Fanfiction - {Midnight C R A Z Y}
Title: {Midnight C R A Z Y}
Pairings/Groups: M/T (main) with bits of 2/S thrown in. I feel that Ki/F need a mention here as an anti-pairing because they are assholes. =V= (Also features Yara and THEY Budou.)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild language, smidgen of blood/violence, … err, vampires and werewolves. (There is no death, minus that of a phone.)
Summary: You never go into the forest at night, everyone knows that. It’s dangerous, so all the oldtimers say. But when Tamamori gets a strange text from a friend and former classmate in the dead of night, he ventures in anyway. What he gets (aka, Miyata) is nothing like what he expected.
Notes: Written for snowqueenofhoth during the totally awesome kis_my_fic2 exchange. ♥ Somewhat inspired by Little Red Riding Hood (or the musical Into the Woods) but not… quite. T'is a bit on the odd side. And, as tottchupi so nicely summarized Fujigaya, ‘He just wants to be a snowflake’. Special thanks to my betas (omoikkiri and tottchupi) and the person who planted the idea in my head (hotfruits).
Senga bit his lip, peering out at the forest. “You sure…? You know it’s not safe to go in there after dark.”
Tamamori shrugged, blinking into the darkness. “It’s fine,” he muttered. Everyone knew they just said the forest was dangerous to keep dumb teenagers out and while Tamamori hadn’t quite turned twenty, he knew he had his head screwed (mostly) on right. “I’ve got my flashlight and the paths are clear.”
Nikaido was ten feet behind them, grumbling about how it was too cold to be out and why couldn’t they just be sleeping.
“Yeah,” Senga echoed, turning to Tamamori again. “Why’re you going in there again?”
Tamamori shrugged again, pulling his phone out of his jacket and showing Senga the message. It was from a friend and former classmate of his, though Senga knew him just as well. They had all gone to the same high school.
“Eh…?” Senga’s confused expression didn’t clear up as he peered at the glowing screen. “I don’t get what Yama-chan’s trying to say.”
Tamamori pocketed the phone. “Which is why I’m going to find out.” The message was pure gibberish, nothing but random symbols with no semblance of coherency. For Yamamoto Ryota, it didn’t seem like something too unusual, the boy wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the bunch, but something about it made Tamamori’s stomach twinge and he’d ended up rolling out of bed, dragging Senga and Nikaido with him to investigate.
(“But he’s in the forest doing training with Yara and the rest of his new team,” Senga had yawned and there they were, at the edge of the forest.)
Tamamori just stared into the darkness that was almost tangible - he wanted to reach out, part it down the middle, push it aside - and shrugged again, just to keep in rhythm. “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys later.”
Senga caught his arm. “We can go with you!” he insisted. From behind him, Nikaido muttered a disgruntled curse.
Tamamori shook his head. He wouldn’t have really minded, but he knew both well enough and while the forest was pitch dark, he‘d rather be on his own than listening to Senga being hungry and Nikaido wanting to go back to bed. He knew the paths to the training grounds by heart, anyway. “I have my phone; I’ll call you when I find him.”
Reluctantly Senga let go of him, retreating back to Nikaido, pulling his phone out to make sure it was working. Tamamori’s phone chirped and he rolled his eyes, taking a few strides towards the forest. “Later, Senga.”
Nikaido wrapped an arm around Senga as they watched Tamamori vanish into the dark. “Why’s he wearing that stupid red jacket?” Nikaido scoffed softly, waiting a few moments before tugging Senga away, wanting to get away from the forest as quickly as possible. “Everyone knows red shirts die.”
“Mou, Nika!”
The forest really wasn’t that big, just twisted and gnarly; the paths didn’t even run straight. Tamamori’s eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, but in the end, he had to pull out his flashlight, thumbing it on and lighting the path in front of him.
Tamamori liked the forest, in daytime. It was such a dense, living thing. He liked to think, when the sunlight gently filtered in through the foliage above, that he could hear the trees breathing, whispers on the wind as they had lazy conversations about sap and squirrels hiding their troves in their branches.
The dark was a completely different story. He could feel it pressing around him, and while it wasn’t scary, he found it unnerving, as if the small breezes were drawing the oxygen out of his lungs, leaving him tense and slightly breathless.
Inhale, one, two, three, seven, exhale, four, five, eight, ten.
He frowned, eyes fixed on the ground in front of his feet, trying to get it all back in the right order, but then he was in the twenties and negatives, and he gave up, his breathing settling back into a normal rhythm, though he still felt uneasy.
He had another twenty minutes before he got to the training ground, but he didn’t want to risk tripping over a root in the dark while trying to run there. “Idiot better have just dropped his phone,” he muttered quietly, the darkness swallowing his words.
“There’s another one,” Kitayama rasped in Miyata’s ear.
Miyata snuffled uncomfortably, glancing up at the ceiling. “I know, I can feel it.”
“Don’t mess up this time, Toshiya.”
Grimacing, Miyata lumbered to his feet, padding over to the cave entrance. “Why do I have to?”
Kitayama’s eyes burned on the back of his head. “You fucked up the last time. Get it done.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, nodding over his shoulder before leaping down the rock face, bounding into the forest below.
Kitayama watched him, eyes darkened with frustration. He would have gone himself, but Miyata needed to learn. He slunk over to the cave opening, feeling his side twinge painfully. The scars were still healing. “Damn you, Fujigaya,” he cursed under his breath.
Tamamori knew he wasn’t lost, but he was starting to feel disoriented in the endless dark of the forest. He could only make out the vague shapes of trees beyond the silver beam of his flashlight and everything looked the same. He was on the right path though, mumbling half curses at Yamamoto.
Inward he wound and deeper he went, everything smelling cool and mossy. He loved the forest in high summer when everything was alive. He liked to take walks and pretend the trees waved at him, and the birds would watch him, wondering if his hair would make a good nest. (It wouldn’t, he reasoned, but they wouldn’t know that about his recently dyed blond hair.)
He thought about it now, about what it’d be like to have birds nesting on his head. “Birds don’t poop in their own nests, mm, it wouldn’t be so bad…” He trailed off, not liking how the forest simply absorbed his words.
It made him feel just a little more alone.
Miyata bound through the forest, ducking and weaving amid low branches and boulders, inevitably drawn towards that distinctive scent.
Human. Young. Male. Ink. Shampoo. Cotton.
Unnerved, but not scared.
Alone.
Miyata paused for a moment, snuffling at the air. Funny that there was only one, he realized. There had been five in the last set and he’d never seen a single person try walking through the forest at night before.
He took off again, faster this time. One person wasn’t something to complain about. He’d do what he’d come for and Kitayama would maybe stop lashing out at him for botching the last run. (He knew that was a futile wish. Kitayama had been impossible to appease as of late.)
His paws thudded dully on the ground as he tore through the forest. So close, he could smell every breath the human took. Just a leap and a scramble over a giant oak that had fallen ages ago, he saw a flash of red, and -
Tamamori had paused in surprise, hearing something approaching him. The trees had been rustling, but this was solid and loud. He opened his mouth to call out but instead something huge came flying out of the dark, crashing into him.
Tamamori went down hard, his head cracking on a tangle of gnarled roots beneath him. There were angry red and white flashes dancing in his vision as his flashlight went out and then all was black and nothingness.
Iida gently approached Kitayama, nudging his side with his nose, blithely ignoring Kitayama’s growl. Unlike Miyata, Iida knew well enough how to read Kitayama, when to push and when to step away. “You know I could have gone the first time.”
Kitayama shrugged, still glowering. “He’s got to learn sometime.”
“It’s hard on him,” Iida reminded him. “He’s an infant compared to us and Yara’s good at hiding them.”
“It doesn’t change things,” Kitayama muttered, limping closer to the cave mouth.
“I think you’re just afraid of changing,” Iida said finally, slinking back to his own alcove. “You know things are different now.”
“We can’t let our guard down or we’ll be dead before sunrise,” Kitayama said flatly.
Iida snuffled in response, not wanting to say anything else. A fight would help nothing, it’d be better to wait for Miyata to return.
Miyata stared down at the limp form beneath him, feeling dismayed. He hadn’t meant to knock the boy out.
“… Shit,” he muttered, sitting back and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he felt half blinded, though his nose worked just as well as before. Tugging uncomfortably at the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing, he leaned over the human.
What was he to do now? He knew what he was supposed do to, but the boy was unconscious… Miyata would feel dirty, killing him so defenselessly. (A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that the five he’d tried to get earlier had been awake to fight back and he only almost gotten one of them, but he ignored that voice. He still had his own set of warped morals.)
Wincing at the thought of what Kitayama was going to do when he found out Miyata had failed again, he sat back, leaning against a tree and trying to think of what he could do. His thoughts wandered away from his predicament though, and settled on the cause.
Whoever he was, he was angelically pretty, with silky hair and perfect fingers and Miyata’s eyes just kept on moving back up and down, terribly curious.
He sat there, wondering what the other was doing so deep in the forest. He’d been intent on something, Miyata could remember smelling that, but surely the other would have known better… He smelled local, of course he would have. He smelled nice, Miyata couldn’t help but mentally add.
It was only fifteen minutes or so before the other stirred and Miyata scrambled to his feet, freezing in surprise. He was at a complete loss of what to do and was just standing there when the boy’s eyes fluttered open. A soft groan of pain and his eyes focused on Miyata.
“… Who are you?”
Miyata smiled weakly, feeling his heart do a little flippy-skip.
Kitayama was going to kill him.
Yamamoto’s breathing had steadied, but Yara was still cursing himself while Hayashi finished bandaging the other’s arm. Stupid. He’d gotten so careless. “How’re you feeling, Ryota?”
Yamamoto smiled wanly, but managed one all the same. “It’s… not so bad.”
“You sure we’ll be okay?” Eda muttered to Yara, shifting on his other side. “Shouldn’t we just leave?”
Yara shook his head, peering around at the rock shelf they’d taken refuge on. “No… it’s better to stay here until daylight.” It would be a long night and he was still kicking himself over it, but Yamamoto was resting his head against his shoulder and he did his best to relax, though it was difficult, there was the smell of blood everywhere.
Had Yamamoto been okay, he would have risked a run through the forest to safety, but he couldn’t, not when the boy was weak from shock and blood-loss, the rest of them shaken up as well. They’d make it through the night and once the sun was up, they’d get away from the forest.
It took Tamamori a few moments to realize that he was actually awake, blinking his eyes opened into the inky dark. Something moved and he tensed, instantly regretting it, his head swimming and his back protesting loudly.
“Who are you?” He croaked out. The fact that he was possibly in grave danger didn’t occur to him, so much as the concern that there was dirt in his hair and he might have torn his jeans.
“It’s… okay,” a small, sheepish voice told him and someone scooted closer to him. Dark hair was all he noticed at first; it took a few moments before he could sort his brain out enough to concentrate on much else. “You fell.”
“Oh,” was all Tamamori said. He slowly started sitting up, his head flaring up, but managed it. “You… fell on top of me.”
“Ahhh…” The other seemed to shift uncomfortably, though Tamamori couldn’t quite see well enough to read his face. “Sorry about that. I thought I had a better hold on the tree.” A hand reached out to stead him, strong and steady. Tamamori closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sort out his thoughts and wishing his skull would stop pounding if he could create some sort of order.
“What’re you doing in here, anyway?” he was asked and Tamamori had to think about it.
Nightfall. Yamamoto. The confusing text message. “I… needed to go check on one of my friends,” he mumbled, groping for his phone. “And you didn’t answer my question…”
“Oh!” And with his phone open, Tamamori could see the other’s face. Kind eyes and a large nose were the most noticeable things, though the tentative smile was right up there with them. “My name is Miyata… Miyata Toshiya.”
“Mm, I’m Tamamori Yuta,” Tamamori acknowledged and then fell silent.
“What’s your friend doing in here?” Miyata ventured when Tamamori’s eyes seemed to go glassy. Those eyes refocused on him, blinking for a moment.
“Training… Uhm. His team was doing overnight training here…” Tamamori nodded as gently as possible towards the trees. “At the old training grounds.”
Miyata seemed to freeze for a moment before chuckling nervously. “Ah… more of them out here at night… that’s no good.”
Tamamori shrugged, gripping the other’s shoulder and hauling himself to his feet. The pain was intense, but the chilly air served as a soother of sorts. “They’re crazy, I don’t know.”
Miyata was still steadying him. “Shouldn’t we get you out? You look like you’re pretty banged up.”
He was right, of course. There were scrapes and bruises everywhere, dirt and grass ground into Tamamori’s hair, and he really had ripped his jeans. Giving his pants a disapproving look, he slowly turned to Miyata. “I want to check on him,” he repeated and then his expression turned quizzical. “It’s not like you should be in here either.”
It was silly, being so concerned over the town’s traditions - more like, pointless superstition to Tamamori - but it was just something so automatic to Tamamori since childhood. You never went into the forest at night. Never.
There was a long pause and then Miyata fidgeted, smiling awkwardly. “It’s a long story?”
Tamamori turned his flashlight back on, turning back in the direction toward the training grounds. “Well, we have time.”
With a repressed sigh, Miyata followed along the trail to the training grounds.
Kitayama was going to murder him.
“They’re not here…” Tamamori said dully, staring around the training grounds. “Senga said they’d be here, where are they?”
He glanced at his companion, looking a little lost before wandering deeper into the training grounds. There wasn’t much to it, just a dirt clearing with large, almost flat rocks that had been there since forever, but Tamamori remembered how the soccer coach would bring them in during the summers for endurance games.
Just not at night.
He sighed, running his hand over a stone slab. It was late at night, he was tired and sore, and he was no closer to finding Yamamoto than he had been when he’d stepped into the forest. “Rock-san, where’s my friend?” he asked quietly. Yamamoto was out there, somewhere. He knew he was.
Miyata blinked at his back, slowly smiling. Tamamori wasn’t much of a talker, having remained silent though most of the walk. Rock-san… Miyata couldn’t help but find Tamamori’s mannerism rather cute.
Miyata was on edge though, having to step back into the clearing. Tamamori was oblivious to it, but the metallic scent of blood filled Miyata’s nose, making him twitch a little. If he tried hard enough, he could still taste it on his teeth. The other boy’s blood.
Tamamori sank down on the rock, fiddling with his flashlight and looking around. “We’ve played here since we were children… where would he go…” He closed his eyes, letting out a frustrated huff, cool air washing over him. He tilted his head back, the foliage being sparse enough that he could still see the sky. The moon had risen, soft light filtering down on them. It was almost a full moon, he noticed. “Gibbous,” he told himself.
“What?” Miyata asked, shuffling over to join him.
Tamamori nodded up to the sky. “It’s a gibbous moon. A waxing one.” He wasn’t even sure why he remembered what it was called, but he was soon distracted as he saw something reflecting light on the ground, near one of the other stone benches.
He walked over, leaning over slowly to pick the object up, Miyata trailing after him with a soft “What is it?”
“It’s his phone,” Tamamori replied after a moment, holding it up. It wasn’t in the greatest of conditions, the front was scuffed and the back had fallen off, revealing the battery. Flipping it open, Tamamori found that it was off and wasn’t about to turn back on, either.
Miyata leaned a little closer and Tamamori could have sworn he was sniffing it. “What are you doing?”
Twitching, Miyata pulled away, shaking his head. There was a flurry of emotion running around his face, but Tamamori couldn’t quite tell what it was. He seemed… perplexed, almost. “Nothing, just… wow, it’s a mess.”
Tamamori nodded, looking around as he pocketed the phone. The discovery had pushed the headache away for the time being, letting his determination return. “Well, Yama-chan was here.” He turned around in a circle, trying to decide where to go from there. There was only one path leading in and out of the training ground, but he had a feeling they were deeper into the heart of the forest.
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been deeper into the forest.
“It’s not… very safe, you know,” Miyata told him nervously. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Tamamori shrugged a little, veering off to his left and flashing his light at the trees. He was feeling reckless and he didn’t care. “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” is what he ended up saying aloud, stepping off the path and into the forest.
Miyata’s shoulders slumped as he quickly followed after him.
Senga snatched at his phone again and Nikaido rolled over with a groan. “Will you just go to sleep?” He complained, shoving a pillow over his face.
Senga gave him a reproachful look. “Tama-chan still hasn’t called or texted or anything and it’s been hours. You should be worried too.” With that, he was rolling out of bed, stuffing his feet into
Nikaido shrugged, still buried under the covers. “Probably he just forgot. For all we know, he and Yamamoto are happily painting each other’s nails like the happy little girl scouts they are.”
The pillow was yanked out of his grip and Nikaido found himself being dragged out of bed for the second time that night. “Ow, ow, ow! Th’fuck is your problem?” he grumbled, stuffing his shoes on as well. Senga ignored him as they headed outside, shuffling down empty, quiet streets. The town was sleeping and it gave Nikaido the creeps.
But nothing creeped him out quite as much as the forest did, which they were soon standing in front of. “Now what?”
“I don’t know,” Senga hadn’t thought that far ahead, just staring blankly at the forest, almost hoping that Tamamori would just appear if he thought about him hard enough.
But such was his luck, someone did appear. Just not from the intended direction and definitely not anyone he’d been hoping for.
“What are you guys doing out here?” A voice snapped from behind and they both whirled around with muffled squeaks of surprise. High school teacher Yokoo Wataru was standing directly behind them, glowering with varying levels of disapproval, arms folded across his narrow chest.
“Yokoo-sensei,” Senga blurted out, even as Nikaido hissed for him to stay quiet. “Tama-chan’s in the forest trying to find Yama-chan and they’ve been in there for forever!”
Nikaido clamped a hand over Senga’s mouth. “Shush, we’re all going to end up dead like this.” But there wasn’t much point in silence at that point.
“They’re what!?” Yokoo exploded, eyes flashing, and both shrank back in surprise. Yokoo was rather well known for a sharp tongue, but they’d never seen him look so livid, the outburst so sudden. “What the hell are they doing in there?”
Senga shuffled his feet, looking away. “Yara… Yara took his team in there for training… and Tamamori got this weird message from Yamamoto and was all worried, so he was going to go make sure he was okay…” He trailed off again, quelling under Yokoo’s eyes.
“Oh my god,” Yokoo breathed out, and this time there was more than just anger. Nikaido wouldn’t every say it aloud, but he could have sworn that he could hear fear threading through Yokoo’s voice as the man walked past them, towards the forest. “They’re all in there. Damn, damn, damn you Yara, you stupid idiot.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nikaido snapped before Senga could open his mouth, but Yokoo whipped around and he found himself shutting up again.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid, all of you,” Yokoo cursed, eyes ablaze. “Senga, how long have they been in there?”
“I don’t know…” Senga was bewildered, but tried his best to keep up with Yokoo. “I mean, Tama went in there around eleven… but the others have been in there for… I don’t know, I just remember them saying it’d be an overnight trip and stuff and Yara had them pack light.”
There was more cursing, but Nikaido was pretty sure they were out of the hot water from the way Yokoo started pacing, his phone appearing in his hand. Someone picked up and he didn’t even bother saying hello. “Fujigaya, get your ass down here now. No, I don’t care that I woke you up, you don’t even need sleep right now. We’ve got some kids in the forest because Yara apparently thought it was a great idea to go play survival with his new playtoys.” He paused for a moment, listening before snapping. “You can get here faster, idiot, they might still be alive.”
“No need to yell, Watta, I can hear you just fine,” a new voice smoothly broke in and Senga and Nikaido both shrieked in surprise as another man seemed to materialize out of nowhere, right behind them.
“What the hell, who is he!?” Nikaido howled as he yanked Senga away, trying to edge them both back into the town’s lighted area.
The new stranger was tall, pale, and impossibly handsome, with clever eyes that danced over their surroundings. Mostly the first thing they noticed was his hair, though. Soft curls with a fringe swept to the side, Senga automatically thought of Arabian nights with stallions running across the sand. The man turned his dark eyes to him and he felt a small shiver run down his spine, feeling Nikaido suck in his breath next to him.
“A snack, Wataru~? You shouldn’t have.” The man laughed and Senga’s knees went weak. He couldn’t decide if he was afraid or thrilled or maybe some twisted combination of both, but they were frozen on the spot as the man walked over to Yokoo, Nikaido’s arm wrapped iron firm around his waist.
“I didn’t, so don’t get any ideas, Fujigaya,” Yokoo replied before pointing to the forest. “Your mess, go clean it up.”
“I don’t see how this is my fault, Watta,” Fujigaya commented, but he smiled all the same, a sharp, disquieting smile that set Nikaido’s teeth on edge.
“Get going,” Yokoo ground out, giving the other a gentle shove into the forest.
Fujigaya gave them all a much more dazzling smile, blowing Senga and Nikaido a kiss. “Fine, fine, I’ll be back in a bit.”
With that, he turned and vanished into the forest. Nikaido and Senga just gaped after him and Nikaido couldn’t help but think that this Fujigaya had faded from sight far faster than he should have.
“Who was that?” Senga ventured after a moment, straightening up and trying to pry Nikaido’s death grip off his hip.
“Trouble,” Yokoo replied after a while, turning back to them. “But then again, you’re all trouble.” He said it gruffly, but without any real rancor. “You two should probably head back,” he added, patting Senga’s shoulder. “It might take a while.”
“I want to wait for Tama-chan,” Senga insisted, planting his feet firmly on the ground.
Yokoo smiled, but there was a grimness that - coupled with the conversation with the mysterious Fujigaya - left Nikaido feeling queasy.
Kitayama was enraged and Iida danced carefully behind him.
“Calm down,” Iida tried but Kitayama snarled, limping to the mouth of the cave again and letting out a howl of fury. It shook the air, rushing through Iida’s bones and he flinched.
“Fujigaya’s here,” Kitayama rasped, his eyes glowing amber; the color so intense that Iida knew it was futile to try and stop him. “Cocky bastard isn’t even trying to hide.”
“Kitayama...” But the other wasn’t listening, staring up at the moon.
“Stupid pup,” Kitayama growled, his eyes shutting for a moment, shifting uncomfortably. Clawing the worn t-shirt off, he carefully peered down at his side, hand gingerly sliding over the still-pink, barely healed scars.
Iida stepped over, sniffing at his wounds. “You know pushing yourself will just kill you faster… you need to just let it heal. I can go.”
“I don’t have time for that,” Kitayama growled, tugging his shirt back on and shifting again, paws hitting the ground. “And you’re too soft.”
Iida snuffled out a soft sigh, watching Kitayama leap out of cave, loping into the forest beyond. He could smell the shocks of pain and knew that Kitayama was stubborn enough to just ignore it as the wounds began to slowly tear apart.
“At this rate, Fujigaya will have beaten you weeks ago, you’ll be a walking corpse…” Iida groaned, too worried to sit behind, leaving the cave at a slightly more sedate pace.
“I thought you were going to tell me why you’re here,” Tamamori remarked and it was the first thing that had been said in ten minutes, causing Miyata to almost start.
“Oh right,” he laughed sheepishly. “I forgot.” He’d forgotten about a lot of things, to be perfectly honest. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to hurt this boy, that Kitayama was going to definitely hurt him for not doing so… he’d forgotten pretty much everything but the faint scent of shampoo in Tamamori’s hair and the way Tamamori’s fingers twitched when they brushed against a branch and the way Tamamori would randomly smile, though with Miyata’s current eyesight, he couldn’t see that too well. But even in low visibility, he thought it was a pretty fantastic smile. It made him smile just a little more.
“So?” Tamamori paused next to a young sapling, turning expectantly to Miyata. “Why are you?”
A small surge of panic and Miyata just stood, smiling stupidly at him. Why was he in the forest? It was his home, but that was a stupid reason, nobody lived in the forest. “It… clears my mind,” he mentally kicked himself as the words came out, but one sentence followed another, and he couldn’t quite get himself to stop. “You know, it was just a kind of bad day and I couldn’t sleep and my… err, well friend, he wasn’t having a good day either, so I decided maybe a walk would do us both some good.”
It wasn’t that far from the actual truth, he reflected as Tamamori slowly nodded, apparently deciding to accept the story. Kitayama had been having an awful life and Miyata had managed to lose the other humans… and the forest really did clear his mind, except Tamamori was muddling it right back up.
Tamamori was a few steps ahead of him, his thoughts full of his own thoughts. Yamamoto was still the priority, but he had to admit he was thinking a lot about Miyata, the stranger the forest had almost literally thrown at him. He was a strange guy who occasionally spouted odd things in the silence, but Tamamori didn’t mind as much as he thought he should have, considering the fact that he didn’t know if Miyata wasn’t one of those crazy people living on the edges of town. He’d never seen the other, he knew he would have remembered someone wandering around in bare feet.
He stumbled and Miyata’s hand was at his shoulder, keeping him from falling. The other blushed for a moment, retracting his hand once Tamamori was upright. “Sorry.”
Blinking, Tamamori shrugged. “It’s okay…”
He had questions for Miyata, lots of them. They weren’t even just interrogating questions, he just wanted to know more about this strange guy.
But, as he reminded himself as he carefully stepped over a fallen tree, Miyata right there in case he needed steadying again, Yamamoto was still out there and something just didn’t quite feel right with the forest.
The moment he felt it, Yara’s eyes flew open and he leapt to his feet with a surprised sound. The unfortunate Yamamoto had been sleeping on his shoulder and collapsed with a small whimper.
“Yara, what the hell,” Hayashi cursed, carefully scooping Yamamoto up. It had been a long couple of hours, the rock shelf was cold and uncomfortable and Yamamoto was holding up well, but they were all too unnerved to actually leave.
“Shh,” Yara hissed, eyes raking over their surroundings, glancing up at the rock face above them as well. “Taisuke,” he muttered, recognizing one of them in an instant and then blinked, perplexed. “Tamamori…?” Coupled with the last energy signature he would have expected. He tensed.
“Yaracchi?” Ryu popped up by his side. “What’s up?”
“They’re coming…” Yara muttered, fists clenching and unfurling out of reflex as he felt those two as well. “… We have to get moving. Quickly.”
“We can’t really do much running with Ryota like this,” Eda pointed out and Yara felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Taisuke, you could at least say hello before just doing that,” he turned, cuffing Fujigaya from where he’d appeared behind him. Hayashi’s eyes turned into saucers and Ryu started cursing colorfully in three different languages; Fujigaya smiled brightly.
“Took me a while to find you, you were hiding so well,” he told Yara, unrepentant as he looked around, regarding Yara’s team with amusement. “So these are the ones Wataru was telling me about…” His eyes rested on Yamamoto and his lips twitched. “Yaracchi, you broke one of your toys already?”
Yara’s hand shot out, dragging Fujigaya back by the collar of his jacket. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” he told the other sharply. He knew exactly how Fujigaya was feeling, having sat next to Yamamoto - and his bleeding arm - for far too long. Fujigaya was impulsive and Yara wasn’t going to trust him with that look in his eyes.
“Mm… Well, now that I’ve found you…” Fujigaya peered around. “There’s someone else out there and…” he froze, blinking. “What the hell?”
“I know,” Yara said dryly, edging the two of them away from his team. “I don’t get It, but Kitayama and Iida are on their way too, and there’s no way I can protect these guys if there are two of them. And don’t ask me about Tamamori, I don’t get it either. Miyata’s the one who found us and he nearly bit Ryota’s arm off.”
“Humans,” Fujigaya sighed. “I love them, but sometimes they’re not worth the trouble.”
“My team’s not dying just because you don’t want to deal with it,” Yara warned him, cuffing him lightly. Fujigaya turned, rolling his eyes, and he managed a smile. “Come on, they’re cute, you can’t blame me.”
“I’ll blame you if I want to,” Fujigaya laughed before sobering, eyes unfocusing to look farther into the forest. “Funny, that we’re still doing this after all these years. We should have just left with Gocchi when we had the chance.”
“You’re just here because you want to bother everyone,” Yara shook his head, grinning, though he wasn’t really concentrating on the conversation. He and Fujigaya could easily take on Kitayama and Iida, but there was also Miyata, wandering around with Tamamori, though who knew what was going on with that. He couldn’t leave his team, not with Yamamoto leaving a clear blood-scent trail as well.
“What do we do?” He asked quietly. “They’ll find us, now that you’re here. You suck at hiding your signature.” He glanced back at the forest and frowned again. “... They’re not looking for us,” he realized.
“Ah… this could be bad,” Fujigaya turned, smiling. “Keep on up here, ne, Yaracchi?” and before Yara could get out another word, Fujigaya was just gone.
There was a long stretch of silence and Yara slowly turned back to his team. Yamamoto looked at him through tired, but rather curious eyes, the sentiments echoed by the rest of his team.
“What,” Hayashi began finally. “Was that?”
“I didn’t think there were more of you,” Eda reproached, shifting to support Yamamoto as well.
“Yaracchi, tell us more~!” Ryu chirped.
Yara scowled, waving them all back under cover. “Idiots, you’ll get us all killed.”
Miyata was starting to greatly dislike Tamamori’s sense of direction. He was leading them in circles, as Miyata well knew, but he was also winding deeper into the heart of the forest, no matter how hard Miyata tried to guide them both to the edge. He couldn’t help it, he wanted Tamamori out of the forest.
“He has to be here somewhere, they wouldn’t have gone far,” Tamamori said with odd conviction and Miyata felt his stomach tighten uncomfortably as Tamamori reached out to touch one of the trees. His red jacket was nearly black in the gloom, but Miyata could still see it and he was thinking about the boy he’d bitten earlier.
He could also remember the firecracker that had knocked him head over tail and erased the trails after all of them. Yara, Kitayama had called him and Miyata didn’t really want to meet him again either. He just wanted to get Tamamori out safely, though who knew why he even cared.
“You sure you don’t want to wait until morning?” he asked, too persistent to truly give up on the other. Tamamori, in turn, was too stubborn to really listen.
“I want to keep looking.” Tamamori mumbled in reply. In retrospect, he supposed yelling out the other’s name would have been a better idea then wandering around the forest, but he hadn’t thought of that before, having plunged into the trees without a second thought.
He glanced around and everything seemed as dark as ever. What time was it anyway? He dug into his pocket for his phone, but right as he was pulling it out, his foot caught on a rather lumpy root.
“Ah!” he flailed, losing his balance.
He never properly hit the ground though, as warm arms caught him, yanking him back upright again as he came face to face with Miyata’s concerned eyes. (Tamamori could have sworn the other was blushing again. Or maybe he just wanted to think so, because his own cheeks were unusually warm and there was absolutely no reason for them to be that way.)
For a moment, he could have also sworn that he saw Miyata’s eyes glowing, but then Tamamori was flinching and burying his ears under his hands as a singularly painful howl rent the air, invading Tamamori’s skull.
The forest fell dead silent after the cry ended, but Miyata had gone pale.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath and grabbed Tamamori’s arm. “RUN!”
Mouth frozen in surprise, there wasn’t much for Tamamori to do to escape Miyata’s grasp as he stumbled through the forest. Miyata seemed to know where every rock and root was, guiding Tamamori around them at a break-neck pace.
Slow down! Tamamori wanted to tell him, but there wasn’t any air to breathe anymore and maybe it was just because of Miyata’s hand was so tight on his wrist, but it felt like electricity and fear were rushing through him, leaving his heart racing, body on fire.
They weren’t going to make it, Miyata already realized. He was fast, but Kitayama was already in a rage and there was nowhere to run and hide; just trees and empty spaces between. Tamamori couldn’t keep up with him either. Damn, damn, damn!
That Miyata tried to run was almost amusing to Kitayama. Almost, except he still planned on teaching the pup a lesson, too wound up over Fujigaya’s presence to really be rational about much else. And so he ran, ran to where they were.
There was a brief moment when they ran side by side and Miyata’s weak human eyes met his own. Kitayama snarled softly and jerked sideways.
Tamamori felt like a hurricane was crashing over them, because suddenly he was thrown through the air, tumbling head over heels as something slammed into Miyata. He was vaguely aware that they were back at the training grounds, but it was hard to concentrate on that when he finally looked up from the grass.
Wolves.
Giant, rough-furred wolves, with amber eyes glowing and hackles raised. Silver greys that faded into blacks, paws solidly planted and Tamamori felt his stomach twist at the size of their claws. One hovered just over Tamamori, a growl rumbling out, and Tamamori initially pressed himself into the ground, a gigantic tail thrumming through the air right above him.
A stockier wolf paced beyond, snarling softly, and Tamamori could see a third one hovering at the edge of the clearing. He also felt as if someone had flipped his emotional switch off, because all he could do was stare in silence, heart in his throat. Or maybe he was just afraid and too paralyzed to even act on it. “Toshiya, what do you think you’re doing?” The pacing wolf asked. Tamamori thought of thunder and fire, legs slowly curling up underneath him so he could sit up, scooting away a little.
The wolf standing before him spoke after a moment. “You can’t have him, Kitayama.” It was Miyata’s voice, but coarser, rumbling through Tamamori’s body as he tried to sort the situation out. But he was only human and his mind shut the train of thought down. Instead, he just sat and stared.
“You know better!” Kitayama snapped, teeth bared.
Miyata simply shifted, always keeping himself between Tamamori and Kitayama. “He didn’t do anything, Kitayama, that’s not fair.”
Oh, Tamamori realized dimly, Miyata was protecting him.
Kitayama snarled again and Tamamori watched in utter fixation as he leapt, barreling into Miyata. They rolled, thrashing paws narrowly missing braining Tamamori. He scrambled away, back pressing against cold stone as he watched the two tearing at each other, shrill whimpers and fierce snarls filling the night air.
Rip and bite and tear until one or the other gave. Kitayama’s side burned, but it was so easy to ignore in the rush of the moment.
It was an uneven match and Miyata knew it, but he hadn’t expected it to end so quickly, slammed onto his side with Kitayama’s jaw at his throat.
He went still, so very still, while Kitayama pinned him in place, teeth digging through thick fur, slowly cutting off Miyata’s oxygen supply. One rip was all it would take, Miyata knew, and then it’d be over. He couldn’t see Tamamori and it made him sad. He hadn’t ever wanted the other to get hurt. He feebly pawed at Kitayama and felt his jaw tighten.
Kitayama wasn’t even sure what he was going to do at that point. He could feel Iida’s tensed disappointment from the edge of the clearing, could feel the throbbing in his right back leg, could feel Tamamori’s dazed confusion… but most of all he could feel Miyata’s emotions and it made him dizzy.
Maybe Iida was right, he thought as he pressed a paw down on Miyata’s ribcage. Maybe it was unfair to coerce Miyata into things like this. He was such a kind-heart, so open and pacifistic from his previous way of life, he’d always struggled with their way of life.
His paw pressed down and he could feel Miyata convulse underneath him, struggling for air as Kitayama pressed against his ribs, jaw still clenched on his throat. It would be a split second, he knew, if he killed him. Or if he didn’t.
But it turned out that split second was decided for him.
He wasn’t sure what hit them first, the energy or the man himself, but the surge pulsed through him like an explosion and he found himself thrown off of Miyata, Fujigaya suddenly there, the air crackling around him.
Kitayama rolled, pulling himself to his feet with a bark of frustration as Fujigaya took a few steps towards him, almost smiling as he brushed himself off.
“Mitsu~♪” he cooed, the tone light and cheerful, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to come upon several unworldly looking wolves in the middle of a godforsaken forest at deep night. But then again… he wasn’t all that normal himself. His fangs were out, venom glistening there as he smiled. “Picking on the kiddies, are you really that bored?”
“There’s something in this forest that’s making me… crazy,” Tamamori muttered to himself, saying it aloud, except it was inaudible. It might have had something with the fact that there was a legitimate super-sized dog fight happening right in front of him or maybe because he’d been holding his breath since Kitayama had pinned Miyata down, his heart pounding and somewhere inside him, there was a voice shrieking no, no, no! His nerves were on fire, overloaded with adrenaline and a heavy dose of fear. Fear for Miyata, fear for himself, just… fear, running rampant through him.
It may have had to do with the fact that another someone who only could have come out of his imagination had appeared, only he still looked like a man. A very strange man, all the same.
It was like he was made of moonlight, the pale beams glimmering over his skin, lighting through his hair, the silky strands of which were moving as if with the wind, except there wasn’t even a single breeze in the dead night of the forest. He was smiling, terribly beautiful for an instant before he turned away from Tamamori, facing Kitayama and calling out. Tamamori watched, torn between looking at Miyata’s limp form and the stranger.
Fujigaya couldn’t help but laugh at how much fury was burning through Kitayama, it warmed into his chilled veins. It was one of those moments when he didn’t mind Kitayama’s influence on his soul-less state. He could hate him just as much right then.
He stepped closer and Kitayama crouched. Baring fangs at each other, Kitayama growled. “Stick your nose in someone else’s business, Fujigaya.”
“Aw,” Fujigaya sniped. “And here I thought you missed me.” He sniffed in disdain, smirking as the faint scent reached his nose. “Oh my, you’re still hurt from last time. My bad, my bad~♥” He was needling and they both knew it, but they also knew Kitayama wasn’t going to keep him waiting.
The wolf leapt and Fujigaya shot into the trees, jaws snapping at his heels as Kitayama roared after him. “Catch me if you can,” Fujigaya muttered under his breath, knowing he’d get caught and they’d carve their names on each other all over again. His fangs extended farther, his own claws extending as his eyes turned green and cat-like.
It wasn’t like he was going to deny how much he enjoyed their spats.
Yara sighed, running a hand through his hair as he felt out for Fujigaya. “Now isn’t the time for play,” he complained aloud and Yamamoto tried to muffle a giggle.
“What’s going on?” Ryu inquired, as blind as the rest of Yara’s team to the happenings of the forest beyond.
“Not a damn clue,” Yara huffed and then peered over the rock face. “… but whatever’s happening, we’re getting out of here. Dawn is coming.”
There were tired cheers as they all got to their feet. It took a while to get Yamamoto down off the shelf with his injured arm, but once he was down, he seemed able to keep himself upright, for the most part, Yara shouldering his pack as well as his own.
“You know what I just realized,” Yamamoto said, sadness threading through his voice. “I don’t have my phone… I must have lost it somewhere while we were running.”
Eda slipped an arm around his friend. “Never fear, Ryo-chan, I’ll get you a new one.”
“I think Yara should,” Hayashi laughed. “It’s his fault anyway.”
“I’d rather Yaracchi pay for my hospital bills,” Yamamoto murmured with a small smile.
“Such a troublesome little brother,” Yara told him with a smile, ruffling his hair. There was, however, plenty of apology in his eyes, but he could tell Yamamoto had already forgiven him, if he’d even wanted to blame him in the first place.
It took Miyata a ridiculously long time to realize that he could breathe easily again, his head still ringing from the fissures of energy that were Kitayama and Fujigaya.
Gingerly, he rolled, pulling his paws beneath him before shifting. His throat burned, the bruising already straining his neck and his sides ached dully, but he was in better shape than he’d expected.
He spotted Iida watching him from the edge of the clearing, smiling wryly and shrugging. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll take ages for them to finish,” the man told him, sounding almost cheerful before nodding to something behind Miyata. Turning, Miyata found Tamamori still huddled on the ground, pressed up against a boulder.
Tiredly straggling his way over, he knelt, hands resting on Tamamori’s knees. “I’m sorry…” he said after a moment, having no idea what else to say. “Are you okay?”
Tamamori stared at him for a moment and Miyata could feel his entire body trembling. “I… just…”
And with that, Tamamori fainted.
Miyata looked down at him in absolute misery and he could hear Iida laughing. “He took that so well.”
When Tamamori came to for the second time, he was being carried on someone’s back. He buried himself in whoever’s shoulder it was, wanting desperately to go back to sleep. His nerves felt absolutely fried and his muscles felt like they’d been liquefied in a blender, but once he awoke, he couldn’t quite get himself to fall asleep again.
“Aw, look,” an awfully familiar voice whispered loudly. “His eyes are open!”
“… Yamamoto Ryota, I am going to kill you,” he croaked, struggling to get his voice to work at all, sluggishly lifting his head to locate the speaker. Yamamoto looked terrible, his hair looking like a bleached haystack, his arm bandaged messily, bloodstains all over his shirt, but he was rather cheerful all the same.
“I’m sorry…” and Tamamori couldn’t really care if Yamamoto didn’t look quite sorry enough, it was good enough for him.
“You feeling okay?” another voice asked and Tamamori realized it was Miyata carrying him.
“… Not sure about that,” he mumbled, cheek resting on Miyata’s shoulder for a moment, eyes closing on Yamamoto’s yawn. “You’re... you’re a… “ he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to say it aloud, it sounded so ridiculous, even just in his head.
“Werewolf,” Miyata supplied helpfully and Tamamori groaned a little, inwardly. “Yeah, something like that.”
They lapsed into silence and Tamamori opened his eyes again, looking around. There was Yara, Yamamoto, the rest of their group, and a man that Tamamori couldn’t quite recognize. “Let me down, will you?” he mumbled.
Miyata paused and slowly let go of Tamamori’s legs, crouching to set him down. “You sure you can walk?”
Tamamori’s legs still felt rather gelatinous, but he took a few tentative steps and decided he could deal.
They walked side by side and Tamamori had so many questions burning on the tip of his tongue, trying to decide which one to ask first, sorting through them as they threaded their way out of the forest, trailing after the rest. In the end, it wasn’t a question he spoke. “Thank you for… protecting me,” he said finally.
“It was no problem,” Miyata smiled back at him, reaching out a hand to steady Tamamori, steering him away from a small sapling that seemed to come out of nowhere.
It was a smile Tamamori couldn’t help but return, reaching out to take Miyata’s hand once he pulled away. The questions were still there, needing to be asked. But, he decided as he rested his head on Miyata’s shoulder, they could wait until later.
Senga, Nikaido, and Yokoo were all waiting when the group finally straggled out of the forest. Senga’s eyes went wide and Nikaido did a double take. “Oh my god, what happened?” Senga gasped.
“What did you do!?” Nikaido demanded. “Fight a war?”
Tamamori couldn’t help but smile. They were all a mess, covered in dirt and blood and who knew what else. His jeans were still torn, his red jacket looked more like a rusty brown, and somewhere along the journey, Yamamoto had managed to bleed through the tourniquet on his arm. While they were probably the worst casualties, Tamamori had to admit that it felt like they’d been battling all night, with the forest.
“What’s going on, tell me!” Senga was still going on as Nikaido pointed at Miyata.
“Who the hell is he?”
Tamamori shrugged, turning to hide his face in Miyata’s shoulder. “It’s a long story.”
Once Yara and his group had been shipped off to take Yamamoto to the hospital, Tamamori sprawled out on the grass at the edge of the forest, Miyata, Nikaido, and Senga soon joining him. They watched as Yokoo and Iida (as Miyata had told them) conversed, trying to listen in, but not having much success.
“Kyon, really?” Yokoo threw his hands up in the air and Iida covered a smile with his hand. “I swear, this is ridiculous.”
“It’s not like it happens that often though?” Iida asked finally. “You know it’s been something like thirty years since Mitsu’s sunk his teeth in anything solid besides Fujigaya.”
“Who says he sinks his teeth anywhere?” Fujigaya asked mildly, draping an arm over Yokoo’s shoulders and receiving an elbow to the gut. “Hey, dammit, that hurt!”
The younger boys stared. Fujigaya didn’t much resemble the sleek, elegant person they’d seen hours before. He was covered in what Tamamori assumed to be blood, his hair matted and lank, and his eyes seemed to dull, bags underneath them.
“Idiot,” Yokoo told him, adding a knock over the head just for good measure. “You could be polite and actually walk around like a normal person. Where the hell is Kitayama?”
“Aren’t you going to ask if I’m okay?” Fujigaya pouted, adding “Mitsu fell asleep like, an hour ago.” He shrugged.
“Any messes I need to clean up?” Iida asked, looking rueful as Yokoo began to look over Fujigaya, trying to get him to take the jacket off, Fujigaya just as stubbornly refusing to.
“I’ll deal with it later, Watta, it’s not that - ow! - bad… fuck, get off me, you monster,” Fujigaya yowled. “I’ve got to go anyway!”
“I don’t even want to know what this is all about,” Nikaido decided after a moment but Senga shushed him, still waiting for Tamamori to explain everything.
Tamamori wasn’t really paying any attention to the others at all. His fingers were threaded with Miyata’s and they stared up at the sky, watching the sun rise, slowly chasing the fog away.
“I’ve never really seen it like this before,” Miyata admitted, squeezing Tamamori’s fingers. “I like it.”
Smiling, Tamamori closed his eyes, nodding. Questions could wait. Stories could wait. Hell, the world could wait. He just wanted to linger in that moment for a little longer, Miyata warm and strong against his side and the sun starting to warm on his face.
__________________________________________________
A/N: I really had intended it to be cuter/lighter, but I'm rather proud of the result. omoikkiri asked me while beta-ing if there was a point to the fic and I'm like 'PFFT, POINT? WHAT POINT?' ← Aside from Tamamiya having some sort of romance, this fic really is pointless. xD;; Meep. And really, go 9000 words. 8D
Pairings/Groups: M/T (main) with bits of 2/S thrown in. I feel that Ki/F need a mention here as an anti-pairing because they are assholes. =V= (Also features Yara and THEY Budou.)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild language, smidgen of blood/violence, … err, vampires and werewolves. (There is no death, minus that of a phone.)
Summary: You never go into the forest at night, everyone knows that. It’s dangerous, so all the oldtimers say. But when Tamamori gets a strange text from a friend and former classmate in the dead of night, he ventures in anyway. What he gets (aka, Miyata) is nothing like what he expected.
Notes: Written for snowqueenofhoth during the totally awesome kis_my_fic2 exchange. ♥ Somewhat inspired by Little Red Riding Hood (or the musical Into the Woods) but not… quite. T'is a bit on the odd side. And, as tottchupi so nicely summarized Fujigaya, ‘He just wants to be a snowflake’. Special thanks to my betas (omoikkiri and tottchupi) and the person who planted the idea in my head (hotfruits).
Senga bit his lip, peering out at the forest. “You sure…? You know it’s not safe to go in there after dark.”
Tamamori shrugged, blinking into the darkness. “It’s fine,” he muttered. Everyone knew they just said the forest was dangerous to keep dumb teenagers out and while Tamamori hadn’t quite turned twenty, he knew he had his head screwed (mostly) on right. “I’ve got my flashlight and the paths are clear.”
Nikaido was ten feet behind them, grumbling about how it was too cold to be out and why couldn’t they just be sleeping.
“Yeah,” Senga echoed, turning to Tamamori again. “Why’re you going in there again?”
Tamamori shrugged again, pulling his phone out of his jacket and showing Senga the message. It was from a friend and former classmate of his, though Senga knew him just as well. They had all gone to the same high school.
“Eh…?” Senga’s confused expression didn’t clear up as he peered at the glowing screen. “I don’t get what Yama-chan’s trying to say.”
Tamamori pocketed the phone. “Which is why I’m going to find out.” The message was pure gibberish, nothing but random symbols with no semblance of coherency. For Yamamoto Ryota, it didn’t seem like something too unusual, the boy wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the bunch, but something about it made Tamamori’s stomach twinge and he’d ended up rolling out of bed, dragging Senga and Nikaido with him to investigate.
(“But he’s in the forest doing training with Yara and the rest of his new team,” Senga had yawned and there they were, at the edge of the forest.)
Tamamori just stared into the darkness that was almost tangible - he wanted to reach out, part it down the middle, push it aside - and shrugged again, just to keep in rhythm. “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys later.”
Senga caught his arm. “We can go with you!” he insisted. From behind him, Nikaido muttered a disgruntled curse.
Tamamori shook his head. He wouldn’t have really minded, but he knew both well enough and while the forest was pitch dark, he‘d rather be on his own than listening to Senga being hungry and Nikaido wanting to go back to bed. He knew the paths to the training grounds by heart, anyway. “I have my phone; I’ll call you when I find him.”
Reluctantly Senga let go of him, retreating back to Nikaido, pulling his phone out to make sure it was working. Tamamori’s phone chirped and he rolled his eyes, taking a few strides towards the forest. “Later, Senga.”
Nikaido wrapped an arm around Senga as they watched Tamamori vanish into the dark. “Why’s he wearing that stupid red jacket?” Nikaido scoffed softly, waiting a few moments before tugging Senga away, wanting to get away from the forest as quickly as possible. “Everyone knows red shirts die.”
“Mou, Nika!”
The forest really wasn’t that big, just twisted and gnarly; the paths didn’t even run straight. Tamamori’s eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, but in the end, he had to pull out his flashlight, thumbing it on and lighting the path in front of him.
Tamamori liked the forest, in daytime. It was such a dense, living thing. He liked to think, when the sunlight gently filtered in through the foliage above, that he could hear the trees breathing, whispers on the wind as they had lazy conversations about sap and squirrels hiding their troves in their branches.
The dark was a completely different story. He could feel it pressing around him, and while it wasn’t scary, he found it unnerving, as if the small breezes were drawing the oxygen out of his lungs, leaving him tense and slightly breathless.
Inhale, one, two, three, seven, exhale, four, five, eight, ten.
He frowned, eyes fixed on the ground in front of his feet, trying to get it all back in the right order, but then he was in the twenties and negatives, and he gave up, his breathing settling back into a normal rhythm, though he still felt uneasy.
He had another twenty minutes before he got to the training ground, but he didn’t want to risk tripping over a root in the dark while trying to run there. “Idiot better have just dropped his phone,” he muttered quietly, the darkness swallowing his words.
“There’s another one,” Kitayama rasped in Miyata’s ear.
Miyata snuffled uncomfortably, glancing up at the ceiling. “I know, I can feel it.”
“Don’t mess up this time, Toshiya.”
Grimacing, Miyata lumbered to his feet, padding over to the cave entrance. “Why do I have to?”
Kitayama’s eyes burned on the back of his head. “You fucked up the last time. Get it done.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, nodding over his shoulder before leaping down the rock face, bounding into the forest below.
Kitayama watched him, eyes darkened with frustration. He would have gone himself, but Miyata needed to learn. He slunk over to the cave opening, feeling his side twinge painfully. The scars were still healing. “Damn you, Fujigaya,” he cursed under his breath.
Tamamori knew he wasn’t lost, but he was starting to feel disoriented in the endless dark of the forest. He could only make out the vague shapes of trees beyond the silver beam of his flashlight and everything looked the same. He was on the right path though, mumbling half curses at Yamamoto.
Inward he wound and deeper he went, everything smelling cool and mossy. He loved the forest in high summer when everything was alive. He liked to take walks and pretend the trees waved at him, and the birds would watch him, wondering if his hair would make a good nest. (It wouldn’t, he reasoned, but they wouldn’t know that about his recently dyed blond hair.)
He thought about it now, about what it’d be like to have birds nesting on his head. “Birds don’t poop in their own nests, mm, it wouldn’t be so bad…” He trailed off, not liking how the forest simply absorbed his words.
It made him feel just a little more alone.
Miyata bound through the forest, ducking and weaving amid low branches and boulders, inevitably drawn towards that distinctive scent.
Human. Young. Male. Ink. Shampoo. Cotton.
Unnerved, but not scared.
Alone.
Miyata paused for a moment, snuffling at the air. Funny that there was only one, he realized. There had been five in the last set and he’d never seen a single person try walking through the forest at night before.
He took off again, faster this time. One person wasn’t something to complain about. He’d do what he’d come for and Kitayama would maybe stop lashing out at him for botching the last run. (He knew that was a futile wish. Kitayama had been impossible to appease as of late.)
His paws thudded dully on the ground as he tore through the forest. So close, he could smell every breath the human took. Just a leap and a scramble over a giant oak that had fallen ages ago, he saw a flash of red, and -
Tamamori had paused in surprise, hearing something approaching him. The trees had been rustling, but this was solid and loud. He opened his mouth to call out but instead something huge came flying out of the dark, crashing into him.
Tamamori went down hard, his head cracking on a tangle of gnarled roots beneath him. There were angry red and white flashes dancing in his vision as his flashlight went out and then all was black and nothingness.
Iida gently approached Kitayama, nudging his side with his nose, blithely ignoring Kitayama’s growl. Unlike Miyata, Iida knew well enough how to read Kitayama, when to push and when to step away. “You know I could have gone the first time.”
Kitayama shrugged, still glowering. “He’s got to learn sometime.”
“It’s hard on him,” Iida reminded him. “He’s an infant compared to us and Yara’s good at hiding them.”
“It doesn’t change things,” Kitayama muttered, limping closer to the cave mouth.
“I think you’re just afraid of changing,” Iida said finally, slinking back to his own alcove. “You know things are different now.”
“We can’t let our guard down or we’ll be dead before sunrise,” Kitayama said flatly.
Iida snuffled in response, not wanting to say anything else. A fight would help nothing, it’d be better to wait for Miyata to return.
Miyata stared down at the limp form beneath him, feeling dismayed. He hadn’t meant to knock the boy out.
“… Shit,” he muttered, sitting back and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he felt half blinded, though his nose worked just as well as before. Tugging uncomfortably at the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing, he leaned over the human.
What was he to do now? He knew what he was supposed do to, but the boy was unconscious… Miyata would feel dirty, killing him so defenselessly. (A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that the five he’d tried to get earlier had been awake to fight back and he only almost gotten one of them, but he ignored that voice. He still had his own set of warped morals.)
Wincing at the thought of what Kitayama was going to do when he found out Miyata had failed again, he sat back, leaning against a tree and trying to think of what he could do. His thoughts wandered away from his predicament though, and settled on the cause.
Whoever he was, he was angelically pretty, with silky hair and perfect fingers and Miyata’s eyes just kept on moving back up and down, terribly curious.
He sat there, wondering what the other was doing so deep in the forest. He’d been intent on something, Miyata could remember smelling that, but surely the other would have known better… He smelled local, of course he would have. He smelled nice, Miyata couldn’t help but mentally add.
It was only fifteen minutes or so before the other stirred and Miyata scrambled to his feet, freezing in surprise. He was at a complete loss of what to do and was just standing there when the boy’s eyes fluttered open. A soft groan of pain and his eyes focused on Miyata.
“… Who are you?”
Miyata smiled weakly, feeling his heart do a little flippy-skip.
Kitayama was going to kill him.
Yamamoto’s breathing had steadied, but Yara was still cursing himself while Hayashi finished bandaging the other’s arm. Stupid. He’d gotten so careless. “How’re you feeling, Ryota?”
Yamamoto smiled wanly, but managed one all the same. “It’s… not so bad.”
“You sure we’ll be okay?” Eda muttered to Yara, shifting on his other side. “Shouldn’t we just leave?”
Yara shook his head, peering around at the rock shelf they’d taken refuge on. “No… it’s better to stay here until daylight.” It would be a long night and he was still kicking himself over it, but Yamamoto was resting his head against his shoulder and he did his best to relax, though it was difficult, there was the smell of blood everywhere.
Had Yamamoto been okay, he would have risked a run through the forest to safety, but he couldn’t, not when the boy was weak from shock and blood-loss, the rest of them shaken up as well. They’d make it through the night and once the sun was up, they’d get away from the forest.
It took Tamamori a few moments to realize that he was actually awake, blinking his eyes opened into the inky dark. Something moved and he tensed, instantly regretting it, his head swimming and his back protesting loudly.
“Who are you?” He croaked out. The fact that he was possibly in grave danger didn’t occur to him, so much as the concern that there was dirt in his hair and he might have torn his jeans.
“It’s… okay,” a small, sheepish voice told him and someone scooted closer to him. Dark hair was all he noticed at first; it took a few moments before he could sort his brain out enough to concentrate on much else. “You fell.”
“Oh,” was all Tamamori said. He slowly started sitting up, his head flaring up, but managed it. “You… fell on top of me.”
“Ahhh…” The other seemed to shift uncomfortably, though Tamamori couldn’t quite see well enough to read his face. “Sorry about that. I thought I had a better hold on the tree.” A hand reached out to stead him, strong and steady. Tamamori closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sort out his thoughts and wishing his skull would stop pounding if he could create some sort of order.
“What’re you doing in here, anyway?” he was asked and Tamamori had to think about it.
Nightfall. Yamamoto. The confusing text message. “I… needed to go check on one of my friends,” he mumbled, groping for his phone. “And you didn’t answer my question…”
“Oh!” And with his phone open, Tamamori could see the other’s face. Kind eyes and a large nose were the most noticeable things, though the tentative smile was right up there with them. “My name is Miyata… Miyata Toshiya.”
“Mm, I’m Tamamori Yuta,” Tamamori acknowledged and then fell silent.
“What’s your friend doing in here?” Miyata ventured when Tamamori’s eyes seemed to go glassy. Those eyes refocused on him, blinking for a moment.
“Training… Uhm. His team was doing overnight training here…” Tamamori nodded as gently as possible towards the trees. “At the old training grounds.”
Miyata seemed to freeze for a moment before chuckling nervously. “Ah… more of them out here at night… that’s no good.”
Tamamori shrugged, gripping the other’s shoulder and hauling himself to his feet. The pain was intense, but the chilly air served as a soother of sorts. “They’re crazy, I don’t know.”
Miyata was still steadying him. “Shouldn’t we get you out? You look like you’re pretty banged up.”
He was right, of course. There were scrapes and bruises everywhere, dirt and grass ground into Tamamori’s hair, and he really had ripped his jeans. Giving his pants a disapproving look, he slowly turned to Miyata. “I want to check on him,” he repeated and then his expression turned quizzical. “It’s not like you should be in here either.”
It was silly, being so concerned over the town’s traditions - more like, pointless superstition to Tamamori - but it was just something so automatic to Tamamori since childhood. You never went into the forest at night. Never.
There was a long pause and then Miyata fidgeted, smiling awkwardly. “It’s a long story?”
Tamamori turned his flashlight back on, turning back in the direction toward the training grounds. “Well, we have time.”
With a repressed sigh, Miyata followed along the trail to the training grounds.
Kitayama was going to murder him.
“They’re not here…” Tamamori said dully, staring around the training grounds. “Senga said they’d be here, where are they?”
He glanced at his companion, looking a little lost before wandering deeper into the training grounds. There wasn’t much to it, just a dirt clearing with large, almost flat rocks that had been there since forever, but Tamamori remembered how the soccer coach would bring them in during the summers for endurance games.
Just not at night.
He sighed, running his hand over a stone slab. It was late at night, he was tired and sore, and he was no closer to finding Yamamoto than he had been when he’d stepped into the forest. “Rock-san, where’s my friend?” he asked quietly. Yamamoto was out there, somewhere. He knew he was.
Miyata blinked at his back, slowly smiling. Tamamori wasn’t much of a talker, having remained silent though most of the walk. Rock-san… Miyata couldn’t help but find Tamamori’s mannerism rather cute.
Miyata was on edge though, having to step back into the clearing. Tamamori was oblivious to it, but the metallic scent of blood filled Miyata’s nose, making him twitch a little. If he tried hard enough, he could still taste it on his teeth. The other boy’s blood.
Tamamori sank down on the rock, fiddling with his flashlight and looking around. “We’ve played here since we were children… where would he go…” He closed his eyes, letting out a frustrated huff, cool air washing over him. He tilted his head back, the foliage being sparse enough that he could still see the sky. The moon had risen, soft light filtering down on them. It was almost a full moon, he noticed. “Gibbous,” he told himself.
“What?” Miyata asked, shuffling over to join him.
Tamamori nodded up to the sky. “It’s a gibbous moon. A waxing one.” He wasn’t even sure why he remembered what it was called, but he was soon distracted as he saw something reflecting light on the ground, near one of the other stone benches.
He walked over, leaning over slowly to pick the object up, Miyata trailing after him with a soft “What is it?”
“It’s his phone,” Tamamori replied after a moment, holding it up. It wasn’t in the greatest of conditions, the front was scuffed and the back had fallen off, revealing the battery. Flipping it open, Tamamori found that it was off and wasn’t about to turn back on, either.
Miyata leaned a little closer and Tamamori could have sworn he was sniffing it. “What are you doing?”
Twitching, Miyata pulled away, shaking his head. There was a flurry of emotion running around his face, but Tamamori couldn’t quite tell what it was. He seemed… perplexed, almost. “Nothing, just… wow, it’s a mess.”
Tamamori nodded, looking around as he pocketed the phone. The discovery had pushed the headache away for the time being, letting his determination return. “Well, Yama-chan was here.” He turned around in a circle, trying to decide where to go from there. There was only one path leading in and out of the training ground, but he had a feeling they were deeper into the heart of the forest.
He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been deeper into the forest.
“It’s not… very safe, you know,” Miyata told him nervously. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Tamamori shrugged a little, veering off to his left and flashing his light at the trees. He was feeling reckless and he didn’t care. “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” is what he ended up saying aloud, stepping off the path and into the forest.
Miyata’s shoulders slumped as he quickly followed after him.
Senga snatched at his phone again and Nikaido rolled over with a groan. “Will you just go to sleep?” He complained, shoving a pillow over his face.
Senga gave him a reproachful look. “Tama-chan still hasn’t called or texted or anything and it’s been hours. You should be worried too.” With that, he was rolling out of bed, stuffing his feet into
Nikaido shrugged, still buried under the covers. “Probably he just forgot. For all we know, he and Yamamoto are happily painting each other’s nails like the happy little girl scouts they are.”
The pillow was yanked out of his grip and Nikaido found himself being dragged out of bed for the second time that night. “Ow, ow, ow! Th’fuck is your problem?” he grumbled, stuffing his shoes on as well. Senga ignored him as they headed outside, shuffling down empty, quiet streets. The town was sleeping and it gave Nikaido the creeps.
But nothing creeped him out quite as much as the forest did, which they were soon standing in front of. “Now what?”
“I don’t know,” Senga hadn’t thought that far ahead, just staring blankly at the forest, almost hoping that Tamamori would just appear if he thought about him hard enough.
But such was his luck, someone did appear. Just not from the intended direction and definitely not anyone he’d been hoping for.
“What are you guys doing out here?” A voice snapped from behind and they both whirled around with muffled squeaks of surprise. High school teacher Yokoo Wataru was standing directly behind them, glowering with varying levels of disapproval, arms folded across his narrow chest.
“Yokoo-sensei,” Senga blurted out, even as Nikaido hissed for him to stay quiet. “Tama-chan’s in the forest trying to find Yama-chan and they’ve been in there for forever!”
Nikaido clamped a hand over Senga’s mouth. “Shush, we’re all going to end up dead like this.” But there wasn’t much point in silence at that point.
“They’re what!?” Yokoo exploded, eyes flashing, and both shrank back in surprise. Yokoo was rather well known for a sharp tongue, but they’d never seen him look so livid, the outburst so sudden. “What the hell are they doing in there?”
Senga shuffled his feet, looking away. “Yara… Yara took his team in there for training… and Tamamori got this weird message from Yamamoto and was all worried, so he was going to go make sure he was okay…” He trailed off again, quelling under Yokoo’s eyes.
“Oh my god,” Yokoo breathed out, and this time there was more than just anger. Nikaido wouldn’t every say it aloud, but he could have sworn that he could hear fear threading through Yokoo’s voice as the man walked past them, towards the forest. “They’re all in there. Damn, damn, damn you Yara, you stupid idiot.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nikaido snapped before Senga could open his mouth, but Yokoo whipped around and he found himself shutting up again.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid, all of you,” Yokoo cursed, eyes ablaze. “Senga, how long have they been in there?”
“I don’t know…” Senga was bewildered, but tried his best to keep up with Yokoo. “I mean, Tama went in there around eleven… but the others have been in there for… I don’t know, I just remember them saying it’d be an overnight trip and stuff and Yara had them pack light.”
There was more cursing, but Nikaido was pretty sure they were out of the hot water from the way Yokoo started pacing, his phone appearing in his hand. Someone picked up and he didn’t even bother saying hello. “Fujigaya, get your ass down here now. No, I don’t care that I woke you up, you don’t even need sleep right now. We’ve got some kids in the forest because Yara apparently thought it was a great idea to go play survival with his new playtoys.” He paused for a moment, listening before snapping. “You can get here faster, idiot, they might still be alive.”
“No need to yell, Watta, I can hear you just fine,” a new voice smoothly broke in and Senga and Nikaido both shrieked in surprise as another man seemed to materialize out of nowhere, right behind them.
“What the hell, who is he!?” Nikaido howled as he yanked Senga away, trying to edge them both back into the town’s lighted area.
The new stranger was tall, pale, and impossibly handsome, with clever eyes that danced over their surroundings. Mostly the first thing they noticed was his hair, though. Soft curls with a fringe swept to the side, Senga automatically thought of Arabian nights with stallions running across the sand. The man turned his dark eyes to him and he felt a small shiver run down his spine, feeling Nikaido suck in his breath next to him.
“A snack, Wataru~? You shouldn’t have.” The man laughed and Senga’s knees went weak. He couldn’t decide if he was afraid or thrilled or maybe some twisted combination of both, but they were frozen on the spot as the man walked over to Yokoo, Nikaido’s arm wrapped iron firm around his waist.
“I didn’t, so don’t get any ideas, Fujigaya,” Yokoo replied before pointing to the forest. “Your mess, go clean it up.”
“I don’t see how this is my fault, Watta,” Fujigaya commented, but he smiled all the same, a sharp, disquieting smile that set Nikaido’s teeth on edge.
“Get going,” Yokoo ground out, giving the other a gentle shove into the forest.
Fujigaya gave them all a much more dazzling smile, blowing Senga and Nikaido a kiss. “Fine, fine, I’ll be back in a bit.”
With that, he turned and vanished into the forest. Nikaido and Senga just gaped after him and Nikaido couldn’t help but think that this Fujigaya had faded from sight far faster than he should have.
“Who was that?” Senga ventured after a moment, straightening up and trying to pry Nikaido’s death grip off his hip.
“Trouble,” Yokoo replied after a while, turning back to them. “But then again, you’re all trouble.” He said it gruffly, but without any real rancor. “You two should probably head back,” he added, patting Senga’s shoulder. “It might take a while.”
“I want to wait for Tama-chan,” Senga insisted, planting his feet firmly on the ground.
Yokoo smiled, but there was a grimness that - coupled with the conversation with the mysterious Fujigaya - left Nikaido feeling queasy.
Kitayama was enraged and Iida danced carefully behind him.
“Calm down,” Iida tried but Kitayama snarled, limping to the mouth of the cave again and letting out a howl of fury. It shook the air, rushing through Iida’s bones and he flinched.
“Fujigaya’s here,” Kitayama rasped, his eyes glowing amber; the color so intense that Iida knew it was futile to try and stop him. “Cocky bastard isn’t even trying to hide.”
“Kitayama...” But the other wasn’t listening, staring up at the moon.
“Stupid pup,” Kitayama growled, his eyes shutting for a moment, shifting uncomfortably. Clawing the worn t-shirt off, he carefully peered down at his side, hand gingerly sliding over the still-pink, barely healed scars.
Iida stepped over, sniffing at his wounds. “You know pushing yourself will just kill you faster… you need to just let it heal. I can go.”
“I don’t have time for that,” Kitayama growled, tugging his shirt back on and shifting again, paws hitting the ground. “And you’re too soft.”
Iida snuffled out a soft sigh, watching Kitayama leap out of cave, loping into the forest beyond. He could smell the shocks of pain and knew that Kitayama was stubborn enough to just ignore it as the wounds began to slowly tear apart.
“At this rate, Fujigaya will have beaten you weeks ago, you’ll be a walking corpse…” Iida groaned, too worried to sit behind, leaving the cave at a slightly more sedate pace.
“I thought you were going to tell me why you’re here,” Tamamori remarked and it was the first thing that had been said in ten minutes, causing Miyata to almost start.
“Oh right,” he laughed sheepishly. “I forgot.” He’d forgotten about a lot of things, to be perfectly honest. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to hurt this boy, that Kitayama was going to definitely hurt him for not doing so… he’d forgotten pretty much everything but the faint scent of shampoo in Tamamori’s hair and the way Tamamori’s fingers twitched when they brushed against a branch and the way Tamamori would randomly smile, though with Miyata’s current eyesight, he couldn’t see that too well. But even in low visibility, he thought it was a pretty fantastic smile. It made him smile just a little more.
“So?” Tamamori paused next to a young sapling, turning expectantly to Miyata. “Why are you?”
A small surge of panic and Miyata just stood, smiling stupidly at him. Why was he in the forest? It was his home, but that was a stupid reason, nobody lived in the forest. “It… clears my mind,” he mentally kicked himself as the words came out, but one sentence followed another, and he couldn’t quite get himself to stop. “You know, it was just a kind of bad day and I couldn’t sleep and my… err, well friend, he wasn’t having a good day either, so I decided maybe a walk would do us both some good.”
It wasn’t that far from the actual truth, he reflected as Tamamori slowly nodded, apparently deciding to accept the story. Kitayama had been having an awful life and Miyata had managed to lose the other humans… and the forest really did clear his mind, except Tamamori was muddling it right back up.
Tamamori was a few steps ahead of him, his thoughts full of his own thoughts. Yamamoto was still the priority, but he had to admit he was thinking a lot about Miyata, the stranger the forest had almost literally thrown at him. He was a strange guy who occasionally spouted odd things in the silence, but Tamamori didn’t mind as much as he thought he should have, considering the fact that he didn’t know if Miyata wasn’t one of those crazy people living on the edges of town. He’d never seen the other, he knew he would have remembered someone wandering around in bare feet.
He stumbled and Miyata’s hand was at his shoulder, keeping him from falling. The other blushed for a moment, retracting his hand once Tamamori was upright. “Sorry.”
Blinking, Tamamori shrugged. “It’s okay…”
He had questions for Miyata, lots of them. They weren’t even just interrogating questions, he just wanted to know more about this strange guy.
But, as he reminded himself as he carefully stepped over a fallen tree, Miyata right there in case he needed steadying again, Yamamoto was still out there and something just didn’t quite feel right with the forest.
The moment he felt it, Yara’s eyes flew open and he leapt to his feet with a surprised sound. The unfortunate Yamamoto had been sleeping on his shoulder and collapsed with a small whimper.
“Yara, what the hell,” Hayashi cursed, carefully scooping Yamamoto up. It had been a long couple of hours, the rock shelf was cold and uncomfortable and Yamamoto was holding up well, but they were all too unnerved to actually leave.
“Shh,” Yara hissed, eyes raking over their surroundings, glancing up at the rock face above them as well. “Taisuke,” he muttered, recognizing one of them in an instant and then blinked, perplexed. “Tamamori…?” Coupled with the last energy signature he would have expected. He tensed.
“Yaracchi?” Ryu popped up by his side. “What’s up?”
“They’re coming…” Yara muttered, fists clenching and unfurling out of reflex as he felt those two as well. “… We have to get moving. Quickly.”
“We can’t really do much running with Ryota like this,” Eda pointed out and Yara felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Taisuke, you could at least say hello before just doing that,” he turned, cuffing Fujigaya from where he’d appeared behind him. Hayashi’s eyes turned into saucers and Ryu started cursing colorfully in three different languages; Fujigaya smiled brightly.
“Took me a while to find you, you were hiding so well,” he told Yara, unrepentant as he looked around, regarding Yara’s team with amusement. “So these are the ones Wataru was telling me about…” His eyes rested on Yamamoto and his lips twitched. “Yaracchi, you broke one of your toys already?”
Yara’s hand shot out, dragging Fujigaya back by the collar of his jacket. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” he told the other sharply. He knew exactly how Fujigaya was feeling, having sat next to Yamamoto - and his bleeding arm - for far too long. Fujigaya was impulsive and Yara wasn’t going to trust him with that look in his eyes.
“Mm… Well, now that I’ve found you…” Fujigaya peered around. “There’s someone else out there and…” he froze, blinking. “What the hell?”
“I know,” Yara said dryly, edging the two of them away from his team. “I don’t get It, but Kitayama and Iida are on their way too, and there’s no way I can protect these guys if there are two of them. And don’t ask me about Tamamori, I don’t get it either. Miyata’s the one who found us and he nearly bit Ryota’s arm off.”
“Humans,” Fujigaya sighed. “I love them, but sometimes they’re not worth the trouble.”
“My team’s not dying just because you don’t want to deal with it,” Yara warned him, cuffing him lightly. Fujigaya turned, rolling his eyes, and he managed a smile. “Come on, they’re cute, you can’t blame me.”
“I’ll blame you if I want to,” Fujigaya laughed before sobering, eyes unfocusing to look farther into the forest. “Funny, that we’re still doing this after all these years. We should have just left with Gocchi when we had the chance.”
“You’re just here because you want to bother everyone,” Yara shook his head, grinning, though he wasn’t really concentrating on the conversation. He and Fujigaya could easily take on Kitayama and Iida, but there was also Miyata, wandering around with Tamamori, though who knew what was going on with that. He couldn’t leave his team, not with Yamamoto leaving a clear blood-scent trail as well.
“What do we do?” He asked quietly. “They’ll find us, now that you’re here. You suck at hiding your signature.” He glanced back at the forest and frowned again. “... They’re not looking for us,” he realized.
“Ah… this could be bad,” Fujigaya turned, smiling. “Keep on up here, ne, Yaracchi?” and before Yara could get out another word, Fujigaya was just gone.
There was a long stretch of silence and Yara slowly turned back to his team. Yamamoto looked at him through tired, but rather curious eyes, the sentiments echoed by the rest of his team.
“What,” Hayashi began finally. “Was that?”
“I didn’t think there were more of you,” Eda reproached, shifting to support Yamamoto as well.
“Yaracchi, tell us more~!” Ryu chirped.
Yara scowled, waving them all back under cover. “Idiots, you’ll get us all killed.”
Miyata was starting to greatly dislike Tamamori’s sense of direction. He was leading them in circles, as Miyata well knew, but he was also winding deeper into the heart of the forest, no matter how hard Miyata tried to guide them both to the edge. He couldn’t help it, he wanted Tamamori out of the forest.
“He has to be here somewhere, they wouldn’t have gone far,” Tamamori said with odd conviction and Miyata felt his stomach tighten uncomfortably as Tamamori reached out to touch one of the trees. His red jacket was nearly black in the gloom, but Miyata could still see it and he was thinking about the boy he’d bitten earlier.
He could also remember the firecracker that had knocked him head over tail and erased the trails after all of them. Yara, Kitayama had called him and Miyata didn’t really want to meet him again either. He just wanted to get Tamamori out safely, though who knew why he even cared.
“You sure you don’t want to wait until morning?” he asked, too persistent to truly give up on the other. Tamamori, in turn, was too stubborn to really listen.
“I want to keep looking.” Tamamori mumbled in reply. In retrospect, he supposed yelling out the other’s name would have been a better idea then wandering around the forest, but he hadn’t thought of that before, having plunged into the trees without a second thought.
He glanced around and everything seemed as dark as ever. What time was it anyway? He dug into his pocket for his phone, but right as he was pulling it out, his foot caught on a rather lumpy root.
“Ah!” he flailed, losing his balance.
He never properly hit the ground though, as warm arms caught him, yanking him back upright again as he came face to face with Miyata’s concerned eyes. (Tamamori could have sworn the other was blushing again. Or maybe he just wanted to think so, because his own cheeks were unusually warm and there was absolutely no reason for them to be that way.)
For a moment, he could have also sworn that he saw Miyata’s eyes glowing, but then Tamamori was flinching and burying his ears under his hands as a singularly painful howl rent the air, invading Tamamori’s skull.
The forest fell dead silent after the cry ended, but Miyata had gone pale.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath and grabbed Tamamori’s arm. “RUN!”
Mouth frozen in surprise, there wasn’t much for Tamamori to do to escape Miyata’s grasp as he stumbled through the forest. Miyata seemed to know where every rock and root was, guiding Tamamori around them at a break-neck pace.
Slow down! Tamamori wanted to tell him, but there wasn’t any air to breathe anymore and maybe it was just because of Miyata’s hand was so tight on his wrist, but it felt like electricity and fear were rushing through him, leaving his heart racing, body on fire.
They weren’t going to make it, Miyata already realized. He was fast, but Kitayama was already in a rage and there was nowhere to run and hide; just trees and empty spaces between. Tamamori couldn’t keep up with him either. Damn, damn, damn!
That Miyata tried to run was almost amusing to Kitayama. Almost, except he still planned on teaching the pup a lesson, too wound up over Fujigaya’s presence to really be rational about much else. And so he ran, ran to where they were.
There was a brief moment when they ran side by side and Miyata’s weak human eyes met his own. Kitayama snarled softly and jerked sideways.
Tamamori felt like a hurricane was crashing over them, because suddenly he was thrown through the air, tumbling head over heels as something slammed into Miyata. He was vaguely aware that they were back at the training grounds, but it was hard to concentrate on that when he finally looked up from the grass.
Wolves.
Giant, rough-furred wolves, with amber eyes glowing and hackles raised. Silver greys that faded into blacks, paws solidly planted and Tamamori felt his stomach twist at the size of their claws. One hovered just over Tamamori, a growl rumbling out, and Tamamori initially pressed himself into the ground, a gigantic tail thrumming through the air right above him.
A stockier wolf paced beyond, snarling softly, and Tamamori could see a third one hovering at the edge of the clearing. He also felt as if someone had flipped his emotional switch off, because all he could do was stare in silence, heart in his throat. Or maybe he was just afraid and too paralyzed to even act on it. “Toshiya, what do you think you’re doing?” The pacing wolf asked. Tamamori thought of thunder and fire, legs slowly curling up underneath him so he could sit up, scooting away a little.
The wolf standing before him spoke after a moment. “You can’t have him, Kitayama.” It was Miyata’s voice, but coarser, rumbling through Tamamori’s body as he tried to sort the situation out. But he was only human and his mind shut the train of thought down. Instead, he just sat and stared.
“You know better!” Kitayama snapped, teeth bared.
Miyata simply shifted, always keeping himself between Tamamori and Kitayama. “He didn’t do anything, Kitayama, that’s not fair.”
Oh, Tamamori realized dimly, Miyata was protecting him.
Kitayama snarled again and Tamamori watched in utter fixation as he leapt, barreling into Miyata. They rolled, thrashing paws narrowly missing braining Tamamori. He scrambled away, back pressing against cold stone as he watched the two tearing at each other, shrill whimpers and fierce snarls filling the night air.
Rip and bite and tear until one or the other gave. Kitayama’s side burned, but it was so easy to ignore in the rush of the moment.
It was an uneven match and Miyata knew it, but he hadn’t expected it to end so quickly, slammed onto his side with Kitayama’s jaw at his throat.
He went still, so very still, while Kitayama pinned him in place, teeth digging through thick fur, slowly cutting off Miyata’s oxygen supply. One rip was all it would take, Miyata knew, and then it’d be over. He couldn’t see Tamamori and it made him sad. He hadn’t ever wanted the other to get hurt. He feebly pawed at Kitayama and felt his jaw tighten.
Kitayama wasn’t even sure what he was going to do at that point. He could feel Iida’s tensed disappointment from the edge of the clearing, could feel the throbbing in his right back leg, could feel Tamamori’s dazed confusion… but most of all he could feel Miyata’s emotions and it made him dizzy.
Maybe Iida was right, he thought as he pressed a paw down on Miyata’s ribcage. Maybe it was unfair to coerce Miyata into things like this. He was such a kind-heart, so open and pacifistic from his previous way of life, he’d always struggled with their way of life.
His paw pressed down and he could feel Miyata convulse underneath him, struggling for air as Kitayama pressed against his ribs, jaw still clenched on his throat. It would be a split second, he knew, if he killed him. Or if he didn’t.
But it turned out that split second was decided for him.
He wasn’t sure what hit them first, the energy or the man himself, but the surge pulsed through him like an explosion and he found himself thrown off of Miyata, Fujigaya suddenly there, the air crackling around him.
Kitayama rolled, pulling himself to his feet with a bark of frustration as Fujigaya took a few steps towards him, almost smiling as he brushed himself off.
“Mitsu~♪” he cooed, the tone light and cheerful, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world to come upon several unworldly looking wolves in the middle of a godforsaken forest at deep night. But then again… he wasn’t all that normal himself. His fangs were out, venom glistening there as he smiled. “Picking on the kiddies, are you really that bored?”
“There’s something in this forest that’s making me… crazy,” Tamamori muttered to himself, saying it aloud, except it was inaudible. It might have had something with the fact that there was a legitimate super-sized dog fight happening right in front of him or maybe because he’d been holding his breath since Kitayama had pinned Miyata down, his heart pounding and somewhere inside him, there was a voice shrieking no, no, no! His nerves were on fire, overloaded with adrenaline and a heavy dose of fear. Fear for Miyata, fear for himself, just… fear, running rampant through him.
It may have had to do with the fact that another someone who only could have come out of his imagination had appeared, only he still looked like a man. A very strange man, all the same.
It was like he was made of moonlight, the pale beams glimmering over his skin, lighting through his hair, the silky strands of which were moving as if with the wind, except there wasn’t even a single breeze in the dead night of the forest. He was smiling, terribly beautiful for an instant before he turned away from Tamamori, facing Kitayama and calling out. Tamamori watched, torn between looking at Miyata’s limp form and the stranger.
Fujigaya couldn’t help but laugh at how much fury was burning through Kitayama, it warmed into his chilled veins. It was one of those moments when he didn’t mind Kitayama’s influence on his soul-less state. He could hate him just as much right then.
He stepped closer and Kitayama crouched. Baring fangs at each other, Kitayama growled. “Stick your nose in someone else’s business, Fujigaya.”
“Aw,” Fujigaya sniped. “And here I thought you missed me.” He sniffed in disdain, smirking as the faint scent reached his nose. “Oh my, you’re still hurt from last time. My bad, my bad~♥” He was needling and they both knew it, but they also knew Kitayama wasn’t going to keep him waiting.
The wolf leapt and Fujigaya shot into the trees, jaws snapping at his heels as Kitayama roared after him. “Catch me if you can,” Fujigaya muttered under his breath, knowing he’d get caught and they’d carve their names on each other all over again. His fangs extended farther, his own claws extending as his eyes turned green and cat-like.
It wasn’t like he was going to deny how much he enjoyed their spats.
Yara sighed, running a hand through his hair as he felt out for Fujigaya. “Now isn’t the time for play,” he complained aloud and Yamamoto tried to muffle a giggle.
“What’s going on?” Ryu inquired, as blind as the rest of Yara’s team to the happenings of the forest beyond.
“Not a damn clue,” Yara huffed and then peered over the rock face. “… but whatever’s happening, we’re getting out of here. Dawn is coming.”
There were tired cheers as they all got to their feet. It took a while to get Yamamoto down off the shelf with his injured arm, but once he was down, he seemed able to keep himself upright, for the most part, Yara shouldering his pack as well as his own.
“You know what I just realized,” Yamamoto said, sadness threading through his voice. “I don’t have my phone… I must have lost it somewhere while we were running.”
Eda slipped an arm around his friend. “Never fear, Ryo-chan, I’ll get you a new one.”
“I think Yara should,” Hayashi laughed. “It’s his fault anyway.”
“I’d rather Yaracchi pay for my hospital bills,” Yamamoto murmured with a small smile.
“Such a troublesome little brother,” Yara told him with a smile, ruffling his hair. There was, however, plenty of apology in his eyes, but he could tell Yamamoto had already forgiven him, if he’d even wanted to blame him in the first place.
It took Miyata a ridiculously long time to realize that he could breathe easily again, his head still ringing from the fissures of energy that were Kitayama and Fujigaya.
Gingerly, he rolled, pulling his paws beneath him before shifting. His throat burned, the bruising already straining his neck and his sides ached dully, but he was in better shape than he’d expected.
He spotted Iida watching him from the edge of the clearing, smiling wryly and shrugging. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll take ages for them to finish,” the man told him, sounding almost cheerful before nodding to something behind Miyata. Turning, Miyata found Tamamori still huddled on the ground, pressed up against a boulder.
Tiredly straggling his way over, he knelt, hands resting on Tamamori’s knees. “I’m sorry…” he said after a moment, having no idea what else to say. “Are you okay?”
Tamamori stared at him for a moment and Miyata could feel his entire body trembling. “I… just…”
And with that, Tamamori fainted.
Miyata looked down at him in absolute misery and he could hear Iida laughing. “He took that so well.”
When Tamamori came to for the second time, he was being carried on someone’s back. He buried himself in whoever’s shoulder it was, wanting desperately to go back to sleep. His nerves felt absolutely fried and his muscles felt like they’d been liquefied in a blender, but once he awoke, he couldn’t quite get himself to fall asleep again.
“Aw, look,” an awfully familiar voice whispered loudly. “His eyes are open!”
“… Yamamoto Ryota, I am going to kill you,” he croaked, struggling to get his voice to work at all, sluggishly lifting his head to locate the speaker. Yamamoto looked terrible, his hair looking like a bleached haystack, his arm bandaged messily, bloodstains all over his shirt, but he was rather cheerful all the same.
“I’m sorry…” and Tamamori couldn’t really care if Yamamoto didn’t look quite sorry enough, it was good enough for him.
“You feeling okay?” another voice asked and Tamamori realized it was Miyata carrying him.
“… Not sure about that,” he mumbled, cheek resting on Miyata’s shoulder for a moment, eyes closing on Yamamoto’s yawn. “You’re... you’re a… “ he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to say it aloud, it sounded so ridiculous, even just in his head.
“Werewolf,” Miyata supplied helpfully and Tamamori groaned a little, inwardly. “Yeah, something like that.”
They lapsed into silence and Tamamori opened his eyes again, looking around. There was Yara, Yamamoto, the rest of their group, and a man that Tamamori couldn’t quite recognize. “Let me down, will you?” he mumbled.
Miyata paused and slowly let go of Tamamori’s legs, crouching to set him down. “You sure you can walk?”
Tamamori’s legs still felt rather gelatinous, but he took a few tentative steps and decided he could deal.
They walked side by side and Tamamori had so many questions burning on the tip of his tongue, trying to decide which one to ask first, sorting through them as they threaded their way out of the forest, trailing after the rest. In the end, it wasn’t a question he spoke. “Thank you for… protecting me,” he said finally.
“It was no problem,” Miyata smiled back at him, reaching out a hand to steady Tamamori, steering him away from a small sapling that seemed to come out of nowhere.
It was a smile Tamamori couldn’t help but return, reaching out to take Miyata’s hand once he pulled away. The questions were still there, needing to be asked. But, he decided as he rested his head on Miyata’s shoulder, they could wait until later.
Senga, Nikaido, and Yokoo were all waiting when the group finally straggled out of the forest. Senga’s eyes went wide and Nikaido did a double take. “Oh my god, what happened?” Senga gasped.
“What did you do!?” Nikaido demanded. “Fight a war?”
Tamamori couldn’t help but smile. They were all a mess, covered in dirt and blood and who knew what else. His jeans were still torn, his red jacket looked more like a rusty brown, and somewhere along the journey, Yamamoto had managed to bleed through the tourniquet on his arm. While they were probably the worst casualties, Tamamori had to admit that it felt like they’d been battling all night, with the forest.
“What’s going on, tell me!” Senga was still going on as Nikaido pointed at Miyata.
“Who the hell is he?”
Tamamori shrugged, turning to hide his face in Miyata’s shoulder. “It’s a long story.”
Once Yara and his group had been shipped off to take Yamamoto to the hospital, Tamamori sprawled out on the grass at the edge of the forest, Miyata, Nikaido, and Senga soon joining him. They watched as Yokoo and Iida (as Miyata had told them) conversed, trying to listen in, but not having much success.
“Kyon, really?” Yokoo threw his hands up in the air and Iida covered a smile with his hand. “I swear, this is ridiculous.”
“It’s not like it happens that often though?” Iida asked finally. “You know it’s been something like thirty years since Mitsu’s sunk his teeth in anything solid besides Fujigaya.”
“Who says he sinks his teeth anywhere?” Fujigaya asked mildly, draping an arm over Yokoo’s shoulders and receiving an elbow to the gut. “Hey, dammit, that hurt!”
The younger boys stared. Fujigaya didn’t much resemble the sleek, elegant person they’d seen hours before. He was covered in what Tamamori assumed to be blood, his hair matted and lank, and his eyes seemed to dull, bags underneath them.
“Idiot,” Yokoo told him, adding a knock over the head just for good measure. “You could be polite and actually walk around like a normal person. Where the hell is Kitayama?”
“Aren’t you going to ask if I’m okay?” Fujigaya pouted, adding “Mitsu fell asleep like, an hour ago.” He shrugged.
“Any messes I need to clean up?” Iida asked, looking rueful as Yokoo began to look over Fujigaya, trying to get him to take the jacket off, Fujigaya just as stubbornly refusing to.
“I’ll deal with it later, Watta, it’s not that - ow! - bad… fuck, get off me, you monster,” Fujigaya yowled. “I’ve got to go anyway!”
“I don’t even want to know what this is all about,” Nikaido decided after a moment but Senga shushed him, still waiting for Tamamori to explain everything.
Tamamori wasn’t really paying any attention to the others at all. His fingers were threaded with Miyata’s and they stared up at the sky, watching the sun rise, slowly chasing the fog away.
“I’ve never really seen it like this before,” Miyata admitted, squeezing Tamamori’s fingers. “I like it.”
Smiling, Tamamori closed his eyes, nodding. Questions could wait. Stories could wait. Hell, the world could wait. He just wanted to linger in that moment for a little longer, Miyata warm and strong against his side and the sun starting to warm on his face.
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A/N: I really had intended it to be cuter/lighter, but I'm rather proud of the result. omoikkiri asked me while beta-ing if there was a point to the fic and I'm like 'PFFT, POINT? WHAT POINT?' ← Aside from Tamamiya having some sort of romance, this fic really is pointless. xD;; Meep. And really, go 9000 words. 8D