True Blue for the Community!

[sagely_sea]

Title: True Blue
Author: oriaon
Recipient: The Community~
Rating: PG
Warnings: Crack
Disclaimer: Tenipuri!verse and its related characters are copyright to Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made through this story, otherwise I'd have quit and become a writer long, long ago.
Summary: AU! Samurai vs Rose Magician! ... ;D (Bonus feat. Hyoutei and Rikkai second years.)
Notes: I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, so in turn, I hope you all- find this to be a fun read! Also, many thanks again to my beta, although she's already been compensated by means of chocolate cheesecake.



A single repeating note escaped the furin as it swung near the door. Nearby, a pair of sandals lay placed side by side, the gravel underneath kicked and overturned where a second pair had been taken, too large to fit properly and so abandoned halfway to hold instead. It was with a breath of relief when smooth flat stones replaced the ground, and the pattering of bare feet across the path drove away all other thoughts of a lone figure in the distance, who opened his eyes and cast them downwards.

"Oh," Kirihara grinned up at him in greeting, hands arched over his brow to block out the sun, sandals hanging from his thumbs and knocking into his ears. "I thought maybe you were asleep."

"Hn," Sanada grunted in reply, unsure of more proper way to respond, but came down from the boulder on which he sat atop whenever he came out here to meditate. The Sanada Family Rock. The surrounding area was all once owned by the Sanada's at one point or another, but this is all he had of the property now. Large and imposing, the stone was too heavy to be lifted save with a crane, but instead of disturbing the foundation in which it lay, Yukimura had, upon learning of its ties to one of his closest friends, transformed the alcove into a rock garden when he bought the land. In all the years following, neither flower nor weed had taken to the family rock, but Sanada was sure it would make its place, just as he had. It was nice in the garden. Quiet. Zen. Even if he could never identify any of the plants, he could not say they didn't make him feel relaxed and at home.

Sometimes he wished he could say the same about the people he lived with.

"Akaya," Sanada said, as dry soil knocked loose from the footwear and settled on the young man's shoulder. He thought he might never understand this one, even after the ten years they had known each other. "Why are you barefoot?"

"Yanagi-senpai's calling for you," Kirihara shrugged, dirt rolling off his shoulders at the drop. "Piggyback me?"

Sanada grunted.

Kirihara could never tell whether a grunt meant yes, or no, or 'just stop talking, Akaya.' But seeing as the older man had already slipped his feet into his own pair of sandals to leave, it felt safe to hazard a no. Kirihara's sandals clapped together between cupped hands as he shouted behind the retreating back. "You're not cool anymore!"

"You're not thirteen anymore!" Sanada returned without looking back, waving a hand over his shoulder for Kirihara to come inside before the summer cicadas beat him through the doors and invade the house.

----

With dark hardwood underfoot, Sanada wasted no time in meandering through the halls. Unlike Yukimura, who was always fickle with his presence and went about as he pleased, Yanagi could usually be counted on to be found in the study. Sanada would have said predictably so, if he didn't suspect it were for his own sake, following a... colorful... display of his frustrations over a game of hide-and-go-seek many years back. Yukimura still liked the game. Yukimura still thought it was funny.

Clearing his throat softly to announce his presence (a habit he had yet to abandon even after all of Yanagi's repeated allegation that it was unnecessary) Sanada allowed himself in through the open study room doors and settled himself on the ornate cherry wood chair in front of the desk. It was the Visitor's Chair: fancy enough to invite seating, but just uncomfortable enough to stave off inattentiveness. Neatly combed hair fell straight over the forehead just visible over the laptop screen. Instead of the clicks and clacks of keystrokes, however, it was a rustle of papers that greeted him. "A job's just come in." No binder-clipped stack of papers followed up on this though, but the lowering of the laptop screen which Sanada knew never to be on anyways and served only as a rudimentary barrier to keep prying eyes off his notes full of cryptic messages no one but himself could understand anyways.

Yanagi gave him a smile over the notebooks he was filing away, pen clipped to the spiral edge for safekeeping. Sanada didn't smile back. "I told you before, Renji, if you're sending me up one more tree, I'm--"

A finger to the lips effectively silenced him at once. "Even if it has been a slow few months, we do not turn down any offers for help, no matter how trivial," Yanagi reminded him. "Remember why you joined the force in the first place, Genichirou?"

"To serve and protect the city." Sanada still wasn't convinced. "Not to rescue cats and Frisbees." He could tell Yanagi very much wanted to roll his eyes if they were not already perpetually closed, and he let out a low, drawn out sigh of defeat. Even if he were fed up with such nonsense, Sanada was never one to back down from responsibility, especially when they involve the safety and wellbeing of the city. Because it was a detective agency of sorts that they ran in this renovated house they had all chipped in to buy. The lease was under Yukimura's name, who they were all (besides possibly Yanagi, but that went without saying) were surprised to learn was quite moneyed. But none of them were stupid enough to ask questions. There were few of them; most, like Kirihara, lingered part time, with their aspirations laying elsewhere. Only three of them stayed in permanent residence. Yanagi, of course, held the position as the chief investigator, with Sanada backing him up as detective out in the field. Yukimura elected himself as the acting social chair, and met with clients and suspects alike. He was always good with people. Scarily good, at times. Unnervingly so.

Satisfied that Sanada's cooperation was ensured, Yanagi stood and gestured to the door. Sanada stood and turned. There was nobody there. He looked back at the other, disagreeing wholeheartedly with that expectant expression suggesting that Sanada knew exactly what to do without prior instruction. "Go on," Yanagi prompted again, adding a second arm into the gesture as if it would help. It didn't.

Sanada stared. "Don't I... get leads?"

"There aren't any."

"None at all?" Sanada asked, disbelievingly.

"Genichirou." There was that tone of exasperation sneaking in again, but temperate. "I'm sending you out to get leads. You will be working with Atobe." Yanagi didn't react to the immediate reaction he was met with: a clash between a snort of derision and a bark of laughter, followed by a truly commendable show of self-restraint on Sanada's part to recompose himself. "'Is working with Atobe supposed to convince me to take the job?' ...is what you are thinking," Yanagi guessed, correctly. "But no, I am not here to convince you. They are." Four knocks-- one, two, a pause, then the next pair-- resounded throughout the empty house, followed by silence as implication stalled and caught up. One firm hand touched the small of Sanada's back and guided him out the room and out into the hallway, where he was left to answer the front door.

----

"...It's good to see you."

In Sanada's opinion, the man standing in front of him didn't think it was very good at all, judging by the narrowed eyes and almost scornful expression that he wore. "Hn," Sanada returned, saved from the trouble of deciding whether or not he should be inviting such a disagreeable individual into the household when the other turned on his heel without so much as a backwards glance to see if Sanada would follow. Why he was so eager to leave, however, was quickly resolved by means of the front door flinging open before Sanada could fully close it, almost taking a finger or two off in the process.

Kirihara, again, this time bearing bags of various sizes and apparent weights. "Hey, Hiyoshi! What are you--"

Death glares were perfected by this man, Hiyoshi. "Shut up. We're busy. I'll talk to you later," he hissed, though Sanada didn't miss the unreadable look in his eyes before he turned pointedly away. Whatever relation they had, just leave it be, Sanada decided. He wasn't about to pry into their business. What business Kirihara had here, though, he was still curious to know.

"Oh. Uh. Yanagi-sempai said to bring your gear out, so I just grabbed all your things," Kirihara explained, dumping everything onto the ground and picking up a long, thin case jammed in between two other bags. "What's all this, anyways?

"Katana," Sanada replied, snatching it out of Kirihara's hands before it could amass any damages. If Yanagi thought he needed this, then this mission was a lot more serious than he previously imagined.

Kirihara jumped back from the two, nearly falling over the rest of the retrieved equipment. "Katana!? That's..." Out of date. Old fashioned. Highly dangerous. "...uh. Cool. Like a samurai."

"Hn."

Hiyoshi gave a soft cough, still managing to infuse it with irritability, and gave a short jerk of the head to the car waiting half a block down the street, where two others sat in waiting. Taking the hint for once, Kirihara waved them off, grinning. "I'll see ya later, then!"

"Yeah."
"Yeah."

Sanada and Hiyoshi turned sharply at each other and stared. Hiyoshi was the first to turn and stalk away, and Sanada picked up his things and followed quietly after. Don't butt into affairs.

----

The moment the two reached the car, Hiyoshi seemed to visibly relax, but that didn't keep the growl out of his voice when he tapped the hood of the car to announce their presence. Unnecessarily, Yanagi would say, as the two men-- far too tall to be comfortable in their respective seats front and back by the curb-- looked to have been watching the whole ordeal from start to finish. It was an inconspicuous chunk of metal on wheels, almost as if designed to be overlooked, if not for the impeccable shine of the pale beige finish, and not a scratch nor smudge on the hood ornament-- some sort of flower, which Yukimura would better identify than him, Sanada thought.

"Budge over, Ootori," Hiyoshi greeted. Before moving, the man addressed Sanada with a nod of the head and a polite smile. His first proper greeting, Sanada took note. Only then did Ootori raise an eyebrow Hiyoshi's direction, doing his best to hold the look of annoyance, but relented after all but two seconds and obliged, fair hair brushing the door frame as he stepped out from the driver's side and held out the keys to Hiyoshi. Who didn't take them. "Kabaji."

"Usu." The man in the back seat received the keys with cupped hands and stepped out onto the curbside. Sanada, who had stood fixed in place on the sidewalk as he watched this inane vehicle shuffle play out, made another mental note of the men he was in company of. For all the dominance and intimidation Sanada's stature held towards most others, the nice one, Ootori, still had a good several centimeters on him. And Kabaji even more so. Hiyoshi did not appear very keen on this fact either, as he motioned impatiently for the three of them to get inside the car where their height differences would be masked by adjustable leg space.

"Why the switch in drivers?" Sanada wanted to know as he slid into place beside Hiyoshi and dumped his luggage in the trunk behind him. Whether or not demeanor correlates with driving ability, he thought he better preferred Ootori. At least Hiyoshi wasn't behind the wheel; who knows how (and on whom) he'd take out all that misplaced irritability.

"Because Ootori takes too long making full stops and parking perfectly parallel to the curb," Hiyoshi responded offhandedly, ignoring Ootori's insistence that traffic laws are not optional to do as one pleases depending on the time of day and whether or not a police car is in sight. "But don't worry. Kabaji's good. He's watched professional drivers before." Sanada wished he could feel even half as confident as Hiyoshi sounded.

The strange company of four drove in silence, familiar street signs and store fronts rolling by until they escaped even Sanada's wide district of patrol. Having been kidnapped so far from home was mildly unsettling, but not as much as the fact that Yanagi was wrong: this was far from convincing. ...Then again, he never was. "So," Sanada ventured, turning to address his seat partner, who gave him a reluctant glance over of acknowledgement. "What is this job you are hiring me for?"

Hiyoshi looked away, as if already regretting he had allotted Sanada any of his attention in the first place. Ootori from the front seat came to his aid instead, catching Sanada's eyes in the front view mirror. "Atobe-san specifically requested your help. He's spoken to Yanagi-san to discuss the situation, who should have given you the debriefing. ...You have been debriefed?" Ootori asked apologetically, the worried furrow between his brows deepening to match the emerging frown on Sanada's face. 'Who climbs into a car full of strangers without knowing what he's getting himself into?' Hiyoshi's silent scoff of derision seemed to mock beside him.

'No leads,' Yanagi had said. Well, all right. That much was true, Sanada could admit, but there was something indefinitely infuriating with only getting answers to questions that were explicitly asked instead of just implied, even when, in the grand scheme of things, it turns out to be for his own good. Yes, of course, he might have refused outright had Yanagi explained the situation back in the comfort of his own office. Yes again, sending Sanada out blind meant he'd want to know what the big deal was and seek out answers by his own right. And even yes, by keeping him in the dark, it ensured that the consort had to convince Sanada their plight was worth his time, or risk him walking out on them. Sometimes, Sanada hated Yanagi being right.

"I have not," he relented, speaking to the front mirror instead of his seat partner in hopes of a more constructive conversation, "So I need to know why I am here."

"This is for 'world peace'," Hiyoshi answered, his voice inflection changing as if poking fun at something a certain someone, bristling in the front seat and sighing pointedly at the mirror Hiyoshi was pretending not to see, once said. "Seriously, Ootori. We're supposed to be convincing him, remember?"

"World peace...!" Ootori insisted, as if that were the most convincing reason anyone could ever receive.

Maybe Sanada should have followed Kabaji's example and stayed silent and keep his sanity intact. But it was not as if silence would convince them to go 'Never mind, you're not the right person for the job' and drop him off back at his front doorstep. And, Yanagi was right: he needed to know. "Then," Sanada tried again, leaning in over the glove box to put himself in a better position for conversation, "could you give me the situation now?"

"What do you know of Atobe?"

To Sanada's surprise, it was Hiyoshi who spoke. Not to Sanada's surprise, it was neither constructive nor a proper answer to his question. Even so, he pondered it over, as it was true he would have to work alongside that man. Better Atobe of All That Sparkles Purple, than Hiyoshi of Eternally Irritability, whom even all the Ootori's and Kabaji's in the world could not make up for. Needless to say, he did not have a very good opinion of the man who came into prominence while Sanada was still trying to make a living supporting Yukimura, who turned out not to need any help at all standing on his own two feet. Sanada's only consolation was that Atobe resided several cities over, and apart from features in weekly newsletters that somehow find their way onto Rikkai driveways, kept his business mostly within the confines of his own city.

If he had to be honest with himself, Sanada did not see eye to eye with Atobe mainly because Yukimura did not. In the matter of city pride, the two often tried to best one another in such a way that the general population either rejoiced at all the dedications to new parks or lamented that the air had become too thick with floral scent that they had to go home in order to get some fresh air, depending on which city's people was in question. But that was simply things Atobe has done. To his surprise, Sanada hardly knew the man as a person.

"Very little," then, Sanada answered honestly upon completing his thoughts. "Nothing more than what the tabloids say." Yanagi read them sometimes, pointing out the colorful descriptions painted of the Hyoutei lead. Sanada suspected he reads those papers like other people read fairy tales-- only, at the end of the day, it is the former than neither teaches nor learns its lessons. But, speaking of fairy tales, a term snuck into his mind, one that Yanagi mentioned from time to time but Sanada never asked for clarification of what he thought might just be another of those 'colorful descriptions.' "...I have heard him called the Rose Magician, before. How did this term come about?"

"Do you want to know why?" If it were Hiyoshi that asked this, it would have come with deep undertones of foreboding. But when Ootori asked it, Sanada found himself nodding acceptance to that eager invitation almost without thinking.

The car turned sharply, jarring Sanada from his seat and making him wonder why he had so readily trusted his life to a one whose apparent driver's education consisted of dirt roads and race cars, no doubt complete with self-ejecting tires, collapsible metal frames, and a personal fireworks show right under the hood of one's car. But, as the car slowed down to 15, rolling smoothly over the speed bumps red carpeting up to a local community center, he saw that that wasn't the case. With the car parallel-parked, the four of them exited the parking lot onto a stretch of grass (Sanada was pleased to note signature purple roses haven't yet taken over the lawn, though the infestation was clearly gaining ground over the other reds and golds) where they joined a growing group of people who stood smothering the last remnants of green.

Sanada looked over at Ootori, who answered his unspoken question as serious as can be: "He is called the Rose Magician, because he can make flowers appear out of thin air."

'Do not speak such foolishness!!' Sanada was prepared to admonish, when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Are you serious?" he rounded upon Kabaji instead, ready to shake him off, but an arm blocked his line of sight, and at the end of that arm, a finger pointing out towards the driveway where they had come from.

"Usu."

It was a truck, far larger than any Sanada had seen in his life, large enough to hold several carnival attractions, as was his first thought upon seeing flashing lights and an eruption of noise from the crowd. But what he had mistaken for tinny recorded music and oversized bulbs, was a live band and flares sent out into the sky and making the day brighter still, the back to the truck rolling up with the crescendo of fanfare to unleash... Flowers. Appearing out of thin air. Billions of them, with petals of all mixes of color and texture, the air smothering in thick sweetness. And there, across the field, was Atobe, who eventually sought and caught Sanada's eye, and flashed one of his winning smiles without even missing a beat. "Look how grateful they all are!" he shouted over the clamor, arms outstretched as to receive the due praise. It was definitely the happiest mob Sanada had ever seen.

Undaunted by the shouts of bioterrorism and the Clean Air Act, Sanada pushed his way through the strangling limbs, fighting his way to Atobe's side, the other three easily slipping through behind the bulldozed path. "OUT," he commanded, ignoring Atobe's pained look as he took hold of the sleeve of his jacket (which by itself might worth more than enough to cover the cost of the flower disposal necessary to keep his citizens alive and happy), and steered him back towards the road. "NOW."

Atobe was quick to regain his composure, gesturing wordlessly to the over-dressed truck driver, who reached into his pocket not to hand over the keys to his truck, but to remove a cellular phone with which he dialed another. It was like an on-call parade which only Atobe could provide, as if he had a personal fleet of several dozen vehicles on hand waiting for the call of their master at which they would emerge from the shadows to do his bidding, which was apparently driving by one by one until he settled on one purple enough for his tastes. Once one was chosen (a decidedly fabulous one by Atobe's opinion, and ludicrous by Sanada's, who did not seem to appreciate the way specks of black caught in the light and made for a more potent onslaught on the eyes than the flowers did on the nose), Atobe stepped forward to receive the driver, who had enough room to step outside the doors only by a human shield by the name of Kabaji, who was holding back the crowd by his girth and a surprising fierceness that burnt in his eyes when it came to protecting his friends.

"Thank you, Michael. We can handle it from here." 'We,' of course meaning Sanada, to whom Atobe handed over the keys. But that was fine, because Sanada knew exactly where he wanted to go: anywhere but here.

----

The one advantage to having never familiarized himself with this city was that it was easy for Sanada to get lost in the gridded streets while the crowd dissipated in their wake, leaving behind only the usual uniform spread of people on the streets. He was getting tired of this already, rather not appreciating being dragged around without being clued in on even a single fact. This could not continue. And, for once, he recognized, he was the one who was in the position to make demands. Neither Atobe nor his people held power against him. Foot slamming down on the brakes hard enough to spit asphalt and burnt tire into the air, Sanada killed the engine and left the car idling in the middle of an intersection-- highly dangerous due to lack of planning, but wasn't this all?-- where Ootori let his breath out with a low whoosh and all four pairs of Hyoutei eyes trained on Sanada as if they just now recognized that they were riding with a madman.

"Nobody," Sanada said seriously, all four doors locking simultaneously with a single click that punctuated his words, "is to leave this car until I know what is going on."

Hiyoshi, in the back seat, flicked a small button near the door handle and the unlocking mechanism engaged in stubborn defiance. But other than that, nobody else made a move. Atobe, however exasperated he was despite never recognizing the same sentiment towards himself, raised one perfectly kept eyebrow Sanada's direction. "What is your problem, Sanada?"

'What is my problem? My problem is that none of you think this is a problem!'

...

'Breathe in. Breathe out. You are a Rock. You are the Sanada Family Rock. Calm. Immovable. The weight of your burdens will only make you stronger. All you have to do is remember: Atobe's pansy flowers have nothing against a Rock, when not even Yukimura's garden could take hold.'

With that in mind, Sanada mentally counted backwards from 10 before he trusted his breathing to level again. When his eyes met Atobe's it was to see... what was that? Pity? Understanding? But of the wrong sort, the sort that seemed as if Atobe expected him to come out with an apology for displaying such rude manners so that he may accept it with good graces. It was almost enough to reignite his temper a second time. 'Rock,' Sanada reminded himself. Out loud, he said, "I have been brought here against my will, having been offered neither information nor reason I should stay. You did request my help, Atobe? Because it is rather difficult to help without knowing what exactly I am to help with."

"Hiyoshi debriefed you," Atobe informed him at once, as if thinking he were being tested or something similarly banal, and turned towards Hiyoshi for confirmation. Who looked pointedly away. There was a prolonged pause during which Atobe considered the back of Hiyoshi's head carefully, and then one hand rose, slowly and deliberately. A facepalm of exasperation, Sanada nodded in agreement, but then saw that he was wrong. Ice blue eyes bore through in between fingers, eyes seeking the truth and tearing away all other layers until everything lay bare before them. He knew in a different way from Yukimura, who knew because you dared not lie to him or hide anything from him. Different from Yanagi, who knew because he was Yanagi. But it was the same frightening Insight. "...Hiyoshi. You think I chose him over you."

"You don't need him," Hiyoshi spat back unpleasantly, sinking back into his seat behind the protection of Kabaji's right shoulder. "You've got the three of us to help. We can handle it. Why draft the outsiders?"

"Do you think I still would have asked Sanada's help if I thought you could handle it?"

Something even Hiyoshi could not handle? They were definitely not looking for a Frisbee, Sanada thought. Though, a cat was still possible-- Hiyoshi seemed the sort that could walk under a tree and have cats fall from the sky to sit on his head, magnetized towards the very people that despised them the most. But no, it was something far larger than that, he could tell. He wouldn't ever get any information out of Hiyoshi, who sat muttering to himself something about how was he supposed to prove himself as being the better detective unless Sanada refused the position and gave him the job?, so instead Sanada turned his attention towards Atobe for answers. The moment he opened his mouth, however, any words he would have spoken were drowned out by a wall of beeps and honks, their car surrounded on all sides by other vehicles in ambush far too familiar in stealth to be that of the general citizenry. Suits of official black crowded the front passenger door, but it was the man in front, tall with eyes hidden behind dark shades, who spoke.

"Atobe-sama, we came to your aid as quickly as we could. This vehicle was detected stopped in a no parking zone but we could conclude no mechanical problems upon initial diagnosis on-screen. What is it that you require? Spare tire? Refuel? Afternoon tea?"

"Afternoon tea would be nice," Atobe replied, as if this exchange were commonplace enough to merit having become accustomed to, "but what I would like right now is to borrow that car." Sanada followed Atobe's line of sight and saw that it was the Inconspicuous, its flower hood ornament polished to a blinding shine since last he had ridden in it. To Kabaji, Atobe reached across to the wheel and removed the key from the ignition to hand over. "Hiyoshi," he addressed the back seat, "You want to take part? Then prove yourself to me. Sanada and I will take the other car and search Central. Cover the perimeter." Hiyoshi made a face and muttered something about sparkly purple, but nodded his acknowledgment of the assignment. With an arm raised like Moses had parted the sea, the guards filed into two rows, a channel directly linking Atobe's door to that of the vacated Inconspicuous. Better than Sparkly Purple, Sanada decided as he stepped out of his seat to break the line of men and enter the car.

----

"...Why did you bring your damned katana?"

Sanada frowned at Atobe digging through his luggage in the back. He had forgotten he had left those there, and that it was possibly a mission dire enough that Yanagi thought he would need them. "The katana is my weapon of choice," Sanada replied, with an air of pride towards his sword which he polished daily and was never too far without. His baby.

Atobe, less than convinced, shut the lid to the case and set it back down on the trunk floor. "You are extraordinarily out dated, do you know that, Sanada?" He did not wait for a response, because whether Sanada was just not aware or knew but did not care, both counted as a serious, unforgiveable offence in his book. "I hope you don't actually fight crime with this."

"...Hn."

Raised eyebrows were directed towards him again. "You're not serious. How do you hope to apprehend criminals in this age of firearms and gunpowder?"

"Hn," came the habitual reply of the uncertain proper response. Sanada didn't think it was a problem. He liked his katana. Besides, cats lacked the opposable thumbs necessary to operate most firearms, and nobody ever dared mug another person in front of him while he was toting around his ancient Japanese sword.

"You won't need it," Atobe warned with a sidelong glance, detecting Sanada's urge to pick up the katana right then and there and prove him wrong that it wouldn't help in the investigation. "We are looking for a person. There will be no engaging in hand-to-hand today."

As much as he would have liked, Sanada did not argue, if only because he was finally getting the rundown of things and did not want to lose the opportunity and have the subject changed. "Then, could I get the situation?"

"What do you think of my flowers?"

What was it with Hyoutei and their inclination to reply to questions with cryptic, unrelated ones of their own? Resisting the urge to tear the steering wheel straight off the dashboard if Atobe hadn't the actual legal authorization to have his head several times over to pay for the damages, Sanada went through his Rock mantra and forced himself to calm down. Maybe this was relevant and important. Or maybe Atobe was just messing with him. He'd very much like to hear Yanagi's deductive percentages regarding the matter, but because he was not Yanagi, the only thing he could do was to take things at face value. So. Flowers. Flowers in general he cared very little for, besides the basic appreciation of such figures in paint or arrangement. Whenever Yukimura asked the question, he was expected to humor the other with a 'They are beautiful, just like you,' upon which Yukimura would laugh and invite him to lean closer and smell said flowers. He would have to be careful not to lean in too close, though, as prior experience (which included a trip to the emergency room and copious amounts of prescribed topical cream, just to reinforce the lesson) with a garden showing by the Shitenhouji governor had taught him. It was strictly a 'look but don't touch' rule. Just like you.

"They are incomparable to Seiichi's," Sanada answered stiffly.

"Of course they are," Atobe snapped back, his composure slipping for the first time since they've met. "Mine are far superior. That is why he wants them."

"...Excuse me?"

"My flowers, Sanada. They've been disappearing." An accusatory glare, somehow scarier than being scrutinized by Insight, settled down upon Sanada's face despite him being taller than Atobe even while sitting. "I know it is Yukimura's doing."

Sanada could think of 1,651 thousand (coincidentally, the population count of Hyoutei, minus one very delusional lead) other people who would have been better suspect than Yukimura.

Seeing that he was not going to be convinced by just that, Atobe offered a better explanation, which Sanada thought he should have done from the start. "A lesson in horticulture, then, Sanada. Roses come in a variety of colors, but the rarest of which is one not found in nature is the true blue rose. Florigene and Suntory: it took these two collaborators over a decade of research and genetic engineering to develop the first blue rose, trying to insert the delphinidin gene and alter specific others, but because they were unable to completely control the acidity of the plant and the RNAi process, the delphinidin degraded and the resulting petals took on a lavender hue instead of the desired true blue. It has since been a goal for many the researcher to successfully modify the procedures and engineer a rose in which the color is already sequenced in its genome and requires nothing but soil, light, water and air to grow."

Sanada understood none of that, and less why Atobe felt it important that he knew. "Okay," he said, struggling to understand the implications of all of this. "So... what? The flowers don't exist, so--"

"Didn't," Atobe corrected, with the triumphant air of someone goading the conversation to that exact statement just so he could refute it, "until recent developments by Atobe Corps. proved otherwise. Come, I will show you one of such specimen." Sanada, though he didn't especially want to see this mutant rose bush spawned without consent out of the citizens' precious tax dollars, could only sit in silence as Atobe took the wheel.

----

The tiny thing supported by the sides of a vase wasn't anything too amazing, in Sanada's opinion. For one, it was just a flower. A blue flower. Maybe it being a rose was something special, but it was the same sort of blue he saw all over the place in all the other flowers. And it was just a flower. Reading the expression on Sanada's face, Atobe gave a long suffering sigh. "The ignorant wouldn't understand," he said, his eyes flickering for a moment suspiciously towards Sanada's direction. "Few know its true worth, and that worth is in the billions."

Sanada stared at the flower, disbelieving. It was a flower. He supposed he could sort of see it: people sought the true blue rose because it was rare. Pretty, but useless. Sort of like Atobe. "You mean, Seiichi is one who would know its worth, and therefore you accuse him," he drew the conclusion. "And any normal citizen would maybe glance at it and say how nice." Atobe nodded his confirmation; it was a weak one at that, and Sanada felt urged to present another point: "Any normal citizen might have knelt and picked the flower too. It's just a flower."

"Blue rose!" Atobe exclaimed, with enough conviction to put Ootori's world peace to shame. "I don't have them growing among the weeds at any old street corner, Sanada. They can only thrive in special conditions, so the soil has to be kept in peak condition without being trampled or loosened by you non-appreciators."

There was that unwarranted accusation again, and from somebody who had wanted his help in the first place. This flower sounded so fragile it could scarcely be breathed upon without wilting, let alone be enjoyed by the general public without requiring it to be viewed through maximum security, bulletproof, people-proof, quadruple paned glass. Why in the world would Yukimura want something like that? Taking a step back-- why would anyone waste so much time and money and effort in developing a rose that just looked like Alice had gotten to it with the wrong color?

"You know how his mind works..." Atobe prompted expectantly.

'How does your mind even work!!?' Painstakingly internalizing his frustrations, Sanada instead warned, "Hardly. Better luck had you asked Renji for help instead of recruiting me."

"But sometimes I can not understand Yanagi."

...Yeah, he didn't either. "Then, why not ask Yukimura himself if he is guilty?"

"....."

Yeah, okay, no. Sanada let a scowl show on his face as he fell silent in thought again, turning the roses' long glass prison around in his hands. On their way to Atobe's five story summer home (Atobe's words, not his) to be shown one of the last specimens not sitting in a test tube or laboratory before being distributed to the general public, Atobe had recounted his team's findings, from discovery to their current position in development. Because the soil and other environmental conditions had to be tightly controlled, Atobe's men had done daily rounds to tend to the flower beds, their positions marked on a map of the city which was now in Sanada's possession. It started with just clippings, near the base so that the entire length of stem had been removed, but then proceeded to entire bushes being uprooted and leaving the ground barren. What was worse, Atobe had insisted, was when the perpetrator started replacing the roses with seeds of cherry wood. Once fully grown, the tree's roots would claw their way into the soil and render the entire area uninhabitable, destroying any chance of the roses ever finding their home there again.

Sanada tried hard to dismiss this fact, but Atobe knew what he knew, and there was no way Atobe would have overlooked it. Atobe's way of populating the flora was (literally, now that Sanada had seen the delivery with his own eyes, but he had always assumed figuratively) to make flowers appear out of thin air and settle in any available unclaimed spot of dirt they could find. Already bloomed, these plants died early and needed replacing, something Atobe was not stingy on, and oftentimes went overboard. Yukimura, on the other hand, sowed seeds. And then, every spring, it was either to the delight or dismay of the people to witness the surprise attack of pollen and colors and sweet air that lingered two seasons too long. He had told Yukimura many times before that those seeds would be his undoing, but he couldn't believe that Atobe's fingers pointed at him now.

But it was not Yukimura. It couldn't be him. Sure, he always disappeared without notice, coming back at the dead of night with his pleased, impish grin and dark stains on his shirt and pants that Sanada first took to be blood, but once the room was properly lit was revealed to be just dirt. But Yukimura wouldn't stoop so low as to steal flowers. And if he did-- a big 'if'-- not from someone like Atobe. Sanada was convinced. Now, the only problem was to convince Atobe of the same. The only way he could see that happening was if he catches the real criminal, and clear Yukimura's name.

"It's simple," Sanada said, mind gearing towards the training he undertook so long ago to become a detective, unpracticed on the cats and plastic disks in his own city. "It will be a mousetrap scenario. Reinstate one blue rose bush as bait, in a strategic location where we may hide around the perimeter and hold a stakeout. The thief, if previous patterns can be trusted, will be drawn to the flower and reveal himself."

"And I will have an entire squadron on call to ambush him!" Atobe completed, looking far too excited for his own good.

Sanada shook his head. "So many people standing guard over a single flower would draw too much attention, and may rouse enough suspicion to deter the thief from approaching the target in the first place." There had to be a way to do it without having people around, like a rabbit trap that could snare around the foot of whoever stepped near, or a slow effusing sleeping powder that hung in the air of the general vicinity to render the offender too drowsy and slow to escape. 'Renji has a friend that brews poison,' Sanada recalled. 'Maybe he can help.'

Atobe had a different (and, okay, better) idea. "The two of us will hide out, then. I know of a park with suitable clearing, and overnight campers aren't a rarity during the summer nights. Like you said, it will be simple." Far, far too excited.

----

They quickly drew up plans after that. Atobe's men, disguised as delivery boys and taxi drivers, were stationed at every major road out of Hyoutei while a select few-- Sanada thought he heard the name 'Hiyoshi' while Atobe was on the phone dishing out instructions with the skill and ease of a well seasoned military commander-- would stay around the general vicinity and be on call in case their enemy tried to run and hide within city walls. Their plan was to be immediately put into action that very night, wasting no time in importing the bush and several others in the guise of another fanfared magician's show to the clearing which was no longer clear in terms of flowers. Two in one day, to the displeasure of a silent some, and oddly late in the evening for whatever reason apart from the growing apprehension that Atobe might be upping the rate to twice a day now.

Criminals appear after dark, Atobe told him (though Sanada couldn't verify by his own experiences, as cats got stuck in trees whenever the hell they felt like), so there they waited. Midnight. One in the morning. Two. Three. In order to keep their strengths up, the two of them had decided to take turns every hour keeping a lookout while the other slept. Sanada had taken the first shift, and was on his fourth subsequent hour when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. It was scarcely light enough to see the person's face, but there was definitely a figure creeping up towards the rose bush. Somebody large and hulking was what he initially determined, but then the wind shifted and he saw that it was a long coat that added to his bulk, possibly to aid in stealing the flowers away. The darkness not only hid the stranger, but it would hide the two of them as well, Sanada noted, keeping one eye on the target while he nudged Atobe with the tip of his shoe. Turning around on his side, Atobe made an undignified noise of protest, addressed Sanada as his mother, and demanded he be let sleep in, all the while with his eyes shut tight. Sanada shook him harder. "Wake up!," he hissed. "Somebody's here!"

But if he waited for Atobe, he might be too late and end up leaving things in Atobe's men's hands, and he didn’t want that. It was now or never, and now was what Sanada decided on, picking up the sheathed katana as he snuck into the campsite, keeping to the trees, hidden and silent like the shadows in which he kept to. Whoever was out there moved with a feminine grace that struck Sanada as almost familiar. He was almost directly behind the other, close enough to reach a hand out and touch that dark, wavy hair which tumbled just above the shoulders of the bowed head staring over the prize, a soft voice seemed to be speaking to himself while the hands got hard at work around the stems. Sanada's breath got caught in his throat. No. But it couldn't--

!!

Sanada could feel the branch splinter and snap from beneath his feet, hear the crack magnified in the still night air, see the stranger's shoulders jolt and turn around, the unmistakable glint of metal catching what little light that was offered by the waxing moon. Danger! Reflex placed one hand on the hilt and Sanada drew his blade, parrying not the weapon in particular but movement itself. In the brief moment in which he faced the attacker, his eyes met a sharp point driving straight towards the middle of his forehead, and then there was loud crack followed by a bruising blow against his chest, unprepared to lose his breath and footing as he was knocked backwards, his katana leaving his grip and his vision going black.

...Moving... black. Black vines, to be precise, shooting wildly and frantically out from the ground like elephant toothpaste, slamming into an already forming aggregate in the middle of the clearing, like a demon clawing its way up out of the earth, spitting dirt into the air and tearing up grass and eardrums alike. When Sanada finally caught his breath and stood up, it was to the most terrifying sight. Sword point... to forehead. Only not his forehead this time, nor was he the one brandishing the sword, an extension of the perfectly straight arm pointing directly at the assailant's face, tip hardly quivering despite the chill that ran through Sanada's veins as he followed the edge of the blade to whom it was pointing at.

...It wasn't Yukimura. Sanada let out his breath, not feeling the raw pain that burned at his lower set of ribs. There, bound in thick, dark vines that brought him to his knees, was not Yukimura. Dark wavy hair, but highlighted brown instead of midnight blue, and eyes of the same color that lifted up at Atobe with an expression of mixed confusion and terror. Sanada shifted his gaze, and at once his expression mirrored the other's. "Don't," he warned Atobe in a low voice as he struggled to his feet. "Just. Put. Down. The. Katana."

His words seemed to fall on deaf ears, the dark expression on Atobe's face masking not only sound, but reason itself. "Sanada," he growled, ignoring both other men's splutters of protest. "Hold my flower."

And before Sanada could even regain his balance after lunging for the crushed cutting of the true blue rose, Atobe had positioned his now free left hand with a flourish and struck a pose unfamiliar to Sanada. The wind whistled in his ear as the blade swung down and sliced cleanly through, a yell of pain cutting through the air that Sanada involuntarily added his own voice to, as something heavy hit his already bruised chest and he doubled over to catch the long, thin object before it fell onto the ground. It was his katana, already sheathed back into its scabbard. "What--" he started, when he was interrupted by Atobe's voice beside him.

"Stop your sniveling," Atobe was chiding the assailant trying to get back on his feet. "I didn't cut so deeply as to nick cloth."

Sanada looked back down at his sword. "What?"

Atobe threw a glance over his shoulder. "Don't act so surprised. You know I fence. I know how to wield a sword." Despite vaguely recalling just that, Sanada was still completely taken aback. Atobe wasn't someone like himself, or... or Tezuka, someone who seemed capable of martial arts or weaponry or holding his own. Besides, a katana does not work the same way as a fencing sword does. Sanada looked around desperately in search of something that made sense, his eyes finally settling on the vines that lay cut and slashed all about the clearing. A poor choice.

A loud snap filled the air and Sanada, mentally cringing in preparation for another onslaught of floral battering ram against his person, was astonished to see the vines writhe and break apart, dissolving into nothing but dry fibers and lavender scent. "What!?" Sanada cried, looking wildly up at Atobe, who lowered his arm from the snap and gave Sanada a peculiar look.

"I am the Rose Magician," he reminded Sanada patiently, as if explaining to a four-year-old child, though a child would have chalked up the Rose Magician to be at the same level as Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy and be content to leave it at that. "I make flowers appear out of thin air."

Sanada's only response to that was: "...what."

Atobe made a face. "I think I like the 'hn's better." But he turned from Sanada to leave him to collect his bearings, and instead lowered his eyes upon their Third, struggling with the last remnants of vine left tangled in the shoelaces of his black Oxfords, gardening spade entrenched tip down in the soil. Atobe removed the katana from Sanada's arms, his arms wrapped around it like a security blanket, and said something about this sort of attachment not being healthy for a grown man such as Sanada. He unsheathed the blade partway, running a slender finger along the flat side and flicked the accumulating liquid off the surface, pale green where the droplets hung suspended from the tip of his finger, clear where they fell and melted into the dark brown slacks of their mystery person.

"You are trespassing. Stealing. Being a public nuisance," Atobe said, his voice colder than ice. The man continued to stare not at Atobe's face, but at his fingers playing with the scabbard as if contemplating to remove the safeguard and finish the job it had not been able to complete. "You will confess to all your crimes and--"

"I confess!!" the man nearly shrieked as Atobe pulled a bit too far and the scabbard fell to the ground with a damp thud, the grass stains marring Sanada's heart. That was enough to bring him back to his senses.

"Stop that." Sanada jumped in to confiscate the weapon before further harm could come to his precious baby. "You're going too far, Atobe. He's just a citizen; people pick flowers all the time."

"Yes!" The other man breathed in opportunistic relief. "It was just one flower--"

"Do not lie to me," Atobe said, pausing for dramatic effect as his left hand found its way against his face. "Insight."

"...What?" the man stole Sanada's line.

"Mizuki Hajime," Atobe identified, in recitation unnervingly similar to that of Yanagi whenever he recounted profiles off the top of his head, although it was actually in Atobe's occupation to know the names and faces of the people and not irrelevant things like what someone ate for breakfast that morning, or that the latest route to work isn't worth taking again because it adds an extra two minutes so just step over the new flowerbed and continue the same way, or that that it didn't matter how comfortable a hat was, it's not good to sleep with it on at night so either take that silly thing off your head and stop trying to pretend you don't wear it to bed and sneak it in anyways, Sanada, or don't come running to me when the bill snaps. Atobe, whether or not he could be called normal, knew things normal people would know. "Chief advisor to Sei Rudolph, offence count of 43... no, 42," he amended, looking at the scattered petals of the flower Sanada had been entrusted to and neglected. "That offence is yours, Sanada. I told you to hold my flower, not manhandle it."

Mizuki abandoned his attempt to escape, in favor of appealing to Sanada, who on any other day would have been the crazy man with the sword and not Atobe. "Like I said, it's just a flower," he said, all but clasping Sanada's hands as if to physically transmit understanding.

"You're right," Sanada agreed slowly, much to Mizuki's delight, "but a blue rose in itself is just sort of..." Ugly. "...unnatural."

It was almost amazing how quickly someone could turn upon the person they were banking on to be their savior. "Unnatural!?" Mizuki hissed, drawing away as if he couldn't even stand being in the presence of the heathen.

Sanada couldn't understand the problem. "But it is unnatural," he reasoned, "Atobe said something about genetic engineering and the dolphin gene--"

"Delphinidin!" came the chorus of angry voices.

Mizuki threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "You're like all the others!" he lamented. Sanada wished he wouldn't give him such a look of pity. Mizuki sat back down, hands finding a loose lock of hair and twirling it around a finger in agitation. "Nobody appreciates the beauty of roses anymore," he said with a practiced, tragic sigh. "When I saw the blue roses of Hyoutei, I thought my people may learn to love such glorious plants if I were to introduce them to my own city. Even with such extraordinary perseverance on our part, alas," his hand flipped over to press delicately back against his forehead, his eyes closed to prolong the suspense, "none of them ever took. Perhaps the shock of transfer was too much. We even thought to uproot the entire bush after a time, but even that did not work. But don't worry," he said quickly, as Sanada opened his mouth, "We were not so stingy as to not leave anything in return. Sei Rudolph is famous for its cherry wood trees; our wood is exported everywhere and featured prominently in many neighboring cities." Mizuki mistook the look on Sanada's face and returned it with a plastic, gracious smile, as if actually believing he could buy his way out of the situation just like this. "No, no, there's no need to thank me."

'What utter bull,' Sanada found himself thinking, when a strange sound filled the air, chilling him straight to the bone. It was Atobe. His laughter grew louder and louder, magnified by realization and what Sanada suspected to be the simple pleasure of hearing his own voice. He wished Atobe wouldn't do that. Atobe laughing scared him sometimes.

"You like my flowers that much, ahn~? I will give them to you." Mizuki looked up, unbelieving. Atobe smirked. "I will give them all to you. You needed only to ask, to know of my boundless generosity."

'Bull,' Sanada thought to himself again, even as Mizuki's eyes lit up in disbelief.

"Really?" asked Mizuki hopefully.

"Really?" asked Sanada skeptically.

"Really," Atobe promised, clasping Mizuki's hands in his and helping him back on his feet, the last vines snapping and falling to the ground like any misunderstanding that happened here being put to rest behind them.

It was like he could get away with murder so long as he was an appreciator of the proper type of flower, Sanada mused, letting the other two complete whatever business transaction that was to occur. He wondered why, then, Atobe would be so at ends with Yukimura, who tended to all sorts of plants and flowers in his garden, roses included. ...Yukimura, who would never miss the opportunity to rag him for staying away so late at night despite doing so on-and-off himself, and he couldn't rely on Yanagi to relay the message of what he himself assigned Sanada to, as Yanagi always tried to reinforce the habit of calling home in nearly renounced hopes of replacing useless habits like knocking on the door when he already knew who the visitor was, when he would arrive, what he wanted and how best to turn him away as quickly as possible.

It was a little past five o'clock now, an entire hour after Sanada would have usually been waking up after a night's sleep, but even if he wouldn't be getting any sleep the rest of tonight, his job here was done and it was time he went home. He looked towards the street they had parked the Inconspicuous. And decided on public transport.

"It was... a pleasure... working with you, Atobe," he announced to the world at large, hoping his words would fall on deaf ears and he could sneak away unnoticed.

No such luck.

Pausing his conversation with Mizuki, Atobe turned and threatened Sanada with one of his laughs. "Insight," he reminded the other, striking that ridiculous pose which obscured half his face. "We all know that you had fun. Next time, perhaps, I will pay a visit to your workplace... There, I suppose, we will have a game of Frisbee instead." Sanada had half a mind to chop down all the trees in Rikkai, and torch the entirety of Atobe's city while he was at it, goodness knows how much of a fire hazard the place could be with so much foliage.

"...Thank you for your hard work," Atobe said with his well-learned politician's sincerity (you couldn't prove it, but you just knew otherwise), and offered Sanada a handshake. He received it, thinking of how good of a politician Atobe was to divert thoughts of arson so effortlessly. "Hiyoshi will be by shortly to pick up your things and to drive you back. Why don't you keep the car as payment?" he added as an afterthought, like any other person would tell the cashier to keep the change.

"I don't want Sparkly Purple!" Sanada blurted out with more disgust in his voice than he had intended. There went Atobe's eyebrow again. "Uh." Sanada tried to salvage what he could from his outburst. "Sparkly... purple... car. Your car. That's purple."

Nailed it.

"You may take another car of your choosing..." Atobe offered, though clearly still struggling to understand why anyone would turn down Sparkly Purple, it was such a hit down at his vacation home on the Higa islands.

"No car," Sanada insisted, nodding his reassurance at what he assumed to be the honking of the arriving car in the streets behind him. Only one car in the world could be honked and still sound like chimes. Sparkly chimes. With a hint of purple in its twinkling. "I'm just glad your flowers are safe," he said before turning to leave. "May you never require my assistance again." Please. He didn't want to see another flower for as long as he lived.

As if seeing through his thoughts, Atobe made sure Hiyoshi and Sanada left in style, large petals raining down from the sky and paving their way home. The screech of skidding tires and Hiyoshi's yell of alarm was close enough to Sanada's thanks for such a grand farewell, goodbye, and good riddance.

----

"Genichirou!"

It was a bright and chipper Yukimura that greeted him home. That was a good sign. He gave Yukimura a tired arm around the shoulder, noting that while the other normally slept through these early hours, today Yukimura had already showered and dressed, only the faintest hint of earth, wet like that after a rainfall, betraying earlier locations.

"Good morning, Seiichi," Sanada said as he toed off his shoes and slipped into more comfortable slippers. "What have you been up to today?" He didn't really care to hear about whether Yukimura watered his plants this morning instead of at night like he used to, or was just out whispering sweet nothings to his newest baby plants, but Yukimura liked to talk about his gardening, so Sanada let him.

"Oh, I was just out with a friend again, like you were," Yukimura replied, with that all-knowing twinkle in his eye Sanada wished his friends would stop doing. Then, confirming Sanada's suspicions, he continued. "I was in the garden this morning though. I wanted to show you something, so I waited up for you to get home." There was something in the excitement of Yukimura's voice that made Sanada think he was just about to be shown another microscopic green shoot and being unable to differentiate between a new dahlia or are you sure that's not just a small rock in the soil, Seiichi?, but he let himself be led by the hand towards the garden anyways. "I've been gathering seeds and working on these for a long time." Yukimura could barely contain his excitement as the two of them walked down the familiar path through the rock garden. "They're rather late, but they've finally sprung up overnight!" he concluded proudly, stopping short so that Sanada ran into him before being nudged passed so he could have an unobscured view.

And there, dispersed along the circle of green surrounding the base of the Sanada Family Rock, were tiny buds of true blue.

"WHAT?!"