#67 christmas drabbles 2011 - part 1/2
HAPPY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! ...not that it's Christmas quite yet, but.
HUGE THANKS to g_esquared for the beta when I was at my halfway mark, calerine and illuvium for being thoroughly lovely and encouraging, and to everyone who requested. ♥♥♥ seriously, these were amazing requests and I had so much fun with them. This can be evidenced from the fact that I clearly threw the definition of drabble out of the window and proceeded to write over 10k words in response to 12 drabble requests. Math is clearly not my strong suit. Sorry about the non-uniform lengths, guys. I really hope you enjoy these. ♥
For yuui1010: Heart Food, after Aiba joins them - 844 words
"I can see how you might have charmed your way into getting a job at that café," Jun tells Aiba when they all drop by one afternoon to see him. "What I don't understand is how you've managed to keep it."
It is a little café owned by a Japanese patissier whose two loves in life are desserts and women. As a result, it is also staffed entirely by cute girls. Apart from Aiba, that is.
"You look completely out of place," says Nino encouragingly. "Should I get the matcha tart or the matcha gateau?" He makes a face. "I don't even like matcha. But it looks so good. Where's Oh-chan?"
Ohno, as it turns out, is still standing at the front of the café, staring intently the array of pastries lined up on trays at the counter.
"Are you all right?" asks one of the waitresses.
"I think he's finding it difficult to process the sheer number of choices," Sho says, sidling up to her in a manner he probably thinks is charming. "What would you recommend?"
"Well…" the waitress begins, turning towards the cakes display case, "the pear and almond tart is very popular."
"Oh-chan," says Nino, "buy me a macaroon."
"No," Ohno replies, triumphantly. It is a skill he has only recently acquired, saying no to Nino. "Buy it yourself."
In the end, with much assertive decision-making from Jun, they finally settle on both the matcha tart and gateau, as well as a selection of macaroons. Aiba gingerly packs the desserts in boxes to take away.
"You're coming over later, aren't you?" asks Jun. "We're making curry at my place."
Jun's kitchen is barely large enough to accommodate three people cooking at the same time, let alone four. They all squeeze in anyway, which results in general chaos and confusion for the better part of ten minutes. Shortly after that, they decide to banish Sho and Ohno into the living room and put them on wash-up duty later.
Everyone has their own special method of cooking curry. Today, they are using Nino's. He combines two different brands of curry mix (none of them are really in the mood to start from scratch) and uses at least half a pound of onions more than Jun normally adds. He also watches the timing for each step with much more attentiveness than Jun would originally have given him credit for.
While the vegetables and meat are simmering, they make pork katsu together. Jun scores each piece of meat in neat diagonal lines on either side before seasoning it, while Nino rummages about in the cupboard in search of the breadcrumbs.
"Aiba's here," says Ohno, returning momentarily from his exile.
Aiba comes in soaked from the rain, water dripping off him as he removes his coat and scarf.
"It's freezing out there." He squelches forlornly in the doorway as he tries to remove his boots, which appear to have turned into icy swamps.
Aiba's timing turns out to be spot on; the rice is ready and perfectly fluffy by the time he is warmed up and comfortably ensconced in one of Jun's bathrobes. Nino has finished frying the pork katsu and is cutting them up into uniform strips while Sho (called in to substitute for Jun, who went to get Aiba some towels) stirs and dissolves the last of the curry cubes into the pot.
"Guess what I bought the other day," Sho announces, when all the bowls have been brought out.
"Beer," Nino immediately replies.
Sho's mortification will never stop being hilarious. "How did you guess?"
Ohno shrugs. "Aren't the bottles in the fridge?"
There is something about having curry rice like this, surrounded by friends in a too-small sitting room while the rain falls intermittently outside. On a cold day like this there is nothing like the mild heat of the curry, the mellowed spice of onions cooked to perfect translucency. The sweet give of carrots done just right, contrasted with the light crunch of the tonkatsu breading. And all this washed down with light, crisp beer.
For a while nobody speaks, everyone too preoccupied with eating. Sho makes little involuntary sounds of joy as he chews on a mouthful of rice and pork.
Aiba, clearly the most ravenous from the cold and a long shift at work, is the first to finish. He slumps back in his chair, rubbing his stomach with idle contentment.
And when everyone is done, when the last spoonful of curry has been consumed and most of the crumbs from the pork katsu picked off their plates, Aiba looks round expectantly at all of them and says, "Dessert?"
"I'm too full," says Jun reluctantly, while Sho nods.
"Maybe we should wait for later," says Nino, who is now casting around for any unfinished glasses of beer.
"Or maybe," says Ohno, opening the box of macaroons and laying it before them, "we should not wait."
They peer into the box. Fifteen macaroons sit beautifully and irresistibly in neat rows of five.
"Well," says Sho, "there's always room for dessert."
---
For lianne29: O/B from Harbor, Becky from beach house meeting her Ohno - 322 words
There are days when Becky wakes up in the morning and knows, with curious certainty, that she will see Ohno.
She will be walking down the street and glimpse him standing at a bus stand opposite. She will be queuing at the checkout counter of a convenience store and see him fumbling in his pockets for his wallet. She already knows how it will feel, to have her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him, to have to resist the urge to rush forward and put her arms around his familiar frame.
She’s been wrong for close to three months, now.
It doesn’t stop her from hoping, though. In her most whimsical moments she entertains the idea that they have passed each other hundreds of times already, without either of them noticing. She imagines taking overhead photos of herself traversing a busy street or riding the subway, poring over each one of them and always, always managing to pick out Ohno’s face in the crowd. He’s there in every frame, she imagines; she just hasn’t found him quite yet.
When it happens, it is simpler and more significant than she expects.
This is how it happens. She is leaving her publisher's office when somebody bumps into her, spilling tea all over her folder of illustrations.
"I'm so sorry," says the man, setting his own portfolio cases down in a hurry and trying futilely to wipe the tea off with his hands.
When Becky looks up and sees who it is, the feeling is every bit as electric as she has always known it would be.
"I'm really sorry," Ohno says. Not Ohno from another place, but an Ohno from here, hers to keep if she can help it.
"That's not a problem," Becky replies.
It is like seeing the sunrise, like the sunrise and spring and the heady scent of something beginning anew.
"It's not a problem at all."
---
For jadeswallow: Sho and Pi’s oni adventure - 201 words
“Momotaro!” the Oni shouted, enraged. It thrashed futilely under the magic net Pi had just flung over it.
“I’m sorry, man,” said Pi, not sounding very sorry. “Bounty and all.”
The Oni, whose name was Akanishi Jin, did not make for a good travel companion at all. He spent the entire journey back whining about there being not enough booze. He also made fun of Sho’s hair.
"Excuse me?"
“I said, your hair is stupid,” Jin repeated smugly. “It looks like an old lady vomited on it.”
“He’s an Oni,” said Pi placatingly, “he’s meant to be belligerent.”
“Right,” said Sho, unconvinced.
Later, when they had delivered Jin to the kitsune who had put out the bounty for him (a cheery young man called Taguchi who seemed very pleasant - but Sho knew better now, after his dealings with Nino), Sho turned to Pi.
“So why did you bring me along? It’s not like I was any help at all.”
Pi shrugged. “Bait?”
“What?”
“I don’t know. You’re funny. Plus, that’s how I got Jin to come out in the first place. He wanted to meet you.”
"I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment."
"You should," said Pi wisely.
---
For r_1_ss_a: Anytime from Heart Food - 1600 words
The fourth-floor corridor of the University's men's dormitory reeked of foot odour, unwashed laundry and hundreds of bowls of instant ramen consumed over the course of the year. In most cases, the smell intensified when one entered each individual unit.
Nino, however, had the privilege of arriving back every day to the smell of MatsuKen's cooking.
"Macchan," said Nino, pushing the door open with one shoulder and depositing all his bags in the doorway with much aplomb. "That smells good."
MatsuKen was always cooking when he was supposed to be lawyering. Nino wasn't exactly complaining, of course, but he did sometimes wonder if MatsuKen should be spending more of his time contemplating Article 72 of the Code of Criminal Procedure rather than preparing amazing meals for the two of them.
Today MatsuKen was making stir fried ginger pork. When Nino shuffled over to peer at the contents of the wok, all he could see was a dark mass of ginger strips.
"I got a bit excited with the dark soy sauce, I'm afraid," MatsuKen explained. "And I put in more ginger because Nino-kun is coming down with a cold."
Nino could already imagine how the pork would taste on white rice. The slightly caramelised soy sauce would contrast beautifully against the sweetness of the rice, the heat of the ginger complementing the light juiciness of the pork.
He rested his chin on MatsuKen's shoulder contentedly. "Macchan is the best."
"Ow," said MatsuKen. "Your chin is pointy."
MatsuKen got his recipes from everywhere. He searched for them online, trawling through housewives' forums. Sometimes he stood in the bookstore and speed-read the recipe books that weren't wrapped in plastic until the shop assistants discovered him and chased him out. He had a good memory, an eye for detail and excellent comprehension skills, traits that aided him well in things like law school and following recipes.
It was quite evident most days which activity he enjoyed more.
After all, it wasn't as if they could eat one of MatsuKen's essays.
"I don't understand the two of you," said Yuriko. "You should be slobs. You should be microwaving frozen meals like the rest of your peers."
Yuriko was best friends with them because she loved MatsuKen's cute bentos and really liked Nino's face. Nino kind of really liked Yuriko's face too, but it was difficult to find a way to tell her. Especially since they were so busy. Or at least Yuriko was busy becoming an architect. Nino kind of just sat in the library reading English novels for his degree. He didn't even need to read that many novels.
"That's just Macchan, though," said Nino.
"Yes, but you cut everything up nicely for him and clean up his workstation as he cooks." At this, Yuriko looked meaningfully at the soapy dish currently in Nino's hand.
"I've trained him well," mused MatsuKen with considerable pride.
"What are you going to do when you both graduate, anyway?" asked Yuriko.
They hadn't really thought about it. Nino had always assumed that he would tumble into some job or other. And MatsuKen had the Bar exam ahead of him. Or maybe he wanted to be a civil servant. Nino had never asked. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps Nino was a horrible friend for not knowing.
"I'm not really sure," MatsuKen was telling Yuriko, "we'll see. Maybe Nino and I will move in together-"
"I need to know if you are planning to take the Bar exam or the civil service one," said Nino abruptly.
MatsuKen looked puzzled. "How does that have anything to do with us moving in together?"
The thing about MatsuKen was that he looked like one of the normal ones. He looked like the top student he was supposed to be. He looked like the dependable sort, the type who would get into a good profession, who would start a family and be a good husband and father and live the rest of his life in a small but lovely house in the suburbs, where all the neighbours sorted out their trash properly and they worked together to solve recurring crow problems. Or something. He had the face for it. (Unlike Nino, who had the face of a Recalcitrant, according to the one of the dormitory wardens.)
The thing about MatsuKen was that nobody expected him to fall deeply in love with a beautiful woman nine years older than him and run off to another country with her.
Which is exactly what he did.
At least he told Nino. Eventually. Around three months after he had left Japan.
Koyuki was an attorney with an international law firm, and she had been called back to the main office half a year after she had started seeing MatsuKen.
"But it's not like you're married to her," said Nino, after he had finished yelling at MatsuKen.
"Um," said MatsuKen. "We're getting married next month?"
"Macchan."
"Yes?"
"You hurt me when you left. Very much," said Nino.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I got a lot of cuddles from Yuriko-chan as a result."
"That's… nice?"
"Yes but that's not the point," said Nino. "Do you remember the cake I gave you for your birthday the first year we were living together?"
"The misshapen one that said 'I like you' and 'please eat me'?"
"You were happy when you ate that cake, weren't you?"
"Very happy."
"That's the thing, really," said Nino. "I'm happy if you're happy."
"Poor baby," said Yuriko after Nino had hung up. In reality, she had given him no cuddles at all, and had in fact started dating that punk Ikuta Toma.
"You need to stop calling Toma-kun 'that punk'. Toma-kun's as far from a punk as one can get. He's studying Veterinary medicine, for goodness' sake."
"He wears wifebeaters and fluorescent-coloured down vests," Nino replied. "He's the most punk person I know. He also has orange hair."
"It's auburn. The hairdresser made a slight mistake."
"Orange."
"Shut up."
"Are you going to go back to work?" asked Yuriko, when she was done being mad at Nino.
"If they'll have me," said Nino morosely. He now worked at a publishing company where his sole job consisted of taking envelopes from the lobby reception up to the editor's office and making plaintive phone calls to various mangakas, exhorting them to turn in their work on time. Since MatsuKen had left, however, Nino had taken an extended leave of absence so he could sit at home eating instant ramen and playing every game he owned.
"Of course they'll have you," said Yuriko. "Isn't your boss very fond of you?"
"She's very fond of pinching my butt, you mean."
"It's quite a cute butt, objectively speaking."
MatsuKen returned to Japan for another visit more than a year after his wedding.
By that time, Nino had already dug up all of MatsuKen's recipes and had systematically worked his way through them (those that MatsuKen had bothered to scribble down, at least. Quite a number of them had been sandwiched in between sheaves of his old lecture notes). He had also risen to the rank of Senior Person-who-made-plaintive-phone-calls-to-mangakas, and now supervised other lackeys in the task of envelope-delivering. His boss still took great pleasure in occasionally pinching his butt.
When Nino arrived home that evening it was to the smell of MatsuKen making nikujaga in the kitchen.
"That smells good," said Nino. Then, "How did you get in?"
"I found a spare key stuck on a piece of blu-tack underneath the dead cacti outside your door."
"Right." Perhaps leaving a spare out wasn't such a great idea after all. "Why are you here?"
"To see you."
"Yes, that I gathered," said Nino. "Why are you back?"
"I really missed Nino-kun."
"Macchan."
And it was kind of stupid because Nino had never doubted that MatsuKen had missed him over the past two and a half years. Even if MatsuKen failed to reply to most of Nino's letters and postcards, and only sometimes remembered that they had agreed to call each other once a month. Nino didn't know what MatsuKen was doing with his life at the moment, apart from being Married To Koyuki and living in another country. He had never asked what the weather was like over there, or if MatsuKen could actually speak enough English to function.
But the gulf of time and distance hadn't changed the fact that having MatsuKen standing in Nino's kitchen making nikujaga was still the most comfortable thing in the world.
"Actually," said MatsuKen. "I have a bit of a proposition."
"Okay?"
"I want us to start a restaurant together."
"What?"
MatsuKen reached for a folder sitting on the kitchen counter and handed it to Nino. "Actually, it's kind of gone past the proposition stage. I've already put down a deposit for the restaurant."
"In Japan?"
"No," said MatsuKen. "Over there. I'd like you to come and open it with me."
"What are you planning to sell?"
"Okonomiyaki."
"Good choice," said Nino. "But are you mad?"
"I don't think so?" MatsuKen looked genuinely unaware as to how crazy this idea was. "If you look at the business plan I've given you-"
"So you want me to quit my job, move out from my place, leave the country and start a restaurant with you," said Nino.
"…well, that's the idea," said MatsuKen, thoroughly apprehensive.
"What the hell?"
"I thought I might just give it a shot. Asking you, I mean. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else."
Nino flipped quickly through the document MatsuKen had given him.
"Okay," he said, finally. "I'll think about it."
---
For c_inflammation: Code Rainbow something from their med school days or internship - 484 words
In medical school, Jun discovers that there are people like Sho, who possess the admirable ability to sit for hours poring over their books. And then there are people like Nino, who appear to somehow do well in the exams by flipping through a selection of other peoples' class notes and letting natural brightness and a near-photographic memory do the rest of the work.
Jun, like the better part of his cohort, belongs to neither group. He has average concentration and an average memory, but quite a lot of determination. This would work out for him if not for the fact that his bedroom has somehow become a black hole of unproductivity.
"Going out again?" asks Sho, who has momentarily emerged from his room to visit the toilet. His bathrobe is untied and gaping open; Jun can see his Ultraman boxer shorts and the bellybutton piercing that nobody really believes he has.
"Yes." Jun pulls on his left boot rather viciously. "If the café down the street is full again I will kill someone. Preferably the person idly surfing the internet next to the power sockets."
Sho rubs the beginnings of his beard thoughtfully. "They're paying customers too, you know." He watches Jun shoulder his giant rucksack. "You know it's not good for your back, carrying all those books around."
"It's not like I can help it." Jun would shrug, except that his shoulders can hardly move from the weight of his bag.
"We'll get you a trolley bag for your birthday," says Sho. "You can wheel it around campus and from café to café, setting up camp wherever you like."
"I'd look ridiculous."
"You already look ridiculous."
"Says the unwashed honours student-turned-wild man who hasn't shaved in two weeks."
Sho grins. "Point."
The trolley bag that Nino and Sho pooled money to purchase for Jun is still around. Nino sometimes uses it when he goes grocery shopping, even though he always complains that the misshapen illustration of Totoro that Sho had drawn on it with a fabric marker is honestly embarrassing.
"I sometimes still meet people who remember me as the trolley bag guy," says Jun one evening, when the three of them have managed to find the time to meet for drinks.
"As opposed to ex-classmates who don't remember me at all," Nino adds.
"Well," says Sho, "it's not surprising, given that you didn't turn up for at least a third of your lectures."
"Correction," says Nino. "What I didn't turn up for were the Ethics tutorials."
"Yes, because it's not at all important that the next generation of doctors have a grasp of medical ethics," says Jun.
Nino shrugs. "It's not like you paid very much attention either. Even Sho-chan dozed off a couple of times."
"How did you know that?" Sho asks sharply.
"You lent me all your lecture notes. I could see when your handwriting would get all funny."
---
For hwlinyitw: Ooku AU - 539 words
Masaki listens, as always.
He listens to the conversations of the highest-ranking men in the Ooku as he brings in their sweets during their word games, and hears enough to know that the latest name being bandied about among them is Satoshi's.
"Of course," says Sho, when Masaki tells him.
Satoshi excels in painting and singing, and the men who have seen him dance claim there is no one like him.
("If only he were a little taller," Kazunari murmurs, lounging against the shoulder of the joro otoshiyori. "If he were taller he would be perfect."
Watanabe Ken smiles indulgently down at him. "You are not so tall, yourself."
"Ah," says Kazunari, "but I am not even half as talented as he.")
Kazunari's charms are in his face, his voice and his wit. He has ingratiated himself with the most important of the men with great ease and swiftness.
"But why would Kazunari wish to favour Satoshi?" Masaki asks Sho.
"Not out of goodwill, I'm sure," Sho replies. They have all seen how Kazunari jostles with Jun for dominance among the men who are allowed to gaze upon the Shogun. Jun is the more striking of the two, but Kazunari's manner has been said to be far more agreeable. Their rivalry is a knot of contradictions that appears to straddle both enmity and wary friendship.
"When the new Shogun arrives, will she pick her first lover?" asks Masaki.
"When the new Shogun arrives, we will all have grown old," says Jun, mock-grumbling, as he stands at the entrance of Sho's room.
Sho gestures for Jun to enter. "Welcome."
"I was choosing some new fabrics," Jun tells them. "But Kazunari has laid claim on all the brightest patterns. He does it just to spite the rest of us."
"I hear Satoshi will be choosing some of his own, soon," says Sho carefully.
"One hears many things about Satoshi these days," says Jun. "I, for one, hear that he is a remarkable man."
Sho nods. "The question, I suppose, is whether the new Shogun will find him as remarkable as we hear he is."
Kazunari's gift to Satoshi on his first meeting is a selection of the finest fabrics, featuring the bright patterns he had earlier deprived Matsumoto and the others of.
"This one would look best against your skin," he says, picking up a light blue fabric with a pattern of fish flowing across it. He holds it up beside Satoshi's tanned forearm.
Satoshi, rather overwhelmed by the attention, can only nod mutely.
"You're so dark," Kazunari murmurs. "What did you do, before you arrived here?"
"Sometimes I went fishing," Satoshi replies.
"Fishing? And your family let you?"
Satoshi nods.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes. Very much."
"Well then, this pattern is particularly fitting," says Kazunari, bestowing Satoshi with the same wry, slightly-mischievous smile that has captured the hearts of far more powerful men.
("And do you find yourself in the position to take another man under your wing quite so completely?" Watanabe asks.
"He makes me laugh," says Kazunari, thinking of the beguiling warmth in Satoshi's eyes.
Watanabe nods, and as he leans back in Kazunari's arms he gets that distant look he has when he is considering something.)
---
For yay_box: The One Where Ray Person Time Travels timestamp - 263 words
In Afghanistan, Brad head Ray before he saw him.
His voice was wholly familiar, a rapid-fire stream of persuasion and bullshit as he tried to coax an extra set of batteries from one of the other Team Leaders. Brad was quite certain Ray wasn't meant to be talking to that Team Leader with quite that tone, but this was Ray.
When they made eye contact there was no recognition on Ray's face, merely careful curiosity.
"Person, right?" said Brad, because it was impossible for him not to say something.
"Yes, sir," Ray replied. Brad could hear the slight smirk in Ray's voice.
Ray looked younger than Brad remembered, which made sense because Ray at present had not yet travelled to Brad's time. He had not quite acquired that starving look, the hard desperation of an older Ray wholly unable to fix himself in time.
Brad's clearest memories of Ray (apart from those of him teaching Brad things like the sleeper hold) involved him eating. Brad used to smuggle him sandwiches and burgers and stuff from the kitchen. Ray devoured all of it indiscriminately, making a mess and not giving a fuck.
He remembered Ray saying more than once that they were good friends in Ray's present. It was one of the only clues about the future Ray had ever let slip - hell, Ray hadn't even mentioned that Brad was going to become a Marine.
But there would be time for that, in the future. Brad might as well enjoy the quiet while it lasted.
"Stay frosty," Brad told him.
"Yes, sir," said Ray.
---
For sinonymity: Meisa and Jun and the King's Men from Storm Children - 1576 words
a king
When Matsumoto hesitates just a few seconds longer over the last of the Rats, Koyuki snatches his knife from his hand and finishes the job for him.
"Don't be a fool," she tells him. There is blood on her hands and on Matsumoto's knife but her face is serene as always. She has never been the forgiving sort.
Youngest, Yuko calls him. Dearest.
Yuko is easy with her smiles, luminescent. She develops a soft spot for Matsumoto early enough, when the King has just taken him in. She is only a few years older than he is but that means everything.
It is Yuko who teaches him to track the scent of magic.
"The King's power lies in his enchantments," she tells Matsumoto. "He can never have enough."
This is what they are to do, as the King's Men. They are to keep the King's magic safe, leasing out stretches of his land and his power to his subjects. They are to fight when he wants them to. They are to kill when they have to.
And now that he is dead, they must hunt.
Matsumoto has long since ceased to be the youngest, but that is still what Yuko calls him. He is as quick and sure with his knife as any of the others are, but Koyuki still gives him that same level gaze. Fool, her eyes tell him.
But Yuko and Koyuki will never call the crows. It is the younger ones he has to watch for.
"So we start with the Rats and then what?" Toda demands. "The Rats have never run with the Vole."
Toda is slight and pretty but she is also sly, and when she weaves traps with magic their grips are nigh unbreakable. Matsumoto admires her talent but he has never cared for her insolence.
"The Rats, like crows, have eyes all over the towns," Meisa replies. As she says this her gaze flickers briefly to Matsumoto.
Toda scoffs, but Meisa is right.
Meisa is seldom wrong. She was the last to join them but she is not the weakest; one only has to look at her effortless control of the entire stretch by the bay. Matsumoto has never seen her fight, but he has heard stories.
"Perhaps then Meisa should go hunt us some rats," says Aragaki, her tone congenial. She has a smile to rival Yuko's and she uses it frequently. Now is no exception.
To her credit, Meisa's expression does not change. "If that is what has to be done."
"Perhaps, Gakki," says Koyuki, sharp as ever, "you should accompany her."
Aragaki's smile only falters a little. Before she can begin to talk her way out of the job, however, Matsumoto cuts in.
"I'll go."
Koyuki regards him coolly. "Very well."
Behind her, Yuko beams.
They leave on the third day of the wake, setting off down the barred-off passages leading out of the town. Meisa's bangles make no sound at all as they walk on at a brisk pace, but out of the corner of Matsumoto's eye he sees them gleaming darkly, the same way that Ninomiya's rings sometimes do.
Matsumoto is the first to break the silence. "Do you remember the Rats?"
"Vaguely," Meisa replies. "I was told that they were vermin."
"Well, so are crows, and we have plenty of use for them."
"I suppose," says Meisa. "Do you remember the Rats?"
Matsumoto remembers himself at age thirteen, cleaning Rat blood from his knife, and smiles grimly. "They won't be happy to see me."
The Rats find them.
They see shadows first, shadows deeper than the gloom of the sewers; shadows that grow and darken and follow them as they walk.
The nearest shadow attacks Meisa first. It darts out from a crevice to her right and emerges as a grown man, lightning fast as it pounces on her.
Meisa is faster. She uses the man's momentum against him, hurling him off balance for a precious half-second. Before Matsumoto can reach for his weapon she has already pinned the man to the ground, despite him being a good head taller than her.
"If any of you move," Meisa grits out, "I'll kill him."
The shadows still. One of Meisa's bangles, the thinnest of them, cracks cleanly in three and falls from her arm.
"Give me a reason why I should help you," says the Den Head.
The current Den Head has a face disposed to melancholy, beneath his matted hair and his scowl like thunder. Matsumoto does not just remember hunting the Rats; he remembers them from before they fell out of favour with the King. Children on the street are much less picky about their friends, and both Matsumoto and this Den Head had once been but boys.
"Kase Ryo," says Matsumoto. "I know you."
"I know you too, Rat-killer."
Matsumoto smiles thinly. "Surely you know to distinguish my actions from the King's."
"Surely I know to slit your throat."
"If you dare," snaps Meisa. Matsumoto shoots her a glance.
"I know you miss the old passages," Matsumoto says to Kase. "Magic doesn't grow well on concrete but it's still much preferable to steel and glass."
Kase doesn't contradict him. "What's your point?"
"My point is that the King is dead."
"We want to know who sent the Vole-" Meisa begins.
"What is your point?"
"My point," Matsumoto repeats, "is that the King is dead."
For a long moment Kase just looks at Matsumoto, head cocked at a slight angle, studying Matsumoto's face curiously. He twitches. Stares. Considers.
His lips flicker upwards briefly in what might be a smile.
"You."
"Yes," says Matsumoto.
"Do you swear it?"
"Yes."
"Matsumoto," says Meisa sharply.
Matsumoto pays her no mind. She will put two and two together if she hasn't already done so, he knows, but they are in too precarious a situation for her to dream of doing anything at present. He will deal with her after.
"Let's talk terms," says Kase. "We get the old passages back. And we traverse them - and the town - unharmed."
"In return: who sent the Vole, and fealty."
Kase laughs. "Does the crows' town need Rats?"
"Not the crows' town," Matsumoto tells him. "The King's town."
"What was that?" Meisa demands once they are out of the Rats' Den and back in the passages. When Matsumoto is silent she reaches over to slam him against the wall.
"Damn you, Matsumoto, tell me what that was about."
Up close it is all the clearer: Meisa is all strength and anger, sharp wit and will. He has always suspected it, but now he knows - she is the most ambitious of all the King's Men.
Save perhaps Matsumoto.
"What do you think that was?" asks Matsumoto. "What did that look like?"
"It looked like you were making a claim for succession," Meisa snarls. "A fool's claim."
"Unless it's true."
"The King would have told us if he named a successor."
"The King wanted to keep everyone close till the last possible moment."
"You would make a terrible King."
"Perhaps," says Matsumoto. "But it doesn't change the facts."
When Meisa moves to hit him, Matsumoto doesn't catch her hand; he grabs her arm instead, spreading his fingers over her bracelets.
It is clear that Meisa can feel the way the enchantments are dampened by his touch.
"How did you know-"
"I observed," Matsumoto replies simply. "And now, in return, you know the nature of my magic." Not entirely, of course, but he has always been best at this.
"So," says Matsumoto, producing his knife in his other hand and holding it to Meisa's throat. "A choice. You can give me your word that you will keep this a secret, or I can make sure myself that you are in no position to speak of it to anyone."
"Aren't you going to ask me to swear fealty?"
"What use is loyalty gained at knifepoint?"
"You will have to call the crows," says Meisa. "Surely you haven't learnt that magic."
Matsumoto does not confirm or disprove this. "You underestimate me," is all he replies.
"You're bringing back the Rats. Who else are you gathering?"
"I'm not disposed to say, I'm afraid."
And already he knows that Meisa is thinking this through, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of welcoming this new development.
"Fine," she says eventually. "I'll keep silent."
"Good," says Matsumoto, releasing her. And then -
"Let me be your lieutenant." Because if she cannot be King, Matsumoto knows, she would easily settle for second in command.
He smiles.
"Let's talk terms."
When the wake ends, Ninomiya will come to him. Matsumoto is sure of this.
Ninomiya will have questions, and Ohno Satoshi at the police station will want answers, and they will both try to move him like a pawn.
He will let them. A King needs magic. He has not forgotten Yuko's lesson.
Yuko's lesson is wrong. He knows this now, after spending more than half his life as one of the King's men. The King's power, in addition to his own magic, was in Koyuki's strength with her blade and Yuko's good nose for magic; Toda's unyielding traps and Aragaki's intricate illusions. The ash and stink of burnt magic that now permeates every part of town is more than testament to that. This, and more, is what Matsumoto needs to claim.
The King's power lies not in his magic, but in the loyalty of his subjects.
He can never have enough.
PART 2/2
HUGE THANKS to g_esquared for the beta when I was at my halfway mark, calerine and illuvium for being thoroughly lovely and encouraging, and to everyone who requested. ♥♥♥ seriously, these were amazing requests and I had so much fun with them. This can be evidenced from the fact that I clearly threw the definition of drabble out of the window and proceeded to write over 10k words in response to 12 drabble requests. Math is clearly not my strong suit. Sorry about the non-uniform lengths, guys. I really hope you enjoy these. ♥
For yuui1010: Heart Food, after Aiba joins them - 844 words
"I can see how you might have charmed your way into getting a job at that café," Jun tells Aiba when they all drop by one afternoon to see him. "What I don't understand is how you've managed to keep it."
It is a little café owned by a Japanese patissier whose two loves in life are desserts and women. As a result, it is also staffed entirely by cute girls. Apart from Aiba, that is.
"You look completely out of place," says Nino encouragingly. "Should I get the matcha tart or the matcha gateau?" He makes a face. "I don't even like matcha. But it looks so good. Where's Oh-chan?"
Ohno, as it turns out, is still standing at the front of the café, staring intently the array of pastries lined up on trays at the counter.
"Are you all right?" asks one of the waitresses.
"I think he's finding it difficult to process the sheer number of choices," Sho says, sidling up to her in a manner he probably thinks is charming. "What would you recommend?"
"Well…" the waitress begins, turning towards the cakes display case, "the pear and almond tart is very popular."
"Oh-chan," says Nino, "buy me a macaroon."
"No," Ohno replies, triumphantly. It is a skill he has only recently acquired, saying no to Nino. "Buy it yourself."
In the end, with much assertive decision-making from Jun, they finally settle on both the matcha tart and gateau, as well as a selection of macaroons. Aiba gingerly packs the desserts in boxes to take away.
"You're coming over later, aren't you?" asks Jun. "We're making curry at my place."
Jun's kitchen is barely large enough to accommodate three people cooking at the same time, let alone four. They all squeeze in anyway, which results in general chaos and confusion for the better part of ten minutes. Shortly after that, they decide to banish Sho and Ohno into the living room and put them on wash-up duty later.
Everyone has their own special method of cooking curry. Today, they are using Nino's. He combines two different brands of curry mix (none of them are really in the mood to start from scratch) and uses at least half a pound of onions more than Jun normally adds. He also watches the timing for each step with much more attentiveness than Jun would originally have given him credit for.
While the vegetables and meat are simmering, they make pork katsu together. Jun scores each piece of meat in neat diagonal lines on either side before seasoning it, while Nino rummages about in the cupboard in search of the breadcrumbs.
"Aiba's here," says Ohno, returning momentarily from his exile.
Aiba comes in soaked from the rain, water dripping off him as he removes his coat and scarf.
"It's freezing out there." He squelches forlornly in the doorway as he tries to remove his boots, which appear to have turned into icy swamps.
Aiba's timing turns out to be spot on; the rice is ready and perfectly fluffy by the time he is warmed up and comfortably ensconced in one of Jun's bathrobes. Nino has finished frying the pork katsu and is cutting them up into uniform strips while Sho (called in to substitute for Jun, who went to get Aiba some towels) stirs and dissolves the last of the curry cubes into the pot.
"Guess what I bought the other day," Sho announces, when all the bowls have been brought out.
"Beer," Nino immediately replies.
Sho's mortification will never stop being hilarious. "How did you guess?"
Ohno shrugs. "Aren't the bottles in the fridge?"
There is something about having curry rice like this, surrounded by friends in a too-small sitting room while the rain falls intermittently outside. On a cold day like this there is nothing like the mild heat of the curry, the mellowed spice of onions cooked to perfect translucency. The sweet give of carrots done just right, contrasted with the light crunch of the tonkatsu breading. And all this washed down with light, crisp beer.
For a while nobody speaks, everyone too preoccupied with eating. Sho makes little involuntary sounds of joy as he chews on a mouthful of rice and pork.
Aiba, clearly the most ravenous from the cold and a long shift at work, is the first to finish. He slumps back in his chair, rubbing his stomach with idle contentment.
And when everyone is done, when the last spoonful of curry has been consumed and most of the crumbs from the pork katsu picked off their plates, Aiba looks round expectantly at all of them and says, "Dessert?"
"I'm too full," says Jun reluctantly, while Sho nods.
"Maybe we should wait for later," says Nino, who is now casting around for any unfinished glasses of beer.
"Or maybe," says Ohno, opening the box of macaroons and laying it before them, "we should not wait."
They peer into the box. Fifteen macaroons sit beautifully and irresistibly in neat rows of five.
"Well," says Sho, "there's always room for dessert."
---
For lianne29: O/B from Harbor, Becky from beach house meeting her Ohno - 322 words
There are days when Becky wakes up in the morning and knows, with curious certainty, that she will see Ohno.
She will be walking down the street and glimpse him standing at a bus stand opposite. She will be queuing at the checkout counter of a convenience store and see him fumbling in his pockets for his wallet. She already knows how it will feel, to have her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him, to have to resist the urge to rush forward and put her arms around his familiar frame.
She’s been wrong for close to three months, now.
It doesn’t stop her from hoping, though. In her most whimsical moments she entertains the idea that they have passed each other hundreds of times already, without either of them noticing. She imagines taking overhead photos of herself traversing a busy street or riding the subway, poring over each one of them and always, always managing to pick out Ohno’s face in the crowd. He’s there in every frame, she imagines; she just hasn’t found him quite yet.
When it happens, it is simpler and more significant than she expects.
This is how it happens. She is leaving her publisher's office when somebody bumps into her, spilling tea all over her folder of illustrations.
"I'm so sorry," says the man, setting his own portfolio cases down in a hurry and trying futilely to wipe the tea off with his hands.
When Becky looks up and sees who it is, the feeling is every bit as electric as she has always known it would be.
"I'm really sorry," Ohno says. Not Ohno from another place, but an Ohno from here, hers to keep if she can help it.
"That's not a problem," Becky replies.
It is like seeing the sunrise, like the sunrise and spring and the heady scent of something beginning anew.
"It's not a problem at all."
---
For jadeswallow: Sho and Pi’s oni adventure - 201 words
“Momotaro!” the Oni shouted, enraged. It thrashed futilely under the magic net Pi had just flung over it.
“I’m sorry, man,” said Pi, not sounding very sorry. “Bounty and all.”
The Oni, whose name was Akanishi Jin, did not make for a good travel companion at all. He spent the entire journey back whining about there being not enough booze. He also made fun of Sho’s hair.
"Excuse me?"
“I said, your hair is stupid,” Jin repeated smugly. “It looks like an old lady vomited on it.”
“He’s an Oni,” said Pi placatingly, “he’s meant to be belligerent.”
“Right,” said Sho, unconvinced.
Later, when they had delivered Jin to the kitsune who had put out the bounty for him (a cheery young man called Taguchi who seemed very pleasant - but Sho knew better now, after his dealings with Nino), Sho turned to Pi.
“So why did you bring me along? It’s not like I was any help at all.”
Pi shrugged. “Bait?”
“What?”
“I don’t know. You’re funny. Plus, that’s how I got Jin to come out in the first place. He wanted to meet you.”
"I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment."
"You should," said Pi wisely.
---
For r_1_ss_a: Anytime from Heart Food - 1600 words
The fourth-floor corridor of the University's men's dormitory reeked of foot odour, unwashed laundry and hundreds of bowls of instant ramen consumed over the course of the year. In most cases, the smell intensified when one entered each individual unit.
Nino, however, had the privilege of arriving back every day to the smell of MatsuKen's cooking.
"Macchan," said Nino, pushing the door open with one shoulder and depositing all his bags in the doorway with much aplomb. "That smells good."
MatsuKen was always cooking when he was supposed to be lawyering. Nino wasn't exactly complaining, of course, but he did sometimes wonder if MatsuKen should be spending more of his time contemplating Article 72 of the Code of Criminal Procedure rather than preparing amazing meals for the two of them.
Today MatsuKen was making stir fried ginger pork. When Nino shuffled over to peer at the contents of the wok, all he could see was a dark mass of ginger strips.
"I got a bit excited with the dark soy sauce, I'm afraid," MatsuKen explained. "And I put in more ginger because Nino-kun is coming down with a cold."
Nino could already imagine how the pork would taste on white rice. The slightly caramelised soy sauce would contrast beautifully against the sweetness of the rice, the heat of the ginger complementing the light juiciness of the pork.
He rested his chin on MatsuKen's shoulder contentedly. "Macchan is the best."
"Ow," said MatsuKen. "Your chin is pointy."
MatsuKen got his recipes from everywhere. He searched for them online, trawling through housewives' forums. Sometimes he stood in the bookstore and speed-read the recipe books that weren't wrapped in plastic until the shop assistants discovered him and chased him out. He had a good memory, an eye for detail and excellent comprehension skills, traits that aided him well in things like law school and following recipes.
It was quite evident most days which activity he enjoyed more.
After all, it wasn't as if they could eat one of MatsuKen's essays.
"I don't understand the two of you," said Yuriko. "You should be slobs. You should be microwaving frozen meals like the rest of your peers."
Yuriko was best friends with them because she loved MatsuKen's cute bentos and really liked Nino's face. Nino kind of really liked Yuriko's face too, but it was difficult to find a way to tell her. Especially since they were so busy. Or at least Yuriko was busy becoming an architect. Nino kind of just sat in the library reading English novels for his degree. He didn't even need to read that many novels.
"That's just Macchan, though," said Nino.
"Yes, but you cut everything up nicely for him and clean up his workstation as he cooks." At this, Yuriko looked meaningfully at the soapy dish currently in Nino's hand.
"I've trained him well," mused MatsuKen with considerable pride.
"What are you going to do when you both graduate, anyway?" asked Yuriko.
They hadn't really thought about it. Nino had always assumed that he would tumble into some job or other. And MatsuKen had the Bar exam ahead of him. Or maybe he wanted to be a civil servant. Nino had never asked. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps Nino was a horrible friend for not knowing.
"I'm not really sure," MatsuKen was telling Yuriko, "we'll see. Maybe Nino and I will move in together-"
"I need to know if you are planning to take the Bar exam or the civil service one," said Nino abruptly.
MatsuKen looked puzzled. "How does that have anything to do with us moving in together?"
The thing about MatsuKen was that he looked like one of the normal ones. He looked like the top student he was supposed to be. He looked like the dependable sort, the type who would get into a good profession, who would start a family and be a good husband and father and live the rest of his life in a small but lovely house in the suburbs, where all the neighbours sorted out their trash properly and they worked together to solve recurring crow problems. Or something. He had the face for it. (Unlike Nino, who had the face of a Recalcitrant, according to the one of the dormitory wardens.)
The thing about MatsuKen was that nobody expected him to fall deeply in love with a beautiful woman nine years older than him and run off to another country with her.
Which is exactly what he did.
At least he told Nino. Eventually. Around three months after he had left Japan.
Koyuki was an attorney with an international law firm, and she had been called back to the main office half a year after she had started seeing MatsuKen.
"But it's not like you're married to her," said Nino, after he had finished yelling at MatsuKen.
"Um," said MatsuKen. "We're getting married next month?"
"Macchan."
"Yes?"
"You hurt me when you left. Very much," said Nino.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I got a lot of cuddles from Yuriko-chan as a result."
"That's… nice?"
"Yes but that's not the point," said Nino. "Do you remember the cake I gave you for your birthday the first year we were living together?"
"The misshapen one that said 'I like you' and 'please eat me'?"
"You were happy when you ate that cake, weren't you?"
"Very happy."
"That's the thing, really," said Nino. "I'm happy if you're happy."
"Poor baby," said Yuriko after Nino had hung up. In reality, she had given him no cuddles at all, and had in fact started dating that punk Ikuta Toma.
"You need to stop calling Toma-kun 'that punk'. Toma-kun's as far from a punk as one can get. He's studying Veterinary medicine, for goodness' sake."
"He wears wifebeaters and fluorescent-coloured down vests," Nino replied. "He's the most punk person I know. He also has orange hair."
"It's auburn. The hairdresser made a slight mistake."
"Orange."
"Shut up."
"Are you going to go back to work?" asked Yuriko, when she was done being mad at Nino.
"If they'll have me," said Nino morosely. He now worked at a publishing company where his sole job consisted of taking envelopes from the lobby reception up to the editor's office and making plaintive phone calls to various mangakas, exhorting them to turn in their work on time. Since MatsuKen had left, however, Nino had taken an extended leave of absence so he could sit at home eating instant ramen and playing every game he owned.
"Of course they'll have you," said Yuriko. "Isn't your boss very fond of you?"
"She's very fond of pinching my butt, you mean."
"It's quite a cute butt, objectively speaking."
MatsuKen returned to Japan for another visit more than a year after his wedding.
By that time, Nino had already dug up all of MatsuKen's recipes and had systematically worked his way through them (those that MatsuKen had bothered to scribble down, at least. Quite a number of them had been sandwiched in between sheaves of his old lecture notes). He had also risen to the rank of Senior Person-who-made-plaintive-phone-calls-to-mangakas, and now supervised other lackeys in the task of envelope-delivering. His boss still took great pleasure in occasionally pinching his butt.
When Nino arrived home that evening it was to the smell of MatsuKen making nikujaga in the kitchen.
"That smells good," said Nino. Then, "How did you get in?"
"I found a spare key stuck on a piece of blu-tack underneath the dead cacti outside your door."
"Right." Perhaps leaving a spare out wasn't such a great idea after all. "Why are you here?"
"To see you."
"Yes, that I gathered," said Nino. "Why are you back?"
"I really missed Nino-kun."
"Macchan."
And it was kind of stupid because Nino had never doubted that MatsuKen had missed him over the past two and a half years. Even if MatsuKen failed to reply to most of Nino's letters and postcards, and only sometimes remembered that they had agreed to call each other once a month. Nino didn't know what MatsuKen was doing with his life at the moment, apart from being Married To Koyuki and living in another country. He had never asked what the weather was like over there, or if MatsuKen could actually speak enough English to function.
But the gulf of time and distance hadn't changed the fact that having MatsuKen standing in Nino's kitchen making nikujaga was still the most comfortable thing in the world.
"Actually," said MatsuKen. "I have a bit of a proposition."
"Okay?"
"I want us to start a restaurant together."
"What?"
MatsuKen reached for a folder sitting on the kitchen counter and handed it to Nino. "Actually, it's kind of gone past the proposition stage. I've already put down a deposit for the restaurant."
"In Japan?"
"No," said MatsuKen. "Over there. I'd like you to come and open it with me."
"What are you planning to sell?"
"Okonomiyaki."
"Good choice," said Nino. "But are you mad?"
"I don't think so?" MatsuKen looked genuinely unaware as to how crazy this idea was. "If you look at the business plan I've given you-"
"So you want me to quit my job, move out from my place, leave the country and start a restaurant with you," said Nino.
"…well, that's the idea," said MatsuKen, thoroughly apprehensive.
"What the hell?"
"I thought I might just give it a shot. Asking you, I mean. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else."
Nino flipped quickly through the document MatsuKen had given him.
"Okay," he said, finally. "I'll think about it."
---
For c_inflammation: Code Rainbow something from their med school days or internship - 484 words
In medical school, Jun discovers that there are people like Sho, who possess the admirable ability to sit for hours poring over their books. And then there are people like Nino, who appear to somehow do well in the exams by flipping through a selection of other peoples' class notes and letting natural brightness and a near-photographic memory do the rest of the work.
Jun, like the better part of his cohort, belongs to neither group. He has average concentration and an average memory, but quite a lot of determination. This would work out for him if not for the fact that his bedroom has somehow become a black hole of unproductivity.
"Going out again?" asks Sho, who has momentarily emerged from his room to visit the toilet. His bathrobe is untied and gaping open; Jun can see his Ultraman boxer shorts and the bellybutton piercing that nobody really believes he has.
"Yes." Jun pulls on his left boot rather viciously. "If the café down the street is full again I will kill someone. Preferably the person idly surfing the internet next to the power sockets."
Sho rubs the beginnings of his beard thoughtfully. "They're paying customers too, you know." He watches Jun shoulder his giant rucksack. "You know it's not good for your back, carrying all those books around."
"It's not like I can help it." Jun would shrug, except that his shoulders can hardly move from the weight of his bag.
"We'll get you a trolley bag for your birthday," says Sho. "You can wheel it around campus and from café to café, setting up camp wherever you like."
"I'd look ridiculous."
"You already look ridiculous."
"Says the unwashed honours student-turned-wild man who hasn't shaved in two weeks."
Sho grins. "Point."
The trolley bag that Nino and Sho pooled money to purchase for Jun is still around. Nino sometimes uses it when he goes grocery shopping, even though he always complains that the misshapen illustration of Totoro that Sho had drawn on it with a fabric marker is honestly embarrassing.
"I sometimes still meet people who remember me as the trolley bag guy," says Jun one evening, when the three of them have managed to find the time to meet for drinks.
"As opposed to ex-classmates who don't remember me at all," Nino adds.
"Well," says Sho, "it's not surprising, given that you didn't turn up for at least a third of your lectures."
"Correction," says Nino. "What I didn't turn up for were the Ethics tutorials."
"Yes, because it's not at all important that the next generation of doctors have a grasp of medical ethics," says Jun.
Nino shrugs. "It's not like you paid very much attention either. Even Sho-chan dozed off a couple of times."
"How did you know that?" Sho asks sharply.
"You lent me all your lecture notes. I could see when your handwriting would get all funny."
---
For hwlinyitw: Ooku AU - 539 words
Masaki listens, as always.
He listens to the conversations of the highest-ranking men in the Ooku as he brings in their sweets during their word games, and hears enough to know that the latest name being bandied about among them is Satoshi's.
"Of course," says Sho, when Masaki tells him.
Satoshi excels in painting and singing, and the men who have seen him dance claim there is no one like him.
("If only he were a little taller," Kazunari murmurs, lounging against the shoulder of the joro otoshiyori. "If he were taller he would be perfect."
Watanabe Ken smiles indulgently down at him. "You are not so tall, yourself."
"Ah," says Kazunari, "but I am not even half as talented as he.")
Kazunari's charms are in his face, his voice and his wit. He has ingratiated himself with the most important of the men with great ease and swiftness.
"But why would Kazunari wish to favour Satoshi?" Masaki asks Sho.
"Not out of goodwill, I'm sure," Sho replies. They have all seen how Kazunari jostles with Jun for dominance among the men who are allowed to gaze upon the Shogun. Jun is the more striking of the two, but Kazunari's manner has been said to be far more agreeable. Their rivalry is a knot of contradictions that appears to straddle both enmity and wary friendship.
"When the new Shogun arrives, will she pick her first lover?" asks Masaki.
"When the new Shogun arrives, we will all have grown old," says Jun, mock-grumbling, as he stands at the entrance of Sho's room.
Sho gestures for Jun to enter. "Welcome."
"I was choosing some new fabrics," Jun tells them. "But Kazunari has laid claim on all the brightest patterns. He does it just to spite the rest of us."
"I hear Satoshi will be choosing some of his own, soon," says Sho carefully.
"One hears many things about Satoshi these days," says Jun. "I, for one, hear that he is a remarkable man."
Sho nods. "The question, I suppose, is whether the new Shogun will find him as remarkable as we hear he is."
Kazunari's gift to Satoshi on his first meeting is a selection of the finest fabrics, featuring the bright patterns he had earlier deprived Matsumoto and the others of.
"This one would look best against your skin," he says, picking up a light blue fabric with a pattern of fish flowing across it. He holds it up beside Satoshi's tanned forearm.
Satoshi, rather overwhelmed by the attention, can only nod mutely.
"You're so dark," Kazunari murmurs. "What did you do, before you arrived here?"
"Sometimes I went fishing," Satoshi replies.
"Fishing? And your family let you?"
Satoshi nods.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes. Very much."
"Well then, this pattern is particularly fitting," says Kazunari, bestowing Satoshi with the same wry, slightly-mischievous smile that has captured the hearts of far more powerful men.
("And do you find yourself in the position to take another man under your wing quite so completely?" Watanabe asks.
"He makes me laugh," says Kazunari, thinking of the beguiling warmth in Satoshi's eyes.
Watanabe nods, and as he leans back in Kazunari's arms he gets that distant look he has when he is considering something.)
---
For yay_box: The One Where Ray Person Time Travels timestamp - 263 words
In Afghanistan, Brad head Ray before he saw him.
His voice was wholly familiar, a rapid-fire stream of persuasion and bullshit as he tried to coax an extra set of batteries from one of the other Team Leaders. Brad was quite certain Ray wasn't meant to be talking to that Team Leader with quite that tone, but this was Ray.
When they made eye contact there was no recognition on Ray's face, merely careful curiosity.
"Person, right?" said Brad, because it was impossible for him not to say something.
"Yes, sir," Ray replied. Brad could hear the slight smirk in Ray's voice.
Ray looked younger than Brad remembered, which made sense because Ray at present had not yet travelled to Brad's time. He had not quite acquired that starving look, the hard desperation of an older Ray wholly unable to fix himself in time.
Brad's clearest memories of Ray (apart from those of him teaching Brad things like the sleeper hold) involved him eating. Brad used to smuggle him sandwiches and burgers and stuff from the kitchen. Ray devoured all of it indiscriminately, making a mess and not giving a fuck.
He remembered Ray saying more than once that they were good friends in Ray's present. It was one of the only clues about the future Ray had ever let slip - hell, Ray hadn't even mentioned that Brad was going to become a Marine.
But there would be time for that, in the future. Brad might as well enjoy the quiet while it lasted.
"Stay frosty," Brad told him.
"Yes, sir," said Ray.
---
For sinonymity: Meisa and Jun and the King's Men from Storm Children - 1576 words
a king
When Matsumoto hesitates just a few seconds longer over the last of the Rats, Koyuki snatches his knife from his hand and finishes the job for him.
"Don't be a fool," she tells him. There is blood on her hands and on Matsumoto's knife but her face is serene as always. She has never been the forgiving sort.
Youngest, Yuko calls him. Dearest.
Yuko is easy with her smiles, luminescent. She develops a soft spot for Matsumoto early enough, when the King has just taken him in. She is only a few years older than he is but that means everything.
It is Yuko who teaches him to track the scent of magic.
"The King's power lies in his enchantments," she tells Matsumoto. "He can never have enough."
This is what they are to do, as the King's Men. They are to keep the King's magic safe, leasing out stretches of his land and his power to his subjects. They are to fight when he wants them to. They are to kill when they have to.
And now that he is dead, they must hunt.
Matsumoto has long since ceased to be the youngest, but that is still what Yuko calls him. He is as quick and sure with his knife as any of the others are, but Koyuki still gives him that same level gaze. Fool, her eyes tell him.
But Yuko and Koyuki will never call the crows. It is the younger ones he has to watch for.
"So we start with the Rats and then what?" Toda demands. "The Rats have never run with the Vole."
Toda is slight and pretty but she is also sly, and when she weaves traps with magic their grips are nigh unbreakable. Matsumoto admires her talent but he has never cared for her insolence.
"The Rats, like crows, have eyes all over the towns," Meisa replies. As she says this her gaze flickers briefly to Matsumoto.
Toda scoffs, but Meisa is right.
Meisa is seldom wrong. She was the last to join them but she is not the weakest; one only has to look at her effortless control of the entire stretch by the bay. Matsumoto has never seen her fight, but he has heard stories.
"Perhaps then Meisa should go hunt us some rats," says Aragaki, her tone congenial. She has a smile to rival Yuko's and she uses it frequently. Now is no exception.
To her credit, Meisa's expression does not change. "If that is what has to be done."
"Perhaps, Gakki," says Koyuki, sharp as ever, "you should accompany her."
Aragaki's smile only falters a little. Before she can begin to talk her way out of the job, however, Matsumoto cuts in.
"I'll go."
Koyuki regards him coolly. "Very well."
Behind her, Yuko beams.
They leave on the third day of the wake, setting off down the barred-off passages leading out of the town. Meisa's bangles make no sound at all as they walk on at a brisk pace, but out of the corner of Matsumoto's eye he sees them gleaming darkly, the same way that Ninomiya's rings sometimes do.
Matsumoto is the first to break the silence. "Do you remember the Rats?"
"Vaguely," Meisa replies. "I was told that they were vermin."
"Well, so are crows, and we have plenty of use for them."
"I suppose," says Meisa. "Do you remember the Rats?"
Matsumoto remembers himself at age thirteen, cleaning Rat blood from his knife, and smiles grimly. "They won't be happy to see me."
The Rats find them.
They see shadows first, shadows deeper than the gloom of the sewers; shadows that grow and darken and follow them as they walk.
The nearest shadow attacks Meisa first. It darts out from a crevice to her right and emerges as a grown man, lightning fast as it pounces on her.
Meisa is faster. She uses the man's momentum against him, hurling him off balance for a precious half-second. Before Matsumoto can reach for his weapon she has already pinned the man to the ground, despite him being a good head taller than her.
"If any of you move," Meisa grits out, "I'll kill him."
The shadows still. One of Meisa's bangles, the thinnest of them, cracks cleanly in three and falls from her arm.
"Give me a reason why I should help you," says the Den Head.
The current Den Head has a face disposed to melancholy, beneath his matted hair and his scowl like thunder. Matsumoto does not just remember hunting the Rats; he remembers them from before they fell out of favour with the King. Children on the street are much less picky about their friends, and both Matsumoto and this Den Head had once been but boys.
"Kase Ryo," says Matsumoto. "I know you."
"I know you too, Rat-killer."
Matsumoto smiles thinly. "Surely you know to distinguish my actions from the King's."
"Surely I know to slit your throat."
"If you dare," snaps Meisa. Matsumoto shoots her a glance.
"I know you miss the old passages," Matsumoto says to Kase. "Magic doesn't grow well on concrete but it's still much preferable to steel and glass."
Kase doesn't contradict him. "What's your point?"
"My point is that the King is dead."
"We want to know who sent the Vole-" Meisa begins.
"What is your point?"
"My point," Matsumoto repeats, "is that the King is dead."
For a long moment Kase just looks at Matsumoto, head cocked at a slight angle, studying Matsumoto's face curiously. He twitches. Stares. Considers.
His lips flicker upwards briefly in what might be a smile.
"You."
"Yes," says Matsumoto.
"Do you swear it?"
"Yes."
"Matsumoto," says Meisa sharply.
Matsumoto pays her no mind. She will put two and two together if she hasn't already done so, he knows, but they are in too precarious a situation for her to dream of doing anything at present. He will deal with her after.
"Let's talk terms," says Kase. "We get the old passages back. And we traverse them - and the town - unharmed."
"In return: who sent the Vole, and fealty."
Kase laughs. "Does the crows' town need Rats?"
"Not the crows' town," Matsumoto tells him. "The King's town."
"What was that?" Meisa demands once they are out of the Rats' Den and back in the passages. When Matsumoto is silent she reaches over to slam him against the wall.
"Damn you, Matsumoto, tell me what that was about."
Up close it is all the clearer: Meisa is all strength and anger, sharp wit and will. He has always suspected it, but now he knows - she is the most ambitious of all the King's Men.
Save perhaps Matsumoto.
"What do you think that was?" asks Matsumoto. "What did that look like?"
"It looked like you were making a claim for succession," Meisa snarls. "A fool's claim."
"Unless it's true."
"The King would have told us if he named a successor."
"The King wanted to keep everyone close till the last possible moment."
"You would make a terrible King."
"Perhaps," says Matsumoto. "But it doesn't change the facts."
When Meisa moves to hit him, Matsumoto doesn't catch her hand; he grabs her arm instead, spreading his fingers over her bracelets.
It is clear that Meisa can feel the way the enchantments are dampened by his touch.
"How did you know-"
"I observed," Matsumoto replies simply. "And now, in return, you know the nature of my magic." Not entirely, of course, but he has always been best at this.
"So," says Matsumoto, producing his knife in his other hand and holding it to Meisa's throat. "A choice. You can give me your word that you will keep this a secret, or I can make sure myself that you are in no position to speak of it to anyone."
"Aren't you going to ask me to swear fealty?"
"What use is loyalty gained at knifepoint?"
"You will have to call the crows," says Meisa. "Surely you haven't learnt that magic."
Matsumoto does not confirm or disprove this. "You underestimate me," is all he replies.
"You're bringing back the Rats. Who else are you gathering?"
"I'm not disposed to say, I'm afraid."
And already he knows that Meisa is thinking this through, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of welcoming this new development.
"Fine," she says eventually. "I'll keep silent."
"Good," says Matsumoto, releasing her. And then -
"Let me be your lieutenant." Because if she cannot be King, Matsumoto knows, she would easily settle for second in command.
He smiles.
"Let's talk terms."
When the wake ends, Ninomiya will come to him. Matsumoto is sure of this.
Ninomiya will have questions, and Ohno Satoshi at the police station will want answers, and they will both try to move him like a pawn.
He will let them. A King needs magic. He has not forgotten Yuko's lesson.
Yuko's lesson is wrong. He knows this now, after spending more than half his life as one of the King's men. The King's power, in addition to his own magic, was in Koyuki's strength with her blade and Yuko's good nose for magic; Toda's unyielding traps and Aragaki's intricate illusions. The ash and stink of burnt magic that now permeates every part of town is more than testament to that. This, and more, is what Matsumoto needs to claim.
The King's power lies not in his magic, but in the loyalty of his subjects.
He can never have enough.
PART 2/2