Get Your Drinks Up
Title: Get Your Drinks Up
Fandom: Johnny's WEST, with cameos by members of A.B.C-Z and Sexy Zone (mostly gen but with some intergroup mentions) (Johnny's WEST+ gen)
Rating: G
Genre: Superpowers, science!
Word Count: 2,967
Summary: There are two reasons that Paripipo Industries is the leader in potable superenergy: 1) because, well, no one else is doing it, and 2) because of the people.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Written for je_wakamono 2015, originally posted here. This ended up being a group fluff piece more than anything else. Thanks to calerine again, and to clipsie for being so fun to write for, especially on the sly nfufu.
Akito comes into the lab first every day, early like morning dew. He holds his ID up to the entry panel and it beeps invitingly, the door sliding open to welcome him in. The lights flicker on as if by command, and they relay down the corridor toward the lounge as if they know he needs his coffee first.
Paripipo Industries was started when it became clear that the world's needs weren't being met, that there were people who were struggling and required a quick boost, one way or another. There aren't that many groups that do what they do, only because developing and selling superpowers is far from a simple task, and Akito can say with pride that of those groups, his is the only one that goes the extra mile to make their products potable. After all, not everyone is willing to take pills or endure injections to supplement their abilities.
Of course, buyers must have a license to purchase their products because Akito can only imagine what would happen to the world if it ran free on superenergy, but it's a growing market with a growing population. It's only a matter of time before the government allows limited access of superpowers to Japan at large, and Paripipo Industries will be ready to play their part in -- as clichéd as it sounds -- making the world a better place.
Akito's recruited some of the area's most skilled researchers and developers to bring together a small team of seven. He likes to keep everything in house, from initial product development to production, to marketing design, testing, and final release. They're the ones who know best how to guarantee their products' success, and there's no reason for them to pass it off to someone on the outside when there's already so much talent within these four walls.
Akito is sitting at his desk in the main lab working on a grant proposal when the door slides open, and he looks up to see Junta walk in, his leather bag thrown trendily over his shoulder. They exchange a quiet "good morning" before Junta slumps into his desk, planting himself in front of the specs list for a product he's been developing for weeks.
The door opens again. Hamada smiles and nods at Akito groggily, his heels dragging. He can hear chattering on the other end of the hallway just before the door closes; the younger half of their group will make its rowdy entrance soon.
The clock strikes nine. The day has begun.
.
Daiki makes an omelette in the lounge for late breakfast at ten o'clock every morning and shares a photo in the group chat. There are five immediate "read"s, but no one replies. After the sixth, he gets a hurry up and come back to the kitchen, and even though he's older, Kamiyama's the one who's been doing this longer, so he has no choice but to comply.
The kitchen in the main lab is where Daiki does his real cooking. He nibbles on his omelette as Kamiyama describes the next drink they'll be preparing. It's a product that helps the heartbroken determine a good match from the people around them, so it should have some sweetness to it, with a hint of tartness. The superpower element is what Daiki will be working on, mixing chemicals and physical ingredients like he's a potion master, but he has to coordinate with Kamiyama's half of the recipe so that what comes out in the end is actually digestible.
"My sister could use this," Daiki says slyly from under the fume hood, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kamiyama look up at him from where he's standing in front of the stove.
"Sachi-san?" Kamiyama asks, curious. He also has an older sister, and they apparently meet to gossip and shit talk about their younger brothers -- out of pure jealousy and spite, Daiki's sure.
"Yeah, she keeps going out with these losers," Daiki replies with a shrug. He's never actually met most of them, and the ones he has met have seemed like really good folks. He continues seriously, "They're all losers for dating my sister."
Kamiyama laughs. "Stop being a dick and get back to work."
Daiki snickers and turns back to the hood, adding a few rabbit hairs (for good luck) to his concoction.
"Your omelette was good, by the way."
Daiki just grins into his beaker.
.
Ryusei works with Nozomu on designing and marketing their products. Nozomu's a man of the youngest generation, with access to a maelstrom of knowledge and the skills to take advanage of it, so it's always exciting to come up with ideas together. But as much as Ryusei knows what looks good, it's hard for him to put it into words, and then it's that much more frustrating when what's on paper doesn't match what he has displayed in his mind.
He likes to get advice from their mailperson when he comes in. Sato visits every morning, even on days when he doesn't have any mail for them, just to say hello. Plus, he's delivered mail to so many places that he has ideas on what catches people's eye.
"Red doesn't work here," he says, gently but honestly, pointing to a patch of a draft poster where what they're saying is far too loud for what the product does. He's right, of course, because red's not a good color for a product that sprouts plants from the earth. Ryusei likes having the extra eyes, especially when he and Nozomu are tired from late nights of revision, revision, revision before the printing deadline, so he's happy to take the criticism from someone with fresh eyes.
Before he heads out, Sato always leaves them with an "Omake, by Shori!", a game of thumb wrestling or an idle challenge to help them get through the day. Ryusei decides to try it on Nozomu when he gets back in the lab.
.
When he's not testing products, Takahiro gets sent on delivery. Akito tells him that it's because he gets along with their contact at the pharmacy -- "you both look like you belong on a farm" -- but Takahiro assures him that he's just being a rude git.
His delivery partner Tsukada comes to the lab in his old pickup truck, rusted and weary from thousands of trips around the city, but still sturdy enough to carry the weight of hopes and dreams inside it. Tsukada shines in contrast, always bright and positive despite the literal burden he bears, and Hamada finds his energy infectious. Their conversation involves a lot of idle thoughts and stop-and-start sentences, and they make quick work of moving the boxes into the truck -- they've got quite a bit of muscle between the two of them -- before heading off to the main pharmacy. Takahiro gives them a call before they arrive. As always, Kawai thanks him for not bring Kiriyama along.
Paripipo Industries' products are sold to a small and exclusive number of retailers; there are still very few businesses licensed to sell superpowers to licensed buyers, so they have an excellent relationship with the ones that do. Takahiro knows them all personally, even goes out to dinner with them sometimes, and they trade stories about their respective work at the lab and the pharmacy. Both groups have worked hard for a long time, building their talent and expertise and character as the years pass, and Takahiro likes that he and his friends at Paripipo have an entire other group who can relate to what they've been through.
When they arrive at the back of the drug store, Kawai is there waiting for them, waving directions with his arms out of habit, and Tsukada backs his truck up in front of the delivery entrance.
"Where's Goseki-kun?" Takahiro asks as he hops out of the truck, knowing full well that he's in the front, manning the pharmacy counter. But he has a message from an old friend to relay, so he continues the thought anyway. "Bun-chan told me to tell him to give him his phone number already."
Kawai makes an exaggerated face that's too many emotions at once, and Takahiro laughs because he understands. "That bit again? Tell Bun-chan to come by and get it himself."
They move the boxes into the storage room, and Kawai asks him about their current project. It's one they've made on request by a young girl in middle school. She wants to be able to keep in touch with her best friend who's transferring schools, so they're developing a double drink that allows the drinkers to have a telepathic connection for a short period of time. They're still in the design stage, because it's taking some time to determine the number of thoughts and the length of distance that they can be transmitted over -- Junta cites safety concerns and privacy issues among the things he's considering. But Kamiyama and Shige are already working on the recipe, and Ryusei and Kotaki have some designs in mind for the bottle and its advertisements. It'll be a nice way for friends to keep in touch, but they want to make sure it stays out of the wrong hands.
"Maybe we can spike Goseki's drink and Bun-chan can finally bother him all the time like he's always wanted."
Takahiro just stands there with a box in his arms, his eyes following Kawai as he moves across the room to put another box on the shelf. They should really have this pharmacy's license inspected.
.
The television in the lounge blares awake at three o'clock every afternoon, and Junta's always there to watch. That's the time when Akito mandates a break for all of his staff anyway, but Junta doesn't need the extra encouragement. An afternoon episode of HT Home Shopping is a fixture in their lab, flashing bright between the constantly dripping coffee machine and the handwritten sign on the wall playfully reminding them to practice lab safety because Akito doesn't want to have to hire more people should someone die.
"Good afternoon, folks! You're watching Hashimoto-Totsuka Home Shopping! I'm Hashimoto Ryosuke!"
"And I'm Totsuka Shota!"
"And today we'll be introducing the latest product from Paripipo Industries. They've got a new one for elastic limbs. Those of you out there wondering how to get to the hard-to-reach spots around the house for a deep cleaning, prepare to have your lives changed forever."
Junta settles deeper into the couch, enveloping himself in the cushions, and watches with a contented smile on his face. Somewhere between Tottsu's second and third demonstration -- he's not sure where exactly, and it doesn't really matter -- Hamada's joined him on the couch, the cushions dipping down slightly to accommodate the new company. Junta nods absently at Hamada since there are more important things to be focusing on, but he catches the movement of an arm stretching in front of him, farther and farther, muscles squeezing thin as it reaches for the mug at the coffee machine before winding back into its normal length.
"You didn't really need to do that, did you?" Junta mutters, annoyed at the distraction. He knows what the product does; that's not what he's watching HT for.
He hears Hamada chuckling next to him. "Sorry to interrupt you on your date," he says mildly, and Junta hates giving him the satisfaction but can't seem to help his soft spot for the other man. So he gives him the briefest of glares -- and Hamada's chuckles turn into self-congratulatory laughter -- before he returns his attention to the screen.
Totsuka smiles as he tells Junta things he already knows, and Junta hangs onto every word.
.
Once recipes are perfected, Tomohiro takes the lead on overseeing the production of their creations on a larger scale. He heads into the production room, where machines mix, crunch, and whirl to pump out bottles, dozens at a time, and he finds strange delight in the way everything works so precisely, no movements wasted, like a big cat on the prowl.
Tomohiro's personal experience with the products is second only to Hamada, though it's less that he enjoys this part of the process and more that he can't allow a product that's less than perfect to leave their lab. He picks out a bottle every few batches and twists it open, the air seal releasing in his palm, before sipping just enough to ensure that the flavor is right and that the drink has its intended effect.
Sometimes when he returns to the main room of the lab, Shige immediately points and laughs, and everyone joins in because Tomohiro's female figure hasn't completely worn off or the gills on his neck are still filtering oxygen in and out of his system. But Tomohiro's gotten used to it, finally. He's a man with no lack of pride, so it's taken some time to get over the dark, sickening feeling he used to get when he got teased. But he trusts these people, thinks of them as family, knows now that what they say always, always comes from a place of love --
"Sorry, though, I won't fall in love with you~" Shige finishes with a cackle.
-- even if the way they show it is stupidly obnoxious.
.
When Nozomu takes breaks from his market research, he likes to watch Hamada test products. Hamada's body is built like a professional athlete's, layers of tight muscles with no excess fat to speak of, so it's the most responsive to the drinks they put in their bottles. Sometimes he wanders around the lab to show off his new powers, excitedly speaking foreign languages with a native tongue or trying to freeze important documents in a sheet of ice. Nozomu enjoys it because it's not his job to worry about how effective it is, but he does find himself taking mental notes for later use when he works to make the products sound as appealing as possible.
"Was that German?" Kamiyama says with a frown when Hamada reaches the kitchen. Hamada responds with something that sounds like Portuguese that then shifts into Korean, and Kamiyama and Shige look at each other before bringing their heads together to go over their notes.
Nozomu's favorite part comes at the end, when the dose of the product Hamada's taken is wearing off and they all wait for the side effects to manifest. Nothing life-threatening has ever happened to Hamada, and he's resilient enough to get through the stranger ones he has had to endure (his week-long forked tongue comes mind). But there's something so comforting about the way Akito and Junta both rush to him immediately, fussing over him after every test, so obvious in their affection. They wrap him up in thick blankets and fill him up with lukewarm tea to help him thaw slowly, rubbing their hands up and down his arms and joking among themselves to help Hamada take his mind off what he's feeling.
Looking around the room, Nozomu sees the rest of them watching, small smiles on their faces. There's sometimes concern but never any nervousness in the room; they'll all do everything they can to ensure that Hamada is well taken care of.
Hamada is an essential part of what makes their lab actually work, and Nozomu likes being reminded that everyone feels the same way.
.
Sato comes by in the morning with the lab bills and a letter, the characters on the envelope written in careful, measured strokes that Akito's never seen before but can practically hear in his head -- a new request from an old acquaintance. "Thanks, Shori," Akito says, and he holds a hand up to indicate that he doesn't need an Omake that day.
"O-Okay, got it," Sato says with a strong nod, trying but failing to hide his disappointment. "See you later, then, Kiriyama-kun."
Akito laughs. "Poor thing! You can do two tomorrow, okay? I just need to get this delivered." He smiles reassuringly at Sato and waves goodbye as he leaves, his back considerably less downcast than it was a moment ago.
Akito strolls into the lab with the letter held tauntingly between two fingers, flapping it back and forth with the flick of his wrist and whistling.
"So noisy," Junta says from his desk, giving him a dirty look over the rim of his glasses, and Akito grins as he walks over because he loves getting the reaction he's looking for.
"Love letter for you," and at that, five more pairs of curious eyes look up at him from around the lab.
"What?" Shige chimes from the back, craning his neck to get a better look. "People actually like him?"
Junta rolls his eyes and grabs the letter out of Akito's hand. "Akito's being dumb. It's just another request."
"Not just any request, though," Akito notes, and he watches delightedly as Junta's eyes widen, clearly noticing the name on the envelope, before he grabs at his letter opener.
"Hm? What, what?" Hamada asks, amused. He's in the middle of testing one of their new invisibility products, and when Akito looks up to grin at him, he can see a hazy Kotaki watching curiously through his face.
"We got a request from Tottsu," Akito explains, and he receives a chorus of understanding nods and noises before the members resume their own activities.
Akito turns back to look at Junta. He's scanning the letter with manic eyes and an eager grin on his face. He reads it a second time (or maybe a third -- Akito hadn't been looking at him) before nodding at the end. Then he rushes forward for his pen like a tidal wave, unstoppable.
Fandom: Johnny's WEST, with cameos by members of A.B.C-Z and Sexy Zone (mostly gen but with some intergroup mentions) (Johnny's WEST+ gen)
Rating: G
Genre: Superpowers, science!
Word Count: 2,967
Summary: There are two reasons that Paripipo Industries is the leader in potable superenergy: 1) because, well, no one else is doing it, and 2) because of the people.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Written for je_wakamono 2015, originally posted here. This ended up being a group fluff piece more than anything else. Thanks to calerine again, and to clipsie for being so fun to write for, especially on the sly nfufu.
Akito comes into the lab first every day, early like morning dew. He holds his ID up to the entry panel and it beeps invitingly, the door sliding open to welcome him in. The lights flicker on as if by command, and they relay down the corridor toward the lounge as if they know he needs his coffee first.
Paripipo Industries was started when it became clear that the world's needs weren't being met, that there were people who were struggling and required a quick boost, one way or another. There aren't that many groups that do what they do, only because developing and selling superpowers is far from a simple task, and Akito can say with pride that of those groups, his is the only one that goes the extra mile to make their products potable. After all, not everyone is willing to take pills or endure injections to supplement their abilities.
Of course, buyers must have a license to purchase their products because Akito can only imagine what would happen to the world if it ran free on superenergy, but it's a growing market with a growing population. It's only a matter of time before the government allows limited access of superpowers to Japan at large, and Paripipo Industries will be ready to play their part in -- as clichéd as it sounds -- making the world a better place.
Akito's recruited some of the area's most skilled researchers and developers to bring together a small team of seven. He likes to keep everything in house, from initial product development to production, to marketing design, testing, and final release. They're the ones who know best how to guarantee their products' success, and there's no reason for them to pass it off to someone on the outside when there's already so much talent within these four walls.
Akito is sitting at his desk in the main lab working on a grant proposal when the door slides open, and he looks up to see Junta walk in, his leather bag thrown trendily over his shoulder. They exchange a quiet "good morning" before Junta slumps into his desk, planting himself in front of the specs list for a product he's been developing for weeks.
The door opens again. Hamada smiles and nods at Akito groggily, his heels dragging. He can hear chattering on the other end of the hallway just before the door closes; the younger half of their group will make its rowdy entrance soon.
The clock strikes nine. The day has begun.
.
Daiki makes an omelette in the lounge for late breakfast at ten o'clock every morning and shares a photo in the group chat. There are five immediate "read"s, but no one replies. After the sixth, he gets a hurry up and come back to the kitchen, and even though he's older, Kamiyama's the one who's been doing this longer, so he has no choice but to comply.
The kitchen in the main lab is where Daiki does his real cooking. He nibbles on his omelette as Kamiyama describes the next drink they'll be preparing. It's a product that helps the heartbroken determine a good match from the people around them, so it should have some sweetness to it, with a hint of tartness. The superpower element is what Daiki will be working on, mixing chemicals and physical ingredients like he's a potion master, but he has to coordinate with Kamiyama's half of the recipe so that what comes out in the end is actually digestible.
"My sister could use this," Daiki says slyly from under the fume hood, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kamiyama look up at him from where he's standing in front of the stove.
"Sachi-san?" Kamiyama asks, curious. He also has an older sister, and they apparently meet to gossip and shit talk about their younger brothers -- out of pure jealousy and spite, Daiki's sure.
"Yeah, she keeps going out with these losers," Daiki replies with a shrug. He's never actually met most of them, and the ones he has met have seemed like really good folks. He continues seriously, "They're all losers for dating my sister."
Kamiyama laughs. "Stop being a dick and get back to work."
Daiki snickers and turns back to the hood, adding a few rabbit hairs (for good luck) to his concoction.
"Your omelette was good, by the way."
Daiki just grins into his beaker.
.
Ryusei works with Nozomu on designing and marketing their products. Nozomu's a man of the youngest generation, with access to a maelstrom of knowledge and the skills to take advanage of it, so it's always exciting to come up with ideas together. But as much as Ryusei knows what looks good, it's hard for him to put it into words, and then it's that much more frustrating when what's on paper doesn't match what he has displayed in his mind.
He likes to get advice from their mailperson when he comes in. Sato visits every morning, even on days when he doesn't have any mail for them, just to say hello. Plus, he's delivered mail to so many places that he has ideas on what catches people's eye.
"Red doesn't work here," he says, gently but honestly, pointing to a patch of a draft poster where what they're saying is far too loud for what the product does. He's right, of course, because red's not a good color for a product that sprouts plants from the earth. Ryusei likes having the extra eyes, especially when he and Nozomu are tired from late nights of revision, revision, revision before the printing deadline, so he's happy to take the criticism from someone with fresh eyes.
Before he heads out, Sato always leaves them with an "Omake, by Shori!", a game of thumb wrestling or an idle challenge to help them get through the day. Ryusei decides to try it on Nozomu when he gets back in the lab.
.
When he's not testing products, Takahiro gets sent on delivery. Akito tells him that it's because he gets along with their contact at the pharmacy -- "you both look like you belong on a farm" -- but Takahiro assures him that he's just being a rude git.
His delivery partner Tsukada comes to the lab in his old pickup truck, rusted and weary from thousands of trips around the city, but still sturdy enough to carry the weight of hopes and dreams inside it. Tsukada shines in contrast, always bright and positive despite the literal burden he bears, and Hamada finds his energy infectious. Their conversation involves a lot of idle thoughts and stop-and-start sentences, and they make quick work of moving the boxes into the truck -- they've got quite a bit of muscle between the two of them -- before heading off to the main pharmacy. Takahiro gives them a call before they arrive. As always, Kawai thanks him for not bring Kiriyama along.
Paripipo Industries' products are sold to a small and exclusive number of retailers; there are still very few businesses licensed to sell superpowers to licensed buyers, so they have an excellent relationship with the ones that do. Takahiro knows them all personally, even goes out to dinner with them sometimes, and they trade stories about their respective work at the lab and the pharmacy. Both groups have worked hard for a long time, building their talent and expertise and character as the years pass, and Takahiro likes that he and his friends at Paripipo have an entire other group who can relate to what they've been through.
When they arrive at the back of the drug store, Kawai is there waiting for them, waving directions with his arms out of habit, and Tsukada backs his truck up in front of the delivery entrance.
"Where's Goseki-kun?" Takahiro asks as he hops out of the truck, knowing full well that he's in the front, manning the pharmacy counter. But he has a message from an old friend to relay, so he continues the thought anyway. "Bun-chan told me to tell him to give him his phone number already."
Kawai makes an exaggerated face that's too many emotions at once, and Takahiro laughs because he understands. "That bit again? Tell Bun-chan to come by and get it himself."
They move the boxes into the storage room, and Kawai asks him about their current project. It's one they've made on request by a young girl in middle school. She wants to be able to keep in touch with her best friend who's transferring schools, so they're developing a double drink that allows the drinkers to have a telepathic connection for a short period of time. They're still in the design stage, because it's taking some time to determine the number of thoughts and the length of distance that they can be transmitted over -- Junta cites safety concerns and privacy issues among the things he's considering. But Kamiyama and Shige are already working on the recipe, and Ryusei and Kotaki have some designs in mind for the bottle and its advertisements. It'll be a nice way for friends to keep in touch, but they want to make sure it stays out of the wrong hands.
"Maybe we can spike Goseki's drink and Bun-chan can finally bother him all the time like he's always wanted."
Takahiro just stands there with a box in his arms, his eyes following Kawai as he moves across the room to put another box on the shelf. They should really have this pharmacy's license inspected.
.
The television in the lounge blares awake at three o'clock every afternoon, and Junta's always there to watch. That's the time when Akito mandates a break for all of his staff anyway, but Junta doesn't need the extra encouragement. An afternoon episode of HT Home Shopping is a fixture in their lab, flashing bright between the constantly dripping coffee machine and the handwritten sign on the wall playfully reminding them to practice lab safety because Akito doesn't want to have to hire more people should someone die.
"Good afternoon, folks! You're watching Hashimoto-Totsuka Home Shopping! I'm Hashimoto Ryosuke!"
"And I'm Totsuka Shota!"
"And today we'll be introducing the latest product from Paripipo Industries. They've got a new one for elastic limbs. Those of you out there wondering how to get to the hard-to-reach spots around the house for a deep cleaning, prepare to have your lives changed forever."
Junta settles deeper into the couch, enveloping himself in the cushions, and watches with a contented smile on his face. Somewhere between Tottsu's second and third demonstration -- he's not sure where exactly, and it doesn't really matter -- Hamada's joined him on the couch, the cushions dipping down slightly to accommodate the new company. Junta nods absently at Hamada since there are more important things to be focusing on, but he catches the movement of an arm stretching in front of him, farther and farther, muscles squeezing thin as it reaches for the mug at the coffee machine before winding back into its normal length.
"You didn't really need to do that, did you?" Junta mutters, annoyed at the distraction. He knows what the product does; that's not what he's watching HT for.
He hears Hamada chuckling next to him. "Sorry to interrupt you on your date," he says mildly, and Junta hates giving him the satisfaction but can't seem to help his soft spot for the other man. So he gives him the briefest of glares -- and Hamada's chuckles turn into self-congratulatory laughter -- before he returns his attention to the screen.
Totsuka smiles as he tells Junta things he already knows, and Junta hangs onto every word.
.
Once recipes are perfected, Tomohiro takes the lead on overseeing the production of their creations on a larger scale. He heads into the production room, where machines mix, crunch, and whirl to pump out bottles, dozens at a time, and he finds strange delight in the way everything works so precisely, no movements wasted, like a big cat on the prowl.
Tomohiro's personal experience with the products is second only to Hamada, though it's less that he enjoys this part of the process and more that he can't allow a product that's less than perfect to leave their lab. He picks out a bottle every few batches and twists it open, the air seal releasing in his palm, before sipping just enough to ensure that the flavor is right and that the drink has its intended effect.
Sometimes when he returns to the main room of the lab, Shige immediately points and laughs, and everyone joins in because Tomohiro's female figure hasn't completely worn off or the gills on his neck are still filtering oxygen in and out of his system. But Tomohiro's gotten used to it, finally. He's a man with no lack of pride, so it's taken some time to get over the dark, sickening feeling he used to get when he got teased. But he trusts these people, thinks of them as family, knows now that what they say always, always comes from a place of love --
"Sorry, though, I won't fall in love with you~" Shige finishes with a cackle.
-- even if the way they show it is stupidly obnoxious.
.
When Nozomu takes breaks from his market research, he likes to watch Hamada test products. Hamada's body is built like a professional athlete's, layers of tight muscles with no excess fat to speak of, so it's the most responsive to the drinks they put in their bottles. Sometimes he wanders around the lab to show off his new powers, excitedly speaking foreign languages with a native tongue or trying to freeze important documents in a sheet of ice. Nozomu enjoys it because it's not his job to worry about how effective it is, but he does find himself taking mental notes for later use when he works to make the products sound as appealing as possible.
"Was that German?" Kamiyama says with a frown when Hamada reaches the kitchen. Hamada responds with something that sounds like Portuguese that then shifts into Korean, and Kamiyama and Shige look at each other before bringing their heads together to go over their notes.
Nozomu's favorite part comes at the end, when the dose of the product Hamada's taken is wearing off and they all wait for the side effects to manifest. Nothing life-threatening has ever happened to Hamada, and he's resilient enough to get through the stranger ones he has had to endure (his week-long forked tongue comes mind). But there's something so comforting about the way Akito and Junta both rush to him immediately, fussing over him after every test, so obvious in their affection. They wrap him up in thick blankets and fill him up with lukewarm tea to help him thaw slowly, rubbing their hands up and down his arms and joking among themselves to help Hamada take his mind off what he's feeling.
Looking around the room, Nozomu sees the rest of them watching, small smiles on their faces. There's sometimes concern but never any nervousness in the room; they'll all do everything they can to ensure that Hamada is well taken care of.
Hamada is an essential part of what makes their lab actually work, and Nozomu likes being reminded that everyone feels the same way.
.
Sato comes by in the morning with the lab bills and a letter, the characters on the envelope written in careful, measured strokes that Akito's never seen before but can practically hear in his head -- a new request from an old acquaintance. "Thanks, Shori," Akito says, and he holds a hand up to indicate that he doesn't need an Omake that day.
"O-Okay, got it," Sato says with a strong nod, trying but failing to hide his disappointment. "See you later, then, Kiriyama-kun."
Akito laughs. "Poor thing! You can do two tomorrow, okay? I just need to get this delivered." He smiles reassuringly at Sato and waves goodbye as he leaves, his back considerably less downcast than it was a moment ago.
Akito strolls into the lab with the letter held tauntingly between two fingers, flapping it back and forth with the flick of his wrist and whistling.
"So noisy," Junta says from his desk, giving him a dirty look over the rim of his glasses, and Akito grins as he walks over because he loves getting the reaction he's looking for.
"Love letter for you," and at that, five more pairs of curious eyes look up at him from around the lab.
"What?" Shige chimes from the back, craning his neck to get a better look. "People actually like him?"
Junta rolls his eyes and grabs the letter out of Akito's hand. "Akito's being dumb. It's just another request."
"Not just any request, though," Akito notes, and he watches delightedly as Junta's eyes widen, clearly noticing the name on the envelope, before he grabs at his letter opener.
"Hm? What, what?" Hamada asks, amused. He's in the middle of testing one of their new invisibility products, and when Akito looks up to grin at him, he can see a hazy Kotaki watching curiously through his face.
"We got a request from Tottsu," Akito explains, and he receives a chorus of understanding nods and noises before the members resume their own activities.
Akito turns back to look at Junta. He's scanning the letter with manic eyes and an eager grin on his face. He reads it a second time (or maybe a third -- Akito hadn't been looking at him) before nodding at the end. Then he rushes forward for his pen like a tidal wave, unstoppable.