I've seen her, it's always been in a bun. Jun-kun always sits by his dad, then it's his sister on his other side."
"Great, thanks," said Nino, trying to fit his feet back in his shoes. He'd taken them off as soon as he'd buckled his seatbelt.
"Nino," Aiba said, catching Nino's wrist. "Don't hurt anyone, okay?"
"It's just going to be a little water," Nino reassured him. "And if Jun-kun's reactions are as fast as you've trained them to be, the only mess is going to be a bit of steam."
"Because I want our team back too, but not if we get Jun-kun in lots of trouble."
Nino paused. "Just what kind of trouble do you think he can get into?"
"Like, he can lose his job and get cut off financially -- or, or what if his dad disowns him or something, for being a bender?"
"They're living in a world of benders," Nino said. "Statistically speaking, some of their employees must be benders. Their customers are benders. Bending isn't even a new thing! And the anti-bending rebellion fell through last year! They're probably just scared of change."
"Grudges can last a long time, though," Ohno piped up. "Once a guy in my village left his brother on an ice float for two days because they fought over the same girl five years ago."
"Whatever," Nino said. "I just want Jun to rejoin the team without that huge guilt riding him all the time. Don't tell me that's not a good thing."
"It's a good thing," Aiba agreed. "But then your plan better work, Nino."
"Come on. You think I'd dress up like this for any old occasion?" He grinned. "Come on, Oh-chan. We've got people to woo."
---
8. OHNO
Nino said that he made a disgustingly good girl, and Ohno didn't know how he should feel about that. Nino's compliments, Ohno had quickly learned, could either be really sweet or really backhanded. Ohno liked both, but the backhanded ones were harder to react to. Nino had asked him, while they'd put the finishing touches on Ohno's disguise, how weird he felt doing this for a person he didn't really know very well, with a person he didn't really know very well.
Ohno had turned to Nino, eyebrows raised. "I know you pretty well, I think."
"Oh yeah? What am I thinking, right now then?"
"You're thinking I'm really hot," Ohno had said simply, and leaned a bit into Nino's space.
Nino had laughed outright. "How could you tell?"
"You keep patting my butt."
"You should wear skirts all the time," Nino had replied.
The day Ohno's family decided that he would be the one to take the long voyage to Republic City, Ohno had gone to sleep that night with visions of meeting all sorts of strange people there, cool people, people who could make sushi in ways that he'd never seen before. His home village near the South Pole was a beautiful place, crystal blue water and ice floats glistening on top like jagged edges of diamonds, the high sun warm on your face and the ocean air cool on your skin - it was what Ohno was familiar with, and Ohno was curious to see how Republic City would match up in comparison. From the few black and white photographs he'd seen of the city, he'd armed himself with the knowledge that it would be crowded, busy, and full of colour. He wasn't wrong about that. But he also came in with the notion that everyone in Republic City would be - not exactly alien, but definitely operating in a separate league from the traditional Southern Water Tribe ways that Ohno had grown up with. He hadn't even considered that he might fit in here. Besides, it was going to be a trip not for fun, but for practicality.
But somehow, he met Nino and then Aiba and then Sho and Jun, and somehow, Ohno felt good about it all. Nino had accompanied him to the post office the other day so Ohno could send a wire home telling them that he was more or less stranded and he'd lost his only source of income, and Ohno had spent a long time at the counter, drafting his message. In the end, he'd kept it simple: he told his parents that he had met some nice people, found a place to live, and was working on earning enough money for the trip home, and please not to worry. He signed it off with, "Sorry about the pearl. But it's fun here. Satoshi." He didn't want them to be lighting oil lamps for him every night, waiting for his return by a deadline.
He wondered if he ought to feel more anxious to make it back home. Ohno's entire life, he'd been plagued with a personality that resembled molasses -- things came slowly to him. and he wasn't predisposed to rushing; it wasn't that he couldn't manage doing things quickly, but he just preferred to move at his own pace. He felt a lot less stressed that way. So while it wasn't surprising that he wasn't choosing the quickest path between him and home, it was notable, even to Ohno's subpar observational skills, that he actually wanted to take his time with the journey. He was enjoying it here in Republic City. It was exciting. Pro-bending was fun. The people were nice. Nino too. Ohno liked Nino. That night after their first foray as a pro-bending team, Sho, Aiba and Jun had gone home, leaving Ohno to realize that he hadn't planned anything for accommodations since he'd arrived in the city, and suddenly had nowhere to go. But Nino had only grinned, jostled him into motion with a bump to the shoulder, and led him back to his tiny apartment, like Ohno was some old friend from school and not someone he'd only met that day. Ohno appreciated that. Ohno was a boat lost at sea, and Nino was the anchor who'd attached itself to him.
It was Nino who kissed Ohno, the next morning, after Ohno had scarfed down the omelette rice Nino made him and had said it was delicious. When Nino pulled away, he'd looked nervous, just a bit, like he was on the verge of saying a lot of big things, but instead settled for "Okay?" Ohno hadn't thought about it very hard; just nodded, then pulled Nino to him again.
He didn't know what it meant, to be with Nino like this. But it seemed to be the way that the tides were pushing him, and who was Ohno to paddle back against the current?
Even if it meant cross-dressing and performing some elaborate prank on a rich friend, who may or may not be an ex-boyfriend (Nino was very ambiguous about that answer).
"You good? Follow my lead," Nino said, as they made their hopefully-not-too-obviously-wobbly way to the entrance of the restaurant. Nino was the one who did the talking in a deceptively sweet, tinkling voice, but it was Ohno who was shoved in the host's face, his stuffed bra bouncing slightly. If the host noticed their Adam's apples, he didn't give any indication, and had merely smirked indulgently as Nino requested seats close to house Matsumoto's. Maybe they actually got requests like this often? Ohno found it baffling. His village had a population of 306 and everyone knew everyone else; it wouldn't be possible to pull stunts like this over there. But somehow, in short order, they found themselves at a table for three in the posterior, left side of the floor, in clear view of a much larger table adjacent to them, which donned a RESERVED sign in its dead centre.
"They're not here yet?" Nino griped, when he noticed. "Isn't it past eight already?"
"Maybe they're running late," Ohno suggested.
"Well, how late can they possibly be?"
Ohno shrugged. "How can I tell?"
"You can't. It was a rhetorical question. Here, do you want bread?" Nino pushed over the tiny bread basket that came complimentary with their table and promptly ignored Ohno in favour of browsing the menu. Ohno reached for the butter plate and helped himself. The bread turned out to be delicious: moist and soft, and just a tiny hint of sugar. Dresses and heels aside, it could have been just them on an ordinary date.
They waited a while longer, continually shaking off the attempts of their waiter to take their orders. Nino would point to the empty seat between them with a chagrined smile and ask for another few minutes for their missing friend to show up.
"Maybe they're not coming this week," Ohno said. He was on his tenth slice of bread.
Nino frowned, saying nothing. But a bit more time passed, and eventually, he broke. Underneath the table, the sharp toe of Nino's heel kicked Ohno in the ankle. "Yo, I'm bored," he said. "Let's go make out in the washroom or something."
"The girls' washroom?" Ohno said, jaw frozen mid-chew.
"Hm," Nino said, revaluating. "Okay, how about the custodial closet?"
---
They'd actually rehearsed their lines on the ride over the restaurant -- or at least, Nino had made Ohno recite his parts. Three times. His lines were: But benders keep the balance of the world; my great-grandfather died in The Hundred Year War in order to protect us; Yes, from high school, Soo Yin; We're all part of the balance, non-benders too!; Don't you make me waterbend you; Last chance; Fine!; Oh damn; I think you're right, we all need to help maintain the balance, and keep from judging others, I'm glad we had this talk; thank you kind, handsome sir, for your firebending help, what's your name? Supposedly Nino would make the conversation flow so that Ohno would know exactly when to speak up, but Ohno wasn't really sure.
There was an element of improvisation to the whole thing, though, that didn't seem to bother Nino at all. Here they were, squeezed into a dark, tiny closet packed full with mops, brooms, buckets, and the stringent odour of cleaning supplies, and Nino was grinning, eyes alight, small hands nimble across Ohno's arms and back, nuzzling at Ohno's neck like he hadn't a care in the world. Ohno was feeling more inhibited, but he couldn't help but react favourably to Nino's touches, Nino's kisses, the way that Nino's hips were bumping into Ohno's.
That they were both wearing dresses, in makeup and wigs, somehow made it exponentially hotter. Ohno hadn't even known Nino could tease like this: purposely making his voice breathy as he purred Ohno's name, whimpering when Ohno trailed his teeth across the sharp line of Nino's jaw, licking his red-painted lips but only allowing Ohno light, fleeting kisses in order to avoid smearing their lipstick, acting every bit like a shy schoolgirl from the waist up while resolutely trying to hump Ohno's leg through the material of their dresses from the waist down. The closet held the same cool temperature that the rest of the building did, but it heated up quickly, probably powered by the volcanic-like reactions that were exploding up from within Ohno, out of his mouth in steady pants.
"You want to do it?" Nino asked, voice lilting, his smile crooked and wide. "Good thing about dresses. Hike them up, and you're ready to go."
"I," Ohno swallowed. Weren't they here for something? Something that was kind of important? Nino was purposely rubbing his crotch over Ohno's, squirming deliciously when Ohno trailed his fingers along the seam of his ass, and Ohno really couldn't remember, for the life of him, what exactly the agenda was for tonight except that this, now, was usurping everything.
"I can tell you do," Nino said, laughing. He yanked Ohno's hand further down, reaching between Nino's parted legs, fingering the edge of his dress. "You want to see me with my skirt rucked up, panties hanging from one leg, heels wrapped around your back-"
Oh yeah. Nino was wearing panties. Fuck.
They'd already had a quick romp earlier when Nino had stepped out from behind the shower curtain in nothing but a black, lace-trimmed bra and underwear, his cock bulging oddly in the confines of the material, and though Nino's face had been vaguely uncomfortable as he adjusted his undergarments, that expression had melted away pretty quickly once he caught sight of Ohno staring at him with a frankly paralyzing intensity. Ohno had felt bad enough doing it in Aiba's bathroom, against Aiba's sink, no less, but it was just really, really hard to say no to Nino, and it was apparently a task made impossible if Nino was in girl clothes. He knew that if he actually laid a finger on Nino's panties now, he would be a doomed man. But they were in a closet. In a fancy eatery. Dressed as girls. Waiting for Jun! The whole situation was so weird and arousing that Ohno had no idea what to do.
"I'm fucking wet for you," Nino whispered, and Ohno clutched at Nino's back so hard that he was afraid he'd rip the fabric.
Nino pulled up his dress far enough to sling his left leg over Ohno's right thigh, pulling himself in roughly, leaning his full weight onto Ohno, twining his arms around Ohno's neck, and Ohno ducked his nose into Nino's shoulder, taking a huge sniff of the perfume Nino had sprayed on before they left Aiba's place, mouth open to taste-
The door opened, flooding the interior with white light. Ohno froze. Nino froze.
An employee, in black and white uniform, stood there, staring.
"Uh," he said.
This was, of course, when Jun happened to walk by.
part 3