pslplz | Futureverse

"I'm not sure I like the way you describe my temperament," Taiyou says with a dubious gaze. She means it teasingly mostly. But she also thinks 'diatribe' has a bitter sound to it. She does know they don't always get along, but surely he doesn't find her bitter...? She hopes. She can be strangely uncertain about it sometimes, even after all these years.

Wasn't she the one who brought up the possibility of her going off on someone? Mamoru doesn't think he'll ever get the hang of how women converse. He holds up a hand with a sheepish grin in an effort to defuse the comment then and there. Teasing or not, it feels a bit dangerous to continue. He'd rather not have a real fight that evening.

"I just mean that you have a lot of passion to share. That's not a bad thing." Usually.

Ran nods his agreement to the suggestion.

"I want to speak with some friends and family, too. At the earliest opportunity." They would be more likely to know about any conflicts in the victim's life. But for details pertaining to the immediate environment, like suspicious presences or unusual details, the neighbors were a better source. And it was practical to speak with them while they were already there.

She'd argue that the wording is completely different! Anyway, it also sounds a lot worse when it's coming from your husband versus your own lips.

"I should hope not. I might have a bit of it," she admits this much.

She cuts into the main dish and takes a bite. Mmm! Mamoru, you have outdone yourself.

"I think so, too. Perhaps first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, shall we get started on this floor? I imagine the commotion has woken a few of the neighbors, at least."

Yagyuu smiles. Banging on people's doors at this hour of the night is not particularly gentlemanly, but this is a possible murder investigation. Yagyuu can be quite firm about such things, when so much is at stake.

Mamoru doesn't comment any further on that subject, since it sounds like Taiyou is ready to let go of his blunder and the last thing he wants to do is draw more attention to it.

"Did it turn out? It's a Parmesan/Romano blend in the sauce this time." Normally the recipe called for straight Parmesan.

"If it hasn't, that's about to change," Which is Ran's way of saying Yes, let's.

He turns from the apartment entrance immediately to the left and bangs on the nearest door.

"National Police Agency." Because at this hour, no sensible person should be opening the door to anyone else.

"Whatever you did, it's amazing," she says, twirling her fork with flourish. Parmesan, Romano, she's not entirely sure what the difference is, but Mamoru clearly knows what he is doing. This is why he does the cooking in this household! Taiyou could probably manage if she had to, but it wouldn't turn out like this.

"I hope you made extra. I might just eat several plates!"

"I'm afraid I didn't this time; I'll make a note to use the blend from now on. I'm glad you like it." And since it wouldn't do to not know himself, Mamoru takes that opportunity to test a bite from his own plate.

"Mmm, I agree, it's much better this way. The Romano really brings out the cheese flavor in the sauce."

"Forget secret agent. Maybe you're a master chef in another life," Taiyou says with a laugh.

"Seriously though, I'm sure the possibilities are endless. What would you hope for of your other selves? What do you think they're like?"

Well, master chef sounds more plausible than secret agent, at least. Mamoru pauses to reflect on Taiyou's question.

"All I can hope is that they're happy, and that they've dedicated themselves towards meaningful causes." After a beat, he looked up and smiled. "And that I'm with you. From the life I have here, it's hard to imagine any of those things as separable from the other two. What about you?"

"You're such a romantic, Mamoru," she says with a warm laugh. Given the realities of parallel universes, she knows that it's actually far more likely that they don't know each other at all in these other worlds. But she doesn't point this out. Mamoru probably already knows this full well.

"Me ... I think I must be some sort of explorer in at least one universe. Maybe the first woman on Mars? Or to make first contact with an alien species?"

Mamoru, of course, knows the odds of their being together in another universe are astronomically small, but it's still a nice thought to hold on to.

"I could see that. Or maybe the princess-gone-rogue? Breaking out of a sheltered but predetermined fate for the sake of pursuing your own goals?"

No one needs to tell Kirihara Akaya that he looks good. He knows this already. Hey, you don't get very far in this industry without a hefty sense of self. Some might say it's vanity, but make no mistake it is not misplaced. Part of the reason he can be so confident is not because he pays attention to the fashion world. It's because whatever he puts on becomes the next must-have. Or so he believes, anyway. Why bother being a follower when you can be a leader?

Today he's out shopping with Nami. Because it helps to have a good looking band to back you up, and he's generous enough to lend his expertise on this subject when called upon.

He sits back in an oversized plush royal purple chaise lounge chair just outside the changing room, waiting for her to come out. He's tapping away on his phone, texting someone. He snorts at the reply he gets and texts back, grinning.

The first rule of being a public figure is knowing that appearance matters. It's shallow, but it's a fact of life. Fortunately, their band was a collective of fashion- and beauty-conscious people. Nami doesn't kid herself, though: she and Hokuto are the real experts, and quite happy to make use of their talents to see that the group is at the head of any industry trend.

Today's first costume is a sleeveless bodysuit with a strategically placed lightning bolt design across the front, crossing from the right hip to the left shoulder. One of the zigs forms the top of a diamond-shaped hole for the navel, while sheer fabric creates the illusion of a bare back. It's paired with elbow-length lace-up gloves and heeled boots.

Once she's properly fitted out, she steps out from behind the curtain and tips her head at Akaya with a grin.

"Texting again?"

He's so busy texting back that he doesn't look up for a minute after she steps out. No offense to Nami or anything. He sees her all the time anyway, unlike the recipient of the text.

"Hm? Oh."

He glances up, surreptitiously closing out of the text without looking at the phone.

"Not bad. I dunno about the cut-out there." He points. "Looks a little tacky. I like the back, though."

"Of course it is! That's the point, don't you know?" Nami answers excitedly. "K.M. featured cut-outs like this in her runway set this week. They're going to be huge this season."

Nami then holds up her hands in a shrug as though the opinion can't be helped. "But if it's not your thing, we've got a few alternatives, too. Are you sure about vetoing this one though?"

"Ahahahah. I would be a rogue princess. I would make a terrible diplomat. You, on the other hand, can be rather adept at that. I'm sure of it."

Mamoru always did have the gift of subtlety. Taiyou, not so much.

"Show me the alternatives," he says.

The runway is nice and all, but he thinks it's all about how it looks on you. Granted, Nami has the kind of body where almost anything looks pretty good. Attitude is what makes up for the rest.

"How about something from that guy Mizuki? You abandoned me to go to his opening, remember? Better be worth it."

"I don't know about that," Mamoru modestly answered. "Frankly, I would prefer not to be involved in politics at all." Knowing what was happening was important, but immersion seemed to make a person angry and scared all the time. That doesn't seem like a healthy or happy life to him.

"Can I run away with the princess instead?"

"How audacious! You say that like it hasn't already been worth it to you." Don't think she's unaware of where that meeting with the repair boy went! Hokuto spilled all the beans, honey.

But she ducks back under the curtain to change into the next option, as shameless of her hypocrisy as she is aware of it. Hey, audacity was almost a must for a life like theirs. It was perhaps only natural for it to be teasing ammunition.

"Hmmm. I suppose if the princess is willing to abdicate her throne for you. What would you offer her in exchange for a country to rule?" she says rather deviously.

He only smirks in response to that. Hey, he doesn't kiss and tell. Clearly though, secrets are rarely kept in this little group of theirs. It's not like he was trying very hard anyway.

"It's not fair, you know. You and her, ganging up on me."

"Home cooked meals every night, obviously," Mamoru says as he brings his wine glass to his lips-- and pauses to tip his head lower for a flirting look as he adds, "I might even throw in doing the dishes."

Falling in love is like looking through a kaleidoscope: everything is a dizzying jumble of vibrance and possibility. It doesn't matter, at first, if the only movement is in circles. Or if the entire thing is just an illusion of wholeness built from fragments and mirrors. All that matters is how exciting and beautiful it feels.

The only trouble is that eventually, one has to surface, and all of those colorful visions no longer mask the reality.

This last fight is the worst they've had in a while, though it seems to be part of a growing trend. What started as inflexibility over time commitments transitioned into complaints about communication style and whose needs were really going unmet, which turned into even more conflict about communication style, and exactly how acceptable it was to disengage from a conversation that was clearly not going to turn productive (or so he liked to see it; it sounded so much more rational than withdrawing because he was upset).

It's certainly one of their biggest differences: when Akaya is angry, it's like watching a volcano. It's loud, it's hot, it's destructive and explosive-- and it's fast. Akaya boils over, needs a few days for the air to clear, and then he lets go. Yukimura's own temper is more like the ocean freezing over. Cold, hard and no louder than the wind on the surface, while deep beneath everything churns and roils. And it's a long time before he thaws. It's a quality he considers an asset most particularly when it comes to Akaya. If you don't control your temper, you can't possibly control the conversation. Sometimes, he wonders if that isn't the real reason it bothers Akaya so much that he acts that way.

Frankly, it feels a bit too soon to be meeting up again, but if Akaya is ready to move on, it seems childish to not do the same. He's already seated in a private room of a high-end restaurant best known for its grill. With both of them having a level of fame in the music industry, it's better to keep as low a profile as possible when out. He'd rather not have dinner become a matter of public entertainment.

Futureverse

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rock star fabulous

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going mad in Wonderland (prequel thread)