(no subject)
I am going to bite something shortly, so I figured I'd do something productive instead. Because banging my head against the wall only gave me a headache, and I'm not allowed to bite things, or so sayeth the muse. (One very abused and slightly gnawed on knuckle may have reinforced this issue, but who can say for sure?)
At any rate, I'm going to post. And possibly squee over the latest Bleach chapters, because BTF, the Eleventh Division love! *Squee.* I love the wording of it, and I can't wait to see what Yumichika's Ban Kai looks like, and yeah. One happy Bleach fan, right here.
Knowledge of the enemy's dispositions can only be obtained from other men.
Hence the use of spies, of whom there are five classes:
1) Local spies;
2) inward spies;
3) converted spies;
4) doomed spies;
5) surviving spies.
When these five kinds of spy are all at work, none can discover the secret system. This is called "divine manipulation of the threads." It is the sovereign's most precious faculty.
~Sun Tzu, excerpted from The Art of War, specifically "On the Use of Spies"
Title: Brother's Keeper, Part Fourteen
Rating: PG
Word count: 964
Total word count so far: 36212
Author's notes that most likely no one will ever read: One of these days, I will let go of the addiction to Sun Tzu for this story. Oh, and Derek's drink of choice is a medium soy latte, with an extra espresso shot. He doesn't actually drink it, because he is very paranoid like that, but he maintains that if you can't talk like you mean it, then you're not going to fool anyone. And I have no idea why I know this. The muse felt it was an important detail though.
Greg lit a fresh cigarette and watched Derek nurse his drink. He’d have put good odds on the fact that the blonde ninja wasn’t actually drinking the coffee he’d ordered, mostly because the soil in the potted plant by Derek’s elbow seemed to have gotten a little moister in the past hour. Derek seemed a little too paranoid to trust food that was served in public, much less food that was served in a public place that someone else picked. Greg made a mental note to let Derek pick their meeting place next time. He doubted that Derek would be any more likely to eat in a place he chosen, but maybe familiar territory would put the ninja more at ease. The shorter boy seemed tense enough to break.
“You know,” he murmured quietly, “if you didn’t want that coffee, you could have saved the four bucks and not gotten anything at all. Or you could’ve let me have it, because wasting coffee is criminal.”
Derek grinned slowly. “Caught that, did you?” he asked. “Most people don’t.”
Greg lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “My teacher always said that if you weren’t paying attention, then you would never be prepared. And if you weren’t prepared, then it was your own damn fault for getting killed, because you were too fucking stupid to live.”
Derek laughed quietly. “Tough teacher.”
“He wants me to survive,” Greg said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the statement. It was true, any way you looked at it. Van was the toughest teacher he’d ever had, by far.
“Some of mine were like that, too,” Derek said.
“Hm,” Greg said non-committally. “I guess their lessons took.”
Derek’s eyes flickered over to him and then back to the coffee he wasn’t drinking. “Yours too,” he said, and he finally set the coffee cup down. “You’re not here to see if I want to spar, are you?” he asked quietly, and something in his voice warned Greg that if Derek didn’t like his answer, Greg had better be quick on his feet getting away.
Greg didn’t mind, because that was exactly the answer he was looking for. “How’s business been?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and blowing idle smoke rings. He aimed a smaller ring at one of the bigger ones, and cursed quietly when it slid into the side of the larger ring and destroyed them both. He’d have to work on that.
Derek shrugged. “Not bad. I can always find work.”
Greg paused, considering his next words carefully. This was tricky - he had no way to ensure Derek’s allegiance, and no reason to seek it, other than a gut-level feeling that he could trust the other boy. “What happens when work finds you?”
The blonde ninja frowned. “Then my teachers would be ashamed of me,” he said smoothly. “Like yours, mine believed that if you were caught unawares, it was your responsibility to bear the consequences.”
Greg nodded, pleased by the reply. He wasn’t good at subtext, but he and Derek seemed to be communicating with one another alright. Derek hadn’t ripped his head off for implying that Greg might have work for him, at any rate, which Greg counted a significant plus. He didn’t really want to get his head ripped off.
“Right,” he said. “Then I expect nothing I say will surprise you, will it?”
“Most likely not,” Derek said dryly. “But you’re an odd one. There may be surprises to you yet.”
Greg lifted one shoulder in a neutral half-shrug. “There might be, there might not. Time will tell, though. Well, time and the not getting killed part.”
“I’m not going to kill you.” Derek considered. “Or at least not right now, at any rate.”
Greg smirked. “If you can kill me, my teacher is going to be ashamed of me, and I really think I’ve endured enough of that for one lifetime, thanks. I’m not going to disappoint him again.”
“He must mean a lot, this teacher of yours,” Derek observed.
“He’s …” Greg hesitated. “He’s the divine manipulator of threads,” he said finally, deciding that sometimes the most obvious phrase for a thing might be the right one.
Derek stiffened. “Ah,” was all he said. Then, “You have surprised.”
Greg raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”
“I thought you were your own divine manipulator,” Derek said bluntly, and his eyes were cold. “I wouldn’t have figured someone with shuko as fine as yours, or the wits to use them, would be led around by anyone else willingly.”
Greg stiffened. “Who I serve is my choice,” he said, “and one I made of my own free will.”
Derek’s hands tightened into fists. “A man should be free to go as he pleases.”
“No one said you had to give up your freedom to follow someone else,” retorted Greg.
“Oh?” Derek asked ironically. “Think about what I am, Greg. Think about what I’ve been trained to do. I’m expendable. A toy, to be bought and used as anyone with the money wishes.”
Greg bit back the furious words he wanted to say. “I can’t confirm or deny that,” he said levelly. “But the fact that you choose to live the way you do remains. It was your choice, and no one but you can make or unmake it.”
The diminutive ninja laughed. “You see the world in black and white, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” Greg said. “But at least I’ve got the white. Way I see it, you only see the world in black. Doesn’t it get old after awhile, sitting in the dark all the time?” Greg stubbed his cigarette out in the potted plant where most of Derek’s coffee had ended up and tossed a couple of bills on their table. “Nice talking to you, shinobi-san.”
Writing Derek gives me headaches, though. I keep feeling like I need to read lots of haiku ahead of time, because beneath the snark is a guy who manages to say a whole lot without saying very much at all. *Scowls at the ninja.* You were supposed to be a plot device damn it.
At any rate, I'm going to post. And possibly squee over the latest Bleach chapters, because BTF, the Eleventh Division love! *Squee.* I love the wording of it, and I can't wait to see what Yumichika's Ban Kai looks like, and yeah. One happy Bleach fan, right here.
Knowledge of the enemy's dispositions can only be obtained from other men.
Hence the use of spies, of whom there are five classes:
1) Local spies;
2) inward spies;
3) converted spies;
4) doomed spies;
5) surviving spies.
When these five kinds of spy are all at work, none can discover the secret system. This is called "divine manipulation of the threads." It is the sovereign's most precious faculty.
~Sun Tzu, excerpted from The Art of War, specifically "On the Use of Spies"
Title: Brother's Keeper, Part Fourteen
Rating: PG
Word count: 964
Total word count so far: 36212
Author's notes that most likely no one will ever read: One of these days, I will let go of the addiction to Sun Tzu for this story. Oh, and Derek's drink of choice is a medium soy latte, with an extra espresso shot. He doesn't actually drink it, because he is very paranoid like that, but he maintains that if you can't talk like you mean it, then you're not going to fool anyone. And I have no idea why I know this. The muse felt it was an important detail though.
Greg lit a fresh cigarette and watched Derek nurse his drink. He’d have put good odds on the fact that the blonde ninja wasn’t actually drinking the coffee he’d ordered, mostly because the soil in the potted plant by Derek’s elbow seemed to have gotten a little moister in the past hour. Derek seemed a little too paranoid to trust food that was served in public, much less food that was served in a public place that someone else picked. Greg made a mental note to let Derek pick their meeting place next time. He doubted that Derek would be any more likely to eat in a place he chosen, but maybe familiar territory would put the ninja more at ease. The shorter boy seemed tense enough to break.
“You know,” he murmured quietly, “if you didn’t want that coffee, you could have saved the four bucks and not gotten anything at all. Or you could’ve let me have it, because wasting coffee is criminal.”
Derek grinned slowly. “Caught that, did you?” he asked. “Most people don’t.”
Greg lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “My teacher always said that if you weren’t paying attention, then you would never be prepared. And if you weren’t prepared, then it was your own damn fault for getting killed, because you were too fucking stupid to live.”
Derek laughed quietly. “Tough teacher.”
“He wants me to survive,” Greg said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the statement. It was true, any way you looked at it. Van was the toughest teacher he’d ever had, by far.
“Some of mine were like that, too,” Derek said.
“Hm,” Greg said non-committally. “I guess their lessons took.”
Derek’s eyes flickered over to him and then back to the coffee he wasn’t drinking. “Yours too,” he said, and he finally set the coffee cup down. “You’re not here to see if I want to spar, are you?” he asked quietly, and something in his voice warned Greg that if Derek didn’t like his answer, Greg had better be quick on his feet getting away.
Greg didn’t mind, because that was exactly the answer he was looking for. “How’s business been?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and blowing idle smoke rings. He aimed a smaller ring at one of the bigger ones, and cursed quietly when it slid into the side of the larger ring and destroyed them both. He’d have to work on that.
Derek shrugged. “Not bad. I can always find work.”
Greg paused, considering his next words carefully. This was tricky - he had no way to ensure Derek’s allegiance, and no reason to seek it, other than a gut-level feeling that he could trust the other boy. “What happens when work finds you?”
The blonde ninja frowned. “Then my teachers would be ashamed of me,” he said smoothly. “Like yours, mine believed that if you were caught unawares, it was your responsibility to bear the consequences.”
Greg nodded, pleased by the reply. He wasn’t good at subtext, but he and Derek seemed to be communicating with one another alright. Derek hadn’t ripped his head off for implying that Greg might have work for him, at any rate, which Greg counted a significant plus. He didn’t really want to get his head ripped off.
“Right,” he said. “Then I expect nothing I say will surprise you, will it?”
“Most likely not,” Derek said dryly. “But you’re an odd one. There may be surprises to you yet.”
Greg lifted one shoulder in a neutral half-shrug. “There might be, there might not. Time will tell, though. Well, time and the not getting killed part.”
“I’m not going to kill you.” Derek considered. “Or at least not right now, at any rate.”
Greg smirked. “If you can kill me, my teacher is going to be ashamed of me, and I really think I’ve endured enough of that for one lifetime, thanks. I’m not going to disappoint him again.”
“He must mean a lot, this teacher of yours,” Derek observed.
“He’s …” Greg hesitated. “He’s the divine manipulator of threads,” he said finally, deciding that sometimes the most obvious phrase for a thing might be the right one.
Derek stiffened. “Ah,” was all he said. Then, “You have surprised.”
Greg raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”
“I thought you were your own divine manipulator,” Derek said bluntly, and his eyes were cold. “I wouldn’t have figured someone with shuko as fine as yours, or the wits to use them, would be led around by anyone else willingly.”
Greg stiffened. “Who I serve is my choice,” he said, “and one I made of my own free will.”
Derek’s hands tightened into fists. “A man should be free to go as he pleases.”
“No one said you had to give up your freedom to follow someone else,” retorted Greg.
“Oh?” Derek asked ironically. “Think about what I am, Greg. Think about what I’ve been trained to do. I’m expendable. A toy, to be bought and used as anyone with the money wishes.”
Greg bit back the furious words he wanted to say. “I can’t confirm or deny that,” he said levelly. “But the fact that you choose to live the way you do remains. It was your choice, and no one but you can make or unmake it.”
The diminutive ninja laughed. “You see the world in black and white, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” Greg said. “But at least I’ve got the white. Way I see it, you only see the world in black. Doesn’t it get old after awhile, sitting in the dark all the time?” Greg stubbed his cigarette out in the potted plant where most of Derek’s coffee had ended up and tossed a couple of bills on their table. “Nice talking to you, shinobi-san.”
Writing Derek gives me headaches, though. I keep feeling like I need to read lots of haiku ahead of time, because beneath the snark is a guy who manages to say a whole lot without saying very much at all. *Scowls at the ninja.* You were supposed to be a plot device damn it.