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[ oh no. oh no oh no oh no, this wasn't good. phos was never the brightest light bulb in the box, but this took on a whole new meaning to stupid, if they were even worthy of that title.

with their phone dead, no wallet in their pocket, and absolutely no sense of direction, phos was, without a doubt, totally and utter screwed. this should have been the least of their problems right now, stacked up high on their list of current anxieties that just left them exhausted and sluggish while, smooth, strangely striped prosthetic legs carried them down the block. it's bad enough that they were going uphill, wheezing a little from their lack of stamina. ]

This suuuucks...

[ hanging their head, phos plants their hands onto their knees, bending a bit to just breathe and ignore the strange glances being cast their way. yeah, yeah, i know i'm a freak... their face heats up a bit, not daring to look up at anyone. really, they should have gotten over it by now, but ever since their new upgrade, it was impossible to not have people stare. they were, what would phos call it... loud, maybe. stood out too much. ugly. all right, maybe not that last one, phos thought they were kinda cool up until they couldn't step outside without someone pointing at murmuring over them. painting them proved to be a really dumb idea, the material used wasn't made to have anything stick to it, resulting in a huge mess that earned them a scolding. why did they have to be two completely different shades? and like a candy cane?! phos wasn't impressed at the explanation given, but their elder sibling, lapis, thanked the doctors for them before carting their pathetic self out, while lapis' twin told phos to stop being so ungrateful.

lazuli. right. that's what got them in this mess in the first place. being at home with them was always so stressful, and today was no exception. what did they even say that had phos running out without remembering to bring anything but their phone with them? squinting at their feet, phos frowned into a pout, returning to an upright position before pushing teal hair out of their eyes. their memory's not... really so great, having a hard time recalling things from time to time.

oh well. all phos knows is that they're stuck outside for now, until they can find somewhere to charge their phone. unfortunately, they found themselves too shy to ask anyone at the shops they passed by, standing awkwardly in front of the door before turning tail to run. they remember the days when they'd be boisterous, confident, and straight-forward... what happened to that side of them? it's not as frustrating as it is disappointing, wishing a part of their old self would come back to them at the most important times― ]

OH! [ stopping right in their tracks, phos turns to one of the storefront windows, quickly shuffling on towards it before shoving their face and hands―which disturbs the glass loudly, oops, they need to be more careful―against it to stare at the fluffy figures they can see inside. they make a little uwah~ noise, feeling their mood lift instantly from what they can see, as it seems the little fellows were behind a cute, white gate surrounding what phos imagines is their playpen.

a rabbit cafe? huh. it turns phos back to the time when they tried to go into that cat cafe, a place their therapist told them they should try. not only would it help them get used to their arms―also prosthetic, also made of odd material―but it could potentially lift their spirits, even just a little. they took a liking to one of the workers there, armin, who was similar to phos in their desire to dress on the feminine side despite their given sex. so kind, so gentle, so generous... phos thought they found a place where they might belong. up until they tried to hold one of the cats, where their arms promptly fell off and scared all the felines―and some of the customers, honestly―away. armin, bless their soul, happily helped phos put themselves back together, but they only got one arm in before phos took the other one and booked it out of there.

forehead pressing against the window, the downtrodden teen sighed, groaning loudly over the memory. why do they always remember stuff like that and not the good things? they need to think, so they'll take the time to do so right now, even in their awkward, rather inappropriate position. ]

complicatedninja

[ the good couple of weeks that have gone by since sonic had last stayed over at genos’s—and saitama’s, a thought that doesn’t make his nose crinkle in distaste too much any longer—has been rather nice, a word sonic’s started to attribute to everything he’s been sharing with the cyborg for quite some many days now. long gone are the bursts of urgency to scramble away from the emotions building up inside of him, kick and scream and tear out his hair for developing a crush when he’d been so focused on defeating his rival, needing to train harder than ever to achieve all of the goals he’s set out for himself.

now sonic feels strangely at peace with matters of the heart, increased with every text he reads, the voicemail he doesn’t ever plan on deleting. perhaps it helps that he’s started actively thinking of genos as less of a problem and more of a happy addition to his otherwise monotonous lifestyle, tossing aside all the strife and questions upon questions he’d lost sleep over, distracted in his everyday life when he could have just let it be, see where it would take him. leave it to sonic to dig his heels into the ground for as long as possible, only giving in when it becomes too much to rightfully ignore.

he’s content with the pattern they’ve set over the course of another week or two, unshakingly steadfast in that trying thing he was attempting in vain to accomplish, can now say he’s doing a better job of it than ever before; instead of outright calling the man without warning, sonic now makes an active effort to see if he isn’t busy, phone genos when it’s more convenient for him and not the other way around (okay, so maybe this still happened only fifty-percent of the time, sonic just couldn’t be damned to tap out a message when he’s on the go or a thought strikes him that’ll just eat up his friend’s screen several times over if he typed it out). he’s also put aside more time to see genos face to face, even if it’s just for an hour, the pair doing something as simple as going out to grab a bite to eat, or sit around at a local park where nobody of importance would come wandering around, spot their pinkies twined in the small space left between where they were sitting.

when it boils down to it, there’s very little room for complaint on sonic’s end, other than the obvious we could probably see each other longer that passes through his mind after every stolen minute they catch. he acknowledges that it can’t be helped, knows his significant other feels much the same—

wait. sonic pauses in what he was doing, all these idle thoughts coming to a halt just as quickly as the tweezers pinched between his fingers do. now that isn’t a title he’d tacked onto genos before, always skirting around it with catch-all phrases that held no real weight to them. it brings about a bigger issue he hadn’t focused on so willingly up until this point, hadn’t really needed to since the only other person he spoke to on the regular was his cat’s veterinarian and a hairdresser who he doesn’t really know all that well to begin with. announcing the new… object of his affections wasn’t necessary, not when he kept the number of people in his life practically microscopic, so why slap a label onto their budding relationship when it’s not entirely necessary?

still, it’s going to be on his mind for quite some hours. at least he has things to occupy himself with in the meantime, going back to the meticulous grooming routine he’s set out to accomplish. there’s no real rhyme or reason for the pampering, other than the fact that he enjoys doing it on his time off, likes to doll himself up for fun after all the dirty work is done and over with, primp and preen and treat himself right. this can last for hours on end if he has nothing better to do, and it just so happens to be one of those days where he can take however long he wants to bathe, dress himself several times over, pretend he can resemble anything close to an artist with the beauty supplies he collects after watching one too many video recommendations on the internet.

for the moment sonic’s enjoying the simple task of carding through short, dark strands of hair at a snail’s pace, admire how it’s already grown a bit longer since the last time he’s planted his rear down in front of a mirror. it brings a pleased smile to his features, proud for no real discernible reason other than the fact that he looks good, he feels healthy, and it brings about a happiness he hadn’t felt all by himself in quite some time. a big part of him wants to reach for his phone, announce to his cyborg hero of the sincere boost of confidence that’s usually fabricated for his own sake… then he remembers how childish that sounds, sighing just as he has the electronic in his clutches. instead of giving into that urge, sonic eases up and out of his chair to go wander out into the living room. the guy probably wouldn’t be able to look at the message for some time, anyway. knowing sonic’s luck, it would reach him just as his high was coming down from its peak, leaving nothing but a lump of a loathing ninja at its wake.

no matter. tonight will remain just as quiet as the day had been, taking a detour to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of juice and park himself down on the couch where his feline friend is lounging about. she seems just as needy for attention as he is, springing to action the second he flops longways across the cushions, careful to lay a blanket across his lap so her nails won’t snag the fine silk fabric of his chosen attire for the evening. until sonic gets bored of whatever is playing on his laptop, this is ultimately where he’ll remain for another hour or so, murmuring some soft words to speedy as she kneads and purrs loudly like a well-tuned engine. ]

aroundcircle

it the roboninja

sadtoaster

[ saitama's secret stash...

...is something of a misnomer. there's nothing really secret about it, for one; the man doesn't have a lot of space to work with, and everything there is to see in his home is more or less in plain sight. he doesn't have much to hide, made abundantly clear every time genos performs a thorough bi-weekly sweep of their surroundings.

sensei, this flyer is from last month...
don't mind it, it doesn't expire for a while, you know?

the coupons tend to be long-expired, but genos won't say a thing. it's better to live and let live, or on those cases, not let his sensei know so he can pick up any wanted groceries in his stead. saitama doesn't need to know the real price. if he wants to keep thinking the value is worth something in the long run, so be it. frugality is one of his dozens of virtues, anyway.

what passes for the stash is typically nothing more than the latest magazines, advertisements, and other paraphernalia well-stocked by genos to ensure that sensei is continuing to thrive. originally it started out as something of a team effort (though saitama really hadn't seen the need at the time), growing into more and more of genos's side project over time. it makes sense, what with how busy sensei is these days. there's always a squabble here, a fight there, the here association pulling at their ears all the while...

lately saitama isn't even around, which leaves his young ward to his own devices, more often than not. there's no problem in it when genos has plenty of things to study, hero duties he can catch up on, plus the occasional tune-up at dr. kuseno's lab.

which leads him to wonder: what in the world is with this growing pile of discs in the living room?

video games... genos knows of them. his years spent as a cyborg of justice doesn't mean he's forgotten the past, forgotten some of the things which used to fill his spare time. but why are they filling sensei's? surely his hours could be better spent climbing the ranks of the association, just as he encouraged genos to do. not that sensei doesn't know best; he probably has a plan he hasn't told genos of yet, doing things in his own way. sensei, after all, is the strongest man the world has ever seen. what does ranking have to do with it?

at this point it's purely speculation. they could be here due to any number of things. there's no telling they belong to saitama in the first place. it's entirely possible they might have something to do with how much time he spends around the s-class's seventh best. as for why king would be influencing him to bring home piles and piles of games, it's beyond genos's reasoning. is it for training? it has to be for training.

now he's drawn a conclusion, able to proceed with no issues. a little tidying is fine, far from unwelcome, and sensei will appreciate it. if he asks, it's very possible they could play together too, like he does with the king.

if...oh.

wait.

a lot of these don't look like they're for two players at all...

and that is how the biomechanical boy has found himself sprawled out on the floor in the middle of the afternoon, transfixed by a now-empty jewel case with a scantily-clad girl on the packaging, her moans on the television screen ringing in his ears.

training. this is for training. sensei just needed a little...brushing up on how to talk to women. judging from how genos has fared in his game so far, he doesn't seem to have the same trouble. if anything, it's been all too easy to win over this virtual girl's affections and lure her into the bedroom. surely they don't act this way in the real world, too. genos's fanclub throwing themselves at them left and right is harrowing enough! ]

takakurashouma

[ well, this isn't good-- it's the only thought running through shouma's head after he's slid the doors shut to his and kanba's bedroom, a light beading of sweat prickling at the back of his neck.

what was he supposed to do, though? the young girl that's currently snoozing away in his futon wasn't at all what he'd expected to find on his way back from the store; perhaps a stray cat he'd feed a few lettuce leaves to, maybe a snotty-nosed kid trying to sell something to raise money for their school festival, an extra 100 yen just lying on the sidewalk. anything but a small, abandoned child, who looked worse for the wear in the blossoming cold that's started to blanket over the last spurt of warmth they'd gotten only a month prior. panic and concern was the first things shouma felt, hastily wrapping his scarf and his jacket around the girl, bundling her up as she seemed to slip in and out of consciousness. he'd feared she'd nearly gone frozen stiff by the time she finally opened her eyes to look at him, relieved beyond high heavens when she answered at least one question of his: what's your name?

himari, she'd said, then snuggled up to the warmth of his arms and let out a quiet sigh in what he hoped wasn't her final breath. before shouma could stop to think rationally, he'd picked her up and carried her all the way home, holding her close to his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

from that point on everything was sort of a blur. he remembers gingerly laying himari down in front of the heater, making her tea, watch her groggily rise from her slumber to munch on a cracker as she either shook her head or nodded when shouma gently asked her questions. he didn't get very far, not when she nearly went head-first into one of the colorful mugs shouma used to use as a child, so tired as she was from whatever she'd gone through prior to being found. so he'd swaddled her in blankets, offered a cute stuffed animal he had tucked away in the closet for her to hold onto, double-checked to make sure she was comfortable, before heading back into the living room.

a hop from foot to foot is the only way he can relieve some of the anxiety vibrating through him, suddenly feeling flighty and all-together frenzied when a whole different matter comes to mind: kanba. oh, god, what is he going to tell kanba?

no, that can wait. maybe he'll be gone long enough for shouma to find answers with the limited knowledge he does have on the girl. it'll be tough without a last name, but he can at least start by looking online, see if there were any missing children reports he'd overlooked when watching tv or browsing the internet. he goes so far as to run to the closest corner market to take a few newspapers, immediately leafing through them when he's back, double-check to see if there was anything in the local paper that was dropped off this morning.

after hours of cross-checking, shouma's no more closer to an answer than when he started. everything leads to dead ends. ]

Okay. [ is all he says to himself after his forehead lifts from its resting spot on top of the table, a futile attempt to calm himself and settle into his resolve. right now, he only has one solution to this problem, and he's not so sure that his brother is going to be very happy or thrilled with the declaration. so he'll do what he does best and cook one hell of a dinner for his twin, make most of his favorite foods in preparation, and hope it'll at least take some of the edge off of the situation.

luckily shouma's now equipped with timing the meals just right whenever kanba sends him a text saying that he'll be home late, ignoring the usual twinge of... something he can't quite express or put into words that usually settles in the pit of his stomach. he has no right to be irritated with the dates his sibling goes on after school, however, not when he's got something huge to spring on him the moment he walks in the door.

it's the same one he's currently staring at after he's got everything in place, rigid in his posture on the floor as he holds his breath and waits for kanba to return. ]

takakurakanba

Meet me after school.
We'll do something fun, I promise. (•∋•)

[ kanba's hopes were high when he'd rushed to the nearest coffee shop right after the final bell of the day, but now he's beginning to think he's been...slightly...had.

those stacks of books on the table his brother is beckoning him over to can not be a good sign. ]

...you're kidding, right?

kiga

DESTINATION: BEAUTIFUL
[ ahahahaha making a new one because the other was long as frickie
and
idk organization is cool ]

jeankirschstein

[ achoo!

jean can't sleep. this is normal; with tensions running so high this close to graduation day, it's a wonder that any given member of the 104th can manage a good night's rest. even the top cadets—they know who they are—must be feeling it, teetering on the edge. no one is safe. no one is immune.

some surely feel the pressure more than others. jean would like to think he's one of them, given that he's put everything at stake to not only make it out of training alive, but into the military police in the process. into the inner wall...where he can finally relax for a change, take it easy.

that won't be happening tonight. he knew that long before his sneezing stirred the other restless bodies surrounding him, snot trickling from his nose while they mutter in complaint. screw 'em. if he has to suffer out here in the cold, why shouldn't they?

for that matter, what's up with having to be out here in the first place? it'd be one thing if jean's eyes were set on joining the hijinks of the reconnaissance legion in the near future, but that hardly applies to him, let alone the majority of his fellow trainees. most, he figures, probably have their sights set on the garrison. maybe there are a scant few who share his ambitions, though whether or not they're actually up to the job remains to be seen. jean knows he is. he has to be, or it all ends here.

and what a way to end it! trampling about through the frigid, winter air, huddling like mice around an abandoned outpost—who's to say that an eoten or twelve won't stumble upon them in the dead of night, anyway? what good is a little campout a few miles from the wall going to teach anyone about survival, or the rages of war? they'd be better off just tearing the roof off the barracks and leaving it at that, honestly. at least jean would be in better company.

he doesn't know anyone around here. some of his friends were pulled off into tightly-knit (and largely unnecessary, in jean's eyes) patrols hours ago, or dragged to stand watch while the rest of the group settled down for the evening. it'd be nice if jean had been hand-picked for any of those, but of course, he's left both overlooked and to his own devices. is he not good enough, try as he might? he may be no ackerman—beautiful, beautiful ackerman—but that shouldn't mean he'll never get his own chance to shine. ]

To hell with this— [ jean's up in a flourish, much to the complaint of everyone else still struggling to get warm, far from the fires that dot along the outpost. if he can't silently sulk down the long, long road to slumber, then he may as well be up and at it, roaming the campsite like he would be if he were on more familiar ground, with familiar faces at his side to play hooky with him rather than be driven insane by a cacophony of snores in the dark. the girls' dorm doesn't have it that bad, do they?

there are others like him who think they have better things to do in their downtime than catch forty winks. many can be found merely talking amongst themselves, while others nervously peer at their surroundings, not wholly convinced they're going to be safe from an eoten attack. jean isn't, either, but he has faith in the regulars who are keeping peace around here. as long as they and the patrollers are doing their duty, then there's little to fear. it's when daylight shines upon them that they should be at their most afraid, according to what their everyday lessons have taught them.

not in much of a mood to be simply chewing the fat, jean has a grander scheme in mind as he continues his walk. he's half-hoping he'll be able to catch the eye of someone he recognizes among the guard, maybe play a round of cards or two, steal a drink to warm his bones that no one will notice, not this late in the day. it'd be far more effective than the scrap that's supposed to pass for a cloak clinging to him, hand-me-downs from the cadets who survived before him, and before that. can't even afford to give their ready-to-die young soldiers equipment well and truly up to date, can they...? ]

dup

I wasn't sure if i should share these since you're more interested in P4 nowadays but I decided to do it anyway because why not.

( FIC ONE )

( FIC TWO )

dup

After dinner is over and their day is officially done, Souji always lets Nanako have her turn in the bathroom first. ( Read more... )

soojie

[ one of the last locations seta souji ever expected to find himself in was the birthplace of his parents.

on paper, inaba doesn't sound like such a bad place to be. he's certainly never heard any ills spoken of it in his youth. and yet he can't help but feel as though this may or may not be taking a step backwards to move out into the country, away from family and friends, away from the city life and cushy desk job he was just starting to get used to. is this really a good time for a new beginning, a chance to wipe the slate clean and start over in a different town, rebuild his reputation from the ground up?

it probably is. familiarity aside, souji can't deny that his comfortable existence has also grown...stagnant, stale. the busy streets are full of too many reminders of things he'd like to remove himself as far away from as possible—too many memories of a long-lost wife who haunts his mind's eye on those nearly sleepless nights where he can't not succumb to torturing himself. it's no way to be spending what remains of his youth. he's drawing ever closer to thirty, which is a big number, albeit less so than forty and beyond. it'd be much better, he thinks, to spend those days peacefully, if he can. both for his well-being and his daughter's.

what surprised him is how well nanako had taken to the proposition. it'd started with a letter (an increasingly rare formality in this day and age), and once the photos of her father's immaculately well-kept former home were handed out, her eyes lit up enthusiastically. leaving her classmates behind would be rough (souji knows that more than anyone), but she's a strong girl who's voiced no complaints throughout the packing process, who's maintained a cheerful air until the last speck of their city fades out of sight, no longer waving from the passenger's window of their car. that's when her smile falters and the reality of the situation starts to sink in. souji wonders if this is wrong, if he's made a mistake after all, when his daughter turns and simply expresses her concern over the many faces they might not get to see again, not unless there's a major holiday coming up.

i hope everyone will be fine without us, she says. like they're the ones in danger, that their lives depend on souji.

he chuckles to himself at the memory. that was a couple a couple of hours ago; now, nanako's sound asleep next to him while they cover the last leg of their journey. the rattle of the trailer that they're towing behind them is something that souji's more or less learned to ignore, drowning it out in favor of following the crumpled old map he consults from time to time, concentrating on the steady burn of the cigarette loosely held in his other hand, ashes periodically flicked out the window. he's sure that nanako will scold him later for not being strong enough to wait, but his nerves are frazzled and he needs something to ground him, hold him steady. besides, this way he won't have to stop for a smoke when they're in the middle of unpacking. quitting is a luxury that he can't afford at the moment when there are bigger fish to fry.

the rest of the car trip passes without event. a few close calls and missed turns don't stop the setas from arriving at their destination at around the time they expected. it's late in the afternoon, with the sun taking its sweet time in deciding if it's ready to dip below the horizon. luckily, getting everything out of their car and into their new home shouldn't be an incredibly long affair--a family of two in a cramped downtown apartment has a lot less to carry than others do. even so, another couple of hours goes by before souji is willing to call it a job well done. the main room isn't fully furnished and they're missing a few extra cups and plates, but the futons are laid out upstairs, and the television set is plugged in and ready to go. all souji needs now is some warm food in his belly and a cold beer in his hand, pending that nanako will see fit to let him cut loose for a while (she's more like her late mother than he wants to admit). after that, he'll be content.

as much as he'd like to take a load off, there's still one more stop to go before their day is done. traveling hand in hand with nanako, the amount of attention souji receives as they head toward inaba's main shopping district is nothing short of staggering. in a hamlet as small as this one, he expects to be at least a bit of an anomaly till everything settles down and he becomes another member of the rat race here. what he doesn't expect is to be immediately addressed by name, fielding questions about his parents and extended family: yes, they're doing well, i'm sorry they couldn't be here, this is something i had to do on my own. have you met my daughter, nanako?

even she is a little overwhelmed, hiding behind her father's legs when she grows weary of trading pleasantries. sympathizing with her, souji looks for an out from their latest exchange, promising the owners at the chinese diner that they'll stop in for a beef bowl the next time that they're in the area. it was tempting to do so tonight, but he doesn't want to overexpose nanako any more than he already has. the day must be exhausting for her, figuring that he'll have to put her straight to bed after dinner and a bath. come to think of it, doing the same sounds like a pretty good idea, too...

junes is a name that that souji doesn't recognize, though it clearly has nanako's attention as she breaks out of her shell, tugs at his arm to drag him into the supermarket. and here he thought that he could get away with a convenience store's bento box for the evening. maybe a bowl of instant noodles, or a freshly-steamed bun, if they had any.

still, what nanako wants is what nanako gets, and he laughs, telling her to take it easy as they grab a pair of shopping baskets. they'll have to remember not to take home more than they can carry--they're only here to tide themselves over for tomorrow, when they can finish what's left of their unpacking and make their house look like more of a home. that's something souji's looking forward to more than he thought he would.

seeing the renewed smile on nanako's face while they traipse down the aisles makes him think that this probably really was the best decision for them in the end. any lingering doubts in his mind wash away, replaced with the heavy comparison of which frozen meal would be best, and if it'd bother his daughter too much to grab a new carton of cigarettes on their way out. ]

dup

30 prompts written over 30 days to celebrate our first anniversary of kanshou. This is the full list:

beginning | accusation | restless | snowflake | haze | flame | formal | companion | move | silver | prepared | knowledge | denial | wind | order | thanks | look | summer | transformation | tremble | sunset | mad | thousand | outside | winter | diamond | letters | promise | simple | future

Here's to another year, partner♥♥

dup

Kanba hates it when he's forced to leave home for weeks at a time. Shouma hates it for him, hates being left alone. ( Read more... )

takakurakanba

[ it's happened again.

kanba is a victim of constantly telling himself that this will be the last time he bickers, the last time he turns a cold shoulder to his sole sibling, the last time he takes him to bed with a forcefulness that would surely shock his former sixteen year-old self. he makes promises that he ends up failing to deliver on, and every subsequent morning—when he doesn't have to wake up alone—becomes the same sad story of never, ever.

where does it end? yesterday was a nauseating blur that he struggles to remember as he lies wide awake, eyes purposefully avoiding the lightly-battered boy next to him. shouma's endurance of it all is troubling unto itself. in spite of what he suffers, in spite of what he yells at kanba about, it doesn't deter him from his duty, doesn't deter him from getting tossed to and fro behind closed doors and curling up against his abuser nevertheless.

abuse. an ugly word, for certain. an ugly thing that kanba's doing.

never again. how does he get so carried anyway?

he lays at rest, face turned into a pillow that still smells strongly of sweat and other things that he'd prefer not to put a name to at present. something has to change here, all signs pointing towards him. they aren't the takakura brothers that they used to be, barely family, hardly even lovers. why? more importantly, what is it that kanba can do to change that?

the issue is far bigger than to simply say sorry and move on. a physical gesture, no matter how warm-hearted it may be, won't fix the damage done either. opening an eye, a hesitant hand reaches out across the space between them, pauses, then falls short of its mark. he doesn't deserve to touch shouma now, not after what's occurred. he sighs, shoving his face into the pillow completely, and wonders if he can just suffocate himself and leave it at that. having died once already, it obviously isn't the solution, but it stop him from wanting to defy fate one more time.

nothing. staying in bed isn't getting him anywhere.

with a second sigh on his lips he faces his bedmate at long last, watching the rise and fall of his form as his slumber continues, undisturbed. in the faint glow of the rising sun he notes many of the new bruises afflicted onto him; many of them are minor, prone to fade within a day or two, while others will remain to serve as stark reminders of what kanba shouldn't have done in the first place. biting and scratching in the throes of their passions isn't a new phenomena in the slightest, though it pales in comparison to the deliberate beating, pulling, and striking that is never meant to be.

guilt swarms over him. they can't keep doing this.

kanba, refusing to look any further, turns his eyes to the edge of their low-sitting bed where he witnesses a similar scene amongst a pair of penguins. penguin #1 appears equally distraught, repeatedly stroking its flipper over the back of #2, who refuses to stir. the sight encourages his unease, and he clambers to his feet, swept by the sudden urge to take flight far, far away from this room. he has an hour or two to spare before he'll have pressing business elsewhere in the city, so the least he can do is utilize that free time (an increasingly rare luxury) to the utmost.

he grabs something to cover himself with on his way out, ignoring the shape of a third penguin toddling at his heels as he steps into a pair of underwear, pulls a loose t-shirt over his head. since it's customary for him to be the second one in their humble home to rise and shine, he thinks might be a gesture of goodwill to prepare breakfast, save shouma the trouble of it, though his culinary prowess isn't quite so refined.

what to do? he isn't hungry for anything in particular, but he'd like to go a step above toast and jam, or other dishes that require an equal lack of effort on his part. it's not until his eyes sleepily follow penguin #3 waddling ahead of him into the kitchen that he makes a decision, inspired by the box that it's holding up for him. ]

Yes, yes... [ the response is automatic, seizing the proffered pancake mix and scratching his head. did he buy this in the past? shouma is often adamant about preparing dishes from scratch, so it couldn't have come from him. or could it?

crepes sound like a better idea than mere pancakes, so he shrugs it off, goes to work. having a dutiful penguin by his side—especially #3, who tends to be of minor use—allows the process to be a lot less cumbersome than it otherwise could be. in no time, kanba's arranged an array of both crepes and fruit, staring long and hard at shouma's potential plate. should he do something special for him, or leave it as it is...

he contemplates his decision whilst fetching the hot water for their tea. every so often he glances over his shoulder to the stairs that lead to their bedroom, hoping that shouma will emerge, hoping that he doesn't hate him as he brushes past. with no signs of activity, his heart sinks, returning to the tasks at hand.

clumsily he attempts an artful design for shouma's serving, heaving a heavy sigh when it doesn't turn out the way he wants it to. he doubts he'll receive any bonus points for creativity when he tries to create a penguin (and then a seahorse) out of cheese, berries, and various strips of the crepes he's made. ultimately it becomes a gigantic mess that he can neither salvage, throw away, or pass on to #2 if the creature ever manages to make an appearance.

#3 consoles him, leaving the plate behind for shouma while kanba eats alone. in vain he looks up to the staircase, wilts, and stares into the mug of tea that he's left untouched on the table. at this rate he may not have the chance to see him before he departs, which could be just as well, given the awkward nature of things during their morning after. ]

Is he gonna be mad...?

[ a softly-chirped kyu is the only answer that the penguin can provide him, diving into its own serving of tea. ]

takakurakanba

[ ages have gone by since the last time the takakura twins were able to have a night off; or a night out, for that matter. kanba isn't proud of the bowing and scraping he had to do in order to make it happen, and he knows that after this, several more ages will pass before the opportunity rises again. but it's worth the effort, the long weeks he'll be spending alone with a penguin or two in two, if he's lucky. the punishment fits the crime.

he feels uneasy, but that's to be expected when the other, unmentionable side of his family is involved. as the seasons changed and he settled into his usual routine, he'd practically forgotten the dinner plans that hung over their heads, the conditions of letting an old piece of jewelery change hands. one phone call and the voice of his so-called sweet sister (masako...), however, changed all of that. not being one to break his commitments, a date was set. that date was now. ]

Tch... [ it's hard to be satisfied with the way he looks when he has the world to impress tonight. while hitting the town is nothing new, it tends to be done for its own sake, a means to kill time till kanba has to rush off, or his brother shouma is needed elsewhere. going through the motions of meeting important relatives—even just the one—showing shouma off, has him spiraling back into the shoes of the teenage boy he resembles all over again. he can remember getting introduced to plenty of young girls' parents at the tender age of sixteen, though in the majority of those cases it took place against his will.

sighing, he frowns at the mirror in front of him, straightens his tie. are these cufflinks too much? should he bother to wear or keep these accessories? he has yet to have a matching ring, though he guesses it doesn't matter too much to begin with...it wasn't a technical engagement, and he can only consider himself married to shouma in name only, thorny issues issues of being siblings aside. dwelling on that would put a damper on his cautiously positive mood, so he lets it go, ducks out of the room, and hovers near the stairs to take a glance down into the main house below.

a penguin stands in wait for him, rubbing at the bandage on its cheek while it points its flipper with a quiet gyu. kanba hardly questions why its dressed to the nines in a trailing tuxedo, though he has no idea why any of them would want to tag along, either. it isn't as if the oldest surviving member of the natsume family has any recollection of the creature that used to be at her side, anyway... ]

dup

Sleeping isn't an option for Kanba. He knows that he's fighting a losing battle with his body, that he's pushed it more today than he normally would, but the need to gather his thoughts is almost as essential. Thankfully the exhausted boy beside him has already succumbed to slumber, so he won't need to worry about causing a disturbance as he rises from the futon they're in, reaches in the dark for something to cover himself up. He can't tell if the yukata that engulfs him is his or not, though it hardly matters. A selfish part of him hopes that it isn't, that he'll be able to take his sibling along in spirit when he steps out of their little hideaway. ( Read more... )

takakurashouko

[ if shouko wanted to be honest, going to ringo's grandparent's (currently vacant) summer home after exams was the last thing she thought she'd be doing for the first week of her time off. she'd certainly heard about her best friend's trips in passing, but it wasn't like shouko ever invited herself along, not when her summers were spent working two or three jobs at a time. ringo had always been well aware of this, too, which is why she's baffled as to why the girl had been so insistent on her coming along.

what's even worse is that she also invited himari and kanba. while shouko always enjoys her sister's company, her brother was a more tricky person to work around, at least until just recently. she still doesn't like the large gaps in her memory, or how she now feels incredibly awkward around her twin. it's obvious that there was something bothering him as well, attempting in vain to chalk it up to something to do with the weird month that she can't quite recall the details of.

this is why shouko went out of her way to avoid her brother, always turning red in the face before babbling that she had a lot of homework to do, or that ringo wanted to spend some alone time with her, how she'll be staying with her for a weekend (or so) to study.

most of the excuses were blatant lies. she was certain that kanba had known all along.

the only relief she felt was the assumption of bedding with her schoolmate and sister, an emotion that was brutally smashed into a million pieces once she learned that that wouldn't be the case.

when the door is shut to her and kanba's room for the week, she stands there with a bewildered look on her face, just staring at the wall blankly. ]

... [ were they really going to be sharing a room together? shouko was pretty certain that the one ringo and himari were staying in could fit three, or so a short peek into it told her. it didn't make sense, she hadn't slept in the same room with kanba since their parents were around...

ah, this is going to be awkward, isn't it? they hadn't really spoken to each other very much in a handful of weeks, the act of verbal communication with kanba is still lost on her. still, she's going to try breaking the silence, tucking some hair behind her ears in a nervous manner, her other hand shifting the pack on her shoulder. ]

So... [ that's a lame start. maybe moving to her side of the room will help, over towards the bed she'll be using. ] This is... nice.

takakurashoma

( You're about to view content that the poster has advised should be viewed with discretion. )

kiga

.notes☇ in which sanetoshi is a dick and 'shouko' finds a place to stay. happens a few days after this thread. i also happened to take some liberty on what goes on afterward, if you don't mind, or else it wouldn't have worked.

("Would a contract suffice?")

takakurakamba

[ kanba knows a lot about this clinic. over the years he's gone in and out of it countless times for countless things he doesn't want his sisters to know about. on occasion he's had to bring them in as well: shouko's scraped knees, himari's chicken pox, or the one weekend where they got lost in the wrong part of the city, something none of them dare speak of in full.

kanba knows a lot, but the pink-haired physician that they've just met with is new to him. the acute interest he held in his twin is something that's still rankling him quite a bit. he refused to leave her side throughout the entire consultation. even if she's not the real shouko (he hasn't come to a total conclusion on that yet), she's family all the same. his amount of caring won't be swayed by a freak occurrence, a sudden lapse in memory.

as they exit the room, holding the door open for her, he worries at his hair. the prickle on the back of his neck from the doctor's piercing gaze isn't helping matters much. the sooner they get out of here, the better. ]

That guy... [ mutters to himself, unable to shake the feeling that he's seen him somewhere before. it's probably nothing. ]

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