imaginedyou: (ooo ;; ankh wings)
Title: Time-Out
Characters: Izumi Shingo, Ankh.
Wordcount: 1220
Notes: We don't have a hell of a lot of characterization for Shingo, so I improvised a hell of a lot. But he's a cop so I figure that he can read people well, knows the right questions to ask (interrogate XD) ...Not to mention that I think having shared headspace with Ankh for roughly a year there would be little they couldn't say to each other at this point - there were no secrets back then! So hopefully I am justifying this enough <3
Previous: cure for the itch: on LJ / on DW


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imaginedyou: (ooo ;; ankh wings)
Noey wrote THIS, and I just couldn't resist my own stab at a scene post-canon, bringing Ankh back. Ankh, Hina, Eiji. 710 words.

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cure for the itch


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The shard of the medal - Ankh's last medal - comes out of Eiji's pocket, wrapped in tomorrow's pants alongside a handful of coin.

"You kept that," Ankh says flatly. It's difficult to tell exactly what he means by that - is it approval? Amusement? ...Is he touched by the sentiment? The moment stretches further and further until the silence becomes positively deafening. Hina can actually hear the blood pumping through her veins, the sound thundering in her ears.

And then Ankh smirks. That same derisive smirk he always used to lay on, and Hina feels her heart sink.

"Why would you keep that?" He snorts. And then his entire body shakes with his silent laughter.

Hina feels a hard lump rise in her throat, but she won't cry about this. If anyone is used to Ankh and his thoughtless actions by now, it's her. Tied with Eiji of course.

"If you didn't want me to keep it, why would you have left it with me?" Eiji counters. Hina is a little glad of the way he pushes protectively in front of her to challenge Ankh. It gives her the moment to take a breath, compose herself, and add from behind him, "besides, it would have been dangerous to just throw them away!"

She herself, after all, has been clutching her own half tightly in her palm since the moment Ankh reappeared out of nowhere. Reaching into the pocket of her dress to find it, always there. It always has been. Something solid to cling to if needed.

"That's right!" Eiji says, gaping in realisation. He turns. "That's right, Hina-chan! Imagine if someone had gotten their hands on both halves and found a way to reforge the medal?"

"-I'd have revived," Ankh points out. "Did you not want that?"

"You're here now," Hina says quietly, releasing the words on a breath and hoping they won't fall apart upon impact. They're still so disbelieving. They come out so quietly nobody else hears.

"We tried!" Eiji says. His mouth screws up, his eyes pleading with Ankh to believe them. "There was no possible way!"

"There wouldn't have been anything to worry about then," Ankh says. He helps himself to a seat and slouches back in it. The way he crosses both his legs and his arms speaks for itself about the barrier he is trying to set. But he can't help peering up at them both, one after the other, face accusing and wary all at once.

Suddenly Hina realises what Eiji must already have sensed; Ankh is lashing out because he is afraid that since he's been gone things will have changed. It took so long to make him truly believe they cared, it is just like him to think that it could be lost again easily just because he was no longer there.

"Stop trying to turn this around and make it an attack against you!" Eiji bursts out. This time it's his turn to take a calming breath. "We missed you, you know? Just accept it."

"That's why I kept it," Hina says, opening her palm and thrusting her hand right into Ankh's face. He jerks back, grabbing the sides of the chair to steady himself, but if he looks down his nose he can see it, the broken core medal.

"Sentimental fools, the both of you," he sneers. But his face quickly settles into a far more pensive shape, and he doesn't attempt to take back what must truly be useless to him now. He is already revived without the medal.

"Everything has changed now," he says, bolting up suddenly. Hina jumps back, clutching the half-medal to herself instinctively. "Unless I'm mistaken, none of the other Greeeds have accomplished this resurrection. And there are no longer any core medals in this world to persue. I need to discover my place all over again... I need to evolve."

He is already halfway out the window as he speaks, and there is nothing Eiji or Hina can do to stop him.

"Ankh!" Eiji cries, running to the window and dangling most of the way out of it, looking around futilely.

Hina brings her tightened fist to her chest.

"With us," she says firmly to herself. "You belong with us."

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imaginedyou: (ooo ;; ankh/hina)
Ankh, Shingo, Hina, Eiji. Part of my, "Shingo talks to Ankh inside his mind" alternative-canon (as if we have any proof to definitely say otherwise XD). Set towards the end of episode 6; some dialogue lifted directly from the episode subtitles. 362 words.

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a taste of power


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"You know who she is," Shingo says as Ankh's eyes lock with Hina's. He is wearing a motorbike helmet but the tint of the light means she can see straight through it and into his eyes properly as he passes.

Of course I do, Ankh sneers, Eiji won't stop going on about it.

"No," Shingo says as they bypass her completely and carry on down the road, "I mean who she is to me."

The intense warm feeling that infuses Ankh at his words leaves no room for misunderstanding. Fierce but gentle, profound but freeing.

"You're spilling over onto me," Ankh says out loud. Nobody can hear it; they're alone on the road, and the sound of the engine would cover it anyway. "And I don't have time for this."

To be honest, it's unsettling: human emotion. Overwhelming; and this coming from Ankh who once, eight hundred years ago, devoured human greed like ice candy. It's nothing in comparison to this direct link.

Even Eiji doesn't provide sufficient distraction when Ankh reaches him. Already transformed for battle, and not doing a stellar job of it on his own.

"Hey Ankh," he says as he shakes himself free of Mezool's nest-grubs. "Three Core Medals in a set; that Combo thing... What does it do?"

"It's an incredible amount of power," Ankh says. "You probably wouldn't be able to use it without getting hurt."

"I could say the same for you," Shingo insists inside his mind. Ankh can visualize the accompanying wry smile. The image must be getting pressed upon him by his host-body's owner.

Perhaps Shingo has already wormed his way so quickly inside Ankh's mind that he knows just which buttons to press. Perhaps it is one of those parts of being human that means he can read Ankh so well.

All Ankh knows is that he wants very badly to prove the voice inside his head wrong. Perhaps that's why when Eiji voices the same sort of sentiment when it comes to the medals, he hands them over with no argument.

It's always fun to prove Eiji wrong, after all. Ankh doesn't even have to do anything in order to accomplish that.

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imaginedyou: (ooo ;; ankh/hina)
Ankh, Shingo, Hina. Mindshare universe. prompt: 14 October 2008. the girl in question

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They have conversations inside his head sometimes. It's easy for Ankh to get away with; if he ignores the discussions going on around him nobody will think twice about it. If someone tries to draw him in and he chooses not to answer, they'll shrug and carry on.

It's quite a comfort to have a voice that nobody else can hear reassuring him. But also incredibly pathetic.

His host body's awareness is supposed to be buried, after all. Ankh still isn't strong enough to do a thorough job of that. It pisses him off, but it can be a little helpful, because sometimes accessing his memories just isn't good enough for a proper understanding of situations.

"She's a good girl," Shingo says, and Ankh flinches, realising he's been glaring at Hina the entire time she and Chiyoko have been talking. That infuriating woman. Both of them, actually.

She's a monster, Ankh thinks back at him sharply. He almost regrets it when he feels how much that hurts Shingo, and him in turn, faintly, thanks to their unusual bond. It wasn't even an insult directed at Shingo. It makes no sense.

"Hina would never hurt anyone on purpose," Shingo insists. There are memories attached to his words, of times he has had to say this exact same thing to people before. Many times. Many accidents, all the way since Hina was a child.

Ankh refuses to feel remorse for the comment. He is only telling the truth. Her strength is monstrous. But, to be fair, that's the only thing about her that is.

"Exactly," Shingo agrees, and Ankh realises sourly that Shingo heard that even though it wasn't a thought directed at him.

Useful as it can be, the fact is that Shingo is still a human; ridiculous, irritating, irrational as the rest of them. A mystery to Ankh, even though he has access to thoughts and feelings and... whatever else it is humans are.

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imaginedyou: (ooo ;; ankh wings)
Kamen Rider OOO. Eiji, Ankh, camping shenanigans set early on in the series. Inspired by the [livejournal.com profile] 31_days prompt for October 2nd 2011. 344 words.


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Stars are the pearls of the poor


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"I suspect that most humans don't live like this," Ankh says, poking the campfire with a stick, narrowing his eyes at it suspiciously. The fire is supposed to leap at his touch but the cold night air is dampening it down. Useless. "In fact," he continues, "I know they don't."

He has access, after all. To the memories of his host body, to the little instrument they call a phone and all the data he could ever need right at his fingertips. He knows far more than anyone would ever suspect he could discover within only a few days of being revived. Ankh is smart, Ankh understands the need to adapt to this new world.

There's no immediate reply from Eiji, something that makes Ankh's entire body tense. He dislikes being ignored and Eiji seems to have worked that out so quickly. Someone who seemed like such an easy fool to use; actually much sharper than anyone would assume.

Instead Eiji sighs and stretches out on the grass.

"Ankh," he says, "aren't the stars pretty?"

"What?"

"The stars," Eiji repeats, turning his head to meet Ankh's look. His face is screwed up like Eiji is purposely trying to anger him by talking nonsense. "Who needs jewels - or any of those things - when the stars are right there for free?"

"Fool," Ankh sneers, turning away again. "Even eight hundred years ago humans coveted jewels. That hasn't changed."

"Just because humans have always done something, doesn't mean it's the only option," Eiji replies. He almost sounds hurt.

"Yeah," Ankh agrees. "That much is true. You need to evolve in this world to survive."

"Have you ever met someone whose desire was to touch the stars?" Eiji asks, extending out his hand to the sky. He drags his fingers across it as though brushing the lights scattered amongst the darkness.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ankh retorts. "That's a childish desire. It's so small it wouldn't register to any Greeed."

"I don't think it's small," Eiji says. "I don't think it's a small desire at all."

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imaginedyou: (pot ;; troika destiny)
Rikkai first-year fic. Sanada and Yanagi meet. Incomplete! Written... a week or two ago(?) at work, I just typed it up and tweaked a bit XD 292 Words. Set before everything else written so far.

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Day One


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Yanagi hears the sound of a pencil snapping at the desk behind him and reaches for his spare automatically - Sadaharu used to sit at that desk back in elementary.

He realises what he has done when a pair of dark eyes stare blankly back at him.

"Are you nervous about this exam?" Yanagi asks to cover his misstep. "Putting enough pressure on your upright pencil to snap the graphite is an indicator of anxiety." The boy doesn't reply. "These exams are only preliminary - the teachers will use our performance in class as the true indicator of our mental acuity."

"Are you mocking me?"

Yanagi blinks for the second time in under a minute.

"I thought I was being reassuring."

-

They discover soon enough that sharing a few words during class leads everyone to assume they are friends. At lunch time Sanada and Yanagi find themselves left alone together. When someone pushes into the dinner-queue in front of Yanagi, Sanada feels himself puff up automatically in response - he is both taller and broader than Yanagi, he can handle it.

Except Yanagi places a hand on his shoulder - it isn't an attempt to restrain him, it's stupidly gentle - and it surprises Sanada so much he just looks down at it and stares, forgetting the queue-jumper entirely. People don't generally touch him, ever.

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"Yanagi-kun," Sanada says across the table. "Yanagi-kun?"

"Hmm?" Yanagi replies eventually, and, "Oh, I'm sorry. You had better call me Renji. It's what I'm used to, I may not reply otherwise."

Sanada stammers over it, but it's worth it for the look on his face when Yanagi adds, "if it will make you feel less uncomfortable, I will coordinate and start referring to you as Genichirou, also."

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imaginedyou: (pot ;; girl!yukimura)
characters/pairing(s): girl!Sanada, Yukimura, Yanagi, Rikkai Regulars.
genre: gen, genderswap
wordcount: 2053
notes: Unfinished WIP, not planning to go anywhere further with it, so just posting it up as is :) Written back in January, apparently.



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imaginedyou: (wang qiu wang zi ;; troika)
Rikkai first-year fic. Some more Sanada-Yukimura rivalry (and lack there of) exploration. The moment things fall into place. 545 words.

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Fealty


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"It's about being the best," Muraoka says. "The best team who get the best results. I don't care who is better than who when it comes to this team winning. When we play a match against another school we're all on the same side. We're one entity. Play order is of no concern, so forget any arguments. All I care about is that you are better than your opponent. I care that you're the best you can be, and that this team as a whole is the best it can be... So that we always win."

The crowd disperses, and Yukimura has to wonder just how many of them really took the words in. But therein lies the challenge - he knows it is up to him to make sure that in his time at Rikkai he makes it so that every member of the tennis team - from the Regulars down to freshman collecting up the balls - come to live by those words. And to make sure that those who can't or won't are not associated with his club.

His club. Although he only thinks it to himself, Yukimura knows that even that is dangerous. Which is the entire reason he feeds Muraoka the words to say willingly. His time will come.

Sanada takes the words in. But he realises afterwards that he has been watching Yukimura the entire time, seeing the words coming out of Yukimura's mouth even though he hasn't spoken. Those aren't Muraoka-buchou's words, he can say that with confidence, and yet he doesn't quite know how he knows that.

The only thing that really matters in the end is the way Yanagi looks at him with a sideways glance. He opens his mouth to speak, and Sanada cuts him off.

"I know," he says, and as everyone else heads back to the courts Sanada makes a beeline for Yukimura.

Yukimura frowns a little as Sanada approaches, no doubt assuming that he will make a demand for a match because that's what he always does. Yukimura doesn't usually show so much expression on his face unless he wants people to see it. He's irritated because he thinks Sanada has missed the point completely and is about to punctuate it.

For once it actually matters to Sanada that someone has the wrong idea about him. He prides himself on his discipline and restraint - especially considering he knows best the kind of temper he generally manages to hide - and yet here is someone who would rightfully assume he has none at all based on all their interactions. He has to correct this.

Sanada stops in front of Yukimura and waits. Rather than blurt out his words he gives it a moment for the silence to register, just looking at Yukimura, who looks back at him blankly. Sanada takes a breath.

"I understand," Sanada says, and before he realises what he is doing he bows. Yukimura's eyes widen, but Sanada spins around and marches away before Yukimura can recover enough to say anything to that. To hell with the lack of explanation, Yukimura isn't stupid. He'll figure it out.

Sanada can feel his cheeks burning. All that matters right now is that he get as far away from everyone as possible.

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imaginedyou: (wang qiu wang zi ;; troika)
Rikkai first-year fic. Some Sanada-Yukimura rivalry (and lack there of) exploration. More to follow :D 242 words. Prompt: 24 May 2006 - Discretion, I said, was not the same as lying.

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(Lack of) Discretion


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"If you won't play a match against me you'll never know for certain who is better between us," Sanada says. Yukimura realises that this is really nothing new, and yet it has become a pleasant kind of white noise in the background of his everyday life. The tenacity that Sanada has, the impossible drive to win, it makes him smile where he really should be losing his patience by now.

Perhaps that's the real reason he can't end this after all. The thought that Sanada might end up just like all the others. Worse even, because Yukimura has seen Sanada play. Going against Sanada in a match would provoke his true tennis.

Yukimura knows the team needs Sanada's strength too much to indulge his curiosity. Even if he himself is itching to test his skill against the person he can just see is going to become one of the strongest players the junior circuit has ever known. Yukimura knows what it is to mislead someone for the sake of a greater good. Even when it makes Sanada hate him more and more. Yukimura can handle that - you don't have to be liked by someone in order to like them back.

"I do know who is better between us," he replies, because he has to. A shot to the gut will work best. "Tezuka completely defeated you at the Junior Tournament, and then I defeated him. I think it speaks for itself."

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imaginedyou: (k-on! ;; practicing)
title: Time To Play
character(s)/pairing(s): Ritsu, Mio
genre: gen
wordcount: 759
notes/summary: Set during events shown in episode 2x03. Originally posted here.
prompt: From [community profile] fic_promptly: K-On!, Ritsu, the first time she picked up a drumstick.


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imaginedyou: (Default)
For fic-promptly, for the prompt: Prince of Tennis, Rikkaidai, why are our uniforms coloured like bumblebees? and originally posted here. 753 words.

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Rikkai's Highly Unusual (and Suspect) Methods of Maturing one Kirihara Akaya


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"Sanada-fukubuchou," Kirihara says, taking a deep breath. He needs an answer. "Why are our uniforms coloured like bumblebees?"

He is expecting a frown, followed by the harsh snap of a, "Stop asking stupid questions and get out of my way!", but instead Sanada's mouth twists into a strange shape that Kirihara has never seen before - it looks kind of grim - and Sanada coughs a little as he says instead, "ask Yukimura."

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imaginedyou: (Default)
Sanada/Yanagi/Yukimura future-fic, gen, 670 words, prompt: 7 September 2005: Herr doktor. Thank an old episode of House for this. This is just a snippet; might write some more in this universe sometime, hopefully not all angsty!

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imaginedyou: (massu plays tennis for realz)
title: More Than Meets The Eye
character(s)/pairing(s): Yukimura, Yanagi, Sanada, Muraoka (OC).
genre: pre-series, backstory, original character
wordcount: 667
notes/summary: A series exploring the Rikkai third-years freshman year at Rikkai. There are many unspoken secrets - and not-secrets - lurking beneath the surface of the tennis club.
previous: Where Do We Begin, One Point Shy of Winning


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imaginedyou: (Default)
Rikkai first-year fic, set between the Kanagawa and Kantou tournaments. 310 Words. Prompt from 31_days. 27 August 2006: Where now are kings and where/ are the men who passed this way before you?. Written a little while ago, but only posting now!
Previous: Where Do We Begin, One Point Shy of Winning, More Than Meets The Eye.

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Pre-Monarchy


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"We might take Kantou?" Gesshin asks. "Well, that's good, that's something. Even if we accomplish nothing else that's still important - we've been winning Kantou for so long now it's expected of us. It would be an embarrassment if we didn't."

"An embarrassment?" Yukimura says. "I'll tell you the real embarrassment; that everyone goes around shouting, 'Always win, Rikkaidai', and yet once Kantou is over everyone is content with just that. What about Nationals, has everyone forgotten them? What do people think of, 'Always win, Rikkaidai' then; when the team come back without the championship? An empty threat - that's what they think. All talk and no follow-through."

"Thank you, Yukimura-kun, for explaining to the rest of the team what we were discussing earlier," Muraoka says warningly, and Yukimura realises this is the most he has spoken in company since joining the club, and the most passionately he has done so, too. And it wasn't really being received well until Muraoka stepped in and took the responsibility for it. Now the voices aren't outraged and shamed, but the murmurs of quietly grudging agreement.

"What you have to remember," Muraoka says later on, in private, "is that to everyone else you're still only a freshman. An exceptionally talented freshman who they are happy to have on their team if it means winning, but that doesn't mean they believe you have knowledge worth contributing. You do," he adds as Yukimura opens his mouth to protest, "but your age is against you right now. There's too much prejudice. I apologize for ruining your speech, but it may have led to a riot had I left you berating Rikkai's entire attitude to the game."

"But they will listen to you?" Yukimura asks. So long as the message gets through he can't find it in him too care overly much just now.

"Let's hope so, for all our sakes."

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imaginedyou: (Default)
Rikkai troika 'gen' (it's getting kind of ambiguous), University setting. 585 words. 31_days prompt: 25 October 2006. your unknown colour. Follows on from An Electric Michelangelo.

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Your Unknown Colour


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Once inside, they all have their rituals. Yukimura is always deferred to for first choice of seat; Yanagi and Sanada contrive to slow their paces until he is first through the door and he knows they do it. Once Yukimura has his seat - always beside the window - he shrugs off his rucksack and lets it thump beside him on the floor, sighing under the weight it carries and sagging until it is wrinkled up where it sits. This day he hunches up small in his chair and tries to absorb the heat from his drink through his fingertips.

Yanagi always gets his equipment out first; notebooks, folder, spare paper, pens and pencils. Once he has it all where he wants it only then does he remember to take off his jacket and hat and get comfortable. The hat goes into his bag, tucked away carefully so that Yukimura can't pick it up by the braids and whip it around his head, which he does if it is sat on within view and the temptation is strong enough.

The first thing Sanada does is take off his coat. He sits in his seat and waits for the warmth in the room to permeate his skin, his bag propped on the desk until he finds out what he is going to need for the duration of the class. Yukimura sits and daydreams about the art he didn't get enough time to look at, and the artist he wants to meet. The lecture goes over his head.

It wasn't nearly enough time to notice anything, but Yukimura thinks in terms of the basics. Yanagi and Sanada have their heads down, Yanagi making his neat organised notes with the bare minimum of information in short-hand that allows him to understand what has been said without unnecessary extra words. Sanada writes down everything word for word, scribbling at the speed of sound to be sure there's nothing he misses. When Yukimura works he tends to stop and pause now and then to reflect on information, sometimes writing and sometimes not. Sometimes he doodles. Yanagi always smiles almost condescendingly when he does that, and Sanada gets annoyed, but images help Yukimura remember better. Words aren't everything.

He can't help but realise it now, that Yanagi and Sanada are both so serious in their own ways, and both so orderly. Yanagi because it keeps him organised, and Sanada because it is right and proper. He isn't sure why they both gravitated towards him when he is so different. What he needs is someone to befriend who is more fluid and relaxed, like him. Someone with creative flair and an ease about them.

He doesn't even know the street artist, but he wants to. It makes no sense but Yukimura doesn't care. He is making assumptions based on a nagging feeling that he is missing out somehow. He loves Yanagi and Sanada both, but even between them there are still things they don't provide.

He realises suddenly what a dangerous path his thoughts are taking, and sits up a little. He devotes the rest of class to writing down all the things he should do afterwards that aren't, 'go to the park to find the street artist'.

The list is unconvincing, full of meaningless things that he doesn't need to do, and doesn't care about. Even 'spend time with Sanada and Yanagi' isn't enough to tempt him; they spend plenty of time together already, and even without him they still have one another.

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imaginedyou: (Default)
Rikkai troika gen, University setting. Inspired by this image. 904 words. 31_days prompt: 9 November 2005: An electric Michelangelo.

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An Electric Michelangelo


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It's a chilly winter morning and there's no time to waste - Yukimura slips out of the coffee shop with his Gingerbread Latte and Sanada and Yanagi are stood patiently waiting for him regardless of the wind whipping around them. Somehow Yukimura had managed to find himself further back in the queue than the two of them, and by the time Yanagi had noticed and offered to let him back in it had been too late and he and Sanada were already ordering. Yukimura's cut-off gloves leave his fingertips bare, and he presses them firmly to the warmth radiating out from his cup.

"We're going to be late," Sanada mutters, something they all know which didn't need to be said. It's tempting to point out that he could have gone ahead without them, but neither Yanagi nor Yukimura give in to the temptation. You don't question Sanada's loyalty, and you certainly don't make fun of it. They set off together, heads ducked down against the wind.

Sanada ignores his drink as he strides along, his free hand clutching his bag to his side to keep it from bouncing against his hip at the furious pace of his steps. The tassels of Yanagi's knitted hat stream behind him, and the pom-pom on top bounces with every step he takes, and Yukimura can't help smiling behind him. When Yanagi had first worn the hat - knitted by some elderly aunt or grandmother - Yukimura had spent the entire day tugging on the tassels at random moments just for the fun of it. Yanagi sips on his seasonal beverage of choice, a Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha as he walks, almost stumbling to lean down and sip at it each time, he's in such a hurry.

Yukimura's rucksack on his back leaves his hands both free to continue gripping his cup. His scarf flaps in the wind, because he hasn't had the foresight to tuck his into his jacket like Sanada and Yanagi have. He depends on layers instead, his long coat that stops at mid-thigh undone over a lighter jacket, a jumper and a shirt.

They reach the end of the pedestrianised walkway and stop at the traffic lights. Yukimura pokes at one of the ear-flaps to Sanada's trapper hat.

"What have you got today?" He asks hopefully. Sanada always flits between two choices, Green Tea Latte which Yukimura hates, and Chai Tea Latte which he adores.

Sanada just offers out the cup in response, eyes going back to watching the traffic light as he shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Yukimura takes a sip and pulls a face; it's green tea. When he looks up Sanada's mouth is set in a grim smile.

"You could've said," Yukimura says, wiping his mouth and handing back the cup.

"You wouldn't have believed me anyway," Sanada replies. "Drink your own drink."

Yukimura sticks his tongue out at Sanada and does as he suggests, swirling his own latte in his mouth to rid himself of the bitter tang. The traffic light changes and they cross the road and cut through the park to get to their university campus.

Most of the trees are bare, except for the evergreens and the particularly stubborn ones that still cling to orange, red and brown leaves in places. The benches are frosted over. Sometimes Yukimura, Yanagi and Sanada sit on them and share - lunch if no other students have beaten them to it, in which case they stretch out on the grass - but not in this weather.

The ground isn't damp, but it gives that impression anyway, the leaves that are on it have a wet sheen to them and they stick, and yet are slippery if you step on them. Not far from the exit at the other end of the park a small crowd has formed, which is unusual considering the season.

Sanada charges through, utterly uncaring of what is going on. Yanagi spares a brief glance as he walks through for the sake of knowing. If it were an emergency of some sort he might stop, out of compassion. But it's simply a street artist at work, and that's nothing he hasn't seen before. They're going to be late.

Yukimura is the one who stops. Sanada and Yanagi are ahead of him and still moving, the gap between them increasing. The man is wearing too little to be outside for a long period of time like this, ripped jeans and a jumper over a t-shirt, but he doesn't seem bothered. His hand moves furiously over the ground, although he has a fair few canvases propped up for sale, too. It seems ridiculous to draw on the floor for nothing when the weather could turn at any moment and wash it away.

And yet he uses colours completely out of season; bright and bold primary colours accented by alternating warm and cold tones. It brings the park alive again, Yukimura thinks.

"Seiichi," Yanagi says, appearing a few steps away from him. "We're going to be late."

"I'm coming," he replies, sparing one last glance for the street artist who can't be any older than he is. The brunette catches him and their eyes meet. He smiles, and Yukimura makes the decision before he moves his feet and carries himself away.

He just has to hope the man will still be there by the time his first free period comes along.

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imaginedyou: (RIKKAI)
Yanagi and Sanada play chess, Yukimura is there too. Inspired by this image. 300 words. 31_days prompt: 26 September 2006. Game and set to you, Quicksilver

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Game, Set, Match.


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Sanada's thumb and forefinger close around the piece. He takes a breath as he surveys the board, debating the move and whether or not there is a better one to play. A cursory glance across the table at Yanagi reveals him expressionless, except that when he catches Sanada looking his mouth quirks a little. Sanada frowns, lets go of the piece before he moves it, and looks for another move.

Yukimura groans in frustration. This is the third time this has happened in five minutes.

"I thought you were reading," Yanagi observes without looking.

"I can't concentrate," Yukimura retorts. "Sanada makes every breath sound like a huge effort. Stop playing mind games with him and get on with your game."

Sanada shoots a glare Yukimura's way, which he ignores. It's true enough - Sanada is treating the game like slow torture.

"I'm not doing anything," Yanagi says. "When Genichirou looks at me I smile. It would be rude to do otherwise."

"Oh shut up," Yukimura snorts. Yanagi knows neither of them underestimate him and yet he can't help but enjoy making these empty excuses up. Yukimura sits up on the couch and looks over. Sanada looks like a cat caught in the rain - miserable and yet full of indignation all at once. "You could-"

"I don't need your help," Sanada says roughly. Yukimura closes his mouth again and tries not to smile. He had kind of expected that response.

Sanada plays his next move quite quickly after that, and Yanagi always makes his countering move within mere seconds. Three turns later and Sanada attacks with his queen.

"Checkmate," he says, without the slightest trace of conceit. Yanagi's mouth falls open.

"What a feint," Yukimura laughs, clapping his hands in approval. It doesn't do to underestimate Sanada Genichirou, either, it seems.

-
imaginedyou: (buchou gonna eat you up)
Yukimura, Marui and brownies. Inspired by this image. 200 words. 31_days prompt: 21 May 2007: the chocolate revolution begins

-

The Chocolate Revolution


-

"Buchou," Marui grins as he opens the door. Yukimura takes off his coat as he walks in, pushes up his sleeves, and slips on the apron Marui offers, tying it behind his back deftly.

Half an hour later both of them have flour and chocolate up to the elbows, and neither one will admit to making fingerprints in the brownie mixture even though they're both guilty of taste-testing it in the baking tray.

"You can handle the washing up," Yukimura says graciously, picking up a magazine and making himself comfortable on a stool at the kitchen counter.

"Me?" Marui snorts. "You're nearly a whole year younger than me, kouhai, and I'm the one whose house we're in. Show some respect to your elder."

Yukimura looks over with raised eyebrows, but doesn't say anything. He closes the magazine and steps up to the sink. Marui grabs a dishcloth before anything is said and joins him there to wipe up.

"You know, if this were any other place and any other time-" Yukimura begins. His voice is soft and low, but his words carry a heavy warning.

"I know," Marui agrees solemnly. "Why do you think I enjoy baking with you so much?"

-
imaginedyou: (RIKKAI)
Rikkai gen fic, inspired by this image and travelling on a lot of trains recently. 1626 words. Title from a 31_days prompt: 29 October 2008. intervention.


+++++ )

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