777xRhyme fic for bito_ishida 1/2
Yes, this took me a while. But hey...I has work. XD And anyways...when you write a two-shot, it's obviously longer than...a drabble? XD I am working on the other things I promised! Just...reeeeally slowly.
Anyways...on with the fic!
Title: So I Will Dance With Cinderella
Author: Soshite
Summary: AU In a world where a father can watch his daughter grow up as he remains the same, never to change, all he could do is dance with her. 777 and Rhyme, but not in the way you'd expect it.
Rated: T, mainly for 777's potty mouth.
Disimer:I do not own The World Ends With You/It's A Wonderful World, its storyline or its characters. They belong to Square-Enix. Random weird interpretations belong to me.
A/N: Hey, bito_ishida....bet you never saw THIS one coming.
So I Will Dance With Cinderella
Part 1 of 2
It wasn't too hard to figure out any connection between them, if one looked properly. He had Beat's immaturity all down pat; he was also ambitious and had great dreams like Rhyme. Moreover, he had the blond hair that both the Bito siblings' current parents lacked. But obvious genetics was besides the point (if one had to go strictly by genetics, then the real mother of Beat and Rhyme would have to be Mitsuki Konishi and anyone who was anyone would know that Konishi would rather suffer a hundred kidney stones than give birth to Daisukenojo Bito).
Hanako Bito, formerly known as Hanako Shichisebun common-law wife of Nanatsu Shichisebun, an indie rocker some decades back who never managed to make it big due to being stabbed to death by a fan onstage during a show only a few months after his second-born came into the world, had straight black hair and brown eyes common to all Japanese folk. Hirofumi Bito was likewise, his hair only a few shades lighter-just barely enough to be called dark brown, now sprinkled with some gray hairs due to the stress of working overtime to feed his family, pay off the mortgage, send his kids to school and having to deal with a suddenly driven Beat who wanted to put all of his time and efforts into becoming the world's best skate boarder. Much to the horror of both now well-to-do parents.
It also hadn't been hard to pry the truth out of his lips after catching him stalking the two blond siblings, as if he was on a mission, through the use of the UG. They couldn't see him, but he could spot them just fine. Well, mostly. He still had an adoring fanbase to please, music to play and gigs to get to, so he had to tune his frequency to that of the Real Ground rather frequently, which often led to him bumping into the once-Players at the club the band liked to play at and having the most awkward of silences befall them before running off somewhere in the opposite direction.
Tenho really thought that 777 was being a real pussy about it. Honestly. It wasn't as if Daisukenojo of all people would cut off his hand or something. Or was it 777 the one who was supposed to cut the kid's hand off? Either way, random sci-fi references aside, Tenho knew that the kids had to know somehow-or they would eventually find things out the hard way. The wrong way. Take it from a guy who killed himself over stress and parental problems. The way the blond vocalist was dicking around when it came to the touchy subject of his parenthood, it could lead to something bad if they found out in a way they shouldn't.
But that was the thing, wasn't it? That word. 'If''. Their world was defined by so many 'ifs', plagued by people who constantly second guessed themselves and couldn't live in the moment and moving on to a better future. Rhyme was the perfect example. Her fee had been her dreams and ambitions; lost and never to be given back again. But that was alright, because she could make new dreams and slowly build towards new goals. That was the great thing about being human. About being alive.
That's why they were dead. Because they couldn't let go and couldn't move on. They were too stuck on what once was, what could have been and what they wish to be.
The lives that Reapers live in the Real Ground could not really be called lives. Stay too long and people become suspiscious; look too much like your 'father' and folks look at you funny and wonder why you have your hair gelled exactly the same way as your old man and why you have a birthmark in the same place and so on and so forth. They were doomed to be stagnant, in a way, if they didn't figure out that there was room for change, a time to be different.
Tenho was happy the way things were for himself, honestly. Kind of hypocritical of him, but it had its purpose. Even that one annoying Reaper who just wouldn't stop quizzing people to let them past his walls. And right now the Support Reaper knew that he had to kick his friend's ass into gear. And he was going to do it tonight of all nights!
It was one of those rare days off; no musical gigs that required intense amounts of rehearsing and setting up and no Reaper's Game to make them chase after Players to keep their points up and their paused lives still going. 777 was brooding like some anti-hero, perched atop the roof of a building, staring down darkly at the oblivious crowd beneath him. The reaper wasn't normally one for brooding, but there he was, just sitting there, not saying a word and not moving. Like time had truly stopped as he had been turned into a statue, forever to stay in that one spot until rain and time slowly erroded his body into nothing, but dust.
Tenho was there with him, just minding his own business for the most part; he and 777 often got together and just hung out, talked for a while about this and that. Sometimes BJ would join them, but he usually had his own agenda when they all had time off. Night was starting to fall and they hadn't said anything all day-not one word. Tenho had promised himself that he would get their dear lead singer's butt into gear this very same night, but the silence had lasted so long that he felt he couldn't speak word to 777.
777 suddenly spoke up.
“She asked me to dance with her, the other day,” he said, breaking the silence at last. The blond reaper did not move from his spot where he had his legs over the side of the very tall building they were occupying. “She saw me; smiled at me and acted like we'd never met.”
A pause.
“I thought I was going to cry. Like, really cry, man.”
Tenho balked at the idea of 777 crying, but wisely kept his mouth shut and just let the guy pour his heart out, if that was what he wanted. After all, if Rhyme had approached her own father just like that and 777 actually stuck around long enough on the physical plane to talk to her, who was he to suddenly interrupt what would be seen by most as the perfect opportunity!
“She hadn't ask me to dance with her in years. Years, Ten',” the singer went on to say, now looking to the darkening sky instead of down below. The man turned to face his band mate and grinned widely. “She's got mad skills that kid-she's going to go far in life, yeah. She was only a little tyke, but man....I knew she had some talent the moment I took her hands and we just shuffled around, you know?”
Tenho didn't know, but he made a non-committal noise to urge 777 on. If this could reconcile father and daughter, at the very least, then he would dance the Macarena in a pair of rainbow Speedo underpants.
777 fell back onto the hard concrete of the roof, his long legs still dangling over the edge. He reached up into the sky, hands grasping for something that wasn't there...and would never be his anymore.
“Rai...I didn't get to hold you enough,” the blond said to no one in particular. “Dad's sorry he had to go away...but I guess I'm glad that you don't remember your old man. At least you won't be saddened...with memories of something you can't have again...”
Silence fell again between them and it wasn't the comfortable companiable kind, either. This silence was one of those big awkward ones where you know that if you said something wrong, you'd get one hell of a reaction and since 777 was much stronger than Tenho-he wasn't a Harrier for nothing-he would probably get his face pounded into the ground and then some. 777 had one of the most vicious tempers of all of the resident reapers of Shibuya.
“So, uh...” Tenho had no idea what to say. Damn, was this hard. He had been so gung-ho about telling 777 to get off of his emo ass and just go talk to his kids, dead man-to-teenagers, and just get his hang-ups during life over with. He had plenty of time to watch them grow up and to talk to them, approach them and since his own daughter had come to him, well... “...Are you going to dance with her?”
777 frowned.
“Fuck yes.” A larger frown marred the lead singer's normally smooth face and he growled. “She's met some guy and she wants to impress him for some stupid prom. No way am I letting my baby girl practice with him!”
And he stormed off. And Tenho sighed. And all was well in the small world of Shibuya. For now.
-----------------
Next chapter: 777 dances with Rhyme.
Anyways...on with the fic!
Title: So I Will Dance With Cinderella
Author: Soshite
Summary: AU In a world where a father can watch his daughter grow up as he remains the same, never to change, all he could do is dance with her. 777 and Rhyme, but not in the way you'd expect it.
Rated: T, mainly for 777's potty mouth.
Disimer:I do not own The World Ends With You/It's A Wonderful World, its storyline or its characters. They belong to Square-Enix. Random weird interpretations belong to me.
A/N: Hey, bito_ishida....bet you never saw THIS one coming.
So I Will Dance With Cinderella
Part 1 of 2
It wasn't too hard to figure out any connection between them, if one looked properly. He had Beat's immaturity all down pat; he was also ambitious and had great dreams like Rhyme. Moreover, he had the blond hair that both the Bito siblings' current parents lacked. But obvious genetics was besides the point (if one had to go strictly by genetics, then the real mother of Beat and Rhyme would have to be Mitsuki Konishi and anyone who was anyone would know that Konishi would rather suffer a hundred kidney stones than give birth to Daisukenojo Bito).
Hanako Bito, formerly known as Hanako Shichisebun common-law wife of Nanatsu Shichisebun, an indie rocker some decades back who never managed to make it big due to being stabbed to death by a fan onstage during a show only a few months after his second-born came into the world, had straight black hair and brown eyes common to all Japanese folk. Hirofumi Bito was likewise, his hair only a few shades lighter-just barely enough to be called dark brown, now sprinkled with some gray hairs due to the stress of working overtime to feed his family, pay off the mortgage, send his kids to school and having to deal with a suddenly driven Beat who wanted to put all of his time and efforts into becoming the world's best skate boarder. Much to the horror of both now well-to-do parents.
It also hadn't been hard to pry the truth out of his lips after catching him stalking the two blond siblings, as if he was on a mission, through the use of the UG. They couldn't see him, but he could spot them just fine. Well, mostly. He still had an adoring fanbase to please, music to play and gigs to get to, so he had to tune his frequency to that of the Real Ground rather frequently, which often led to him bumping into the once-Players at the club the band liked to play at and having the most awkward of silences befall them before running off somewhere in the opposite direction.
Tenho really thought that 777 was being a real pussy about it. Honestly. It wasn't as if Daisukenojo of all people would cut off his hand or something. Or was it 777 the one who was supposed to cut the kid's hand off? Either way, random sci-fi references aside, Tenho knew that the kids had to know somehow-or they would eventually find things out the hard way. The wrong way. Take it from a guy who killed himself over stress and parental problems. The way the blond vocalist was dicking around when it came to the touchy subject of his parenthood, it could lead to something bad if they found out in a way they shouldn't.
But that was the thing, wasn't it? That word. 'If''. Their world was defined by so many 'ifs', plagued by people who constantly second guessed themselves and couldn't live in the moment and moving on to a better future. Rhyme was the perfect example. Her fee had been her dreams and ambitions; lost and never to be given back again. But that was alright, because she could make new dreams and slowly build towards new goals. That was the great thing about being human. About being alive.
That's why they were dead. Because they couldn't let go and couldn't move on. They were too stuck on what once was, what could have been and what they wish to be.
The lives that Reapers live in the Real Ground could not really be called lives. Stay too long and people become suspiscious; look too much like your 'father' and folks look at you funny and wonder why you have your hair gelled exactly the same way as your old man and why you have a birthmark in the same place and so on and so forth. They were doomed to be stagnant, in a way, if they didn't figure out that there was room for change, a time to be different.
Tenho was happy the way things were for himself, honestly. Kind of hypocritical of him, but it had its purpose. Even that one annoying Reaper who just wouldn't stop quizzing people to let them past his walls. And right now the Support Reaper knew that he had to kick his friend's ass into gear. And he was going to do it tonight of all nights!
It was one of those rare days off; no musical gigs that required intense amounts of rehearsing and setting up and no Reaper's Game to make them chase after Players to keep their points up and their paused lives still going. 777 was brooding like some anti-hero, perched atop the roof of a building, staring down darkly at the oblivious crowd beneath him. The reaper wasn't normally one for brooding, but there he was, just sitting there, not saying a word and not moving. Like time had truly stopped as he had been turned into a statue, forever to stay in that one spot until rain and time slowly erroded his body into nothing, but dust.
Tenho was there with him, just minding his own business for the most part; he and 777 often got together and just hung out, talked for a while about this and that. Sometimes BJ would join them, but he usually had his own agenda when they all had time off. Night was starting to fall and they hadn't said anything all day-not one word. Tenho had promised himself that he would get their dear lead singer's butt into gear this very same night, but the silence had lasted so long that he felt he couldn't speak word to 777.
777 suddenly spoke up.
“She asked me to dance with her, the other day,” he said, breaking the silence at last. The blond reaper did not move from his spot where he had his legs over the side of the very tall building they were occupying. “She saw me; smiled at me and acted like we'd never met.”
A pause.
“I thought I was going to cry. Like, really cry, man.”
Tenho balked at the idea of 777 crying, but wisely kept his mouth shut and just let the guy pour his heart out, if that was what he wanted. After all, if Rhyme had approached her own father just like that and 777 actually stuck around long enough on the physical plane to talk to her, who was he to suddenly interrupt what would be seen by most as the perfect opportunity!
“She hadn't ask me to dance with her in years. Years, Ten',” the singer went on to say, now looking to the darkening sky instead of down below. The man turned to face his band mate and grinned widely. “She's got mad skills that kid-she's going to go far in life, yeah. She was only a little tyke, but man....I knew she had some talent the moment I took her hands and we just shuffled around, you know?”
Tenho didn't know, but he made a non-committal noise to urge 777 on. If this could reconcile father and daughter, at the very least, then he would dance the Macarena in a pair of rainbow Speedo underpants.
777 fell back onto the hard concrete of the roof, his long legs still dangling over the edge. He reached up into the sky, hands grasping for something that wasn't there...and would never be his anymore.
“Rai...I didn't get to hold you enough,” the blond said to no one in particular. “Dad's sorry he had to go away...but I guess I'm glad that you don't remember your old man. At least you won't be saddened...with memories of something you can't have again...”
Silence fell again between them and it wasn't the comfortable companiable kind, either. This silence was one of those big awkward ones where you know that if you said something wrong, you'd get one hell of a reaction and since 777 was much stronger than Tenho-he wasn't a Harrier for nothing-he would probably get his face pounded into the ground and then some. 777 had one of the most vicious tempers of all of the resident reapers of Shibuya.
“So, uh...” Tenho had no idea what to say. Damn, was this hard. He had been so gung-ho about telling 777 to get off of his emo ass and just go talk to his kids, dead man-to-teenagers, and just get his hang-ups during life over with. He had plenty of time to watch them grow up and to talk to them, approach them and since his own daughter had come to him, well... “...Are you going to dance with her?”
777 frowned.
“Fuck yes.” A larger frown marred the lead singer's normally smooth face and he growled. “She's met some guy and she wants to impress him for some stupid prom. No way am I letting my baby girl practice with him!”
And he stormed off. And Tenho sighed. And all was well in the small world of Shibuya. For now.
-----------------
Next chapter: 777 dances with Rhyme.