[Let the Games Begin] Chapter 6: "A Time and a Place" (edited version)
Being the seventh part of Fifteen Mokona on a Dead Man's Chest, this is a sequel to:
I: Rum & Popcorn, II: Talk Like a Pirate Day, III: Slings and Arrows, IV: You Got It, V: Dark and Stormy, and VI: Dim Smitten Star.
This series is a broad "Pirates vs. Ninjas" alternate universe comprised of short, multi-chapter stories that can each be read on their own. They are, however, also coherent if you decide start at the beginning and some may prefer them that way.
TITLE: Let the Games Begin
CHAPTER: 6 of (12-16) - "A Time and a Place" (Edited Version -- explicit version available here)
SERIES: X, Tokyo Babylon, xxxHoLic, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Magic Knight Rayearth, Card Captor Sakura, CLAMP School Detectives, Chobits, Suki Dakara Suki, Legend of Chun Hyang, Gate 7, Code Geass, WISH, RG Veda, Miyuki-chan in Wonderland, Shirahime-Syo, Angelic Layer, CLAMP in Wonderland, Nijuu Mensou ni Onegai!! (Man of Many Faces), Campus Defenders Duklyon (many drive-by cameos, other series may appear later)
PAIRINGS: Featured - Doumeki Shizuka x Watanuki Kimihiro, Takamura Suoh x Imonoyama Nokoru. Background or unrealized - Lantis x Shidou Hikaru x Eagle Vision, Kurogane x Fai D. Fluorite, Li Syaoran x Sakura, Li Meiling > Li Syaoran, Shirou Kamui pining for Fuuma and/or Kotori while angsting over his friendship with Sumeragi Subaru, Shirou Kamui & Shidou Hikaru (friendship), Daidouji Tomoyo > Sakura... Am I missing anything? Probably not anything significant. Chapters may vary.
DISCLAIMER: Everything in the CLAMP Megaverse was originally created by CLAMP. They are entirely to blame for creating a system of crossovers that do not easily disclaim. Characters have been adapted without authorization or approval, and I am making no profit from their use.
RATING: PG-13. Sexual overtones.
SUMMARY: Give Nokoru an excuse, and he'll give you a festival -- with the ninja elite from every corner of the globe. Which is, naturally, where Pirate King Fai D. Fluorite wants to send Kamui this week... Nothing can go wrong!
Previously...
: 1: Opening Ceremonies :: 2: Things Better Left Unsaid :: 3: Honesty is the Best Policy (Explicit) (Edited) :: 4: Not According to Plan :: 5: Exactly What It Seems (Explicit) (Edited) :
[A TIME AND A PLACE]
Day Three Results:
Cooking Contest
Trivia Contest
Cross-Referencing Contest
Drinking Contest
Ghost Story Contest
LI MEILING (Xinan) def. Ogata Masaharu (Malvek)
~//~
The air from the curing rack came out earthy, hot, and cinnamony, like a scalding breath on his face that made his eyes water. "The leaves are done," Nagumo reported.
"We're not discussing that," Yudaiji harrumphed back. "Not where people can hear."
"I mean the cinnamon-cured spinach leaves." He held out one of the racks for his partner to examine. As if he would have mentioned their preparations for the main hall while they were in the open! He wasn't stupid, or careless. Yudaiji was the one who couldn't help monologuing -- among the many reasons why the purple-haired "mastermind" wanted Nagumo prepping their main event while he himself led Takamura and company on a snipe hunt. Next time, Nagumo swore, he'd be working alone.
Under his breath, Yudaiji murmured, "We'll need something else to call our ingredients. It won't do to get confused. We could call the spinach, 'breadcrumb replacement'..."
"Or we could call it spinach." Either way, they only had to crumble it over their cinnamon-seasoned beef lasagna and cook it for another five minutes (no more, to retain color) and then it'd be a memory. There wasn't much else to discuss.
And Yudaiji was cackling again. He almost never did that back in Civic, but the longer he was exposed to Imonoyama, the more prone to stereotypical villainy he became.
"I've outwitted you this time, Nokoru-san! You thought you could switch ingredients on me, but now I have your number. And my family has a truly undefeatable recipe for unique use of cinnamon! Nothing can compete with this flavor!"
Nagumo noticed with a sigh that the competitor from England was watching Yudaiji talk with a laughing smile. If only it'd do any good to ask Yudaiji to shut up.
"Today, I'll take down Watanuki, and then my place in the finals will be virtually secured! Defeating Ijyuin at his own game will be only the first step in stripping everyone Nokoru-san loves of their place in the sun. One by one, all of them will fall! All of Nokoru-san's plans will be in ruins... starting here, now, with the Witch's lackey."
The only pleasant thing about this conversation was the savory air of baked cinnamon throughout the Coliseum. "I still don't think Watanuki's place in the finals against Ijyuin is so much a plan as, shall we say, an inevitability."
Yudaiji curled his lip as he put the lasagna back in the oven, snide laughter infusing his every gesture even though he wasn't even laughing at the moment. "I'd like to see him try to design a dish with flavors so delicately balanced, so potent yet supremely edible, as my own recipes, adapted for fast cooking tournaments such as this from notes handed down by the greatest chefs in history!"
"Behold!" Watanuki called out -- not to them in particular, of course, but to the Coliseum in general. Yudaiji was hardly the only ham in the competition. "Succulent citrus and cinnamon marinaded lamb on a bed of mashed garbanzos steeped in squash consommé!"
The spatula in Yudaiji's hand snapped. Nagumo seized the spare spatula and the knife laying near his fellow chef's hand before any more damage could be done. "Marinaded?!" Yudaiji hissed, sniffing the air. "I smell orange, wine, cinnamon, coriander, ginger... But there's not even enough time to roast a lamb leg, let alone marinade it!" He sniffed again, and his face contorted into more rage than Nagumo could ever think was called for. "Damn you, Watanuki! You flash-cooked the slices in a pan before you roasted it, didn't you?!"
Pushing up his glasses, Watanuki turned toward their station with a smirk. "Naturally topped with a brandy reduction, and a dollop of cinnamon sour cream on the side. Let all who wish to partake of this culinary marvel bow at my feet and cry for--!"
"Kimihiro-kun," his young sous-chef said, tugging on his sleeve. "Don't forget the judges can hear you."
The Witch's valet turned green, frozen and silent with the steaming (and perfectly plated) meal balanced on his hand. Then he brushed a spot of cornstarch off his apron and turned up his nose for the march to the turn-in table. "Well, obviously I didn't mean everyone. I was just talking about him." Watanuki pointed at the unmistakable hat of Deadeye Doumeki, who was sitting in the front row clapping at Watanuki's performance. "If that scoundrel hopes to eat another bite of the food I cook for him, he should know he has a lot of groveling to do!"
Yudaiji squinted at the audience, utter confusion on his face. "Has anyone else realized there are pirates here?"
~//~
If anyone had asked last week what Kamui thought was the worst part of a string quartet of mechanical automatons playing a half-step flat, he wouldn't have known where to start. Now, he knew: the worst part was having to dance to it. At least, dancing was the closest word he had for the inanity he had to perform. The floor was covered from edge to distant edge in pictures of rose bushes enclosed in a maze of shadow lines like sunlight filtered through a stained glass window, but unlike a window, the picture underfoot was always changing. See a white rose sprout, jump to the bush, tap your foot the way it grew, once for each rose, clap for leaves...
The way it matched the music, there wasn't anything to call it but dancing, Kamui supposed. Tap left on one to turn this rose red, zap forward to tap right on two to color in the next one, spin like a fucking idiot on three and clap on four when the next bush grew a ring with leaves, leaving red roses instead of white ones on every mark he hit.
And damned if he hadn't hit every mark. He had no idea what'd happen to him if he failed, but Icchan wandering around the maze dressed like the Queen of Hearts and the three pictures of his head glowing on the wall, bouncing up and down to the beat, gave him a pretty good idea. The asshole running this show was probably waiting for the chance to yell, "Off with his head!", and Kamui wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Even if it meant another hour of tap fore, tap aft, stomp, stomp, clap, clap until his bones broke clean through.
And he just wanted to say, he never made the comical scowl Icchan had put on the pictures of his head. His scowl was something that terrified brave men and women all the world 'round. Those caricatures were uncalled for.
"I don't want to see any white roses, now!" Icchan clucked, waltzing around the labyrinth (completely out of time with the music, which was a jig to begin with). And of course the next rose to appear was budding two damn turns away from the asshole. It was hard enough managing his momentum to stop dead on the bushes with his feet tapping the right way, let alone rushing to get them out of order.
And to make it worse, his best path to get there went right by Icchan. He wasn't allowed to be in line of sight any more than white roses were (nevermind that being a stupid rule when the "walls" blocking line of sight were just lines of--)
Shadow. He might just be able to twist this ninja shit to his own use.
He shrank into the closest wall line and zipped past the dungeon master, tapping left with a clap to paint the rose red and disappearing before the asshole turned the corner.
"Not bad, kiddo! For that kind of spunk, I think we need to up the tempo, don't you?"
Icchan snapped, and the automatons playing strings screeched to a tempo Kamui was pretty sure had to redefine "fast". The flowers sped up blooming to keep pace, too. He wasn't even standing to tap anymore. This was practically--
"Eleven Lords a-leaping," Icchan crooned, out of time and out of tune with everything "Ten ladies dancing, nine pipers--"
"Shut the hell up, would you?!" Kamui's breath burned in his lungs from the speed he had to maintain, but he had enough left to yell.
His captor clucked his tongue. "No matter how well you score, it just won't do to play with an attitude like that. Life is full of distractions, you know!"
Tap, tap, twirl -- "This isn't a distraction!" -- Clap, stomp, double tap -- "This is torture!"
"Torture? A basic training regime developed by one of the greatest minds of any age in service to the most elite ninja clans? Not just anybody can take one of my training sessions, my boy. You should be honored!"
"I was talking about your singing, not this joke you call training!"
But while he skittered through the maze and his feet settled into the new, faster tempo, Kamui eyed his warden. If he'd say that much without prompting, how much more would he say with a push? Icchan seemed to run at the mouth an awful lot for a ninja.
"You mean you're the reason the old bloodlines stay on top, with all this nonsense? Or is this crap supposed to be stuff you can't do unless--"
"Pish! Hardly! There are naturally disposed people, of course, and it's always news when they're from some old family, but that little fellow from Nihon, what's his name?"
"Kurogane?"
"Ah, Kurogane!" Kamui eyerolled through a tap-tap-spin-clap that found him halfway across the floor before it was over. "His family were shrine types, you know, not one of the old ninja clans, and he's done well enough for himself! Not that it matters for you, Mr. Death Shirou Kamui-san."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" It took all his willpower not to rush the asshole and throttle him, but as close as he was to done with this stupid training exercise, he wasn't going to let Icchan get the better of him. He wasn't going to lose his pace, lose one of his heads on the wall, or start this flower maze over from the beginning.
But Icchan was asking for pain with the way he chortled, and the way he wiggled in a way totally inappropriate for a waltz. "What indeed? What indeed?! Don't you think you've got nothing to worry about if you're doing fine so far?"
All Kamui's unasked questions about whether he was only doing "fine" because his mother was actually a ninja came out as a growl. He hadn't known how to put it in a letter last night, and he didn't know how to speak the words now.
Icchan, of course, sang things he didn't care about along to the music in lines that didn't even scan. "Oh, if I told you about the Imperial family, I'd have to kill you~u..."
"Not if I kill you first."
"But it's all about the family secrets! If you want a bodyguard, you've got to get a Takamura! And if you want a poison, only an Imonoyama will do... Not actually," the jackass hissed as an aside, "but their family has all the hidden lore. And oh, for a spy, not just any spy, just the best spy, find yourself an Ookawa, a main-house Ookawa, only not the Magami branch Ookawa because--"
Ringing bells cut off Icchan's song right when Kamui's ears perked at the Magami name. That'd been the woman he met who looked like his mother, hadn't it? Magami Tokiko? He couldn't have cared less that the bells meant he'd cleared the challenge -- he had to get Icchan talking again!
Although the floor full of red roses looking like a sea of blood under his feet was vaguely pleasant somehow.
"Oh, would you look at that!" his captor cawed. "You've finished already, and just in time, too. I knew upping the pace would do the trick."
"But what about the Magami clan?!" Kamui yelled, stiffening to a board when he felt Icchan zip behind him.
He could feel the bastard's glasses glinting, and it was even more unnerving than the two fingers he laid like a knife on Kamui's spine. "The Magami, eh? They don't... spy. Now, you're late! You're late! for a very important date!" The portal to the outside appeared in front of him, and Icchan kicked him out.
Kicked. With a boot. On his ass. Of all the nerve.
"Bye bye!" that voice that would haunt his nightmares called after him.
"Don't you 'Bye bye!' me, you son of a bitch!"
Kamui barely had time to growl about being back in the open again or kick the dust when he felt the imminent presence of someone about to pop out of a flicker-step. And he would complain to Fai in full when he got back about how he could sense that now, but for the moment he was face to face with the basically non-threatening Akechi -- the man in glasses who'd taken his portrait two days ago.
"There you are! We thought we'd never find you." He waved for Kamui to follow him. "We'll have to run. It's starting any minute."
He didn't want to run after anyone when he'd spent the last however the hell long chasing Icchan's roses, but Akechi didn't stop for questions, so run Kamui did. He was going to get answers from somebody about something, damn it!
"Would you tell me where we're going?! How the hell can I be late for anything?!"
Ahead of him, a girl with bright red hair turned around at the sound of his voice with the brightest smile he could imagine. "Ka--!" she yelled before her blonde friend with more sense covered Hikaru's mouth. She waved, jumping up and down, and so did that jerk Eagle standing behind her (without the jumping). What was he supposed to do with that? He waved back as they dashed past, then started politely asking Akechi for information again since the man hadn't done anything but blink at him.
"What the fuck is going on here?!"
Akechi blinked again, seeming not to need to watch where he was going since he was just staring at Kamui. "I suppose Magami-kun couldn't find you yesterday to tell you after all, but I was sure you knew... You've been selected as Mr. Impala for the Beauty Pageant."
"I've been what?!"
~//~
There was no doubt in Suoh's mind that his Chairman would have preferred to be anywhere but his dignified office, reviewing paperwork critical to the smooth function of their festival in particular and the city in general. The sunshine was lovely outside -- the shining, golden sort of light that made Nokoru's hair look like it had a gentle glow of its own, and which the Chairman had declared on more than one day to be sufficient excuse to cancel an entire afternoon's work. If that hadn't been enough, the scent of funnel cakes drifted through the open windows, and his blond had added a longing sniff to his usual every-five-inches-of-paperwork sigh. Not to mention the colors and music filling the streets, however there were right ways to run an organization and disordered ways to run an organization, and Suoh was here to ensure that everything was in its proper place, including the Imonoyama everyone was depending on.
Nokoru sipped tea out of a cup in one hand while whipping down documents and stamping them with the other. Suoh had a cup as well, and savored the perfect strength and sweetness of the brew Ijyuin had prepared before he'd returned to the Coliseum for the judging segment of the cooking contest (where certainly no one but Lady Utako had noticed him leave despite his popularity with the crowds). He'd need the calming powers of a cup of Ijyuin's tea when the inevitable conversation he was waiting for occurred. Naturally, it would be a minute or two more since he'd put his own requisition forms at the bottom of the pile so the Chairman wouldn't use the distraction as a reason to avoid finishing his work.
Those two minutes ticked by, and just as he drank his last sip of tea, Nokoru addressed him, a teasing lilt in his always musical voice. "Suoh? Why are we pressing additional guards into service around all the events in the main hall? I thought we had more than enough security on duty."
"Sir, there is still the matter of the problems implied by the unpredictable strange occurrences around campus -- which, by their very nature, I had not predicted during assignment of security personnel."
"And here I thought we'd agreed they were harmless!"
"I've agreed to leave off investigation of the feathers," he replied, although he still planned to address the apparent invitation of a Pirate Lord to their city at some point when more pressing matters were settled. A sentiment he never thought he would have expressed as a visiting Pirate Lord was usually the most pressing of problems, but if Death Shirou hadn't attacked by now, he wouldn't be planning to. That man was no infiltrator. "That still leaves the matter of Yudaiji unresolved."
"Suoh..."
"The reports attached to my requisition contain all details of current reconnaissance."
The curl on Nokoru's lip almost looked like a smile, and the way the blond bit it to keep it from turning into one almost took Suoh's composure away despite his fortification with excellent tea. "You never fail to have your forms in order, do you, Suoh?"
He purred that in a way that made Suoh feel like he was completely inappropriately blushing over paperwork when, in fact, he was inappropriately blushing over innuendo while he should have been insisting that the Chairman do his paperwork. An almost-smile of his own snuck onto his face as he answered, "I have every confidence in your ability to follow my reasoning, Chairman."
The crisp sound of a turning page filled the office. "Rigs for monofilament wire in the trees outside the Great Hall, disguised as leaves, not Kragero issue. Not, I'll note, Civic issue either. They're a non-standard design," Nokoru challenged him, raising a saucy eyebrow.
"If you're referring to how that could be anyone's doing, I am no less concerned about an unknown party attacking the Great Hall than I am about a known hostile such as Yudaiji doing so."
"Excellent. Now, about modifications to the rafters in the Proscenium area?"
"We suspect a secondary structure has been built entirely in shadow space around our standard catwalks, but due to the nature of the personal technique used and concern over any traps, we're still investigating the extent and purpose. Once Ijyuin is free, I'll be asking for his help in that."
"Something that intricate..." The Chairman pulled out a new sheet of paper, making a quick sketch of the Proscenium blueprints from memory, then adding lines in red based on the notes in Suoh's report and dotted lines for likely additional structures that Suoh planned to issue copies of immediately. "This had to have been designed by a ninja who's... hmm. He or she would have to be well versed in the arts of architectural design..."
"So if Yudaiji is responsible, he's working with an accomplice. He's never shown any affinity for construction. Possibly more than one accomplice, given the other..."
Suoh trailed off as Nokoru flipped his sheet over to sketch a graph on three axes, writing a series of equations across the top. The blond was whispering under his breath and blinking his eyes without focusing on a thing as if using them for code while his hand traced out perfect arcs -- all signs Suoh knew well as indicators that nothing he could possibly say besides "Hark! A lady cries on yonder hill!" would penetrate the wall of Imonoyama Nokoru's cognition. His old friend had told him years ago that he used the blink of his eyes as a mnemonic aid to register facts and conclusions in his memory, and in its own way it was as thrilling as watching a master archer draw a bow. Suoh was loath to interrupt the process with so much as a breath, even though he was sure the Chairman's focus would more than compensate for an interruption, just as a siren going off couldn't shake Suoh's own focus on a strike he meant to execute.
Or perhaps he simply loved to watch Nokoru work. Either way, he was waiting in silence when his lover turned the page for Suoh to review.
"I've calculated the probabilities of Yudaiji-kun attacking on any given day, based on the data in your report and the established history between him and me."
"But--"
"You think I'd ignore all of your evidence simply because I'd prefer that Yudaiji-kun spend a peaceful week in our city?"
"Of course not, Chairman," Suoh answered, this time with an actual smile. "So you've analyzed this in terms of the length of his stay, the months since he last attempted to kill you, and the number of people visiting the city at the time?"
"Yes. You'll be happy, I'm sure, that the higher our ratio of tourists to citizens, the less likely he is to attempt a full takeover of the city, I believe because he considers it less 'mine'."
"How reassuring." Dates and notes next to the data points on the graph had no doubt been added because the Chairman expected him to want to verify this extrapolation, and indeed Suoh couldn't find a single one of Yudaiji's assaults missing. He remembered every one. The red X, of course, was the relevant point for his purposes. "So you expect him to act in the evening of the seventh day of the Festival?"
"And if his target is the Great Hall--"
"The Flower Arrangement finals."
"My mother's personal favorite competition. We already know he meant to strike against Akira, and against you--"
"I have no worries whatsoever about his challenge in the martial arts tournament."
"Don't worry, darling, I'll let you wipe the mats with him. Actually, I don't plan to interrupt any of Yudaiji-kun's preparations. If he's not planning to strike public utilities this time, and he does seem to be keeping his attacks personal, I won't expend public resources to stop him. Besides, you know he always settles a bit when he can get it out of his system."
Suoh sighed. "So you're saying that you won't approve additional security, not even for the Flower Arrangement contest alone."
"Oh, I think you, Akira, and I should be able to handle it!"
"And you want me to let the rest of the security patrols go, too. Don't you?"
The Chairman sauntered around the desk, dropping his requisition unstamped and unapproved into the trash can with a particular glint in his eye that Suoh had only started noticing since the blond had learned he could make Suoh's pulse race without even a touch. "Oh, Suoh. Let them enjoy the festival. Who wants to work on a day like this?"
"You don't think everyone would enjoy the festival more in assured safety?"
Nokoru sat on the edge of the desk, poking Suoh's knee with his toe. "Since when have enough ninja to fill a city like this ever universally wanted anything, let alone 'assured safety'?! Actually, I'd say the majority want adventure, daring... Romance."
He already knew from the look in the Chairman's eye that his blond genius wanted to retire the afternoon's agenda in favor of a bit of irresponsibility, and more than that, he could tell his lover was in a mood that wouldn't brook resistance. He was like a summer sun shower that came out of nowhere and drove you to an overhang laughing, not sure what to do next. That is, until you found yourself kissing a beautiful man and otherwise doing things you'd never do in public if it hadn't been for the solitude of that hidden moment giving you permission.
No matter how ready for those moments Suoh thought he was, Nokoru made him feel like his guard was permanently down. The fact that his lover was begging him for a kiss (as much as Imonoyama Nokoru begged for anything) made it that much harder to tell himself their duties were more important. And really, a kiss wouldn't set them too far behind. Like his mother had told him the first time he'd shown up late for a routine briefing with a hickey on his collarbone, sometimes the proper thing to do was to make time for your lover.
Blushing despite that, he shook a kunai from his sleeve and flung it at the cord holding the blinds open. Only thin slivers of sunlight cutting across the desk remained, leaving streaks of gold fire in Nokoru's hair and hitting his fingers as they inched toward the edge of the desk.
Suoh trailed the back of his fingers down Nokoru's jaw, studying the slight parting of his lover's mouth and savoring the sound of his speeding breath before he gripped his cravat to draw their faces close. His other hand nudged finely clad legs wide enough to press their bodies together. Both their hearts raced against their chests in syncopated cacophony while he hovered, nose to nose, a breath away from the kiss he'd been planning on. But this wasn't going to end with a kiss, was it?
"Are you sure you want me to make you late for judging the Beauty Contest? I know how you hate to keep the ladies waiting."
"I'd hate it even more if I couldn't judge them fairly. All that work... I'm just exhausted. The contestants deserve--"
The rest of his sentence got lost in a kiss. No one would have accused Nokoru of giving less than his utmost in anything once he was doing it, and the art of a kiss, Suoh was certain, had the honor of being one of Nokoru's favorite subjects. He'd never say so directly. It wasn't his way to express favoritism. But it was clear in every contented purr, every caress along Suoh's neck and back, even in the way he teased open Suoh's shirt, that he relished being kissed thoroughly and having the chance to answer in kind; so Suoh took care to do so whenever opportunity allowed. It'd become one of his own favorite things in life to find those moments when Nokoru was out of breath, light headed and grasping, lips swollen and tongue limp and begging whenever he broke for air. Remembering his own feet was no easy task by then, but he always had the strength to never let Nokoru down. It was simply more literal at times like this, when his lover pushed against him until he had wrapped himself around Suoh's hips instead of sitting on the desk.
~//~
After all the rushing to get to the Great Hall, Kamui was just fine with one of the judges running late. It gave him a chance to rest. He wasn't planning to sleep, but there was a snack bar, free drinks, even the occasional chair (although he wasn't going to sit in one while Lantis was standing next to them, staring at him and making it clear in that non-speaking way he had that Hikaru was the only reason he hadn't reported Kamui, and Kamui never tempted Fate because Fate was a bitch). He was less fine with being confined to a cramped backstage area in close proximity with ninja who had nothing to do but mingle.
Four black-haired sirens were consorting in the far corner, three who looked like women and one he was pretty sure was a man, all with more of Arashi's brand of obvious deadliness than Kamui wanted directed at him when he was this worn out, and all of whom were sizing him up like lieutenants about to break in a new class of middies. He'd already heard them go from wondering, "Who's Mr. Impala? I don't think I've seen him around before," to wondering where Miss Ceres was, since Ceres was the only country here to share a border with Impala. It was only a matter of time before they nominated one of their number to talk to him.
Not that it'd be any safer back over by the snack bar where none other than Mage Clef was telling some white-haired pretty boy from Civic and a girl with long, tawny curls, "That man looks familiar somehow..."
Unfortunately, leaving or turning invisible would probably attract the wrong kind of questions, but getting made while standing at the center of the entire festival's attention wasn't the safest thing he could do while exhausted. As quietly as he could, he ducked behind one of the rows of curtains littering the backstage's sightlines, away from the bulk of the crowd. Too late, he realized he should have peeked around the curtain first, since in this company and in his state he couldn't trust himself to sense someone's presence accurately. Either way, he sure was caught now, because there was Princess Sakura, whom he'd kidnapped barely more than a month ago, blinking her shocked green eyes over her shoulder at him as a baton fell on her head.
But..." she stammered, then caught up her guts to point the baton at him like a sword, setting her jaw as if to say that nobody was going to take her without a fight. It was pretty convincing, even with the backless, mini-skirted dance dress that most people never could've made work. On Sakura, the pleats and ruffles somehow looked deadly.
Kamui raised his hands in surrender. "I come in peace. I just... want a place to hide."
"Oh!" The lady smiled, dropping the point of her baton with more trust than Kamui thought he merited in this particular situation. "Okay. If... If you want me to find a different curtain, I can do that!" she promised, so earnest he thought he might die. "I was only back here because Tomoyo told me not to practice my routine where anyone could see, or since they're all ninjas they might figure out how to sabotage my equipment."
With a suffering sigh, he collapsed against a wall, burying his face in his hands. "Don't go anywhere." Honestly, it was good to see a friendly face, however unexpected it was for her to be friendly. As soon as he was done here, he was definitely going to find Hikaru. After only three and a half days, he'd forgotten how much of a relief it was to be around someone who didn't want him dead. "I don't even know why I'm in this stupid pageant to begin with."
Sakura patted his shoulder, leaving him eye to eye with her brilliant smile. "Don't worry, Kamui-san. Everything will be all right, you'll see."
This had to be a new low in his life, but somehow, he did feel better. Minorly, incrementally better. He could almost ignore the hushed whispers of curious ninja past the curtain and Akechi going around asking, "Ladies, Gentlemen, do you mind if I take your official portraits?"
When he looked back at the princess, she was offering him a cup of water, which he took and drank half of with profound thanks. It was the kind of gesture he'd only ever given an enemy caught dead to rights invading his territory because the Pirate Code demanded it. "Were you born this nice, or is it something you learned?"
She blinked again. "I don't know. I can't remember anything from before Tomoyo found me on the beach nine years ago... She was thirteen, and she guesses I was, too." Her grin made Kamui wince a bit inside. "Sorry, I just can't say."
"No, I'm sorry. I can't believe I kidnapped you for an entire week, and I never knew that." That had to be some kind of massive faux pas.
"It's all right! It's not really a big deal."
Kamui thought back to his childhood days, playing on the beach with Fuuma and Kotori, and wondered if he could put on half as brave a face if that were suddenly taken from him, or if he'd even know what he was missing. "You can't remember a single thing?"
"Well. Apparently I remembered a song about the Barrows-guard when your friend, Subaru-san, was playing his violin."
The mention of that sent a shock down Kamui's spine. He knew the song Subaru had been playing the night Kurogane had taken Sakura and Syaoran off the Dragon of Heaven -- the one he always played when he was thinking about that bastard Sakurazuka and well past pretending his heart was anything but broken -- although he hadn't known it had any words. "I'm..." Sorry wasn't a good enough word for finding out somebody's only childhood memory was apparently about the world's certifiable Worst Person Alive. Possibly Worst Person of All Time, if Sakurazuka actually was the legendary hell-demon that stories called the Barrows-guard. "That's awful. ... No wonder Subaru let you go."
"That's what Kurogane-san said."
"Well. I... hope you remember something else, ever."
"Thanks!" she answered, and as sincere as she sounded, she may even have had a follow-up to prevent what Kamui was sure would've been the most awkward silence imaginable. He never found out, because Akechi's voice through the curtains cut off whatever she might have said.
"Places, please, everyone! Chairman Imonoyama has arrived! Places! If you're unsure of your order, please check the list by the door. And, due to our shortened time on stage, we will be combining the interview and talent portions of the show with the lingerie competition. Make sure to remove your clothes before heading to the stage! Thank you!"
"What?!" Kamui hissed.
Over to his right, he saw Sakura tug a string on her skirt that tucked all the pleats up into sprays of pink flowers on white briefs -- which, as someone who wore clothes every day, Kamui found mindboggling. The knots and twists that transformed her top into a matching, perfectly fitted brassiere were no less staggering. She caught him gaping and smiled. "Tomoyo can see the future, so she made me a costume that changes for my baton routine."
"I need to never let her meet Fai. But do they seriously expect me to go out there, in front of a crowd of ninja, wearing nothing but underwear?!"
"Did you not bring any?" Sakura asked.
Did he not bring any.
Before he could expound on that, Akechi walked on stage to announce, "Welcome, guests, to the annual Kragero Beauty Pageant, and thank you for your patience. The time has now come to introduce you to our hopefuls competing for the title of King or Queen of the Games!" Kamui scoffed at the term 'hopeful' almost as much as he scoffed at the overly dramatic drum roll and spotlight pointing at the mid-stage curtain behind the host. "Our first contestant is Mr. Hundhammeren, our paragon of the strong, dark, and silent type... the matchless... Lantis!"
And what should follow but the black-haired hulk striding past the center curtains into the spotlight -- without a stitch of clothing, because apparently he felt the same about underwear as Karen felt about clothes: Why bother? The crowd roared in approval, with Eagle's distinctive whistle cutting over it all.
It was a good thing he did have underwear, because no competition where he'd have to match up against that was a fair competition.
And he was not having that thought anymore! He didn't even want to be here!
"Oh gosh!" Sakura gasped, leaving Kamui gritting his teeth and praying that he wouldn't have to explain that he was not worried about being physically compared to Lantis, at all, not even a little. But he gave her his full attention instead of listening to any of Lantis's twenty seconds on, 'What does being a ninja mean to you?' Her eyes were fixed on her baton. "If you didn't know you'd be competing, you don't have a talent prepared!"
"Wait, a what?!" he spat, just as half of Hikaru's boyfriend posse started demonstrating his bird calls for the audience.
"I'm next, so I have to get in position, but so you know, Kurogane-san says you're not allowed to say your talent is fighting. The judges will find you materials for anything else, but just don't say that, okay?! Bye!"
Kamui could honestly say he was speechless as the lady ran off to her mark before Akechi called out, "Presenting our next contestant, Miss Malvek! What a treat to have a representative on behalf of our Imperial Family this year... Folks, I give you: the charming Princess Sakura!"
"Hello, everyone!" she greeted the cheering audience. Kamui used his new peeking skills to spot Syaoran, who had to be in the audience. It wasn't hard. He was the one standing red as a beet and stiff as a board to see his Princess in frilly panties, with Kurogane propping him up by the head. The poor kid was going to have to get over that or he'd never survive so much as kissing his sweetheart, which even an idiot could tell both of them were dying to do.
"All right," Akechi said after Sakura had taken her turn walking the stage. "Time for your interview question. Princess Sakura... what is your most cherished childhood memory?"
A breath caught in Kamui's throat like a cork. It was as if that question had been picked specifically to be cruel, and he didn't know how she could stand up there with no more reaction than eyes widened in surprise. Kamui looked for anyone who could make the host ask a new question, but the only person in eyeshot was the so-called "English" ninja, Hiiragizawa Eriol, who was staring at the stage with a creepy half-smile. Wearing blue boxers with a cartoon picture of his own face printed on them, as if he weren't already creepy enough. Clearly, that guy wouldn't be any help, but there had to be someone...
"Well," Sakura answered, the shock barely showing through her smile, "I guess I'd have to say the first summer I stayed with Her Imperial Highness, Princess Tomoyo! I'll never forget how she taught me to make strawberry shortcake..."
With his heart simultaneously melting and breaking over that, he almost didn't sense the slight wind of movement behind him. Almost. But between the sense of movement, the lack of the sound of curtains rustling (because ninja didn't ever obey any sensible constraints on realism, as he'd learned too painfully this week), and the energy of pure determination pointing like a hot poker at his back, he knew someone was there. He crossed his arms over his chest so as not to provoke anyone by slipping into attack posture when he turned around.
And saw Hibiya Chitose.
The woman whose library he'd sacked on more than one occasion, and whom most recently he'd spent fifteen minutes dueling on her fortress walls before he'd escaped by diving about a mile into the sea below.
Hibiya Chitose was Miss Ceres, because today had clearly not been perfect enough yet. What was next, Imonoyama Nokoru inviting him out for dinner?!
"Shirou?" Hibiya whispered.
He sighed, putting on his most resigned face (which Sorata said looked like a wet cat, but what did Sorata know?).
"Hi."
Even her polished poker face betrayed a hint of shock when he answered, not that there'd be any point in trying to hide his identity from her. She studied him from head to toe, frowning at his pink armband, and made him miss entirely Sakura's transformation into her baton outfit, which he assumed was the cause of the audience's delighted "Ooh!"
Finally, she met his eyes again. "Shirou," she asked, "Did you lose a bet?"
"You know, I ask myself that every damn morning. Is there a reason why you're not calling security on me, because I promise you I'm not here because I want to be."
She laughed, which was less scary than he'd always pictured it being. "Well, the thing is, the Games only have one hard and fast rule, and it's that there's no such thing as calling foul play after the fact. You have to notice before they pull it off. If someone got away with falsely registering you as Impala's representative, I'm too late to do anything about it, and so are the judges. Anything you get away with is fair game."
"Great. So what if I 'get away with' leaving the Great Hall before I get outed by marching in front of the assembled crowds of ninja in by birthday suit?"
He took a step away, but she had one of his arms in her perfectly manicured grip and the flat of a knife resting against his bottom rib. "Don't. Even. Think about it."
He expected to find her usual deadly glare when he faced her, but instead it was an arch-but-amused glare with no bloodlust whatsoever. And it was the flat of a knife, and if he fought her, he'd be outed for sure. Not that he faked any hint that he'd give in to being threatened, because he wouldn't. "I don't see how that's your business."
"You stole my best friend's place in the pageant. If you walk away, her country doesn't even get the honor of being represented, and I simply can't allow that. Now, help me with my zipper?" she asked as she put the knife away and turned her back to show him where her dress opened.
"Excuse me?!"
"When you beat Sayaka in the run-off, you not only deprived Impala of a native representative -- you also deprived me of my dressing partner, and I expect you to take responsibility for that, Shirou."
"Okay, okay!" A zipper wasn't worth the fuss, although he had a suspicion the ninja could get it herself without trouble. He knew too well the look of a manipulative liar (he was looking at you, Fai!) giving him stupid reasons to step into line so he didn't start asking for more trouble than he probably wanted. Not that he couldn't have taken it. He could have. But honestly, it offended his pirate dignity (which he had lots of, no matter what any strange women implied about his parentage) to run away and throw a fit. He'd rather get called out on stage than backstage. It had more room to fight in anyway.
And now, instead of being in trouble, he was standing next to Hibiya Chitose in racy lingerie, wondering how his life had come to this. Up till today, he'd managed not to know whether Hibiya went dom or sub in Ceres's world-famous fetish scene, but the merry widow corset cinching in her waist, with the boning hidden under patterns of leather and the sheer lace panels hiding not much of anything, plus the thigh-high black boots, made it pretty clear where she stood. All she was missing was the cat-o-nine-tails.
"Nice breasts," he said through a polite grimace. "Very... round."
"You're sweet. I know it's not really your scene."
He wasn't touching that with a ten-foot pole.
"Now could you make sure the backside lays flat? It wouldn't do for it to ride up on stage." She handed him a bottle labeled 'Edge sealer' as if that were a perfectly reasonable request, and smiled the beatific smile of someone who wasn't going to admit there was nothing reasonable about it. "It's really not possible to get that part oneself."
He knelt down with a glare to glue down the sides of her underwear. It wasn't clear how anything laid flat on a surface that curvy, especially with that few seams, but he managed. "You owe me for this, Hibiya."
"Next time, don't raid my castle. Now, fair's fair. Do you need help getting ready?"
Kamui retreated half a step, waving her off his zipper. "Thanks. I've got it." Goodness knew, his years on the Dragon of Heaven, with his fellow Lords and Ladies and their love of fooling around, had taught him the only escape from a potentially embarrassing situation was to have no shame. And apparently, if he was in this contest fair and square, nobody could kill him until the competition was over.
Slipping off his catsuit, he swept his hair out of his eyes to find out exactly how sweaty and gross it'd gotten from his morning of running from Icchan's ridiculousness. Which was very. "Can you point me at somewhere I can wash up, though?"
"Showers are the second door past the snack bar. Oh, and I love the briefs, Shirou."
He eyed the black bikini briefs that'd come with his ninja costume. "Thanks. They were a gift," he grumbled, and shoved everything else he'd been wearing into nothing space, since like hell was he leaving his magic communicator he used for talking to Fuuma anywhere ninja could get at it, and obviously there weren't lockers anywhere to be seen.
"Shirou, what did you just do?!" Hibiya asked, stopping him just as surely as if she'd grabbed his arm again.
"Nothing you haven't seen before."
"Of course, but... But when did you learn to do it?" Her voice sounded more serious than it had all day, but it wasn't threatening at all. More like worried.
He turned his eyes to the floor to think, then back over his shoulder at his once and probably future enemy. "I've had one hell of a week. That's... really all I can say."
If there was one thing he knew, it was not to name names, especially not when the leaders of nations were batting him through the shadows like a blindfolded tennis ball. You never knew what could get caught in the crossfire. Everybody knew that.
With a silent nod and worried eyes, Hibiya let him go.
to be continued...
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I: Rum & Popcorn, II: Talk Like a Pirate Day, III: Slings and Arrows, IV: You Got It, V: Dark and Stormy, and VI: Dim Smitten Star.
This series is a broad "Pirates vs. Ninjas" alternate universe comprised of short, multi-chapter stories that can each be read on their own. They are, however, also coherent if you decide start at the beginning and some may prefer them that way.
TITLE: Let the Games Begin
CHAPTER: 6 of (12-16) - "A Time and a Place" (Edited Version -- explicit version available here)
SERIES: X, Tokyo Babylon, xxxHoLic, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, Magic Knight Rayearth, Card Captor Sakura, CLAMP School Detectives, Chobits, Suki Dakara Suki, Legend of Chun Hyang, Gate 7, Code Geass, WISH, RG Veda, Miyuki-chan in Wonderland, Shirahime-Syo, Angelic Layer, CLAMP in Wonderland, Nijuu Mensou ni Onegai!! (Man of Many Faces), Campus Defenders Duklyon (many drive-by cameos, other series may appear later)
PAIRINGS: Featured - Doumeki Shizuka x Watanuki Kimihiro, Takamura Suoh x Imonoyama Nokoru. Background or unrealized - Lantis x Shidou Hikaru x Eagle Vision, Kurogane x Fai D. Fluorite, Li Syaoran x Sakura, Li Meiling > Li Syaoran, Shirou Kamui pining for Fuuma and/or Kotori while angsting over his friendship with Sumeragi Subaru, Shirou Kamui & Shidou Hikaru (friendship), Daidouji Tomoyo > Sakura... Am I missing anything? Probably not anything significant. Chapters may vary.
DISCLAIMER: Everything in the CLAMP Megaverse was originally created by CLAMP. They are entirely to blame for creating a system of crossovers that do not easily disclaim. Characters have been adapted without authorization or approval, and I am making no profit from their use.
RATING: PG-13. Sexual overtones.
SUMMARY: Give Nokoru an excuse, and he'll give you a festival -- with the ninja elite from every corner of the globe. Which is, naturally, where Pirate King Fai D. Fluorite wants to send Kamui this week... Nothing can go wrong!
Previously...
: 1: Opening Ceremonies :: 2: Things Better Left Unsaid :: 3: Honesty is the Best Policy (Explicit) (Edited) :: 4: Not According to Plan :: 5: Exactly What It Seems (Explicit) (Edited) :
[A TIME AND A PLACE]
Day Three Results:
Cooking Contest
- Appetizer:LI SYAORAN & PRINCESS SAKURA (Malvek) def. Miyuki & Kagami (Ceres)
- Soup: NAMIYA TOMOAKI & KIZU MASAYA (Chevrolet) def. Shimai Kaoruko & Shimai Sakurako (Chevrolet)
- Salad: OGATA MASAHARU & HIS ANGELS (Malvek) def. Mukoufujiwara Kousuke & Nayuki Satoru (Nihon)
- Main Course: WOL MAE & CHUN HYANG (Xinan) def. Inada Shuuji & Inada Yuuko (Malvek)
- Dessert: UEDA HIROYASU & OOMURA YUMI (Ceres) def. Li Meiling & Wei Wang (Xinan)
Trivia Contest
- Gold: Humpty-Dumpty (Ceres)
- Silver: Terada Yoshiyuki (Kia)
- Bronze: Kudou Shuuichirou (Impala)
Cross-Referencing Contest
- Gold: Mong Ryong (Xinan)
- Silver: Gingetsu (Kragero)
- Bronze: Sang Yung (Fahren)
Drinking Contest
- Current Leader: Empress Kendappa (Malvek)
- Second: Kurogane (Malvek)
- Third: Snow Princess Shirahime (Nihon)
Ghost Story Contest
LI MEILING (Xinan) def. Ogata Masaharu (Malvek)
~//~
The air from the curing rack came out earthy, hot, and cinnamony, like a scalding breath on his face that made his eyes water. "The leaves are done," Nagumo reported.
"We're not discussing that," Yudaiji harrumphed back. "Not where people can hear."
"I mean the cinnamon-cured spinach leaves." He held out one of the racks for his partner to examine. As if he would have mentioned their preparations for the main hall while they were in the open! He wasn't stupid, or careless. Yudaiji was the one who couldn't help monologuing -- among the many reasons why the purple-haired "mastermind" wanted Nagumo prepping their main event while he himself led Takamura and company on a snipe hunt. Next time, Nagumo swore, he'd be working alone.
Under his breath, Yudaiji murmured, "We'll need something else to call our ingredients. It won't do to get confused. We could call the spinach, 'breadcrumb replacement'..."
"Or we could call it spinach." Either way, they only had to crumble it over their cinnamon-seasoned beef lasagna and cook it for another five minutes (no more, to retain color) and then it'd be a memory. There wasn't much else to discuss.
And Yudaiji was cackling again. He almost never did that back in Civic, but the longer he was exposed to Imonoyama, the more prone to stereotypical villainy he became.
"I've outwitted you this time, Nokoru-san! You thought you could switch ingredients on me, but now I have your number. And my family has a truly undefeatable recipe for unique use of cinnamon! Nothing can compete with this flavor!"
Nagumo noticed with a sigh that the competitor from England was watching Yudaiji talk with a laughing smile. If only it'd do any good to ask Yudaiji to shut up.
"Today, I'll take down Watanuki, and then my place in the finals will be virtually secured! Defeating Ijyuin at his own game will be only the first step in stripping everyone Nokoru-san loves of their place in the sun. One by one, all of them will fall! All of Nokoru-san's plans will be in ruins... starting here, now, with the Witch's lackey."
The only pleasant thing about this conversation was the savory air of baked cinnamon throughout the Coliseum. "I still don't think Watanuki's place in the finals against Ijyuin is so much a plan as, shall we say, an inevitability."
Yudaiji curled his lip as he put the lasagna back in the oven, snide laughter infusing his every gesture even though he wasn't even laughing at the moment. "I'd like to see him try to design a dish with flavors so delicately balanced, so potent yet supremely edible, as my own recipes, adapted for fast cooking tournaments such as this from notes handed down by the greatest chefs in history!"
"Behold!" Watanuki called out -- not to them in particular, of course, but to the Coliseum in general. Yudaiji was hardly the only ham in the competition. "Succulent citrus and cinnamon marinaded lamb on a bed of mashed garbanzos steeped in squash consommé!"
The spatula in Yudaiji's hand snapped. Nagumo seized the spare spatula and the knife laying near his fellow chef's hand before any more damage could be done. "Marinaded?!" Yudaiji hissed, sniffing the air. "I smell orange, wine, cinnamon, coriander, ginger... But there's not even enough time to roast a lamb leg, let alone marinade it!" He sniffed again, and his face contorted into more rage than Nagumo could ever think was called for. "Damn you, Watanuki! You flash-cooked the slices in a pan before you roasted it, didn't you?!"
Pushing up his glasses, Watanuki turned toward their station with a smirk. "Naturally topped with a brandy reduction, and a dollop of cinnamon sour cream on the side. Let all who wish to partake of this culinary marvel bow at my feet and cry for--!"
"Kimihiro-kun," his young sous-chef said, tugging on his sleeve. "Don't forget the judges can hear you."
The Witch's valet turned green, frozen and silent with the steaming (and perfectly plated) meal balanced on his hand. Then he brushed a spot of cornstarch off his apron and turned up his nose for the march to the turn-in table. "Well, obviously I didn't mean everyone. I was just talking about him." Watanuki pointed at the unmistakable hat of Deadeye Doumeki, who was sitting in the front row clapping at Watanuki's performance. "If that scoundrel hopes to eat another bite of the food I cook for him, he should know he has a lot of groveling to do!"
Yudaiji squinted at the audience, utter confusion on his face. "Has anyone else realized there are pirates here?"
~//~
If anyone had asked last week what Kamui thought was the worst part of a string quartet of mechanical automatons playing a half-step flat, he wouldn't have known where to start. Now, he knew: the worst part was having to dance to it. At least, dancing was the closest word he had for the inanity he had to perform. The floor was covered from edge to distant edge in pictures of rose bushes enclosed in a maze of shadow lines like sunlight filtered through a stained glass window, but unlike a window, the picture underfoot was always changing. See a white rose sprout, jump to the bush, tap your foot the way it grew, once for each rose, clap for leaves...
The way it matched the music, there wasn't anything to call it but dancing, Kamui supposed. Tap left on one to turn this rose red, zap forward to tap right on two to color in the next one, spin like a fucking idiot on three and clap on four when the next bush grew a ring with leaves, leaving red roses instead of white ones on every mark he hit.
And damned if he hadn't hit every mark. He had no idea what'd happen to him if he failed, but Icchan wandering around the maze dressed like the Queen of Hearts and the three pictures of his head glowing on the wall, bouncing up and down to the beat, gave him a pretty good idea. The asshole running this show was probably waiting for the chance to yell, "Off with his head!", and Kamui wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. Even if it meant another hour of tap fore, tap aft, stomp, stomp, clap, clap until his bones broke clean through.
And he just wanted to say, he never made the comical scowl Icchan had put on the pictures of his head. His scowl was something that terrified brave men and women all the world 'round. Those caricatures were uncalled for.
"I don't want to see any white roses, now!" Icchan clucked, waltzing around the labyrinth (completely out of time with the music, which was a jig to begin with). And of course the next rose to appear was budding two damn turns away from the asshole. It was hard enough managing his momentum to stop dead on the bushes with his feet tapping the right way, let alone rushing to get them out of order.
And to make it worse, his best path to get there went right by Icchan. He wasn't allowed to be in line of sight any more than white roses were (nevermind that being a stupid rule when the "walls" blocking line of sight were just lines of--)
Shadow. He might just be able to twist this ninja shit to his own use.
He shrank into the closest wall line and zipped past the dungeon master, tapping left with a clap to paint the rose red and disappearing before the asshole turned the corner.
"Not bad, kiddo! For that kind of spunk, I think we need to up the tempo, don't you?"
Icchan snapped, and the automatons playing strings screeched to a tempo Kamui was pretty sure had to redefine "fast". The flowers sped up blooming to keep pace, too. He wasn't even standing to tap anymore. This was practically--
"Eleven Lords a-leaping," Icchan crooned, out of time and out of tune with everything "Ten ladies dancing, nine pipers--"
"Shut the hell up, would you?!" Kamui's breath burned in his lungs from the speed he had to maintain, but he had enough left to yell.
His captor clucked his tongue. "No matter how well you score, it just won't do to play with an attitude like that. Life is full of distractions, you know!"
Tap, tap, twirl -- "This isn't a distraction!" -- Clap, stomp, double tap -- "This is torture!"
"Torture? A basic training regime developed by one of the greatest minds of any age in service to the most elite ninja clans? Not just anybody can take one of my training sessions, my boy. You should be honored!"
"I was talking about your singing, not this joke you call training!"
But while he skittered through the maze and his feet settled into the new, faster tempo, Kamui eyed his warden. If he'd say that much without prompting, how much more would he say with a push? Icchan seemed to run at the mouth an awful lot for a ninja.
"You mean you're the reason the old bloodlines stay on top, with all this nonsense? Or is this crap supposed to be stuff you can't do unless--"
"Pish! Hardly! There are naturally disposed people, of course, and it's always news when they're from some old family, but that little fellow from Nihon, what's his name?"
"Kurogane?"
"Ah, Kurogane!" Kamui eyerolled through a tap-tap-spin-clap that found him halfway across the floor before it was over. "His family were shrine types, you know, not one of the old ninja clans, and he's done well enough for himself! Not that it matters for you, Mr. Death Shirou Kamui-san."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" It took all his willpower not to rush the asshole and throttle him, but as close as he was to done with this stupid training exercise, he wasn't going to let Icchan get the better of him. He wasn't going to lose his pace, lose one of his heads on the wall, or start this flower maze over from the beginning.
But Icchan was asking for pain with the way he chortled, and the way he wiggled in a way totally inappropriate for a waltz. "What indeed? What indeed?! Don't you think you've got nothing to worry about if you're doing fine so far?"
All Kamui's unasked questions about whether he was only doing "fine" because his mother was actually a ninja came out as a growl. He hadn't known how to put it in a letter last night, and he didn't know how to speak the words now.
Icchan, of course, sang things he didn't care about along to the music in lines that didn't even scan. "Oh, if I told you about the Imperial family, I'd have to kill you~u..."
"Not if I kill you first."
"But it's all about the family secrets! If you want a bodyguard, you've got to get a Takamura! And if you want a poison, only an Imonoyama will do... Not actually," the jackass hissed as an aside, "but their family has all the hidden lore. And oh, for a spy, not just any spy, just the best spy, find yourself an Ookawa, a main-house Ookawa, only not the Magami branch Ookawa because--"
Ringing bells cut off Icchan's song right when Kamui's ears perked at the Magami name. That'd been the woman he met who looked like his mother, hadn't it? Magami Tokiko? He couldn't have cared less that the bells meant he'd cleared the challenge -- he had to get Icchan talking again!
Although the floor full of red roses looking like a sea of blood under his feet was vaguely pleasant somehow.
"Oh, would you look at that!" his captor cawed. "You've finished already, and just in time, too. I knew upping the pace would do the trick."
"But what about the Magami clan?!" Kamui yelled, stiffening to a board when he felt Icchan zip behind him.
He could feel the bastard's glasses glinting, and it was even more unnerving than the two fingers he laid like a knife on Kamui's spine. "The Magami, eh? They don't... spy. Now, you're late! You're late! for a very important date!" The portal to the outside appeared in front of him, and Icchan kicked him out.
Kicked. With a boot. On his ass. Of all the nerve.
"Bye bye!" that voice that would haunt his nightmares called after him.
"Don't you 'Bye bye!' me, you son of a bitch!"
Kamui barely had time to growl about being back in the open again or kick the dust when he felt the imminent presence of someone about to pop out of a flicker-step. And he would complain to Fai in full when he got back about how he could sense that now, but for the moment he was face to face with the basically non-threatening Akechi -- the man in glasses who'd taken his portrait two days ago.
"There you are! We thought we'd never find you." He waved for Kamui to follow him. "We'll have to run. It's starting any minute."
He didn't want to run after anyone when he'd spent the last however the hell long chasing Icchan's roses, but Akechi didn't stop for questions, so run Kamui did. He was going to get answers from somebody about something, damn it!
"Would you tell me where we're going?! How the hell can I be late for anything?!"
Ahead of him, a girl with bright red hair turned around at the sound of his voice with the brightest smile he could imagine. "Ka--!" she yelled before her blonde friend with more sense covered Hikaru's mouth. She waved, jumping up and down, and so did that jerk Eagle standing behind her (without the jumping). What was he supposed to do with that? He waved back as they dashed past, then started politely asking Akechi for information again since the man hadn't done anything but blink at him.
"What the fuck is going on here?!"
Akechi blinked again, seeming not to need to watch where he was going since he was just staring at Kamui. "I suppose Magami-kun couldn't find you yesterday to tell you after all, but I was sure you knew... You've been selected as Mr. Impala for the Beauty Pageant."
"I've been what?!"
~//~
There was no doubt in Suoh's mind that his Chairman would have preferred to be anywhere but his dignified office, reviewing paperwork critical to the smooth function of their festival in particular and the city in general. The sunshine was lovely outside -- the shining, golden sort of light that made Nokoru's hair look like it had a gentle glow of its own, and which the Chairman had declared on more than one day to be sufficient excuse to cancel an entire afternoon's work. If that hadn't been enough, the scent of funnel cakes drifted through the open windows, and his blond had added a longing sniff to his usual every-five-inches-of-paperwork sigh. Not to mention the colors and music filling the streets, however there were right ways to run an organization and disordered ways to run an organization, and Suoh was here to ensure that everything was in its proper place, including the Imonoyama everyone was depending on.
Nokoru sipped tea out of a cup in one hand while whipping down documents and stamping them with the other. Suoh had a cup as well, and savored the perfect strength and sweetness of the brew Ijyuin had prepared before he'd returned to the Coliseum for the judging segment of the cooking contest (where certainly no one but Lady Utako had noticed him leave despite his popularity with the crowds). He'd need the calming powers of a cup of Ijyuin's tea when the inevitable conversation he was waiting for occurred. Naturally, it would be a minute or two more since he'd put his own requisition forms at the bottom of the pile so the Chairman wouldn't use the distraction as a reason to avoid finishing his work.
Those two minutes ticked by, and just as he drank his last sip of tea, Nokoru addressed him, a teasing lilt in his always musical voice. "Suoh? Why are we pressing additional guards into service around all the events in the main hall? I thought we had more than enough security on duty."
"Sir, there is still the matter of the problems implied by the unpredictable strange occurrences around campus -- which, by their very nature, I had not predicted during assignment of security personnel."
"And here I thought we'd agreed they were harmless!"
"I've agreed to leave off investigation of the feathers," he replied, although he still planned to address the apparent invitation of a Pirate Lord to their city at some point when more pressing matters were settled. A sentiment he never thought he would have expressed as a visiting Pirate Lord was usually the most pressing of problems, but if Death Shirou hadn't attacked by now, he wouldn't be planning to. That man was no infiltrator. "That still leaves the matter of Yudaiji unresolved."
"Suoh..."
"The reports attached to my requisition contain all details of current reconnaissance."
The curl on Nokoru's lip almost looked like a smile, and the way the blond bit it to keep it from turning into one almost took Suoh's composure away despite his fortification with excellent tea. "You never fail to have your forms in order, do you, Suoh?"
He purred that in a way that made Suoh feel like he was completely inappropriately blushing over paperwork when, in fact, he was inappropriately blushing over innuendo while he should have been insisting that the Chairman do his paperwork. An almost-smile of his own snuck onto his face as he answered, "I have every confidence in your ability to follow my reasoning, Chairman."
The crisp sound of a turning page filled the office. "Rigs for monofilament wire in the trees outside the Great Hall, disguised as leaves, not Kragero issue. Not, I'll note, Civic issue either. They're a non-standard design," Nokoru challenged him, raising a saucy eyebrow.
"If you're referring to how that could be anyone's doing, I am no less concerned about an unknown party attacking the Great Hall than I am about a known hostile such as Yudaiji doing so."
"Excellent. Now, about modifications to the rafters in the Proscenium area?"
"We suspect a secondary structure has been built entirely in shadow space around our standard catwalks, but due to the nature of the personal technique used and concern over any traps, we're still investigating the extent and purpose. Once Ijyuin is free, I'll be asking for his help in that."
"Something that intricate..." The Chairman pulled out a new sheet of paper, making a quick sketch of the Proscenium blueprints from memory, then adding lines in red based on the notes in Suoh's report and dotted lines for likely additional structures that Suoh planned to issue copies of immediately. "This had to have been designed by a ninja who's... hmm. He or she would have to be well versed in the arts of architectural design..."
"So if Yudaiji is responsible, he's working with an accomplice. He's never shown any affinity for construction. Possibly more than one accomplice, given the other..."
Suoh trailed off as Nokoru flipped his sheet over to sketch a graph on three axes, writing a series of equations across the top. The blond was whispering under his breath and blinking his eyes without focusing on a thing as if using them for code while his hand traced out perfect arcs -- all signs Suoh knew well as indicators that nothing he could possibly say besides "Hark! A lady cries on yonder hill!" would penetrate the wall of Imonoyama Nokoru's cognition. His old friend had told him years ago that he used the blink of his eyes as a mnemonic aid to register facts and conclusions in his memory, and in its own way it was as thrilling as watching a master archer draw a bow. Suoh was loath to interrupt the process with so much as a breath, even though he was sure the Chairman's focus would more than compensate for an interruption, just as a siren going off couldn't shake Suoh's own focus on a strike he meant to execute.
Or perhaps he simply loved to watch Nokoru work. Either way, he was waiting in silence when his lover turned the page for Suoh to review.
"I've calculated the probabilities of Yudaiji-kun attacking on any given day, based on the data in your report and the established history between him and me."
"But--"
"You think I'd ignore all of your evidence simply because I'd prefer that Yudaiji-kun spend a peaceful week in our city?"
"Of course not, Chairman," Suoh answered, this time with an actual smile. "So you've analyzed this in terms of the length of his stay, the months since he last attempted to kill you, and the number of people visiting the city at the time?"
"Yes. You'll be happy, I'm sure, that the higher our ratio of tourists to citizens, the less likely he is to attempt a full takeover of the city, I believe because he considers it less 'mine'."
"How reassuring." Dates and notes next to the data points on the graph had no doubt been added because the Chairman expected him to want to verify this extrapolation, and indeed Suoh couldn't find a single one of Yudaiji's assaults missing. He remembered every one. The red X, of course, was the relevant point for his purposes. "So you expect him to act in the evening of the seventh day of the Festival?"
"And if his target is the Great Hall--"
"The Flower Arrangement finals."
"My mother's personal favorite competition. We already know he meant to strike against Akira, and against you--"
"I have no worries whatsoever about his challenge in the martial arts tournament."
"Don't worry, darling, I'll let you wipe the mats with him. Actually, I don't plan to interrupt any of Yudaiji-kun's preparations. If he's not planning to strike public utilities this time, and he does seem to be keeping his attacks personal, I won't expend public resources to stop him. Besides, you know he always settles a bit when he can get it out of his system."
Suoh sighed. "So you're saying that you won't approve additional security, not even for the Flower Arrangement contest alone."
"Oh, I think you, Akira, and I should be able to handle it!"
"And you want me to let the rest of the security patrols go, too. Don't you?"
The Chairman sauntered around the desk, dropping his requisition unstamped and unapproved into the trash can with a particular glint in his eye that Suoh had only started noticing since the blond had learned he could make Suoh's pulse race without even a touch. "Oh, Suoh. Let them enjoy the festival. Who wants to work on a day like this?"
"You don't think everyone would enjoy the festival more in assured safety?"
Nokoru sat on the edge of the desk, poking Suoh's knee with his toe. "Since when have enough ninja to fill a city like this ever universally wanted anything, let alone 'assured safety'?! Actually, I'd say the majority want adventure, daring... Romance."
He already knew from the look in the Chairman's eye that his blond genius wanted to retire the afternoon's agenda in favor of a bit of irresponsibility, and more than that, he could tell his lover was in a mood that wouldn't brook resistance. He was like a summer sun shower that came out of nowhere and drove you to an overhang laughing, not sure what to do next. That is, until you found yourself kissing a beautiful man and otherwise doing things you'd never do in public if it hadn't been for the solitude of that hidden moment giving you permission.
No matter how ready for those moments Suoh thought he was, Nokoru made him feel like his guard was permanently down. The fact that his lover was begging him for a kiss (as much as Imonoyama Nokoru begged for anything) made it that much harder to tell himself their duties were more important. And really, a kiss wouldn't set them too far behind. Like his mother had told him the first time he'd shown up late for a routine briefing with a hickey on his collarbone, sometimes the proper thing to do was to make time for your lover.
Blushing despite that, he shook a kunai from his sleeve and flung it at the cord holding the blinds open. Only thin slivers of sunlight cutting across the desk remained, leaving streaks of gold fire in Nokoru's hair and hitting his fingers as they inched toward the edge of the desk.
Suoh trailed the back of his fingers down Nokoru's jaw, studying the slight parting of his lover's mouth and savoring the sound of his speeding breath before he gripped his cravat to draw their faces close. His other hand nudged finely clad legs wide enough to press their bodies together. Both their hearts raced against their chests in syncopated cacophony while he hovered, nose to nose, a breath away from the kiss he'd been planning on. But this wasn't going to end with a kiss, was it?
"Are you sure you want me to make you late for judging the Beauty Contest? I know how you hate to keep the ladies waiting."
"I'd hate it even more if I couldn't judge them fairly. All that work... I'm just exhausted. The contestants deserve--"
The rest of his sentence got lost in a kiss. No one would have accused Nokoru of giving less than his utmost in anything once he was doing it, and the art of a kiss, Suoh was certain, had the honor of being one of Nokoru's favorite subjects. He'd never say so directly. It wasn't his way to express favoritism. But it was clear in every contented purr, every caress along Suoh's neck and back, even in the way he teased open Suoh's shirt, that he relished being kissed thoroughly and having the chance to answer in kind; so Suoh took care to do so whenever opportunity allowed. It'd become one of his own favorite things in life to find those moments when Nokoru was out of breath, light headed and grasping, lips swollen and tongue limp and begging whenever he broke for air. Remembering his own feet was no easy task by then, but he always had the strength to never let Nokoru down. It was simply more literal at times like this, when his lover pushed against him until he had wrapped himself around Suoh's hips instead of sitting on the desk.
~//~
After all the rushing to get to the Great Hall, Kamui was just fine with one of the judges running late. It gave him a chance to rest. He wasn't planning to sleep, but there was a snack bar, free drinks, even the occasional chair (although he wasn't going to sit in one while Lantis was standing next to them, staring at him and making it clear in that non-speaking way he had that Hikaru was the only reason he hadn't reported Kamui, and Kamui never tempted Fate because Fate was a bitch). He was less fine with being confined to a cramped backstage area in close proximity with ninja who had nothing to do but mingle.
Four black-haired sirens were consorting in the far corner, three who looked like women and one he was pretty sure was a man, all with more of Arashi's brand of obvious deadliness than Kamui wanted directed at him when he was this worn out, and all of whom were sizing him up like lieutenants about to break in a new class of middies. He'd already heard them go from wondering, "Who's Mr. Impala? I don't think I've seen him around before," to wondering where Miss Ceres was, since Ceres was the only country here to share a border with Impala. It was only a matter of time before they nominated one of their number to talk to him.
Not that it'd be any safer back over by the snack bar where none other than Mage Clef was telling some white-haired pretty boy from Civic and a girl with long, tawny curls, "That man looks familiar somehow..."
Unfortunately, leaving or turning invisible would probably attract the wrong kind of questions, but getting made while standing at the center of the entire festival's attention wasn't the safest thing he could do while exhausted. As quietly as he could, he ducked behind one of the rows of curtains littering the backstage's sightlines, away from the bulk of the crowd. Too late, he realized he should have peeked around the curtain first, since in this company and in his state he couldn't trust himself to sense someone's presence accurately. Either way, he sure was caught now, because there was Princess Sakura, whom he'd kidnapped barely more than a month ago, blinking her shocked green eyes over her shoulder at him as a baton fell on her head.
But..." she stammered, then caught up her guts to point the baton at him like a sword, setting her jaw as if to say that nobody was going to take her without a fight. It was pretty convincing, even with the backless, mini-skirted dance dress that most people never could've made work. On Sakura, the pleats and ruffles somehow looked deadly.
Kamui raised his hands in surrender. "I come in peace. I just... want a place to hide."
"Oh!" The lady smiled, dropping the point of her baton with more trust than Kamui thought he merited in this particular situation. "Okay. If... If you want me to find a different curtain, I can do that!" she promised, so earnest he thought he might die. "I was only back here because Tomoyo told me not to practice my routine where anyone could see, or since they're all ninjas they might figure out how to sabotage my equipment."
With a suffering sigh, he collapsed against a wall, burying his face in his hands. "Don't go anywhere." Honestly, it was good to see a friendly face, however unexpected it was for her to be friendly. As soon as he was done here, he was definitely going to find Hikaru. After only three and a half days, he'd forgotten how much of a relief it was to be around someone who didn't want him dead. "I don't even know why I'm in this stupid pageant to begin with."
Sakura patted his shoulder, leaving him eye to eye with her brilliant smile. "Don't worry, Kamui-san. Everything will be all right, you'll see."
This had to be a new low in his life, but somehow, he did feel better. Minorly, incrementally better. He could almost ignore the hushed whispers of curious ninja past the curtain and Akechi going around asking, "Ladies, Gentlemen, do you mind if I take your official portraits?"
When he looked back at the princess, she was offering him a cup of water, which he took and drank half of with profound thanks. It was the kind of gesture he'd only ever given an enemy caught dead to rights invading his territory because the Pirate Code demanded it. "Were you born this nice, or is it something you learned?"
She blinked again. "I don't know. I can't remember anything from before Tomoyo found me on the beach nine years ago... She was thirteen, and she guesses I was, too." Her grin made Kamui wince a bit inside. "Sorry, I just can't say."
"No, I'm sorry. I can't believe I kidnapped you for an entire week, and I never knew that." That had to be some kind of massive faux pas.
"It's all right! It's not really a big deal."
Kamui thought back to his childhood days, playing on the beach with Fuuma and Kotori, and wondered if he could put on half as brave a face if that were suddenly taken from him, or if he'd even know what he was missing. "You can't remember a single thing?"
"Well. Apparently I remembered a song about the Barrows-guard when your friend, Subaru-san, was playing his violin."
The mention of that sent a shock down Kamui's spine. He knew the song Subaru had been playing the night Kurogane had taken Sakura and Syaoran off the Dragon of Heaven -- the one he always played when he was thinking about that bastard Sakurazuka and well past pretending his heart was anything but broken -- although he hadn't known it had any words. "I'm..." Sorry wasn't a good enough word for finding out somebody's only childhood memory was apparently about the world's certifiable Worst Person Alive. Possibly Worst Person of All Time, if Sakurazuka actually was the legendary hell-demon that stories called the Barrows-guard. "That's awful. ... No wonder Subaru let you go."
"That's what Kurogane-san said."
"Well. I... hope you remember something else, ever."
"Thanks!" she answered, and as sincere as she sounded, she may even have had a follow-up to prevent what Kamui was sure would've been the most awkward silence imaginable. He never found out, because Akechi's voice through the curtains cut off whatever she might have said.
"Places, please, everyone! Chairman Imonoyama has arrived! Places! If you're unsure of your order, please check the list by the door. And, due to our shortened time on stage, we will be combining the interview and talent portions of the show with the lingerie competition. Make sure to remove your clothes before heading to the stage! Thank you!"
"What?!" Kamui hissed.
Over to his right, he saw Sakura tug a string on her skirt that tucked all the pleats up into sprays of pink flowers on white briefs -- which, as someone who wore clothes every day, Kamui found mindboggling. The knots and twists that transformed her top into a matching, perfectly fitted brassiere were no less staggering. She caught him gaping and smiled. "Tomoyo can see the future, so she made me a costume that changes for my baton routine."
"I need to never let her meet Fai. But do they seriously expect me to go out there, in front of a crowd of ninja, wearing nothing but underwear?!"
"Did you not bring any?" Sakura asked.
Did he not bring any.
Before he could expound on that, Akechi walked on stage to announce, "Welcome, guests, to the annual Kragero Beauty Pageant, and thank you for your patience. The time has now come to introduce you to our hopefuls competing for the title of King or Queen of the Games!" Kamui scoffed at the term 'hopeful' almost as much as he scoffed at the overly dramatic drum roll and spotlight pointing at the mid-stage curtain behind the host. "Our first contestant is Mr. Hundhammeren, our paragon of the strong, dark, and silent type... the matchless... Lantis!"
And what should follow but the black-haired hulk striding past the center curtains into the spotlight -- without a stitch of clothing, because apparently he felt the same about underwear as Karen felt about clothes: Why bother? The crowd roared in approval, with Eagle's distinctive whistle cutting over it all.
It was a good thing he did have underwear, because no competition where he'd have to match up against that was a fair competition.
And he was not having that thought anymore! He didn't even want to be here!
"Oh gosh!" Sakura gasped, leaving Kamui gritting his teeth and praying that he wouldn't have to explain that he was not worried about being physically compared to Lantis, at all, not even a little. But he gave her his full attention instead of listening to any of Lantis's twenty seconds on, 'What does being a ninja mean to you?' Her eyes were fixed on her baton. "If you didn't know you'd be competing, you don't have a talent prepared!"
"Wait, a what?!" he spat, just as half of Hikaru's boyfriend posse started demonstrating his bird calls for the audience.
"I'm next, so I have to get in position, but so you know, Kurogane-san says you're not allowed to say your talent is fighting. The judges will find you materials for anything else, but just don't say that, okay?! Bye!"
Kamui could honestly say he was speechless as the lady ran off to her mark before Akechi called out, "Presenting our next contestant, Miss Malvek! What a treat to have a representative on behalf of our Imperial Family this year... Folks, I give you: the charming Princess Sakura!"
"Hello, everyone!" she greeted the cheering audience. Kamui used his new peeking skills to spot Syaoran, who had to be in the audience. It wasn't hard. He was the one standing red as a beet and stiff as a board to see his Princess in frilly panties, with Kurogane propping him up by the head. The poor kid was going to have to get over that or he'd never survive so much as kissing his sweetheart, which even an idiot could tell both of them were dying to do.
"All right," Akechi said after Sakura had taken her turn walking the stage. "Time for your interview question. Princess Sakura... what is your most cherished childhood memory?"
A breath caught in Kamui's throat like a cork. It was as if that question had been picked specifically to be cruel, and he didn't know how she could stand up there with no more reaction than eyes widened in surprise. Kamui looked for anyone who could make the host ask a new question, but the only person in eyeshot was the so-called "English" ninja, Hiiragizawa Eriol, who was staring at the stage with a creepy half-smile. Wearing blue boxers with a cartoon picture of his own face printed on them, as if he weren't already creepy enough. Clearly, that guy wouldn't be any help, but there had to be someone...
"Well," Sakura answered, the shock barely showing through her smile, "I guess I'd have to say the first summer I stayed with Her Imperial Highness, Princess Tomoyo! I'll never forget how she taught me to make strawberry shortcake..."
With his heart simultaneously melting and breaking over that, he almost didn't sense the slight wind of movement behind him. Almost. But between the sense of movement, the lack of the sound of curtains rustling (because ninja didn't ever obey any sensible constraints on realism, as he'd learned too painfully this week), and the energy of pure determination pointing like a hot poker at his back, he knew someone was there. He crossed his arms over his chest so as not to provoke anyone by slipping into attack posture when he turned around.
And saw Hibiya Chitose.
The woman whose library he'd sacked on more than one occasion, and whom most recently he'd spent fifteen minutes dueling on her fortress walls before he'd escaped by diving about a mile into the sea below.
Hibiya Chitose was Miss Ceres, because today had clearly not been perfect enough yet. What was next, Imonoyama Nokoru inviting him out for dinner?!
"Shirou?" Hibiya whispered.
He sighed, putting on his most resigned face (which Sorata said looked like a wet cat, but what did Sorata know?).
"Hi."
Even her polished poker face betrayed a hint of shock when he answered, not that there'd be any point in trying to hide his identity from her. She studied him from head to toe, frowning at his pink armband, and made him miss entirely Sakura's transformation into her baton outfit, which he assumed was the cause of the audience's delighted "Ooh!"
Finally, she met his eyes again. "Shirou," she asked, "Did you lose a bet?"
"You know, I ask myself that every damn morning. Is there a reason why you're not calling security on me, because I promise you I'm not here because I want to be."
She laughed, which was less scary than he'd always pictured it being. "Well, the thing is, the Games only have one hard and fast rule, and it's that there's no such thing as calling foul play after the fact. You have to notice before they pull it off. If someone got away with falsely registering you as Impala's representative, I'm too late to do anything about it, and so are the judges. Anything you get away with is fair game."
"Great. So what if I 'get away with' leaving the Great Hall before I get outed by marching in front of the assembled crowds of ninja in by birthday suit?"
He took a step away, but she had one of his arms in her perfectly manicured grip and the flat of a knife resting against his bottom rib. "Don't. Even. Think about it."
He expected to find her usual deadly glare when he faced her, but instead it was an arch-but-amused glare with no bloodlust whatsoever. And it was the flat of a knife, and if he fought her, he'd be outed for sure. Not that he faked any hint that he'd give in to being threatened, because he wouldn't. "I don't see how that's your business."
"You stole my best friend's place in the pageant. If you walk away, her country doesn't even get the honor of being represented, and I simply can't allow that. Now, help me with my zipper?" she asked as she put the knife away and turned her back to show him where her dress opened.
"Excuse me?!"
"When you beat Sayaka in the run-off, you not only deprived Impala of a native representative -- you also deprived me of my dressing partner, and I expect you to take responsibility for that, Shirou."
"Okay, okay!" A zipper wasn't worth the fuss, although he had a suspicion the ninja could get it herself without trouble. He knew too well the look of a manipulative liar (he was looking at you, Fai!) giving him stupid reasons to step into line so he didn't start asking for more trouble than he probably wanted. Not that he couldn't have taken it. He could have. But honestly, it offended his pirate dignity (which he had lots of, no matter what any strange women implied about his parentage) to run away and throw a fit. He'd rather get called out on stage than backstage. It had more room to fight in anyway.
And now, instead of being in trouble, he was standing next to Hibiya Chitose in racy lingerie, wondering how his life had come to this. Up till today, he'd managed not to know whether Hibiya went dom or sub in Ceres's world-famous fetish scene, but the merry widow corset cinching in her waist, with the boning hidden under patterns of leather and the sheer lace panels hiding not much of anything, plus the thigh-high black boots, made it pretty clear where she stood. All she was missing was the cat-o-nine-tails.
"Nice breasts," he said through a polite grimace. "Very... round."
"You're sweet. I know it's not really your scene."
He wasn't touching that with a ten-foot pole.
"Now could you make sure the backside lays flat? It wouldn't do for it to ride up on stage." She handed him a bottle labeled 'Edge sealer' as if that were a perfectly reasonable request, and smiled the beatific smile of someone who wasn't going to admit there was nothing reasonable about it. "It's really not possible to get that part oneself."
He knelt down with a glare to glue down the sides of her underwear. It wasn't clear how anything laid flat on a surface that curvy, especially with that few seams, but he managed. "You owe me for this, Hibiya."
"Next time, don't raid my castle. Now, fair's fair. Do you need help getting ready?"
Kamui retreated half a step, waving her off his zipper. "Thanks. I've got it." Goodness knew, his years on the Dragon of Heaven, with his fellow Lords and Ladies and their love of fooling around, had taught him the only escape from a potentially embarrassing situation was to have no shame. And apparently, if he was in this contest fair and square, nobody could kill him until the competition was over.
Slipping off his catsuit, he swept his hair out of his eyes to find out exactly how sweaty and gross it'd gotten from his morning of running from Icchan's ridiculousness. Which was very. "Can you point me at somewhere I can wash up, though?"
"Showers are the second door past the snack bar. Oh, and I love the briefs, Shirou."
He eyed the black bikini briefs that'd come with his ninja costume. "Thanks. They were a gift," he grumbled, and shoved everything else he'd been wearing into nothing space, since like hell was he leaving his magic communicator he used for talking to Fuuma anywhere ninja could get at it, and obviously there weren't lockers anywhere to be seen.
"Shirou, what did you just do?!" Hibiya asked, stopping him just as surely as if she'd grabbed his arm again.
"Nothing you haven't seen before."
"Of course, but... But when did you learn to do it?" Her voice sounded more serious than it had all day, but it wasn't threatening at all. More like worried.
He turned his eyes to the floor to think, then back over his shoulder at his once and probably future enemy. "I've had one hell of a week. That's... really all I can say."
If there was one thing he knew, it was not to name names, especially not when the leaders of nations were batting him through the shadows like a blindfolded tennis ball. You never knew what could get caught in the crossfire. Everybody knew that.
With a silent nod and worried eyes, Hibiya let him go.
to be continued...
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