Chain of Fics

"She sends the coat down to the laundry twice, and it cannot get clean enough."

Wed, 08 Oct 2008 04:07:14 GMT

Series (Characters): Ryoko's Case File (Ryoko, Izumida)
Wordcount: 224
Rating: PG

---

She sent the coat down to the laundry twice, and it couldn't get clean enough. Not that she-- Yakushiji Ryoko, Superintendent of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police-- particularly cared; the coat's cleanliness wasn't her objective. As usual, Izumida didn't seem to perceive where she was going with this.

"I want to see the look on our client's face when she finds out her father's murderer was a brass button," she said non-chalantly when he asked. The two of them were sitting in a cafe just across the street from the laundromat. "I also want to know why I have to deal with this case."

He began, "Wasn't there supposed to be a--"

"It's a conspiracy," Ryoko continued, her gaze boring holes through the window. One of her slender hands supported her head and at her elbow was a glass of cold coffee. "Where's the excitement and drama?" Izumida smiled knowingly, his face reflected on the table's dark surface.

"It's better this way."

"Of course it isn't." Her expression remained unchanged even as she watched a stranger leave the laundromat, noting their red coat's familiarity. "Just for that comment alone I'm making you pay for the bill." She pushed her credit card in his direction, and as he stood to walk to the register, she ordered: "Take your time." Her eyes never left the window.

---

Comment(s): Sorry, I utterly forgot to do this yesterday. It's my first time writing these two, and the result is ... so-so, IMO.

She has had enough of trying to live in the past.

Wed, 17 Sep 2008 23:32:30 GMT

Series: Bleach
Rating: PG for language
Word Count: 100, exactly (It's been years)

She has had enough of trying to live in the past. She wakes up every morning, dons that white haori, drills her shinigami into the ground, kills hollows, and goes to bed. The division doesn't complain—when it does, she kills the dissenters. There are worse ways to run a division. Kurotsuchi-taichou's, for example.

Soi Fong wakes up and notices, as she always does, that her haori still smells of Yoruichi. Fuck this, she thinks, experimentally, and the swearing in her head sounds like her. She sends the coat down to the laundry twice, and it cannot get clean enough.

"Somehow he couldn't hear the sound of himself crying."

Tue, 09 Sep 2008 01:18:38 GMT

Title: Nebulous
Series: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Movie 4
Character: Leonardo
Rating: G
Word Count: 558
Summary: After the dust settles, Leonardo finds himself reconsidering recent events.

Somehow he couldn't hear the sound of himself crying. What he could hear as he lay in his bed was the gasps that Raphael made as he backed away, the sound of the cars that were passing a few feet away, even the rain as it hit the concrete they stood on. Leonardo’s chest heaved as he struggled to find silence, but the sound followed him into his sleep.

His brother was once again across from him, upset in a way that showed even through the distance he had put between them. Leonardo can’t remember a time when Raphael had ever put so much space between them. Even when he was angry, especially when he was angry, he had always been right in Leonardo’s face. Always within arms length so that either could reach out and touch the other. Raphael was his exact opposite, the force that he had balanced himself against. That was before Leonardo had left.

The distance between them felt like an accusation and a warning. Leonardo was sure he knew what his brother wasn't saying.

You didn’t want to come back and now you don’t belong here anymore.

It wasn’t a surprise. From the moment Raphael had walked out of their Father’s presence he had done everything he could to act like Leonardo wasn’t even there. Leonardo just hadn’t been prepared to deal with the pain and guilt it caused. He felt so isolated and out of place already. Nothing had gone the way he had thought it would. His return hadn’t fixed anything, it only seemed to have made things worse. Anger had replaced his guilt and he had lashed out.

He’d wanted to get back to that place where everything made sense and his brother was right beside him again. But Raphael wasn’t really angry, just upset. At one time Leonardo would have been happy that his brother was reacting without that almost frightening anger that had dominated so much of Raphael’s life before his trip. At that time, though, it had just twisted the knife in his stomach harder.

I’m better than you.

In his sleep the memories played in slow motion. The words echoed through his head as he watched Raphael’s eyes widen for just a second as disbelief replaces the pain. Then his brother’s eyes narrowed as that once familiar rage took over. Raphael moved to attack. Somehow Leonardo was suddenly looking up at Raphael as his brother backed away. He watched as Raphael’s expression morphed into one of horror. As he turned away Leonardo could see the defeat and self-loathing in his eyes.

Leonardo opened his eyes suddenly as he sat up. His stomach protested and for a moment he could see nothing in the darkness. Slowly shapes took form in the light that shone beneath his door as a familiar sound reached his ears. Raphael was pounding on his punching bag. The sound drained the tension from his body. He let himself slump back down into his bed as weariness took over before he realized what he was doing.

A grim smile crossed Leonardo’s face. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the door. Leonardo was determined that they would not just fall back into the same old pattern. It was time to create a new routine. He has had enough of trying to live in the past.

"The background noises grew louder in the anticipatory silence."

Sun, 31 Aug 2008 03:54:06 GMT

Title: Unbroken Silence.
Author: zekkass.
Series: A Bit Of Fry And Laurie. It's an obscure British comedy show. Check it out!
Rating: PG, at most.
Word Count: 231. I swear I didn't plan that.
Characters: Control, Tony Murchison, Control number two.
Note: Crossposted to my lj and fryandorlaurie.

---

The background noises grew louder in the anticipatory silence. Telephones rang, car horns beeped, and Control waited for the other shoe to the drop.

Tony was speaking, and wasn't it odd because Control could hear the telephone ringing and the papers and forms of a busy organization at work rustling, and he couldn't hear was Tony was saying.

Then he focused and lost the world to Tony Murchison.

" - Control, please tell me what you think," Tony was saying, and Control wanted to close his eyes and re-straighten his tie and shake Tony until the world felt right again.

"I'm very sorry, Tony." He heard himself say, and wondered: what am I doing? "But we can't keep you employed if you're going to maintain a homosexual relationship."

- with my brother, who happens to look like me and who will tell me how you are in bed whether I want to hear it or not -

Control did not say that.

"I am very sorry, Tony. I will miss you."

And his hands shuffled the papers on the desk and made a note, and when he looked up again Tony was looking as if he were going to cry.

"I'll miss you terribly, Control." Tony murmured, and left.

Somehow, Control could hear the sounds of the phones ringing and him making a note ('terminate Tony Murchison's employment immediately') and somehow -

Somehow he couldn't hear the sound of himself crying.

---

"It wouldn't."

Sat, 24 May 2008 21:28:35 GMT

Title: Betting on the Shooting Range
Series (Characters): Legend of Galactic Heroes (Lapp, Attenborough)
Wordcount: 291
Rating: PG
Notes: Pre-main series.

"It wouldn't," said Lapp as he placed down a gun.

Attenborough casually picked it up and insisted, "It would,"

"Would not."

"Wanna bet?"

An erratic stream of zaps filled the background of their conversation. The pair were in the Free Planets Defence Force Academy's shooting range where green cadets were firing at targets. The guns they used were real only in weight; the laser beams fired were harmless.

He leveled the practise gun at someone else's target and slowly tightened the trigger. Zap! "Bullseye." They heard a dismayed cry from several stalls over even as the target disappeared into the ground. Attenborough bounced on his heels. "You see that?"

"So what the instructors said--"

"'You can only aim at the targets in your shooting booth's direct line of sight, or they won't respond to your gun',"

"--was false."

Attenborough handed the weapon back and pretended to search the cartridge box at their feet as an instructor walked by. The cartridges proclaimed themselves 're-chargeable' in bold print and caps. He, the underclassman, looked up with a grin and said, "You lost."

The grin faltered when he found himself eye-to-eye with the barrel. Then Lapp lifted and pointed it in the right direction.

Zap!

Another bullseye. He blew away the imaginary smoke and gave Attenborough a wink. "The first man to hit thirty of those without missing gets a free meal." Lapp was, of course, referring to their afterschool escapades where they broke curfew and romped around the city.

Yang-- their friend in Lapp's year-- usually came with them. "Does the loser have to pay for his, too?" A nod was the reply. Nonetheless, Attenborough smirked, ready to accept the challenge. "You're on."

Lapp left to find their referee, the one who would benefit no matter the outcome.

The background noises grew louder in the anticipatory silence.

Comment(s): This went from being about a hospitalized Jessica to a bet. ... ... I was also going to add something about budget constraints, but it didn't seem appropriate.

If only his mental strength had been stronger, even if just by a little bit.

Thu, 13 Dec 2007 09:33:56 GMT

Title: Trigger Therapy
Fandom: Gunsmith Cats
Characters: Rally Vincent, May Hopkins
Wordcount/Rating: 288 / PG
Summary: Rally works out some traumas with a 9 millimeter therapy plan.
Notes: SPOILERS for up to the end of volume 8 of the manga (“Mister V”), and the end of the Goldie arc. Also, um, hello. ^_^;; My apologies for the lack of beta; concrit would be very much appreciated.

If only his mental strength had been stronger, even if just by a little bit.

Rally raises her gun, lines up the sight, and empties the magazine. She pops it out and replaces it.

If only he hadn't trusted what she was saying. Hadn't he at least heard of Goldie's reputation? Couldn't he have told, just by looking at her, that she was dangerous?

Rally sights down the barrel and takes a deep breath. She holds it, waits, then exhales a stream of bullets. She reaches for a fresh magazine.

She said what he was afraid to hear. He was so damn scared of it, all he needed was for someone to confirm it, and then he believed it. He was afraid I would hate him. Damnit, Daddy, when did you become such a god-damned idiot?

The center of the target is all punched out, tattered lace at the edges of the bullseye, and Rally's still firing.

I love you, Daddy, jesus. You didn't have to do it alone. You never had to do it alone. I would’ve done anything for you. I did.

The hammer clicks down on the spent magazine.

Rally lowers her arms and pulls off her safety glasses. She eyes what’s left of the target, the silence ringing after so much shooting for so long. She has to clear her throat of tiny powder specks before she can speak. "Maybe-- if I at least liked women, right? Maybe then it would've been-- easier."

May sighs, the first sound she's made, and pushes herself off the back wall. She untangles Rally’s fingers from the gun and pulls it away, sliding the empty magazine out. She places the gun down carefully and mutters, "Nah. It wouldn’t."

He shuts his eyes and he listens and he tries not to think.

Tue, 04 Dec 2007 14:59:03 GMT

Sorry for being a little late. Wasn't at home today.

Title: Two Threads
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Character: Isumi
Wordcount/Rating: 479 words / G
Summary: As the last two games of the pro exam commence, Isumi waits.
Notes: Thanks to aiwritingfic and spicyasparagus for the beta. Reviews and concrit are appreciated and loved.

Two Threads

~~and um.. sub_divided? I need a tag for my author name. Thanks, and sorry for the bother.~~

It was nice to simply succumb to the inevitable, and worry about the hangover in the morning.

Mon, 26 Nov 2007 03:56:30 GMT

Title: The Young and the Brave
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Dumbledore, Grindelwald
Wordcount/Rating: 258 words / PG (only for the alcohol)
Summary: Albus and Gellert share a bottle, a cause, and a general way of doing things.
Author's Notes: A response to 31_days's prompt for September 2nd: [you illustrate the sun's true candor]. Er, not written for that challenge, or it'd be horribly late - just inspired by.

It was nice to simply succumb to the inevitable, and worry about the hangover in the morning. After all, Albus knew he wouldn't think very proudly of the evening's conversation if he were sober, and yet he also knew he'd enjoy it less if he couldn't match Gellert at the same level of drunkenness. He would never hear the end of it, taking advantage of a young fellow intellect crippled by firewhiskey. So he waited as his friend threw his head back and drank, heavily and proudly and without relent. Albus watched with awe and the vaguest twinge of disgust.

Gellert finished with a wicked grin, then passed the bottle by the neck to Albus. He took it and drank and felt a strange thrill about sharing one bottle.

"We're going to rule the world superbly, you and I," his friend said crisply, with absolutely no trace of a slur. An expert. "Over Muggles, over wizards, over everything."

"To fix everything, for the greater good," added Albus, but Gellert spoke over him, reaching again for the bottle.

"We'll be the greater good, if we aren't already," he declared, and smoothly passed back the bottle without a sip. Albus hesitated and glanced at the bottle with uncertainty, until Gellert leaned in and said with that pretty, boyish grin of his,

"The trick is to believe in you and me and move without fear."

Entranced, Albus took the bottle without breaking his gaze, and then he drank. He shut his eyes and he listened and he tried not to think.

"I can't even move my arms, you big dolt!"

Sun, 07 Oct 2007 23:25:53 GMT

Title: Short end of the Stick
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Characters: Ochi, Shindou
Wordcount/Rating: 584 words / G
Summary: It was Not Really A Good Idea, but even so it had sounded like a Really Cool One.
Author's Notes: Obata Takeshi's art can be the source of much humor and pain.

"I can't even move my arms, you big dolt!"

Ochi was not amused by the way Shindou was silently laughing at his expense. He just _knew_, when he heard of Shindou's wild plans for Akira's surprise birthday party, that this was Not Really A Good Idea, but even so it had sounded like a Really Cool One, so he'd (relunctantly) agreed, went with Isumi and the other insei to plot and shock Touya Akira, but really, this was too much.

Hikaru grinned, his fake eye patch slipping lower off his left eye. "You said you wanted to be the awesome pharaoh." He was giggling, giggling while sloshing the lace cuffs of his pirate outfit with his drink. Ochi was certain it came from those barrels of punch their gatecrasher insisted were not spiked.

"I was thinking of gold armlets, not a mummy outfit, idiot."

Shindou, his eyes glazed over, peered down at Ochi. When he spoke, Ochi could smell the alcohol from the punch. "But dead pharaohs are always turned to mummies," he said, singsong. He finally gave up teasing Ochi, and wandered over to Isumi and Waya and the sushi platters. And the punch, Ochi observed.

Even the adults were insane, he thought, as he eyed Ogata smirking at how his gifts were well received by the (mostly) underage group of insei and high school friends. The inn they were in was owned by the pro's friend, most likely because Ashiwara asked him for this favor and this was for their 'beloved Akira-kun' (Ochi still shuddered every time he recalled Ogata's smile when he'd said that). Their motley crew of costumes from the nearby specialty store, and Touya had definitely been shocked when he saw that their go study session was really just an excuse to party.

Shock would cover the quick shift of emotions on the other go pro's face from surprise, to outright panic, to the definite "Oh shit, they can't see me lose face in this type of situation!" that Ochi saw on Touya's face, especially when Ashiwara came forth with the birthday cake topped by sparklers. No doubt it was the first birthday party Touya celebrated outside of the house, and was it not for Ashiwara's and Shindou's eager urgings to blow the candles, Touya would have walked out in mortification.

At least Ochi was not alone at being sane tonight. Touya Akira, birthday celebrant and unwitting reason for this party, had avoided taking any serving of punch, and was now vainly refusing to wear the pirate costume. Nase and Akari were very insistent though, and Ochi supposed even the wiles of two slighly inebriated pretty girls would overwhelm their teetotaler. He sighed as Akari tied the black bandanna over Touya's hair, and Nase slipped the vest over the dreadful argyle shirt. And so it was down to him, Ochi Kousuke, the last bastion of sanity and sobriety in a room full of drunk people. People, who by the looks of it, were enjoying themselves a whole lot more than he was.

Ochi undid his arm wrappings and grabbed one of the glasses from the table, earning cheers from the other insei in the room. He closed his eyes and downed the drink in one shot.

Hey now, Ochi thought five minutes later, stumbling down as the alcohol rushed into his system. This wasn't too bad. Even better, everything now made sense in his drunken state. It was nice to simply succumb to the inevitable, and worry about the hangover in the morning.

admin - call for claims, clarification of crosspost

Sat, 15 Sep 2007 01:22:19 GMT

It's been more than a month since yukitsu posted the last drabble/shortfic to this community! So, like the good moderator I should have been the last time this happened, I am posting to please ask someone to claim the line "I CAN’T EVEN MOVE MY ARMS, YOU BIG DOLT!" (Capitalization opional.) The line should be claimed here, at the community entry.

Secondly. I think there may have been some confusion about how a line should be claimed when the fic in question is crossposted -- meaning, when it's posted to some other journal or community, with the post at chain_of_fics linking to the other place. There's nothing in the community rules against crossposting, and in fact members are welcome to do it, as long as the entry at chain_of_fics otherwise follows the RULES FOR POSTING laid out in the community profile. HOWEVER, so that there will not be any confusion about claims, I am going to lay out a few rules for crossposted entries:

1. Don't use fake livejournal cuts -- make it clear in story notes or in the link text that the fic in question resides at another journal or location.

2. Don't disable comments to the community entry.

3. In order to be valid, claims must be made to the community entry, and not to the other entry.

Does this seem fair? I don't want to be overly controlling, or anything, I just worry that would-be claimants will have trouble figuring out, with all the noise a personal or fic journal can get from regular readers, whether or not a fic has been claimed yet. Claims: here, comments: there is what has tended to happen naturally, anyway; I'm just formalizing it.

If no one has any objections, I'll update the community rules with a link to this post on Sunday.

P.S. Sorry for the quintuple post. ;_; I seem to be LJ-challenged today.

The smell of coffee, too-sweet and too-milky, reached his nose.

Wed, 08 Aug 2007 16:14:46 GMT

Title: Coffee Talk
Fandom: xxxHOLIC
Characters: Doumeki, Watanuki, Yuuko
Wordcount/Rating: 735 / G
Summary: Watanuki wakes up to butterflies and coffee.

> The smell of coffee, too-sweet and too-milky, reached his nose.

All he could see was the bright vista of his future, full of possibilities and colored as brilliantl

Wed, 01 Aug 2007 09:40:25 GMT

Title: Rude Awakening
Fandom: Genshiken
Characters: Madarame
Wordcount/Rating: 450+ words / G
Summary: Madarame starts seeing another side to his existence.
Author's Notes: Some things I think we all grapple with, to be honest. I had wanted to write more Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei (the line speaks so strongly of Fuura!) but then as I was washing dishes just now, Madarame from Genshiken popped into my head. And you know ... I wanted--nay, needed to write that.

( All he could see was the bright vista of his future, full of possibilities and colored as brilliantly as an artist's palette. )

As he stepped backwards into the embrace of progress and change and thin air....

Sun, 29 Jul 2007 23:07:54 GMT

Title: Choice
Author: aishuu
Fandom: Harry Potter
Wordcount: 420
Note: For chain_of_fics. The fic has Deathly Hallows spoilers.

As he stepped backwards into the embrace of progress and change and thin air and nothing-beneath-my-feet, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. There was still much to be done in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, but Dean Thomas was finished with business in the Wizarding World. He Apparated away without regret.

He appeared in an alley in London, tilting his head back and breathing in the scent of industrialized air – it smelled like freedom. He'd been on the run for nearly a year, unable to move without fear of being found by the Death Eaters and supporters of the Dark Lord. Now that they were defeated, he could didn't have to worry about the Snatchers or being persecuted just because he hadn't been born on the right side of the sheets.

But that didn't mean he wanted to go back to the Wizarding World anytime soon. There was existence beyond the magical realm, where a mundane Muggle existence could be both satisfying and fulfilling. He had always had a gift for drawing, and he wanted to explore that. Now that You-Know-Who - Voldemort - was gone, he was free to follow that dream.

Stepping out onto the street, his smile blossomed as he felt the warm spring sunlight on his face. He was grinning like a loon, and people were staring. He smiled back at them, meeting their eyes without hesitation, and some of the women pulled their children away. He spared a moment to feel a bit hurt before overhearing a comment about men running around in drag. Glancing down at his clothes, he winced as he realized he'd forgotten to change out his robes. And he probably looked a fright, still caked with the grime only a spectacular magical fight could wreck.

Blushing a bit, he made a mental note to add "finding Muggle clothes" to his to-do list – something to do after going home and having dinner with his family. Then he would spend three days just sleeping, before applying to a couple universities to read art history. And of course he'd need to get a subscription to The Quibbler, which would surely have some interesting stories about the Magical World's recovery.

He would owl his friends later and let them know he was okay, but for now he would be selfish. All he could see was the bright vista of his future, full of possibilities and colored as brilliantly as an artist's palette.

Between them they know just about everything there is to know, but they still don't know ...

Tue, 27 Feb 2007 17:45:02 GMT

Title: The Lost Dollmaker
Series: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Tezuka/Fuji
Rating: Gen
Warnings: Grief as a theme. (I couldn't help it, the last sentence made it so. I tried to make it not as painful as it might have otherwise been.)
Wordcount: 692
Summary: Fuji teaches dolls to grieve.

( Between them they know just about everything there is to know, but they still don't know how to grieve. )

...the first and also the last of the young wild dogs of war.

Thu, 22 Feb 2007 20:53:51 GMT

Series: Kiddy Grade
Rating: G
Word Count: 210
Note: I had to cut down the first line a bit, because it just doesn't work when you're writing about two female characters. This is totally late, by the way. >_> But it's something.

She is aware that the two of them are the first and also the last of the young wild dogs of war. For the moment.

Lumière, if asked, will, very calmly and elegantly, rattle off a list of the ways her fellow ES members went (went, not died, because ES members aren’t allowed to die. Eclipse doesn't need a quantum biology lab to bring them all back, but it helps). Tweedledee and Tweedledum died in a hail of plastic bullets, which neither of them could deflect. Cesario couldn't power Viola's ability forever. Sinistra and Dextera were shot down in orbit. A-ou and Un-ou disappeared—deserted—quietly when the Great Rebellion started and hadn't been seen since.

Éclair, if asked, will pummel walls in her ineffectual fury, because if there's one thing she's good at, it's ineffectual fury. And being indestructible, which doesn't help when her comrades are dying around her and she can't do anything about it. Just because she knows that they'll come back to life doesn't mean that it hurts any less.

Éclair and Lumière have been alive forever, which is, once you understand forever, a very short time; between them they know just about everything there is to know, but they still don't know how to grieve.

"We've a long way to go."

Thu, 14 Dec 2006 06:44:54 GMT

Title: Summer of intent
Series: FMA
Characters: Mustang, Hawkeye (set early in-series)
Rating: G
Word Count: 529

It is summer, her hair is still cut short, they are looking for a man named Elric.

They were rivals. He could get to like the sound of that.

Sun, 10 Dec 2006 01:43:54 GMT

Series: Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1300. -_- I fail, I'm sorry.
Note: Set some unspecified time after episode 72.

"Rivals."

The man paled. His hands tightened almost imperceptibly around the cap he held in front of him. "Your Excellency, I apologize, there's been a misunderstanding, I merely meant that any elections on Novi would naturally-"

"I like the sound of that," his Excellency cut in.

The man gave Reinhardt a startled look. In that instant he seemed torn between disbelief, hope, and terror, but in the end wariness won out and he returned his gaze to the paperweights decorating Reinhardt's massive wooden desk. He looked so unsure of himself that Hilde couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Reinhardt often had that effect on people. He'd even had that effect on her once, though she'd hidden it better.

Reinhardt gave a small, cool smile as if oblivious to the man's plight -- which, in all likelihood, he was. He tapped an elegant fingernail against burnished mahagony. "The Empire is stagnating," he explained. "The families in power have been there too long, are too complacent, their methods too heavy-handed. We need a system that will give those with ability the opportunity to rise to the top. This is why you were invited here."

The man nodded. Reinhardt continued to tap. Belatedly realizing that he was expected to make some reply, the man said, "Yes, Excellency."

Reinhardt waved a hand. "I've had all the 'yes, Excellency's I can stomach today. What I want is for you to tell me what you believe must be done in order for that to happen."

"Um," the man said. "I- I couldn't really say in a general sense, but in with regards to Novi, to our group, if we were given adequate time to prepare I'm sure something could be- that is, there are certain people who need to be informed, networks that need to be- that is, my fellow republicans and I-"

"If it is a question of time," Reinhardt said crisply, "You will have as much as you need. This is a preliminary meeting. Couldn't you tell me something else -- something more concrete?

"Well?"

"Yes, your - I mean, yes." The man cleared his throat. His gaze didn't rise from the paperweights. Hilde frowned. This wasn't going well at all. She'd meant for this to be a casual meeting, not an interrogation. The setting was all wrong -- the informality of Reinhardt's study, rather than put the man at ease, had only made him more nervous, as if he were determined not to be taken in by it. Making matters worse, the room was too small for the number of people who currently occupied it. Though Reinhardt had cut his staff to a half-dozen of his most valued officers, the atmosphere remained imposing, particularly as the officers were all dressed in uniform -- the only decent attire many owned.

The man, in contrast, wore patent leather shoes, heavily scuffed, and a neat but unfashionable suit that looked as if it had only recently been dragged from storage. The scent of mothballs hung faintly in the air, almost but not quite disguised by the man's lilac corsage and the expensive rose scent Reinhardt favored. He presented an image of honest respectability fallen on hard times.

Hilde found she could sympathize.

"Your Excellency," she said. "Your time is valuable. Perhaps Oberstein and I could discuss matters with this man privately?"

Reinhardt tapped at his desk -- a sign she knew meant that he was thinking, not that he was impatient. "Oberstein?"

"It would seem wise," Obserstein said neutrally. Reinhardt waited but Oberstein failed to elaborate.

"Very well," he said after a moment. "You have my permission."

The man turned nervously to leave, but Hilde stopped him with a friendly hand on one shoulder. He flinched. "I thought we could use this room," she said.

Reinhardt raised a single perfect eyebrow. "Are you asking me to vacate my own study?" he asked. In the background, someone coughed hastily, covering up laughter.

Hilde only smiled politely.

"...I see," Reinhardt said. "Fine, the room is yours. I expect a full report." He rose from his desk with a great deal of dignity and was preceded out of the door by his officers.

"Much better," Hilde announced when only she, Oberstein, and the man were left. She turned to him and smiled in what she hoped was a friendly way.

"Now then, Mr. Grier. Would you like to sit down?"

***

Outside, Reinhardt paced the hallway while those members of his staff with nowhere else to be looked on. Finally, he erupted. "I was supposed to have my study back hours ago!" he exclaimed. "Really, what could be taking them so long."

"These things take time," Mittermeyer said, though he looked as if he were wondering the same thing himself. Ruentahl, characteristically, said nothing.

"I don't see why this meeting was necessary in the first place. Not now. It is obvious that democracy must come and equally obvious that it cannot come today, with matters so unsettled. When Yang Wen Li's faction is caught and the war definitely won, there will be time for such things. What can be decided at this stage?"

"Hilde says it's a matter of trust," Mittermeyer said uncertainly. "You need to show that you don’t intend to remain Emperor forever, that you've begun to make arrangements."

Reinhardt snorted. "I don't believe in doing things merely for show. Rather than waste time on empty gestures, it's more important to focus on the problem at hand. Elections are tomorrow's problem."

"Well, these things can't be arranged overnight."

Reinhardt stopped to run a hand through his hair. "Now you're patronizing me. Of course I understand that the process won't happen overnight. Our people aren't used to democracy. Proclamations will need to be made, parities organized, leaflets printed, school curricula altered, teachers sent out, administrators, technicians. We’ll need an accurate census, full registration, volunteers to tally the votes, judges to arbitrate, investigators to prevent fraud, and the use of municipal centers on voting day. It's all a question of logistics, but we'll deal with that when the time comes."

Unexpectedly it was Ruentahl who disagreed. "This isn’t a military operation," he argued. "It's a civilian matter. You're going against five hundred years of history, you cannot command that the status quo be altered."

Reinhardt looked at him in amazement. "Why not?" he said.

"Why..."

At that moment the door opened and their guest walked out. He seemed much more at ease than he had previously, though he still had an air of suspicion about him. He was startled to find them in the hallway. Reinhardt nodded, civilly. Grier appeared to hesitate.

Finally he returned the gesture. "We're counting on you," he said, fiercely. "Don't let us down." He stared a challenge at the emperor of all known space.

"Of course," Reinhardt returned coolly. He waved, and the man was escorted away.

"That poor man," Hilde observed. Seeing that their attention had shifted to her, she dredged up a smile. "He needs time to gather the old opposition groups together and convince them it's safe to poke their heads above ground. He used to have the contact information, but he's forgotten it."

"Isn't that irresponsible? Is there someone else on Novi we should contact?" Mittermeyer worried.

Hilde shook her head. "No, he's responsible enough. Novi's ruling family was a bit repressive, that's all. Difficulty with names is endemic to men in his position. He'd forgotten mine halfway through the interview."

"Why would-"

Obserstein spoke flatly. "If he were to be caught, the police could do nothing to make him give away his companions." His face was as unreadable as ever. Some of the officers looked shocked (Ruentahl only smiled cynically), and silence fell over the hallway.

It was broken by Hilde. "Mr. Grier told me that any elections held in the next few months will most likely return the old nobility to power. They own controlling shares in industry and have connections to the police, the secret police, and organized crime."

"That's..."

Hilde's smile turned grim. Reinhardt smiled too -- cynical, but also determined.

"Yes. We’ve a long way to go."

At this moment, he was paying attention...

Wed, 29 Nov 2006 21:10:25 GMT

Title: The Moon as a Consolation Prize
Author: aishuu
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Wordcount: 400
Note: For chain_of_fics and for tarigwaemir for guessing correctly in blind_go. She asked for an encounter between Ochi and Yashiro.

At this moment, he was paying attention, but it was a difficult task.

Ochi tried to keep from showing any signs of nervousness or apprehension as he stared at Yashiro across the goban. He'd been waiting for this rematch for months, and it was hard to keep his mind from ranging forward ten, twenty moves. He needed to keep focused on what Yashiro would do next, not what he would do in yose. He vowed that this time, he would beat the Kansai pro.

Some of his peers had teased him for doing something so stupid as challenging Yashiro when he already had secured the right to play in the Hokuto Cup. For a little while, Ochi had wondered if he had made a mistake, but after much thought, he came to the conclusion he had been correct. He didn't want to be a member of the Hokuto Team if there was doubt about his right to be there. He wanted to be the best, indisputably so.

His grandfather has once told him to always shoot for the stars. "That way, even if you fall, you'll still have a chance to catch the moon," he had advised with a laugh.

So Ochi had fallen, but maybe what he got was even better. He had earned Yashiro's respect.

Even though they were in different institutes, it was inevitable they play each other again. When Yashiro had greeted him, he announced himself eager to play, promising that he'd gotten better and Ochi wouldn't catch him.

It was conversation that Ochi rarely shared with his competitors. Most of the time they walked into a match knowing he was a superior lower dan. This time there was a feeling of uncertainty, an excitement in taking the next step on the road to the Hand of God. Ochi could only think of one thing to call it.

Rivalry.

He and Yashiro would enter that maddening dance that Shindou and Touya had perfected, the endless chase to prove their own skill, or to keep that one vital step ahead. They would play each other for the next decade, next half-century, always knowing that the threat of being overtaken or left behind was imminent. Through each other, they would become more than either was alone.

They were rivals. He could get to like the sound of that.

What will be, will be.

Thu, 02 Nov 2006 10:17:42 GMT

Series: Nodame Cantabile
Rating: G
Word Count: 944 o_O;
Notes: Based on the drama, not the manga, despite the fact that I have only seen the first two episodes. I also don't know anything about music.

...feel free to beat me with sticks okay?

What will be, will be. Or at least, those were the words of their fearless conductor when normally-shy second-year violinist Tawaka Rie, bolstered by alcohol she was technically not old enough to be consuming, had given voice to what they'd all been thinking, and asked how was it that a group of players who hadn't been able to fit into any of the school's conventional orchestras was now expected to fit together in this one?

Actually, Streseman's exact words were, "What will be, will be, baby!"

***

A week later Rie paged through their newest practice piece looking for potential rough spots and noting tricky signature changes in pencil. She paid particular attention to unexpected shifts in mood -- her more inwardly focused neighbors wouldn't necessarily honor them -- and pragmatically ran through the a few of the more technically challenging fingerings.

Her approach would have been standard in any other orchestra. In this one, it was exceptional. At the end of the row, their first violinist stood beside his seat (his creative energies, he claimed, made sitting impossible) holding his instrument in one hand and sheet music in the other. From his closed expression and the way he was swaying back and forth, it was clear that he was hearing the music already: not in a mechanical way, but with his entire being. It was as if, merely by seeing the notes on the page, he had already begun the process that would transport him to a world of allegro and marcato and mezzo piano. Molto con brio -- again, with feeling.

***

Personally, she wasn't a great genius or a virtuoso. Her solo performances scored well -- "wonderful precision" was the usual assessment -- but at the same time she always lost two or three points for mysterious reasons. She got comments like "Not memorable" or "Lacking something..." Her favorite comment was from Chiaki's piano instructor, who noted that while beautiful, there was nothing in her performance to mark it as hers.

That was fine. Her strength as a violinist didn't lie in her solo work, but in her ability to adjust within a group -- to smooth out the sound, to provide continuity, to compensate for the excesses of others. Given a choice between first and second violin, she'd take second. She didn't care if no one realized why.

***

Had Stresemann had some kind of plan for their group when he'd created it? She couldn't be sure, but was leaning toward the "insanity" end of the genius/insane continuum. Who else but a madman would create an orchestra from all Type B personalities? Were they supposed to be held together by the stars, to rise and fall with Neptune? Their group lacked balance, all water and no earth. In a group with so many Pisces, an Aquarius like Streswmann was the last thing they needed; it took a Virgo like Chiaki kept them in the realm of the real.

In return they adored him. Nodame was their group's official pet but it was Chiaki they'd adopted, from the moment circumstances had conspired to bring him within reach. Whether he liked it or not he was theirs now, and even if his former acquaintances asked for him back, they wouldn't give him up easily.

Rie sometimes wondered whether the adoption was mutual. Chiaki had the power to change them, but did they have the power to change Chiaki? His time with them felt unreal. In the end it was impossible to imagine him, ten years in the future, as anything other than a world-class conductor. The year he was spending with them -- his senior year -- felt almost like a diversion.

***

Their first concert was an unexpected success, though there'd been no doubt in their own minds that they'd succeed.

Rie pushed through the crowd of students offering congratulations without difficulty, even with her violin. As the least flashy member of S Orchestra, she could be certain that none of them were looking for her. She was surprised when two underclassmen from the piano department stopped her, and assumed they were looking for someone else.

"Mine-kun is over there," she told them.

They looked at each other in confusion. "Who's Mine-kun?" the short one with glasses ventured.

"Our first violin...I'm sorry, I thought you were looking for him." She set her case down so she'd have a hand free to point out whoever it was they were really looking for.

"We're looking for Tawaka Rie," the taller one put in. "That's you?"

She was so surprised that it was a moment before she remembered to say "Yes."

"We wanted to congratulate you! Nodame told us you're the most important person in the orchestra."

Rie wasn't sure she'd heard right. "Nodame said that?"

Both girls nodded. "She said something about binding the sound together. It sort of went over out heads..."

Rie nodded absently. "Thank you," she said. She herself was looking over heads, to where Nodame was enthusiastically sketching something in the air for Stresemann while a few feet away, Chiaki glowered powerlessly, hemmed in by well-wishers. Suddenly she smiled. Whatever Nodame had said, she could only have heard from Chiaki.

However he might feel ten years in the future...now, at this moment, he was paying attention.

I specifically requested express delivery...

Thu, 26 Oct 2006 17:42:41 GMT

Title: Proverbs
Series: One Piece
Rating: G
Type: Drama
Word Count 430...
Notes: Spoilers for chapter 430...O_O

-When I said last night I really meant this afternoon...*Shhh* I'm posting from work...:D
-Once again I haven't written anything in quite some time, so comments are appreciated.

*I specifically requested express delivery* Nami scowled, glaring into the sky through her window. If she could have made the delivery bird appear through shear force of will, it would have popped into existence that very instant.

Recovering on Water 7 was a nerve racking task. With Luffy still asleep and the rest of the crew still in varying degrees of injury, having the paper, and hence the knowledge of the marines, was something Nami had focused on like Luffy eating a piece of meat.

So intent was she, Sanji’s soft footsteps didn’t even penetrate her concentration.

“Nami-san, is there anything I can get you?” Jumping a bit, Nami glanced over her shoulder, where a waiting Sanji seemed oddly subdued.

“No thanks Sanji-kun, I’m fine.” Nami turned back to the window.

“You should take a break, haven’t you ever heard that a watched pot never boils?” Sanji’s mouth twitched into a smile.

Nami lolled her head back and rolled her eyes. “And haven’t you ever heard of well begun is half done?”

“I can’t say that I have.” Sanji replied, smiling now, warming to their game.

A snort of laughter from behind caused them both to flinch.

Sanji scowled and opened his mouth to yell at the obnoxious swordsman but Zoro beat him to the punch.

“Colloquial sayings are all well and good, but you should both keep in mind when the going gets tough, the tough kill everything in site until all their enemies lay dead at there feet.”

Sanji began to make menacing gestures with his hands, while Zoro quirked an eyebrow at him in a mocking way.

Neither man was looking at her, so Nami smiled a soft smile. *If they’re both trying to cheer me up, it’s working, though marine headquarters will freeze over before I tell them.*

“I think,” Nami said loudly.” “That we should all contemplate the meaning of interrupting me when I’m busy. Sanji would you mind getting me something to drink? And Zoro, be a dear and go check on Luffy.”

There was a pause where they both kept on glaring at the other. “I said scat!” Nami yelled, causing both men to give her their best “angry eyes.” Though it didn’t stop Sanji from quickly changing his eyes to hearts and leaping gallantly away or Zoro from shuffling from the room muttering about demanding navigators.

Nami chuckled to herself and sat down in the chair by the window.

*Now I just have to remember, whatever happens, I have good friends and together we can accomplish anything. What will be, will be.*

"Now that I'm legal, I think I can participate in that experiment."

Mon, 25 Sep 2006 03:25:44 GMT

Title: Human Traffic Jam
Based on: Excel Saga
Rating: PG-13 for tasteless creepy adult humor.
Type: Humor; 200 words.

Excel Saga © Young King Hours / J. C. Staff / ADV Films.

"Now that I’m legal," Excel said, "I think I can participate in this experiment that Il-Palazzo-sama has begun!"

"Doesn't it seem a bit suspicious?" Hyatt asked. "I don't mean to question Il-Palazzo-sama's plans... but we're supposed to have our hair and nails done, to put on the most alluring clothes we have, and to wait outside our apartment until we're picked up by human traffickers summoned by Il-Palazzo-sama himself."

"Don't be silly, Ha-chan!" Excel said. "Il-Palazzo-sama obviously wants us to infiltrate the traffickers' networks, so that we can help him fight this despicable and corrupt practice! He certainly *isn't* simply selling us into slavery, just to be rid of us, and to raise some petty cash for ACROSS! Ha! Ha ha! Ha ha ha!..."

An uneasy silence fell over the room.

"I wonder," Hyatt finally said, "what kind of a sad strange man would resort to buying a woman for a sex slave."

Later that same evening, Il-Palazzo waited expectantly by a rarely-used ACROSS headquarters back door marked "For Deliveries Only."

He checked his watch. In his free hand, he held a lovingly hand-crafted heavy leather collar labeled "Hyatt."

Where *is* that delivery-man?, Il-Palazzo thought. I specifically requested express delivery.

She left him wiping mashed potato from his brow.

Wed, 06 Sep 2006 05:28:36 GMT

Title: We Don't Talk About This in Public
Series: Yakitate!! Japan
Word Count: 388
Rating: Is this officially yaoi? I mean, there's flirting. PG-13 for the heated looks.

She left him wiping mashed potato from his brow.

“That was rude,” Kuroyanagi said as he watched Azusagawa Yukino stomp out of the restaurant. An unappetizing chunk fell from his bangs, decorating his shirt with pieces of cabbage. “Not to mention sub-quality. Everybody knows genuine colcannon can only be made with Comber Spuds grown from the rolling emerald hills of Ireland.”

Shigeru was beaming at him when he turned back, making him squirm and cough. Instead, he glared at the mob of customers flocking the long buffet table. The air condition wasn’t keeping up with the flux of human bodies.

“We really need to stop running into Yukino whenever there’s moist food around, senpai. You always get so messy.”

He shrugged and contemplated the osso bucco before him. The reaction that this dish could illicit filled him with dread. He chose to sniff it instead. He wouldn’t want to risk his life, not if there weren’t cameras around.

“And I still don’t understand why you feel the need to evaluate the all-you-can-eat buffets in the Greater Tokyo Area. Becoming tired of gourmet cuisine, Mr. Famous Food Critic?”

“Good food isn’t created in laboratory-type conditions. A critic must be in tune with flavor trends of the common people. The palate is democratic no tyrannical. Also, satisfying flavors can come from the most suspicious concoctions.”

“You’re level of commitment is admirable, Kuroyanagi-san,” Shigeru murmured. And suddenly his grin turned mischievous. “You think we’ll come across a dish with aphrodisiac qualities like the tandoori chicken sub we had back in Harvard?”

“What?” Kuroyanagi spluttered.

“I remember your reaction then, you kept stripping off your clothes and scattering them around the--"

“Th-that’s a lie!”

“--campus and all you wore during lecture was a sweater. With no pants--"

“People are starting to hear you!”

“--and you kept giving me heated looks throughout midterm week.”

Kuroyanagi slumped under their table, his eyes darting around the room for any eavesdroppers. His blush contrasted nicely with the remnants of potato on his neck. “If that ever reaches the extortion circuit, I’ll know exactly where it came from and I’ll kill you.”

“I’d like to see that reaction a second time, I think,” Shigeru’s smile grew wider, unfurling like a souffle. “Now that I’m legal, I think I can participate in that experiment.

"She started it."

Sat, 19 Aug 2006 01:52:12 GMT

Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: G
Word Count: 286
Characters: Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Winry Rockbell
Notes: Agh, I'm very rusty on my FMA and ficwriting - it's a rough short scene set after their first homecoming as state alchemists.

"She started it!"

Winry brandished something sharp and metallic in his direction and his brother ducked; not, said her snide look, that he particularly needed to. "I started it? Who was the one talking about motor oil in the soup and grease on the bread?"

"Brother..." Al tried, uncertainly.

"I only said -- you threw a wrench at my head!"

"It missed," she pointed out, miffed, and any retort that Ed might have made fell unspoken, stifled by the ominous look she directed towards the spare clenched at her hip. "Not that it really matters, because even if it'd hit, it wouldn't have struck anything of any great importance!"

"Are you calling me short?"

"Midget!" Evidently deciding that invective was falling short, she snatched up the nearest plate and hurled it; scatters of tiny green pods mashed against his hair as he crouched against the wall. "Bean-sized!"

At the last, his head popped indignantly over the surface of the table. "I am not," he roared, just as a glob of potato descended.

There was a splat.

Crumbs hung in his hair, crusted thickly in his lashes as he blinked severely, and finally managed to bite out a sentence. "I don't see why you're even making something like this!"

"Brother," Al glanced at him dubiously, making an extremely good impression of pursed lips with a mouth that only clanked.

"For you," she said, "you tiny idiot! You spend forever away from home, never even write and you think we wouldn't be glad when you came back?"

"...Ah," said Ed, with the suave eloquence that had won him the hearts of creditors everywhere.

"Motor oil," Winry snapped in disgust. She left him wiping mashed potato from his brow.

I'm Lonely Too

Wed, 16 Aug 2006 18:08:02 GMT

Title: In the Crater
Based On: Final Fantasy VII
Warnings: Slight spoilers...but, honestly, if you people don't know by NOW that Aeris dies...*sigh*
Word Count: 473
Notes: Takes place during disc 3 of the game, when Avalanche is exploring the North Crater.

Oh, and by, the way, this is my first fic in this community. *waves* Hi! ^^ Now on to the story...

I'm lonely too. It's not like he's the only person in the world who feels this way! So what, he lost his 'darling Lucrecia'. So what! Cloud and Tifa lost their entire home town, their parents...everything. Barret lost his wife and his best friend. We all lost Aeris, and just a few short weeks ago, too! And me? Compared to all of their problems, mine seem insignificant. But I've lost people, too. Not just people, either, but an entire town. Yes, Wutai is still there, but it just isn't Wutai any more. In my eyes, Wutai died along with my mother, at the end of that silver-haired jerk's sword. And so did my childhood.

Pah. This creepy crater has me reminiscing. Brooding. I hate that. Maybe it's because the King of All Brooders, Vinnie Valentine, is just sitting there not a foot away from me, being all...all...angsty and stuff. Well, enough of that.

"Vinnie!" I shout, wincing a little as my voice echoes through the cave. He turns the glare of his red eyes at me, but is silent. "Get up and do something, you no good vampire!"

"I am doing something, Yuffie," he returns, enigmatically. I huff at him.

"No you're not! You're just sitting there like a big, pasty rock!" I exclaim. He just turns his eyes away, apparently surveying the surrounding cave for monsters.

Now, there are two things in the world that get the Great Ninja Yuffie, that's me by the way, really really angry. And being ignored is one of them.

"Vinnie!" I shout, louder than before. He continues to ignore me. For the record, I'm going to kill Cloud on the spot for making me go through this stupid crater alone with Vincent. He probably just wanted to get rid of me! Stupid chocobo-head!

"Vincent Valentine!" I try again, and he's still ignoring me. I'm pissed now. Fuming mad. Furious angry rage. "Oh, that's it!"

Once chocobo-head and the rest of his crew finally made it to the meeting spot, they were greeted with quite an unusual sight. I mean, it's not every day you get to see a spectacle like this. Imagine, if you will, a scrawny little fifteen-year-old ninja girl pinning down a tall, foreboding guy at least twice her size and age. With just her legs. Not to mention I was currently choking him.

I'd been so focused on choking the life out of the stupid pasty vampire that I was currently pinning to the ground that I never noticed them come in. So when Cloud cleared his throat, it was quite a shock.

"What's going on here?" he asked, trying valiantly to hide his amusement. All I could do was gape stupidly, like a fish out of water or something, so Vincent took it upon himself to answer for me.

"She started it."

"Good," he huffed and tried not to smile.

Tue, 01 Aug 2006 23:28:43 GMT

Series: Mainichi Seiten
Rating: G
Wordcount: ~~795~~ 1144. (Don't kill me!)

Mainichi Seiten is a BL series about four brothers who are all gay (but not for each other). It's great. This ficlet is not so great, but you shouldn't let that discourage you! The manga's take on emotional nuance is ten million times better than mine.

Since I ~~enjoy being understood~~ am nice:
Volume 1
Volume 2 - chapter 5
Volume 2 - chapter 6

"Good," Mayumi huffed and tried not to smile. "Nine o'clock, remember. I want to get an early start." Wanting to look imposing, he planted his feet shoulder-width apart and crossed his arms. He was fully aware that it wouldn't work -- he didn't take up more than half of the doorway, and he was wearing the pajama pants with the ice cream cones on them. Still, one had to start somewhere.

"The serious look don't suit you," Yuuta observed, tugging at the towel around his neck. He brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the lamp in the hallway. "Somethin' up?"

"It's an experiment," Mayumi said.

"Experiment in what?"

Nothing much, Mayumi thought. Breaking a habit. Being more genuine. Growing up -- hadn't Yuuta been the one to point out that his innocent kid act wouldn't work forever? But what he said was: "Testing whether or not you'd notice. Congratulations, you pass!"

Yuuta gave him an odd look. "Course I'm gonna notice, you smile all the damn time."

Mayumi smiled. "I'll probably be asleep when you get back," he said. "Don't wake me up, kay?"

"Gotcha," Yuuta said, picking up the plastic bag with soap and shampoo he'd set beside himself a minute ago. He turned to go. The hallway lamp cast their combined shadow halfway across the street, where it looked like one person with two heads. Like most of the streets in this neighborhood theirs was narrow, barely more than an alleyway. The small older houses that lined it were packed tight enough on either side that a conversation like the one they'd just had -- in the doorway, half in and half out -- wouldn't be private, no matter how late the hour.

In fact, there was Mrs. Yamato right now, shamelessly leaning out of her kitchen window to listen as Yuuta reached the bottom of the front steps and paused.

"Hey," he said, turning to look back at Mayumi. "Why d'ya want me to come, anyway? I mean I got nothin' better to do, but I doubt I'll be able to help."

Did he need a reason? Mayumi wondered. He was bored, and Yuuta was free. "That's not true, you're practically a member of the family!" he said.

Yuuta snorted. "I'll bet."

"Anyway, I'm turning in."

"'Night." They each stood at the doorway a moment, then Mayumi yawned and closed the door, and Yuuta shrugged and swaggered off toward the public baths, whistling a little.

***

Yuuta crashed on a park bench, dropping the shopping bags he'd been carrying all morning to fan himself with both hands. "Hot," he observed.

Mayumi moved the bags out of the way and sat next to him. The heat didn't seem to bother him. His shirt was buttoned all the way up and yet he wasn't sweating at all. Yuuta noted this sourly. Maybe on the way home he would make him carry everything.

"Wouldn't Osaka at this time of year be hotter?" Mayumi asked. He sat with his arms braced close to his body, kicking his legs out. From Yuuta's perspective this constituted unnecessary exertion on an overly hot day. He sprawled backwards, taking advantage of the shade. Behind them, a line of moderately-sized tree marked edge of a city park. The sidewalk in front of them was filled with casual shoppers and the occasional business lunch.

"Hot's hot. Growin' up with it don't make you immune."

"Eh? It doesn't?"

Yuuta rolled his eyes. Knock off the innocent act, he thought. You aren't fooling anyone. But it was too hot to quarrel, so he let it go. They sat watching the traffic together until Yuuta felt his brain cool down.

"...least we finished before three," he said finally. "That's the hottest parta the day."

"Yeah. Hey, after lunch, why don't we go somewhere cooler?"

"Like where?"

"Ehhh, Mayumi doesn't know. Anywhere." He said this carelessly, as if he really had no opinions on the subject at all.

"Museum's air-conditioned," Yuuta offered. "And don't cost nothin'." He watched the line of skin between Mayumi's collar and his haircut, where maybe - just maybe - a few beads of sweat had begun to form. Mayumi chose this moment to turn towards him, and Yuuta swiftly pulled his gaze up.

"Sounds good! Where do you want to eat?"

Distracted, he waved his arm in a random direction. "There," he said.

"Good choice!"

Something occurred to Yuuta. He hesitated for less than a second, wondering whether it was something he'd be better off leaving alone. Letting off wasn't his style, though.

"Mayumi," he said.

"Mmmm?"

"Why'd you really want me to come today?"

***

"I told you, it's because you're a member of the family," Mayumi said evasively. Hadn't he already answered this question?

"Bullshit," Yuuta said. "I don't know the first thing about your brother, an' even less 'bout pickin' appropriate birthday gifts."

"That's not true," Mayumi said, staring out across the street. He didn't mean it. It was just something to say. Yuuta probably noticed -- he was perceptive like that. "Anyway, think how much more it will mean, coming from both of us."

Yuuta snorted. "Akinobu an' I don't talk much," he said, blunt as ever. "I doubt it'll mean anything."

Mayumi weighed his options and decided to give it a try. Why not? He turned back and around in time to catch Yuuta staring again. Yawning, he laid his head on his arms on the back of the bench, mere inches from Yuuta who gave him an odd look but didn't move. "Maybe I wanted to spend time with you," Mayumi said, deliberately looking deep into Yuuta's eyes. Yuuta lifted his head from the back of the bench to stare back...

"Bullshit," he said. "I bet you're just lonely."

"Why would you say that?" Mayumi asked, wide-eyed and innocent. Inwardly he asked, how did you know?

"Just a hunch," Yuuta said, and lay back again, closing his eyes. His arms were spread across the bench and he looked very nonchalant.

This, Mayumi felt, was completely unfair.

"No fair!" he said. "You have to tell me."

"Don't have to tell you nothin." Yuuta cracked open an eye -- to watch him fume, Mayumi had no doubt. He switched to a pleading look. At first it didn't seem to have any effect, but then...

"Stands to reason, don't it?" Yuuta said. He brought up a hand to tick off points with his fingers. "Jou's been trainin' like crazy, Akinobu's buried in thesis junk, an' your favorite brother's been locked in an editor/writer deathmatch with Shuu all week. 'Course you're lonely." He let his arm fall back down.

Of course. Mayumi laughed and leaned back against the bench -- and, incidentally, Yuuta's arm. Yuuta shifted uneasily, but Mayumi found the new arrangement perfectly comfortable. "You're too perceptive," he said. "Next time I'll ask someone else."

Yuuta stopped trying to withdraw his arm. "Nah," he said. "It ain't like that."

"What's it like, then?"

"Well," Yuuta said, examining the sky through the branches above them.

I'm lonely too.

Chain of Fics

"She sends the coat down to the laundry twice, and it cannot get clean enough."

She has had enough of trying to live in the past.

"Somehow he couldn't hear the sound of himself crying."

"The background noises grew louder in the anticipatory silence."

"It wouldn't."

If only his mental strength had been stronger, even if just by a little bit.

He shuts his eyes and he listens and he tries not to think.

It was nice to simply succumb to the inevitable, and worry about the hangover in the morning.

"I can't even move my arms, you big dolt!"

admin - call for claims, clarification of crosspost

The smell of coffee, too-sweet and too-milky, reached his nose.

All he could see was the bright vista of his future, full of possibilities and colored as brilliantl

As he stepped backwards into the embrace of progress and change and thin air....

Between them they know just about everything there is to know, but they still don't know ...

...the first and also the last of the young wild dogs of war.

"We've a long way to go."

They were rivals. He could get to like the sound of that.

At this moment, he was paying attention...

What will be, will be.

*I specifically requested express delivery...*

"Now that I'm legal, I think I can participate in that experiment."

She left him wiping mashed potato from his brow.

"She started it."

I'm Lonely Too

"Good," he huffed and tried not to smile.

I specifically requested express delivery...