Fic: Stygian Part 1
Title: Stygian
Author: Rei Mei Juunana
Fandom: Junjou Romantica
Rating: PG-13 for violence and adult content
Pairing: Junjou Egoist and what could be construed as Miyagi with Hiroki
Notes: This fic was written for the Nakamura Shungiku Gift Exchange, though that seems to have fizzled out. I didn't want to sit on a perfectly good fic so I'm posting it. My prompt was for angst, hurt/comfort, and character death so beware. Also, about the note that Nowaki leaves for Hiroki the morning after he comes back from America: I seen it translated as something like "I'm going out now" in the official books and "I'll be back" in the scanlations. I tend to assume that differences between scanlations and official translations are the result of localization on the part of official translators, so for the purposes of this fic Nowaki wrote "I'll be back."
Title: Stygian
Author: Rei Mei Juunana
Fandom: Junjou Romantica
Rating: PG-13 for violence and adult content
Pairing: Junjou Egoist and what could be construed as Miyagi with Hiroki
Notes: This fic was written for the Nakamura Shungiku Gift Exchange, though that seems to have fizzled out. I didn't want to sit on a perfectly good fic so I'm posting it. My prompt was for angst, hurt/comfort, and character death so beware. Also, about the note that Nowaki leaves for Hiroki the morning after he comes back from America: I seen it translated as something like "I'm going out now" in the official books and "I'll be back" in the scanlations. I tend to assume that differences between scanlations and official translations are the result of localization on the part of official translators, so for the purposes of this fic Nowaki wrote "I'll be back."
It’s late, and Yoh stretches, yawning, then grimaces as he hears his back crack. Yoh loves literature, especially when Bashou is involved is involved, but he could do without the scores of essays that come with teaching. God, how could a person get into university without learning how to write a proper essay? Not to mention the grammar and the typos.
Well.
Nothing for it. Yoh sighs and hunches over his desk, red pen at the ready and sets to back grading. This particular essay is, thankfully, almost the last of the bunch. He’ll be able to pack up soon. He turns a page, ruthlessly crosses out a redundant paragraph, and startles violently as the door is slammed open to reveal a sopping wet young giant.
“Wow,” Yoh says to the young giant, “You are sopping wet.” The young giant stares at him. “You’re doing a good job right now,” Yoh continues eventually, “but please continue to restrain yourself from anymore sudden motions. You might get water on the books.” The young giant just keeps staring; he doesn’t say anything. Was he a little slow in the head? “Kid,” Yoh starts, a little concerned-
“I’m not a kid!”
They stare at each other some more. The kid looks kind of embarrassed to have yelled. Yoh’s obviously not going to get anymore work done until the kid goes, so he shuffles his papers together, stands up. He’s just started over for his brief case when he says, “You got a name?”
No answer for a moment, so Yoh cocks his head back. The kid is frowning.
Shortly, “Kusama Nowaki.”
“Kusama, huh? I don’t recognize it. Which class are you in?” Yoh has his briefcase open now, and the essays are safely tucked away inside. “Not one of mine; even if I didn’t remember your name, I’d have remembered someone so tall.” Yoh’s not really paying attention to what he’s saying, there’s something about that name, ‘Nowaki,’ he’s heard it recently-
“I’m not a student at this university,” Kusama says, frowning deeper. “I’m looking for Hiro- I mean, I’m looking for Assisstant Professor Kamijou.” He keeps talking, but Yoh doesn’t hear him. He’s finally managed to place him.
‘Kusama Nowaki’ was the name of the guy who called earlier, the one who kept trying to get Kamijou’s personal info. It’s the name that was signed at the bottom of the note Kamijou had had crumpled up on his desk. This was the guy who’d been here this morning, who’d been trying to get into the literature office. No wonder Kamijou was so out of sorts all day. And, Jesus, he remembered Kamijou asking for the forms to notify the university of a change of residence, a change of phone number.
There’s a silence, and Yoh realizes the guy has stopped talking, that he expects a response. “Ah,” Yoh manages, hoping the kid didn’t notice the pause. “Kamijou isn’t here right now.”
“Yes,” Nowaki says, “Do you know where he is?”
“Nah, he left ages ago. He could be anywhere by now.” Yoh waves a careless hand. “He took off early, in fact, so he’s not likely to have gone home either, probably went somewhere special.”
“You know where he lives?” the kid asks, a hard note coming into his voice.
Yoh devotes supreme attention to making sure his desk is properly locked. “Like I just said, he’s probably not home, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.” Nowaki’s jaw clenches. “Can you give me his phone number?”
Yoh takes a few steps toward his coat, across the room from Nowaki, before he answers. “That’s against university policy.” He shakes his head slowly. “It’s worth more than my job if I give it out to anyone.”
Nowaki surges forward, then catches himself, fisting his hands at his sides. “Can you at least call him for me?” he grinds out through gritted teeth. His face is turning red.
“No,” Yoh says, and-
“What?”
“No, I can’t call him for you.” Yoh shrugs into his coat. “You said you’re not a student here. If you don’t need to see him about university matters, I can’t help you.” He gets out a cigarette. Then, because he’s pissed that this kid would upset his co-worker so badly, he adds, “Keep personal matters out of the work place, kid. Grow up.”
And Nowaki’s face goes wild, and his hands come up and Yoh manages to dodge the first swing, but not the second. The blow sends him reeling back into a bookshelf; he knocks his head. The cigarette falls from his open mouth. Then Nowaki’s on him again, grabbing Yoh by the collar, looming as much as his maybe three extra centimeters of height allow.
“Hiro-san’s not yours,” he spits in Yoh’s face. “Hiro-san’s mine.”
Yoh coughs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his cigarette on the floor next to some of his scrolls. Huh, he thinks distantly. Thank god it wasn’t lit. Then Nowaki is shoving a phone in his hand, and Yoh can’t really tell what he’s saying anymore, because the blood is rushing in Yoh’s ears, his breath is cut off by the constriction on his collar- But he can just make out that Nowaki wants him to call someone.
Call someone.
Yoh manages to dial, and his compliance must calm Nowaki down, because to grip on his collar loosens. Yoh sucks in a breath as the phone is picked up on the other end. “Hey Kamijou,” he says, wheezing a little. “This is Miyagi Yoh. You know, your boss in the Literature Department. I’ve got one of your fans here, kinda forceful. I don’t think he’s gonna leave unless you-“ Yoh breaks off into a gurgle. Nowaki’s grip has tightened again. “Unless you come and get him.” Nowaki leans on him, his glare near burning a hole in Yoh’s face, and grabs for the phone.
“Hiro-san?” he says, but must not get an answer. “Hiro-san?” The top button pops off Yoh’s collar and he gulps in air. “Are you there, Hiro-san?” Nowaki lets Yoh go, absently turning away, shields the mouth piece of the phone. “I’m sorry.” Then, like a damn bursting on the river of Babel, he blurts out, “I’m so sorry, Hiro-san it was my fault, and I shouldn’t have gone. I went to greet one of my professors from America, who was flying in today. No matter what, I shouldn’t have gone, the Doctor’s plane was late and the bullet train was delayed and I couldn’t call you because you changed your cell phone and your house phone, and I made you wait for me in the rain, and I know you waited for me because it’s been raining, and I saw the dry spot on the wall where someone must have been sitting, and no one would have sat there in the rain waiting for someone so late except you, Hiro-san, because-“
And then Nowaki is tackled by a campus security officer, because Yoh hadn’t called Kamijou, he’d called the Safety Center. Another security officer hurries over to Yoh and takes his pulse, checks his breathing, the bump on the back of his head.
“I think he was stalking Kamijou,” he tells her, slowly, watching Nowaki fight the handcuffs. “He called earlier today and tried to get me to give him Kamijou’s phone number. There’s a threatening note over on my desk with his name on it. It was really bugging Kamijou, so I looked it after he left.” One more thing, there was something else… “You have a pretty nose,” Yoh says, and that wasn’t it, wasn’t what he needed to tell her, it was- “Oh. He was here this morning, too, Kamijou was hiding from him in here.” That was it. Yoh lets himself slide down to the floor. There’s something under his left hand.
Ah, a cigarette. How convenient.
Half an hour later, when the fuss is over and the office empty, Kamijou wanders in. He’s soaked to the bone, shivering. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights, just sits down at his desk and sobs. He and Yoh are the only professors in the department, and since Yoh doesn’t come in the next day, having been to told to rest and recover from Nowaki’s assault, no one finds him. Kamijou wakes up barely before noon the next day, recognizes the Literature office and the time, and makes it to his class just in time collide with the only student who waited the full period for him to show up. Kamijou tumbles down and doesn’t get back up. The student shakes him, and when he doesn’t rouse, her scream rings through the halls.
Kamijou is admitted to the emergency room with a fever of 40 degrees.
And on that happy thought I end the first part.
Author: Rei Mei Juunana
Fandom: Junjou Romantica
Rating: PG-13 for violence and adult content
Pairing: Junjou Egoist and what could be construed as Miyagi with Hiroki
Notes: This fic was written for the Nakamura Shungiku Gift Exchange, though that seems to have fizzled out. I didn't want to sit on a perfectly good fic so I'm posting it. My prompt was for angst, hurt/comfort, and character death so beware. Also, about the note that Nowaki leaves for Hiroki the morning after he comes back from America: I seen it translated as something like "I'm going out now" in the official books and "I'll be back" in the scanlations. I tend to assume that differences between scanlations and official translations are the result of localization on the part of official translators, so for the purposes of this fic Nowaki wrote "I'll be back."
Title: Stygian
Author: Rei Mei Juunana
Fandom: Junjou Romantica
Rating: PG-13 for violence and adult content
Pairing: Junjou Egoist and what could be construed as Miyagi with Hiroki
Notes: This fic was written for the Nakamura Shungiku Gift Exchange, though that seems to have fizzled out. I didn't want to sit on a perfectly good fic so I'm posting it. My prompt was for angst, hurt/comfort, and character death so beware. Also, about the note that Nowaki leaves for Hiroki the morning after he comes back from America: I seen it translated as something like "I'm going out now" in the official books and "I'll be back" in the scanlations. I tend to assume that differences between scanlations and official translations are the result of localization on the part of official translators, so for the purposes of this fic Nowaki wrote "I'll be back."
It’s late, and Yoh stretches, yawning, then grimaces as he hears his back crack. Yoh loves literature, especially when Bashou is involved is involved, but he could do without the scores of essays that come with teaching. God, how could a person get into university without learning how to write a proper essay? Not to mention the grammar and the typos.
Well.
Nothing for it. Yoh sighs and hunches over his desk, red pen at the ready and sets to back grading. This particular essay is, thankfully, almost the last of the bunch. He’ll be able to pack up soon. He turns a page, ruthlessly crosses out a redundant paragraph, and startles violently as the door is slammed open to reveal a sopping wet young giant.
“Wow,” Yoh says to the young giant, “You are sopping wet.” The young giant stares at him. “You’re doing a good job right now,” Yoh continues eventually, “but please continue to restrain yourself from anymore sudden motions. You might get water on the books.” The young giant just keeps staring; he doesn’t say anything. Was he a little slow in the head? “Kid,” Yoh starts, a little concerned-
“I’m not a kid!”
They stare at each other some more. The kid looks kind of embarrassed to have yelled. Yoh’s obviously not going to get anymore work done until the kid goes, so he shuffles his papers together, stands up. He’s just started over for his brief case when he says, “You got a name?”
No answer for a moment, so Yoh cocks his head back. The kid is frowning.
Shortly, “Kusama Nowaki.”
“Kusama, huh? I don’t recognize it. Which class are you in?” Yoh has his briefcase open now, and the essays are safely tucked away inside. “Not one of mine; even if I didn’t remember your name, I’d have remembered someone so tall.” Yoh’s not really paying attention to what he’s saying, there’s something about that name, ‘Nowaki,’ he’s heard it recently-
“I’m not a student at this university,” Kusama says, frowning deeper. “I’m looking for Hiro- I mean, I’m looking for Assisstant Professor Kamijou.” He keeps talking, but Yoh doesn’t hear him. He’s finally managed to place him.
‘Kusama Nowaki’ was the name of the guy who called earlier, the one who kept trying to get Kamijou’s personal info. It’s the name that was signed at the bottom of the note Kamijou had had crumpled up on his desk. This was the guy who’d been here this morning, who’d been trying to get into the literature office. No wonder Kamijou was so out of sorts all day. And, Jesus, he remembered Kamijou asking for the forms to notify the university of a change of residence, a change of phone number.
There’s a silence, and Yoh realizes the guy has stopped talking, that he expects a response. “Ah,” Yoh manages, hoping the kid didn’t notice the pause. “Kamijou isn’t here right now.”
“Yes,” Nowaki says, “Do you know where he is?”
“Nah, he left ages ago. He could be anywhere by now.” Yoh waves a careless hand. “He took off early, in fact, so he’s not likely to have gone home either, probably went somewhere special.”
“You know where he lives?” the kid asks, a hard note coming into his voice.
Yoh devotes supreme attention to making sure his desk is properly locked. “Like I just said, he’s probably not home, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.” Nowaki’s jaw clenches. “Can you give me his phone number?”
Yoh takes a few steps toward his coat, across the room from Nowaki, before he answers. “That’s against university policy.” He shakes his head slowly. “It’s worth more than my job if I give it out to anyone.”
Nowaki surges forward, then catches himself, fisting his hands at his sides. “Can you at least call him for me?” he grinds out through gritted teeth. His face is turning red.
“No,” Yoh says, and-
“What?”
“No, I can’t call him for you.” Yoh shrugs into his coat. “You said you’re not a student here. If you don’t need to see him about university matters, I can’t help you.” He gets out a cigarette. Then, because he’s pissed that this kid would upset his co-worker so badly, he adds, “Keep personal matters out of the work place, kid. Grow up.”
And Nowaki’s face goes wild, and his hands come up and Yoh manages to dodge the first swing, but not the second. The blow sends him reeling back into a bookshelf; he knocks his head. The cigarette falls from his open mouth. Then Nowaki’s on him again, grabbing Yoh by the collar, looming as much as his maybe three extra centimeters of height allow.
“Hiro-san’s not yours,” he spits in Yoh’s face. “Hiro-san’s mine.”
Yoh coughs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his cigarette on the floor next to some of his scrolls. Huh, he thinks distantly. Thank god it wasn’t lit. Then Nowaki is shoving a phone in his hand, and Yoh can’t really tell what he’s saying anymore, because the blood is rushing in Yoh’s ears, his breath is cut off by the constriction on his collar- But he can just make out that Nowaki wants him to call someone.
Call someone.
Yoh manages to dial, and his compliance must calm Nowaki down, because to grip on his collar loosens. Yoh sucks in a breath as the phone is picked up on the other end. “Hey Kamijou,” he says, wheezing a little. “This is Miyagi Yoh. You know, your boss in the Literature Department. I’ve got one of your fans here, kinda forceful. I don’t think he’s gonna leave unless you-“ Yoh breaks off into a gurgle. Nowaki’s grip has tightened again. “Unless you come and get him.” Nowaki leans on him, his glare near burning a hole in Yoh’s face, and grabs for the phone.
“Hiro-san?” he says, but must not get an answer. “Hiro-san?” The top button pops off Yoh’s collar and he gulps in air. “Are you there, Hiro-san?” Nowaki lets Yoh go, absently turning away, shields the mouth piece of the phone. “I’m sorry.” Then, like a damn bursting on the river of Babel, he blurts out, “I’m so sorry, Hiro-san it was my fault, and I shouldn’t have gone. I went to greet one of my professors from America, who was flying in today. No matter what, I shouldn’t have gone, the Doctor’s plane was late and the bullet train was delayed and I couldn’t call you because you changed your cell phone and your house phone, and I made you wait for me in the rain, and I know you waited for me because it’s been raining, and I saw the dry spot on the wall where someone must have been sitting, and no one would have sat there in the rain waiting for someone so late except you, Hiro-san, because-“
And then Nowaki is tackled by a campus security officer, because Yoh hadn’t called Kamijou, he’d called the Safety Center. Another security officer hurries over to Yoh and takes his pulse, checks his breathing, the bump on the back of his head.
“I think he was stalking Kamijou,” he tells her, slowly, watching Nowaki fight the handcuffs. “He called earlier today and tried to get me to give him Kamijou’s phone number. There’s a threatening note over on my desk with his name on it. It was really bugging Kamijou, so I looked it after he left.” One more thing, there was something else… “You have a pretty nose,” Yoh says, and that wasn’t it, wasn’t what he needed to tell her, it was- “Oh. He was here this morning, too, Kamijou was hiding from him in here.” That was it. Yoh lets himself slide down to the floor. There’s something under his left hand.
Ah, a cigarette. How convenient.
Half an hour later, when the fuss is over and the office empty, Kamijou wanders in. He’s soaked to the bone, shivering. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights, just sits down at his desk and sobs. He and Yoh are the only professors in the department, and since Yoh doesn’t come in the next day, having been to told to rest and recover from Nowaki’s assault, no one finds him. Kamijou wakes up barely before noon the next day, recognizes the Literature office and the time, and makes it to his class just in time collide with the only student who waited the full period for him to show up. Kamijou tumbles down and doesn’t get back up. The student shakes him, and when he doesn’t rouse, her scream rings through the halls.
Kamijou is admitted to the emergency room with a fever of 40 degrees.
And on that happy thought I end the first part.