Unexpected Allies 1/? (Umeko/Mikoto. Abaranger/Dekaranger)
Title: Unexpected Allies 1/?
Pairing/Characters: Umeko, Mikoto, Jasmine
Fandom: Abaranger/Dekaranger
Rating: G
AN: Work in progress, with probably sporadic updates. Don't let me forget about this one, please. Also, AU.
Hospitals were tedious places; the muted colours were a silent contrast with the stark lights, the heavy stillness of the rooms interrupted only by regular beeps from the monitors. Some things never changed, not that he’d expected them to; it had only been less than a year since he’d worked here himself, before his… untimely departure. Well, he’d been getting bored with it anyway, he had to admit. Nakadai Mikoto lounged against the wall - or rather, what he thought of as himself leant against his equivalent of the wall, being a ghost wasn’t exactly conducive to doing things physically, after all - and studied the woman he was nominally watching over.
She was small, the woman, young, with shoulder-length hair, currently lightish-brown in colour, and she was hooked up to several monitoring machines, although she’d since come off the ‘critical’ list and onto the ‘stable’ one. He frowned, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stood there, more from habit than actual discomfort, his long white coat flapping gently against his legs with the movement. Why did he even have to watch the woman, anyway? It wasn’t his job to watch over people, let alone do whatever it was he was expected to do. He muttered under his breath, cursing the woman’s partner for having the indecency to move on, leaving this to him.
Oh, the guy had stuck around at first, giving the girl a name - Umeko - and saying useless things like ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘You’ll be okay’, the latter seeming more like he was trying to convince himself than reassure her. Once she’d passed from critical to stable, though, that seemed to be it and the man had disappeared, ‘moved on’, sad, regretful smile on his face as he reached out to the unconscious woman. He’d learned more from the other visitors, mostly another woman with longer hair who apparently went by the name of Jasmine; that Umeko was a policewoman, part of the anti-Yakuza division, that the man who’d died was her partner, that he’d died during the botched raid that had put Umeko here, or ‘in the line of duty’ as such things were usually proclaimed. None of the information gave him any clue as to why he was here and he was bored, incredibly bored. Why couldn’t something interesting happen to brighten up the day?
As if in answer to his thoughts, the door to Umeko’s room opened as Jasmine walked in, holding a bunch of flowers. Mikoto brightened a little as the woman froze, looked around the room and then shivered before visibly steeling herself as she arranged the flowers in the vase on the table next to Umeko’s bed. Jasmine - family name still unknown - intrigued him; she was by far the most frequent visitor Umeko had, sometimes in uniform, others in civilian clothes, like now, and it seemed as if she could sense his presence, even if she didn’t know what it was she was feeling. Only one other person could do that, could even see him without him making the effort first, and that was a person he’d much rather didn’t have that ability. Still, he’d long concluded that Jasmine wasn’t a threat to Umeko, so he amused himself with trying to unnerve her.
“How are you today, Umeko?” Jasmine was asking, her fingers combing gently through Umeko’s hair. “You should see it outside, it’s glorious. The cherry blossoms are starting to bloom and everyone at the station is wishing they could be at the park instead of stuck inside all day.” The conversation continued, meaningless trivia to comfort an unconscious woman and Mikoto gave up on listening, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to learn anything today. Standing behind Jasmine, studying Umeko over the woman’s shoulder, Mikoto straightened a little as Jasmine turned her head slightly, looking almost, but not quite, directly at him.
“Who’s there?” she demanded sharply, turning away from the bed, hand going automatically to her hip for a weapon she wasn’t wearing. “Show yourself!” Mikoto smiled and tilted his head to the side, arms folded across his chest as he examined her, considering how she’d react if he made the effort to become visible to her eyes. “I am Officer Reimon of the Tokyo police department and I order your to show yourself.” Jasmine’s eyes were darting around the room as she held herself wary and alert, looking for any sign of an intruder despite the fact that the room was tiny with no place for one to hide; Mikoto was grudgingly impressed by the fact that she wasn’t fooled by the apparent lack of an intruder and he watched as she edged towards the door and pulled it open, checking the hall for anyone lurking outside the room.
She was good, this Officer Reimon, it was just too bad she didn’t know what it was she was looking for, not that she could have done anything even if she had; being dead did have its advantages.
Pairing/Characters: Umeko, Mikoto, Jasmine
Fandom: Abaranger/Dekaranger
Rating: G
AN: Work in progress, with probably sporadic updates. Don't let me forget about this one, please. Also, AU.
Hospitals were tedious places; the muted colours were a silent contrast with the stark lights, the heavy stillness of the rooms interrupted only by regular beeps from the monitors. Some things never changed, not that he’d expected them to; it had only been less than a year since he’d worked here himself, before his… untimely departure. Well, he’d been getting bored with it anyway, he had to admit. Nakadai Mikoto lounged against the wall - or rather, what he thought of as himself leant against his equivalent of the wall, being a ghost wasn’t exactly conducive to doing things physically, after all - and studied the woman he was nominally watching over.
She was small, the woman, young, with shoulder-length hair, currently lightish-brown in colour, and she was hooked up to several monitoring machines, although she’d since come off the ‘critical’ list and onto the ‘stable’ one. He frowned, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stood there, more from habit than actual discomfort, his long white coat flapping gently against his legs with the movement. Why did he even have to watch the woman, anyway? It wasn’t his job to watch over people, let alone do whatever it was he was expected to do. He muttered under his breath, cursing the woman’s partner for having the indecency to move on, leaving this to him.
Oh, the guy had stuck around at first, giving the girl a name - Umeko - and saying useless things like ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘You’ll be okay’, the latter seeming more like he was trying to convince himself than reassure her. Once she’d passed from critical to stable, though, that seemed to be it and the man had disappeared, ‘moved on’, sad, regretful smile on his face as he reached out to the unconscious woman. He’d learned more from the other visitors, mostly another woman with longer hair who apparently went by the name of Jasmine; that Umeko was a policewoman, part of the anti-Yakuza division, that the man who’d died was her partner, that he’d died during the botched raid that had put Umeko here, or ‘in the line of duty’ as such things were usually proclaimed. None of the information gave him any clue as to why he was here and he was bored, incredibly bored. Why couldn’t something interesting happen to brighten up the day?
As if in answer to his thoughts, the door to Umeko’s room opened as Jasmine walked in, holding a bunch of flowers. Mikoto brightened a little as the woman froze, looked around the room and then shivered before visibly steeling herself as she arranged the flowers in the vase on the table next to Umeko’s bed. Jasmine - family name still unknown - intrigued him; she was by far the most frequent visitor Umeko had, sometimes in uniform, others in civilian clothes, like now, and it seemed as if she could sense his presence, even if she didn’t know what it was she was feeling. Only one other person could do that, could even see him without him making the effort first, and that was a person he’d much rather didn’t have that ability. Still, he’d long concluded that Jasmine wasn’t a threat to Umeko, so he amused himself with trying to unnerve her.
“How are you today, Umeko?” Jasmine was asking, her fingers combing gently through Umeko’s hair. “You should see it outside, it’s glorious. The cherry blossoms are starting to bloom and everyone at the station is wishing they could be at the park instead of stuck inside all day.” The conversation continued, meaningless trivia to comfort an unconscious woman and Mikoto gave up on listening, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to learn anything today. Standing behind Jasmine, studying Umeko over the woman’s shoulder, Mikoto straightened a little as Jasmine turned her head slightly, looking almost, but not quite, directly at him.
“Who’s there?” she demanded sharply, turning away from the bed, hand going automatically to her hip for a weapon she wasn’t wearing. “Show yourself!” Mikoto smiled and tilted his head to the side, arms folded across his chest as he examined her, considering how she’d react if he made the effort to become visible to her eyes. “I am Officer Reimon of the Tokyo police department and I order your to show yourself.” Jasmine’s eyes were darting around the room as she held herself wary and alert, looking for any sign of an intruder despite the fact that the room was tiny with no place for one to hide; Mikoto was grudgingly impressed by the fact that she wasn’t fooled by the apparent lack of an intruder and he watched as she edged towards the door and pulled it open, checking the hall for anyone lurking outside the room.
She was good, this Officer Reimon, it was just too bad she didn’t know what it was she was looking for, not that she could have done anything even if she had; being dead did have its advantages.