[Arashi] Anti-Rain: Chapter One
[Title] Anti-Rain
[Author] aatash
[Rating] PG-13
[Notes] Beta by the lovely inuhariko. ♥ Inspired by, surprise surprise, Sho's and Ohno's solos, Anti-Anti & Rain. This is going to be a full series, but I plan to have only 9 chapters. Tell me what you think? ♥
A cloaked figure hurried through the pouring rain, slipping on a few puddles here and there. Stopping at the sign of a tavern, he hesitated for a minute, before he decided it prudent to take shelter from the miserable weather. Once inside, he wiped his shoes on the mat as he was trained to since young. He removed his hood as he approached the counter, shaking water out of his curly hair much like a wet sheepdog. He was young, mid-twenties one would venture to guess, with an honest face that glowed with keen earnest.
This was Aiba Masaki, son of a humble innkeeper in the bustling city of Uragano.
“Wet day for a walk,” the tavern keeper pointed out.
Aiba laughed. “I’m not exactly out for a walk. One tankard of beer, please.”
“Oh?” The tavern keeper flashed a toothless grin as he slid a mug to Aiba. “What’s your business then, young Sir?”
Aiba looked about furtively, before he pulled up a tall stool and leaned over the counter. “Can you keep a secret?”
The tavern keeper held up the empty mug he was cleaning and slapped the dish towel across his chest where he thought his heart lay. “Cross me heart and hope to die.”
Aiba nodded, satisfied with the simple assertion. “Well,” he whispered, cupping a hand round the keeper’s ear, “My friend’s been kidnapped and I’m looking for him.”
His best friend, to be more accurate, was Matsumoto Jun, son of a rich merchant, and quite possibly the wealthiest merchant there was in the city. Theirs was a fortuitous meeting in the streets - with a seven-year-old Aiba running head-first into Jun, who already had the regal airs of a prince at the age of six. After some convincing, Jun was cajoled into joining Aiba in a small game of tag, which resulted in a particularly hard tackle from Jun, a bloody nose on Aiba upon hitting the hard ground, and the formation of a steadfast friendship.
But Jun had not turned up for their weekly meeting near the lake, nor did he show up the week after that. Realising that something was afoot, Aiba had braved a visit to the Matsumoto household, only to be greeted by a flurry of servants, rushing out to send messages that the youngest Matsumoto boy had been taken away by the ruthless Sakurai.
The tavern keeper looked appropriately horrified by the maudlin story. “Sakurai, you say? By gum, your friend’s gonna be lucky to keep his fingers intact with that ‘un!”
Aiba frowned. “I hope he keeps his fingers, I wouldn't like to see him without them.”
“So then, what’s the plan? Y’can’t just go round askin’ for Sakurai, that’d be crazy talk.”
Aiba beamed suddenly. “You know the saying, ‘Use a thief to catch a thief’?”
It took a few good seconds, but the tavern keeper finally stared at Aiba as though he had grown a second head. “Y'don’t mean…”
“Yep!” Aiba picked up his mug, drained it in one gulp, and slammed it on the counter in a rushed exhalation of air. “I’m looking for the Prince of Thieves!”
Just as the tavern keeper reared back, stung by the loud vocalization of the dreaded name, a low chuckle, quiet but strangely easy to hear over the din of the full tavern, drifted towards them from the other side of the counter.
“I wouldn’t advise that, friend,” the stranger said softly.
Aiba turned to get a better look of him. Even in the dim lights of the tavern, the stranger’s bleached hair was obvious, the fluffy tufts growing in soft spikes. With his wide eyes and button nose, the stranger had the appearance of a youthful sixteen-year-old. His garments were simple - blue pants, ripped at the knees, accompanied a black tunic, a similarly dark belt, with - and Aiba thought it made a peculiar contrast - a pure white overcoat thrown on top. It was odd that a teenager was sitting alone at a tavern nursing a tankard of beer, but this was an odd part of the city.
“Is he as merciless as Sakurai?” Aiba asked curiously, hardly noticing that the tavern keeper had surreptitiously scurried to the furthest corner away from him.
The small boy rose from his seat and joined Aiba, carrying his tankard with him. “Some say he’s worse,” he said with a wry smile.
“Have you met him before?” Aiba shot back immediately.
The other boy looked taken aback, before he quickly recovered from his surprise. “Once or twice. For a few dealings and such.”
“Then you shouldn’t make judgments based on that,” Aiba stated firmly.
“You could say the same for Sakurai.”
“Well that's… that’s different!” Aiba insisted. “People have actually seen that guy chopping limbs off and eating babies!”
There followed a bout of silence, where Aiba fidgeted under the intensity of the stranger’s quiet gaze burning fiercely into his skin. Then, the boy smiled.
“I like you,” he concluded, turning away - much to Aiba’s relief - to focus his attention on the ripples that his beer made as he swirled it. “Tell me, friend, what price are you willing to pay to conduct business with the Prince? He’s not a cheap man to hire.”
For the first time since Aiba had entered the tavern, he looked a little unsure of himself. “Well,” he admitted, shamefaced, “I hadn’t thought about that.”
The boy raised his head, amazed. “You were going to talk to the Prince of Thieves without a thorough plan for negotiation?”
Aiba chose to stare at the cracks on the counter in an attempt to hide his flush of embarrassment.
Again, the boy chuckled. Aiba decided that he must be a good man, given the way he liked to laugh so much. He had such a nice laugh too. “You know what, I’ll take care of it. Meet me at the docks after sundown and I’ll take you to this Prince of Thieves.” He held up a hand just as Aiba opened his mouth to express his gratitude. “One more thing: come unarmed. The Prince can smell steel a mile away and if he finds a knife on you, you’ll be dead faster than you can blink.”
Aiba nodded, eyes shining. Yet another fortuitous meeting - he had barely explored the city for more than a day and he had already made contact with an acquaintance of the Prince, and such a sweet one to boot. Pleased and excited, Aiba thrust out his hand with a grin. “My name’s Aiba Masaki, friend! What’s yours?”
The boy’s smile was shy, almost gentle, as he grasped Aiba’s hand in a solid shake. “Machida Shingo.”
No one paid attention to the sharp intake of breath from the tavern keeper.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
A bag slung over his shoulder with all his essentials, Aiba waited at the meeting spot, his stomach churning nervously. The docks was a shady area, the one place that his parents had always warned him to stay away from - fitting for a session with the infamous Prince of Thieves. He took comfort in the fact that his newfound friend would be there, even as he jerked in response to any noise he heard from the shadows in every corner.
Someone stepped out from behind a gangplank of a ship.
Instantly, Aiba’s fears washed away. “Machida!” he called out, waving.
But it wasn’t Machida.
The man raised one hand and snapped his fingers, the sound echoing across the empty area. Aiba let his supplies fall to the ground as a dozen men in black tunics surrounded him within seconds, the blades of their short rapiers glinting under the light of the lone street lamp.
Oh, if Jun could see him now, Aiba thought bitterly, as the rush of frustration from the simple guile seared through his chest like a blazing fire. His friend would have laughed so very hard in his face for his gullibility.
Clenching his fists, he glared at the other man. “Where’s Machida?”
The man took a long drag from his cigarette, before he flicked it carelessly over the side of the docks. “I have to give it to you,” he said, ignoring Aiba’s question completely. “I didn’t think you’d actually come down.”
“Where,” Aiba said again, “Is Machida?”
Brushing dark hair out of his eyes, the man grinned. If Aiba’s life wasn’t hanging by a thread at the moment, he might even describe that grin as boyish, maybe even playfully impish.
“Sorry for the late introduction. Machida Shingo, at your service,” he said with a bow.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
“So, technically, since I’m called Machida and I am taking you to meet his royal thieving highness,” Machida added, “Your little helper didn’t exactly lie to you.”
Still not trusting himself to speak without getting poked in the back with a rapier, Aiba nodded. The onset of adrenaline that he had at the light of betrayal had long faded away, resulting in submissive obedience. Machida, Aiba found, was not as menacing as he had first appeared to be. He carried a light conversation with Aiba as he led the other boy through a maze of alleyways, clearly finding some sort of amusement with the whole situation, even as the small army of men loomed behind them.
“Where that little idiot found the brilliance to actually pull this off though,” Machida mused, almost to himself, “Now that’s the real question.”
Confused, the taller boy just creased his eyebrows.
Without warning, Machida halted in his tracks before a wall covered with moss and all manners of dirt. “Ready to meet the Prince of Thieves?”
Aiba blinked, finally finding his voice. “Through the wall?”
The impish smile returned, just as Machida rapped sharply against the wall in an oddly irregular rhythm. Where there was naught but a dirty wall, a door opened to reveal a passageway. Aiba, in his excitement, completely forgot about the current circumstances.
“That is so cool, how do you do that, it’s not just simple camouflage right, it’s, it’s… I don’t know what it is but that’s awesome!”
Machida shrugged, trying his best to look nonchalant about the affair, though it was obvious to anyone that he was basking in the approbation. “Just something I thought of when we moved in here. Come on, the Prince is waiting.”
With the dawning realization that his assailants had no intentions to harm him, Aiba grew bolder with every passing second. As they wove down the passageway, he would try to peek his head into a room, only to be yanked back violently by his hood with Machida raising a disapproving eyebrow at him. It was not only until his last attempt where instead of the usual yank-and-eyebrow, Machida had one of his men push a rapier tip into the small of his back, that Aiba behaved once more.
The walking seemed like eternity to the restless young man before Machida stopped outside a room - Aiba couldn’t understand how he knew which one it was, given that they all looked the same - and announced, “Brought your lost pup in, boss.”
Aiba’s back straightened instinctively, mentally preparing a few choice lines in his head.
This was, after all, the infamous Prince of Thieves, the one name that caused all common folk to quail and shelter their children, the one man to single-handedly command all the beggars, thieves and cutthroats of the City of Uragano. If there was one thing that his “little helper” at the tavern had gotten right, there was no doubt the Prince would want all kinds of treasures in return for the rescue of his best friend. Knowing that Jun would willingly do the same for him, Aiba was ready to offer his own life, to sell it, really, in exchange for the Prince’s valuable assistance.
The sight of those familiar tufts of bleached hair, however, rendered Aiba completely speechless.
Ohno Satoshi, Prince of Thieves, rubbed the back of his neck in an almost sheepish fashion. “Oh, you made it.”
[Author] aatash
[Rating] PG-13
[Notes] Beta by the lovely inuhariko. ♥ Inspired by, surprise surprise, Sho's and Ohno's solos, Anti-Anti & Rain. This is going to be a full series, but I plan to have only 9 chapters. Tell me what you think? ♥
A cloaked figure hurried through the pouring rain, slipping on a few puddles here and there. Stopping at the sign of a tavern, he hesitated for a minute, before he decided it prudent to take shelter from the miserable weather. Once inside, he wiped his shoes on the mat as he was trained to since young. He removed his hood as he approached the counter, shaking water out of his curly hair much like a wet sheepdog. He was young, mid-twenties one would venture to guess, with an honest face that glowed with keen earnest.
This was Aiba Masaki, son of a humble innkeeper in the bustling city of Uragano.
“Wet day for a walk,” the tavern keeper pointed out.
Aiba laughed. “I’m not exactly out for a walk. One tankard of beer, please.”
“Oh?” The tavern keeper flashed a toothless grin as he slid a mug to Aiba. “What’s your business then, young Sir?”
Aiba looked about furtively, before he pulled up a tall stool and leaned over the counter. “Can you keep a secret?”
The tavern keeper held up the empty mug he was cleaning and slapped the dish towel across his chest where he thought his heart lay. “Cross me heart and hope to die.”
Aiba nodded, satisfied with the simple assertion. “Well,” he whispered, cupping a hand round the keeper’s ear, “My friend’s been kidnapped and I’m looking for him.”
His best friend, to be more accurate, was Matsumoto Jun, son of a rich merchant, and quite possibly the wealthiest merchant there was in the city. Theirs was a fortuitous meeting in the streets - with a seven-year-old Aiba running head-first into Jun, who already had the regal airs of a prince at the age of six. After some convincing, Jun was cajoled into joining Aiba in a small game of tag, which resulted in a particularly hard tackle from Jun, a bloody nose on Aiba upon hitting the hard ground, and the formation of a steadfast friendship.
But Jun had not turned up for their weekly meeting near the lake, nor did he show up the week after that. Realising that something was afoot, Aiba had braved a visit to the Matsumoto household, only to be greeted by a flurry of servants, rushing out to send messages that the youngest Matsumoto boy had been taken away by the ruthless Sakurai.
The tavern keeper looked appropriately horrified by the maudlin story. “Sakurai, you say? By gum, your friend’s gonna be lucky to keep his fingers intact with that ‘un!”
Aiba frowned. “I hope he keeps his fingers, I wouldn't like to see him without them.”
“So then, what’s the plan? Y’can’t just go round askin’ for Sakurai, that’d be crazy talk.”
Aiba beamed suddenly. “You know the saying, ‘Use a thief to catch a thief’?”
It took a few good seconds, but the tavern keeper finally stared at Aiba as though he had grown a second head. “Y'don’t mean…”
“Yep!” Aiba picked up his mug, drained it in one gulp, and slammed it on the counter in a rushed exhalation of air. “I’m looking for the Prince of Thieves!”
Just as the tavern keeper reared back, stung by the loud vocalization of the dreaded name, a low chuckle, quiet but strangely easy to hear over the din of the full tavern, drifted towards them from the other side of the counter.
“I wouldn’t advise that, friend,” the stranger said softly.
Aiba turned to get a better look of him. Even in the dim lights of the tavern, the stranger’s bleached hair was obvious, the fluffy tufts growing in soft spikes. With his wide eyes and button nose, the stranger had the appearance of a youthful sixteen-year-old. His garments were simple - blue pants, ripped at the knees, accompanied a black tunic, a similarly dark belt, with - and Aiba thought it made a peculiar contrast - a pure white overcoat thrown on top. It was odd that a teenager was sitting alone at a tavern nursing a tankard of beer, but this was an odd part of the city.
“Is he as merciless as Sakurai?” Aiba asked curiously, hardly noticing that the tavern keeper had surreptitiously scurried to the furthest corner away from him.
The small boy rose from his seat and joined Aiba, carrying his tankard with him. “Some say he’s worse,” he said with a wry smile.
“Have you met him before?” Aiba shot back immediately.
The other boy looked taken aback, before he quickly recovered from his surprise. “Once or twice. For a few dealings and such.”
“Then you shouldn’t make judgments based on that,” Aiba stated firmly.
“You could say the same for Sakurai.”
“Well that's… that’s different!” Aiba insisted. “People have actually seen that guy chopping limbs off and eating babies!”
There followed a bout of silence, where Aiba fidgeted under the intensity of the stranger’s quiet gaze burning fiercely into his skin. Then, the boy smiled.
“I like you,” he concluded, turning away - much to Aiba’s relief - to focus his attention on the ripples that his beer made as he swirled it. “Tell me, friend, what price are you willing to pay to conduct business with the Prince? He’s not a cheap man to hire.”
For the first time since Aiba had entered the tavern, he looked a little unsure of himself. “Well,” he admitted, shamefaced, “I hadn’t thought about that.”
The boy raised his head, amazed. “You were going to talk to the Prince of Thieves without a thorough plan for negotiation?”
Aiba chose to stare at the cracks on the counter in an attempt to hide his flush of embarrassment.
Again, the boy chuckled. Aiba decided that he must be a good man, given the way he liked to laugh so much. He had such a nice laugh too. “You know what, I’ll take care of it. Meet me at the docks after sundown and I’ll take you to this Prince of Thieves.” He held up a hand just as Aiba opened his mouth to express his gratitude. “One more thing: come unarmed. The Prince can smell steel a mile away and if he finds a knife on you, you’ll be dead faster than you can blink.”
Aiba nodded, eyes shining. Yet another fortuitous meeting - he had barely explored the city for more than a day and he had already made contact with an acquaintance of the Prince, and such a sweet one to boot. Pleased and excited, Aiba thrust out his hand with a grin. “My name’s Aiba Masaki, friend! What’s yours?”
The boy’s smile was shy, almost gentle, as he grasped Aiba’s hand in a solid shake. “Machida Shingo.”
No one paid attention to the sharp intake of breath from the tavern keeper.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
A bag slung over his shoulder with all his essentials, Aiba waited at the meeting spot, his stomach churning nervously. The docks was a shady area, the one place that his parents had always warned him to stay away from - fitting for a session with the infamous Prince of Thieves. He took comfort in the fact that his newfound friend would be there, even as he jerked in response to any noise he heard from the shadows in every corner.
Someone stepped out from behind a gangplank of a ship.
Instantly, Aiba’s fears washed away. “Machida!” he called out, waving.
But it wasn’t Machida.
The man raised one hand and snapped his fingers, the sound echoing across the empty area. Aiba let his supplies fall to the ground as a dozen men in black tunics surrounded him within seconds, the blades of their short rapiers glinting under the light of the lone street lamp.
Oh, if Jun could see him now, Aiba thought bitterly, as the rush of frustration from the simple guile seared through his chest like a blazing fire. His friend would have laughed so very hard in his face for his gullibility.
Clenching his fists, he glared at the other man. “Where’s Machida?”
The man took a long drag from his cigarette, before he flicked it carelessly over the side of the docks. “I have to give it to you,” he said, ignoring Aiba’s question completely. “I didn’t think you’d actually come down.”
“Where,” Aiba said again, “Is Machida?”
Brushing dark hair out of his eyes, the man grinned. If Aiba’s life wasn’t hanging by a thread at the moment, he might even describe that grin as boyish, maybe even playfully impish.
“Sorry for the late introduction. Machida Shingo, at your service,” he said with a bow.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
“So, technically, since I’m called Machida and I am taking you to meet his royal thieving highness,” Machida added, “Your little helper didn’t exactly lie to you.”
Still not trusting himself to speak without getting poked in the back with a rapier, Aiba nodded. The onset of adrenaline that he had at the light of betrayal had long faded away, resulting in submissive obedience. Machida, Aiba found, was not as menacing as he had first appeared to be. He carried a light conversation with Aiba as he led the other boy through a maze of alleyways, clearly finding some sort of amusement with the whole situation, even as the small army of men loomed behind them.
“Where that little idiot found the brilliance to actually pull this off though,” Machida mused, almost to himself, “Now that’s the real question.”
Confused, the taller boy just creased his eyebrows.
Without warning, Machida halted in his tracks before a wall covered with moss and all manners of dirt. “Ready to meet the Prince of Thieves?”
Aiba blinked, finally finding his voice. “Through the wall?”
The impish smile returned, just as Machida rapped sharply against the wall in an oddly irregular rhythm. Where there was naught but a dirty wall, a door opened to reveal a passageway. Aiba, in his excitement, completely forgot about the current circumstances.
“That is so cool, how do you do that, it’s not just simple camouflage right, it’s, it’s… I don’t know what it is but that’s awesome!”
Machida shrugged, trying his best to look nonchalant about the affair, though it was obvious to anyone that he was basking in the approbation. “Just something I thought of when we moved in here. Come on, the Prince is waiting.”
With the dawning realization that his assailants had no intentions to harm him, Aiba grew bolder with every passing second. As they wove down the passageway, he would try to peek his head into a room, only to be yanked back violently by his hood with Machida raising a disapproving eyebrow at him. It was not only until his last attempt where instead of the usual yank-and-eyebrow, Machida had one of his men push a rapier tip into the small of his back, that Aiba behaved once more.
The walking seemed like eternity to the restless young man before Machida stopped outside a room - Aiba couldn’t understand how he knew which one it was, given that they all looked the same - and announced, “Brought your lost pup in, boss.”
Aiba’s back straightened instinctively, mentally preparing a few choice lines in his head.
This was, after all, the infamous Prince of Thieves, the one name that caused all common folk to quail and shelter their children, the one man to single-handedly command all the beggars, thieves and cutthroats of the City of Uragano. If there was one thing that his “little helper” at the tavern had gotten right, there was no doubt the Prince would want all kinds of treasures in return for the rescue of his best friend. Knowing that Jun would willingly do the same for him, Aiba was ready to offer his own life, to sell it, really, in exchange for the Prince’s valuable assistance.
The sight of those familiar tufts of bleached hair, however, rendered Aiba completely speechless.
Ohno Satoshi, Prince of Thieves, rubbed the back of his neck in an almost sheepish fashion. “Oh, you made it.”