Drabbles (Death Note, Whistle!)
Three challenge drabbles.
Title: Dancing Partners
For: firedraygon97
Whistle!: Mizuno/Shou
Shou had once been amazed at how Mizuno could play, moving like he was dancing some obscure waltz down the field with the ball as his partner. It had seemed simple, like Mizuno had been born to play soccer and all else was inconsequential.
Now he understood how much work Mizuno put in to make it seem so effortless. He knew the late nights, the determination of working through pain, the sheer love of the sport that made Mizuno tick. It made Shou respect him all the more, swearing that someday he'd be a worthy teammate.
But for now, he could just stand on the grass, waiting for Mizuno's lead. Their eyes met, and that subtle communication they shared let him know the next steps. He raced forward, knowing Mizuno would meet him there.
Title: Skills Test
For jgal87
Whistle!: Fuwa/Mizuno
No matter how many times Fuwa watched Mizuno play, he couldn't figure out how the boy was doing it. It shouldn't be possible to move like that. Some of the things he did with a soccer ball were beyond the range of human capabilities, but Mizuno did it anyway, apparently unaware he was redefining several natural laws.
Mizuno took Fuwa's gaze in stride, used to the attention. There was no hatred in Fuwa's eyes, no admiration, simply interest. It was an pleasant change. He offered a nod of acknowledgment when Fuwa threw the ball just a little too far, testing his abilities.
Years later, Fuwa would have plenty of time to examine the exact range of Mizuno's flexibility - but it would be in an entirely different setting.
A Taste of Success
For: tarigwaemir
Death Note, Raito, Post 58
He could still feel the shadow of L's warmth in his arms. His father had forcibly yanked L's body away from him, grabbing the other detectives to help make arrangements. Raito had been told to check the scene for any clues - but really he knew that his father was worried for his sanity.
The spoon L had been holding still lay accusingly on the floor, forgotten in the commotion. Raito reached over and picked it up, remembering the way L always seemed to be eating. He never gained any weight, though; it was like his fantastic brain required a fantastic calorie count. The utensil was smooth in his hand, and Raito smiled at it, before licking the spoon.
Victory, Raito decided, tasted like coffee.
Title: Dancing Partners
For: firedraygon97
Whistle!: Mizuno/Shou
Shou had once been amazed at how Mizuno could play, moving like he was dancing some obscure waltz down the field with the ball as his partner. It had seemed simple, like Mizuno had been born to play soccer and all else was inconsequential.
Now he understood how much work Mizuno put in to make it seem so effortless. He knew the late nights, the determination of working through pain, the sheer love of the sport that made Mizuno tick. It made Shou respect him all the more, swearing that someday he'd be a worthy teammate.
But for now, he could just stand on the grass, waiting for Mizuno's lead. Their eyes met, and that subtle communication they shared let him know the next steps. He raced forward, knowing Mizuno would meet him there.
Title: Skills Test
For jgal87
Whistle!: Fuwa/Mizuno
No matter how many times Fuwa watched Mizuno play, he couldn't figure out how the boy was doing it. It shouldn't be possible to move like that. Some of the things he did with a soccer ball were beyond the range of human capabilities, but Mizuno did it anyway, apparently unaware he was redefining several natural laws.
Mizuno took Fuwa's gaze in stride, used to the attention. There was no hatred in Fuwa's eyes, no admiration, simply interest. It was an pleasant change. He offered a nod of acknowledgment when Fuwa threw the ball just a little too far, testing his abilities.
Years later, Fuwa would have plenty of time to examine the exact range of Mizuno's flexibility - but it would be in an entirely different setting.
A Taste of Success
For: tarigwaemir
Death Note, Raito, Post 58
He could still feel the shadow of L's warmth in his arms. His father had forcibly yanked L's body away from him, grabbing the other detectives to help make arrangements. Raito had been told to check the scene for any clues - but really he knew that his father was worried for his sanity.
The spoon L had been holding still lay accusingly on the floor, forgotten in the commotion. Raito reached over and picked it up, remembering the way L always seemed to be eating. He never gained any weight, though; it was like his fantastic brain required a fantastic calorie count. The utensil was smooth in his hand, and Raito smiled at it, before licking the spoon.
Victory, Raito decided, tasted like coffee.