Futureverse

[oneblackcat]

PSL with Athena. AKA That Game With Insane Amounts of Worldbuilding.

More here later, yada yada yada.

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double double, toil and trouble

[vicaire]

Half past two in the morning is almost the witching hour. In a city that doesn't sleep, it is also the hour for untimely death. This is hardly the first time they've been called to a scene in this time of night. It is however, the sort of thing that is only done when the deed is especially foul.

It is therefore to Yagyuu's great surprise that he discovers on the ride over that the case might involve an accidental implant overload. There is no indication of foul play at first blush. However, the victim in this case -- one Saito Takashi -- is an important figure in the investment banking circles. One with such high connections apparently deserves the best in the Homicide Task Force after having met a sudden death.

"I have heard of this man," Yagyuu remarks as he and his partner take the lift up to the 18th floor of the condominium. "Some sort of rainmaker, so they say. Perhaps there are some who might benefit from his unexpected retirement."

He appears deceptively amused.

fire burn, and cauldron bubble

[rookieoftheyear]

In contrast to his partner, Ran shows no signs of even deceptive amusement over their latest assignment. The fact they've been called at all doesn't sit well with him. With no suggestion of foul play, there are only two reasons for a pair of homicide detectives to visit the crime scene. Either someone in the department thinks there's more buried here, which means they're dealing with a smart one, or their attention is a consequence of the victim's status, in which case Ran dislikes it on principle.

"I don't know whether to hope you're right or not." It would at least mean they weren't wasting their time, but what a stupid reason to kill someone.

The lift chimes pleasantly and opens a path for them down the walk to the man's home. He hopes that CSI is still there to talk with. It would certainly be helpful to get some updates on what's already been found.

domesticity + quantum universes

[sunna]

Cooking has never been Taiyou's forte. In fact, her culinary repertoire is even tinier than Yuushi's (which is, let's face it, not very big). But it's not for lack of talent, she thinks. If she put her mind to it, she could probably do okay. But Mamoru seems happy enough to slave over a stove, and Taiyou is even happier to encourage it. Besides, she cleans up afterward and even packs the leftovers into tupperware. And she's the resident sommelier of sorts, matching up each of their meals with the perfect wine. She's excellent at that.

Today she's pulled a nice Chablis and is already in the process of uncorking it as she waits for Mamoru to put the finishing touches on their dinner.

"There must be a world out there where you're some sort of secret agent," she says thoughtfully.

[vivalamorte]

Cooking dinner was a strange comfort for Mamoru. It was familiar, and still gave him the same sense of satisfaction that it had in his youth, when he made things for his mom. There had been internal gratification in being able to provide her a hearty meal, to contribute in a way that didn't just make her life more convenient but met a daily need. It wasn't his passion, and he would never be a master chef, but he couldn't deny it was handy to be competent in the kitchen.

His wife is the beneficiary of his skill now. With both of them employed full-time, division of labor at home was unavoidable. It worked out well; Mamoru would far rather make the mess in the kitchen than clean it up. Tonight's mess produced a dinner of poached fish with a cream-based sauce served on a bed of rice with crisp steamed vegetables on the side. He turns off the heat for the vegetables and lifts one of the fish fillets from its hot bath to place over the rice, then the other.

Taiyou's musing catches him a bit by surprise, and he can't help a light laugh. "And you would be my femme fatale?"

Really-- secret agent! Where did that come from? Mamoru doesn't see it. He wasn't nearly cool enough for something like that.

rock star fabulous

[crimsonmoon]

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.

[plight_of_the_navigator]

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?"

going mad in Wonderland (prequel thread)

[senseskill]

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.

[crimsonmoon]

There's never such a thing as too soon. Not for Akaya, when it comes to Yukimura. It's like this every time they fight and spend time away from each other. Everything about him consumes his mind. He can't stop thinking about him and them. Maybe some would say he will burn out if he keeps this up, but Akaya wouldn't think so. He's got endless reserves of whatever this is.

It doesn't matter if Yukimura can drive him fucking crazy sometimes. He always knows the moment he sees his face again that it's worth it. Akaya can be so focused and reasonable when it comes to his professional responsibilities, but when it comes to love, all bets are off. If there's a part of him that realizes how irrational he can be, he ignores it every time.

He let Yukimura pick the restaurant. The location is not important. He looks a bit harried and anxious, but he doesn't care. He doesn't bother being shown to the room by the wait staff, rushing past the guy without a second glance for the room. He slides the door open.

"Yuki."

Not the movies anymore

[dandeliondreams]

Christ on a pogo stick. Leave it to him to leave something as critical as his wearable all the way back at the damn set and not even realize it until he was comfortably lounging in his apartment. Spend a long day at work, get caught up in a tornado of conversations with Mari, the actor he doubled for, Ouka, the cameraman, and half a dozen others afterward before food pulled his stomach away for food and left his brain behind. There's a saying about being so absent-minded a person would forget his head if it weren't bolted to his neck. For most people it's an amusing hyperbole. Rasu sometimes wonders if it would really be hyperbolic for him.

He hops off the rail system at the nearest stop two blocks away and breaks into a light run. Mizuki is always there late-- how late, Rasu doesn't know, but the man's a bit of a workaholic. Well. Highly dedicated. And understandably more invested in the final product than a stunt man whose name is but a blip in a screed of names that follow the stars and heads of the production crew. In a way, Rasu can even understand the long hours the director puts in: Mizuki has a passion for the work he does. It wasn't so difficult to dedicate yourself 110% when it was something you were passionate about. Rasu knows that intimately well.

The studio signs reflect blue neon onto the sidewalk in the distance. One block down, one to go. He just hopes he isn't too late to catch Mizuki and his retina access.

[realisateur]

Of course he works late. It's his name on the final product, after all. And Mizuki is not known for anything short of perfection. His pride wouldn't allow it. He's not a micro-manager, really. He just likes things the way he wants it. Most of the time, that means overseeing even the tiniest detail. Special effects, for example, isn't his forte, but a mistake in that department could be the one thing everyone talks about at the end of it, instead of the grander picture. So he's at the studio tonight, watching and rewatching the edits to make sure that he hasn't missed anything critical.

Meanwhile, most of the staff have gone home, because it's a reasonable hour (for movie makers, anyway) to be at home on a weeknight.

He finally calls it a night at a little past one, and he makes his way to the back exit, waving briefly at the night guard before stepping out into the empty lot outside. The place is quiet, peaceful.

Mizuki adjusts his shoulder bag and starts walking. It happens quite quickly, after that. No warning or anything, just a shadow that suddenly leaps out from behind a camera crane parked on the lot. There's a violent tug against his shoulder strap. Mizuki instinctively grabs it tighter, which turns out to be a mistake.

"Gimme your money!" the gruff voice bellows angrily. Really! As if he had a right to anything at all! Mizuki isn't sure if it's a yelp or a huff that comes out of his mouth then, as he's so filled with fear and indignation at once.

He should just let the bag go. It's really not worth his life -- but it contains all his hard work -- he can't. The guy rips it off him with such force that Mizuki goes flying to the ground. He feels the pavement scrape hotly on his palms.

[flashback] Goku and the Peach

[solaris9]

When Goku was a child, he had two brothers. Then stuff happened, his parents wanted to live away from each other, and he suddenly had only one brother. He remembers being real sad for a long time, wondering whether his brother thought he didn't love him anymore for going away.

Years passed, Goku grew up (more or less...he wouldn't mind having a few more centimeters), and he spend his childhood running around with Hak Nii, who was fun and a great fighter and kind of awesome even though sometimes was an annoying idiot.

He never forgot his other brother though, sweet and warm, or so he recalled him to be, in that vague way that children create their earliest memories. As he entered his teenage years, he began to wonder more and more what had become of him. So one day he decided to just look him up.

But what do you say to a long lost brother after so many years of not being in his life?

Goku thinks about it for a long time before he sends him a message:

gogogoku>> hey!

Best to keep it short and to the point?

[vivalamorte]

Mamoru's eyes burn from exhaustion as he heads back to his room. Tutoring, much like its professional counterpart of teaching, does not pay nearly enough. It's not that the work is grueling or frustrating or particularly stressful. It's that there simply aren't enough hours in the week to work at that rate and earn what would make a comfortable buffer for emergencies and surprise expenses like the dishwasher failure last month and the water damage it caused the flooring. Not while he's still in school himself with assignments of his own. Speaking of which...

He casts a forlorn look at his bed before settling at his desk and pulling out the essay notes he made between pupils. He makes it five minutes before getting notification of a new message from 'gogogoku.' He furrows his eyebrows. All of the sudden, his stomach feels as though it may have dropped out from under him.

"Rex: identify Real Name of gogogoku."

"Real Name: Son Goku."

Goku... Mamoru stares at his schoolwork as though it's morphed into some unconquerable beast. He scoots away from it and puts on his VR headset.

"Select String: Avatar Real Me; Environment City Park; Time Local; Set."

"Avatar, Environment, Time Selected."

"Send invitation to Screen Name gogogoku."

"Invitation Sent."

The scenery around him changes. His room disappears. Instead of his desk chair, he sits on a park bench along a walking trail. A moth circles one of the lamp posts and the song of cicadas hums around him. Stars hover overhead in a melancholy blanket of dark blue broken only by the last wisps of twilight encircling the horizon.

Chasing ghosts at midnight

[cyberfly]

>>Day 3 of recon.
>>Target: Doolittle. Affiliation: SSK.
>>Field: N.U.
>>Tech support: N.N.
>>Target acquired.

>>tracking......

The hours go by slowly when there is not much happening, but that doesn't mean Nagi is any less alert. He sits at his work desk, which is basically a giant holo projection monitor that covers the entire wall, updating location, surveillance, audio capture, social media, news feeds, everything in real time. One slip of information that he misses could have consequences, even if it doesn't look like anything exciting is about to occur any time soon. Criminals don't always have the most predictable patterns, or else Nagi could've written a program to do his job.

That doesn't mean he's got to put his eyeballs on everything, though. He's written a program to alert him to any anomalies that should trigger further investigation, like a phone call made to any particular numbers, or avatars that sign in to certain locations on the VR. Meanwhile, Nagi himself keeps most of his attention on the map that lights up half the wall, which can pinpoint the location of a mouse within a meter radius of that neighborhood, in three dimensions. Nagi created this map himself, based off of one he once programmed back in high school of their academy.

His gaze pauses on the dot that signifies the location of his partner, who is currently following a lead on the streets.

"Ever wish you were the one sitting behind a desk at midnight?" he muses thoughtfully. The rainy weather has finally let up today, at least. A damp stakeout can be messy.

[bomberman]

No rest for the wicked, so the saying goes-- and not much more for those that chase them. This much Naru knows from experience. He taps a patch hidden under his sleeve for an infusion of caffeine.

He keeps a good distance from his mark, a distance afforded him by virtue of technological advancements in night goggles that could track not just heat but heat trails. So much the better for enabling him to chat while he tracks. This job would be a lot lonelier without that constant connection.

"I dunno. I could see it having some advantages! Never having to deal with the weather, you can snack whenever you want... No worries of being seen by someone you know that doesn't realize you're in the middle of a job."

Naru might have sounded a bit awkward about that last one. Ah, the pitfalls of being popular! Getting distracted like that was risky, though. Every magician knows you only need one second of averted attention to pull off a trick. It wasn't as bad if you were waiting anyway, but when you were following like this, it could be the difference between keeping tabs on your target and losing them to the night.

"Why? You wanna try being out here on foot?"

[flashback] 'fess up already

[plastiqc4]

It's a relatively quiet night, at least for them. No opera music blasting through the dormitories at 3 am, no water fountains spewing glitter and lemonade in the courtyard. And no explosions, for which Nagi's parents are probably quite relieved. Instead, Naru has snuck out at 1 am to go clubbing, because why not, and he's managed to convince Omi to go with him. Nagi isn't much of a clubber, and Ken has an exam tomorrow morning. (So does Naru, but oh well).

Oceana is the coolest club in the city right now, and they'll let you in if you have the right credentials. They're easy enough to program. After a couple beers, some enthusiastic dancing, and a lipstick stain on his neck that he's not exactly sure how it got there, Naru takes a break. He knows a place on the balcony just above the dance floor, where you get a great view of the place and the music is just muffled enough to take a breather. Naru sits there now, legs hanging off the edge while he drapes his arms over the railing.

"So are you traveling with your family for spring break this year?" he asks as he takes a sip of his beer.

[oneblackcat]

Omi stifles a yawn from his perch beside Naru, one leg tucked under him and the other dangling from the ledge. By his hip is the last few sips of a Midori Sour. They really ought to be looking at heading back soon... But Omi doesn't want to be the one to suggest it (he imagines Naru doesn't want to either. Oh well, it's a problem for Future Them).

"Yeah. We're going to Switzerland to ski. Well - they're going to ski. I'm going to eat snow," he clarifies with a wry, sleepy grin. He's always been a little bit clumsy even in normal shoes. But the only way to get better is to keep trying. He doesn't want to be bad at anything requiring balance forever.

[flashback] This doesn't bode well for the rest of the term

[oneblackcat]

"Sit down, Honjou."

"Take it back!"

"You can sit in the class or you can stand in the hall. Those are your options; I suggest you choose carefully."

"...No contest."

45 minutes later, Omi can still hear the eruption of whispers from the moment he walked for the door. The bell finally rings, classroom doors open and the whispering in his ears becomes a clamour in the halls. Ken won't be among the faces filing out; he's already gone. Omi saw him march out a few minutes after he did and Omi isn't sure he's ever seen him that pissed off while still that silent-- scary. The other students start to spill out, several of them exchanging glances with him but none of them saying a word. It doesn't matter. He's not waiting to talk with any of them. He's waiting for Nagi.

Omi doesn't know what to expect out of his friend the moment he crosses into the daylight side of that abuse chamber. He doesn't know what else that asshole teacher proceeded to say to or about him, only this time without anyone in a position to stand up and defend him. Will he be angry, or just humiliated? Will he show any of it? Nagi's always been remarkably good at hiding his feelings. Times like these, maybe it's advantageous for him to be. He didn't get sent out to stand in the hall, at least. Even so, Omi knows how upset he is, and he wasn't even the target of the teacher's degradation. He's sort of worried about Nagi. Maybe more than sort of.

[cyberfly]

Growing up poor and small was always going to be an invitation to be picked on, at least in the neighborhoods where Nagi grew up. Nagi has known this since he was old enough to remember. Showing up at school with faded hand-me-down clothes, not being able to fill out his family tree for those stupid grade school assignments, not having the latest gadget to show off in the playground: all these things were fodder for the ruthless idiots who had nothing better to do than push him around. Things got a little better after Nagi worked his way into one of the best private high schools in the city, gaining entrance via one of their merit scholarship programs funded by techy billionaires who had an eye for the next generation of programmers.

At least here, the kids are too rich to really care about the scholarship kids. Most of them are into clubbing or high tech VR or (the studious ones) have their eye on college and beyond. Of course, there used to be the occasional jerk, but most of them left him alone after he actually started making friends, like Omi and Ken and Naru.

What he hasn't escaped yet is the scrutiny of teachers like Gilmore, who felt it was beneath him to teach the likes of Nagi. Maybe he thinks his talents are wasted unless he's raising the next CEO or chief medical officer or senator. Whatever. Nagi just needs to endure one semester of this bastard's class before he moves on to better things. Thankfully, it's a mathematics class, so it's not as though he can be graded unfairly (unless he's accused of cheating).

Still, he silently dreads each Tuesday and Thursday, when he has to sit in his class and be berated again, just for existing. Nagi doesn't expect his friends to stand up for him, but maybe he should have? It's been a relatively new thing for him, people having his back. Certainly, no one has ever tried to challenge authority on his behalf.

He tries to stop him. But maybe he doesn't try hard enough? Or maybe Omi just has a mind of his own. Nagi sinks a bit in his chair when Gilmore kicks Omi out. Ken shortly follows, red-faced. Nagi just stares wide-eyed, unsure what to think. He certainly can't concentrate on the lessons. The class proceeds seemingly forever. Gilmore only shoots him nasty glances, which is easier to ignore than his tongue lashings. The hour is finally up and Nagi quickly heads to the door. He pauses in front of Omi awkwardly, glancing at him.

"...hi."

[flashback] The limits of retaliation

[oneblackcat]

Omi will admit to this much: he hadn't meant to send the guy to the hospital.

He sits slumped in the chair outside the headmaster's office waiting to be seen, avoiding his brother's eyes as much as he possibly can. He doesn't need to be reminded how disappointed Yuushi must be. In fact, he'd rather not be reminded Yuushi is even there.

He wonders how badly Naru caught it. Naru's parents didn't have the same influence his do; it sort of worries Omi. What if this was a line too far, and Naru wasn't going to be able to come back? Their pranks had always just been fun and giggles in the past... maybe occasionally retaliatory, but never anything serious. Never anything like this.

The door glides open. A smooth, automated voice chimes an invitation to enter the office. Omi takes a breath and crosses the threshold, then takes one of the chairs facing the desk. He sits up straighter here. He can't decide if he's lucky or not that his parents are out of town right now.

--

The headmaster's sharp gaze on Omi softens as she looks to Yuushi, reserving a rueful and quiet but genuine smile for him. He's growing into quite the young man; it's evident in the way he carries himself as well as in the local news. Recently graduated, moving into an executive role in the family business, everything society would expect from someone of his upbringing. And he deserved it. He was diligent, studious, intelligent and well-mannered.

This was really quite a regrettable conversation to have to have. The door glides shut and seals them in privacy.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Yuushi, thank you for taking the time and effort to visit on behalf of your parents. I understand the unfortunate timing, however this is sadly not a situation I can allow to sit on hold until your parents return."

[equestre]

It's never a good thing when you receive a video call from your little brother's head master. Of course, the first thing that ran through his head was: is he okay?? By the end of that conversation, Yuushi felt a combination of relief, embarrassment, and disappointment. And hours later, as he sits next to him in the waiting area outside the head master's office, he feels awkwardness too, because this isn't how he expected to return to his alma mater, standing-in for his out-of-town parents. Maybe he does think that sometimes they let Omi get away with a lot, but he always figured that it wasn't up to him. What's he supposed to do now?

Omi clearly doesn't want to discuss things, which probably will make it difficult for Yuushi to see his point of view once they get in there. But then again, is there a point of view to be had that could possibly excuse exploding a teacher's toilet?

He sighs and gets up to enter the office when they're ushered in at last. He nods respectfully at head master Shimizu as he takes a seat.

"No, Professor Shimizu, I understand. A man is in the hospital. This isn't the sort of thing that can wait."

She nods in return.

"I should say that Professor Gilmore didn't sustain any physical injuries. But they're running some tests, just to be on the safe side."

"We will pay for those, and any additional medical expenses that result, of course," Yuushi says.

"I am sure the insurance will cover that, but that is much appreciated, nevertheless. What we do need to discuss further however, is how we can ensure that such a thing never happens here, again." She glances at Omi with a hard look.

"Of course. There is no excuse for such behavior."

surprise houseguest

[raijyuu]

Well. This is not entirely where he expected to be tonight.

Hak adjusts the strap of his duffle on his shoulder, the bag seeming over-tiny against his tall, broad and muscular form. He steps out of the lift and, for a passing moment, allows himself to feel awkward in the final walk to Goku's apartment. Not over the lack of advance notice to the residents, but over his own unpreparedness. His clothes are wrinkled and his hair dissheveled like that of a man who until recently had been napping (he had been). Possibly, he shouldn't have answered Helena's nagging reminder that his laundry wasn't going to do itself with an assurance that it also wasn't going to run off and leave him naked.

He owns it's slightly embarrassing, if only to himself. Not that he plans on getting into the details. The bottom line is he's now out of a roof over his head and as long as he's newly responsible for providing for his own place to live, it might as well be close to his brother, right? Brothers, even.

He reaches the front door, looks it up and down, and rings the bell.

[solaris9]

The game projector is on pause, but the effects are still pretty stunning in standby mode. The entire living room looks like the bridge of a futuristic starship, with the tv screen doubling as the ship's own window into the galaxy. A fluorescent glow of the various command panels bathe the room. Goku hasn't bothered to switch it off, since he plans on going back to his mission after a brief snack break. He's in the kitchen fixing himself a sandwich when he hears the doorbell go off. Weird, since he's not expecting anyone.

He puts down the bread (but grabs a quick bite of it) before trotting to the front door and sliding it open.

"Hey!" Goku's face lights up. He's surprised, but not in a bad way. "What's up? Come in!"

[oneblackcat]

Stir in the curry mixture and continue cooking until thickened, 6–8 minutes more.

Omi takes the small pot off the stove top and pours its contents into the large stew pot he borrowed from Aya. The kitchen is a mess: flour and curry powder dusting the countertop, a cutting board with carrot tops and a chef's knife in need of washing, potato peels in the sink, and a large bowl of udon noodles waiting on the side. The recipe for Beef Curry Udon hovers in hologram by the hood.

It's a double batch this time. Omi expects Hak and Goku will both want some when they get in, and that they will want seconds, if not thirds. He's definitely noticed an uptick in the grocery bill since Hak joined the household, and it wasn't exactly modest to begin with between Goku's appetite and Omi's preference for higher quality ingredients.

He should probably go out and buy one of these large stew pots for their own home now. Omi has a feeling Hak may be hanging around for longer than a couple of weeks. He has to admit that Goku seems even happier than usual having his brother around, and Hak seems to be enjoying being close to Goku again.

It's a strange, not wholly comfortable feeling in his stomach. There's an old saying that two is company and three is a crowd that feels quite apt, and he's not quite sure that he's part of the two.

Goku probably doesn't see it that way, and it isn't like he's being excluded from anything. It's just the nature of interactions: they most naturally occur in pairs. And it's both reasonable and heartening for Goku to be spending most of his time lately with his brother that he hasn't seen much of in years. If it was Yuushi, Omi knows he'd be doing the same as Goku. He's been privileged enough to live just a few doors down from his brother, though. He's never had to miss Yuushi the way Goku's had to alternately miss Mamoru and then Hak.

The pot bubbles with the mingled aromas of beef, onion, curry and chiles rising in the curls of steam.

[crimsonmoon]

The tour is taking a brief break for Golden Week. Akaya takes advantage of the down time to do absolutely nothing, which is somewhat rare. He usually spends it in the studio or attending promotional events and so on. But the songs in his head aren't going anywhere, and he can always record snippets here and there on his wearable if needed. Meanwhile, he's at Omi's, kicking back.

Omi is cooking for a small battalion. Might as well be, with the Brothers Son. Akaya thought he ate a lot, but that's before he met those guys.

He sits at the breakfast bar scrolling through his various social media accounts and punching in the occasional reply to an especially clever or interesting post. He doesn't volunteer to help, but he wouldn't object to doing so - if asked.

[jaeha]

Well. This wasn't attractive at all.
 
Jae-ha is not one to get nervous, still less to show it. Really, why should here be any different? It's important, sure, but he's an irresistibly charming guy! Why wouldn't his brother be happy to see him?

Deep down, he knows the answer to that question, and it's what's kept him from trying to reconnect with him this long. Every time he's thought of trying to talk to Akaya, a feeling of dread congeals in his stomach. Give yourself some more time, he always decided, and he always only felt worse next time. Each wait made it harder to alter the previous outcome, a vicious trap of his own making.

Kija, of course, didn't understand at all; he never would have fallen for such self-sabotage. Sometimes, Jae-ha envies him for his beautiful simplicity: things are how they are, and however bad, there's a responsibility to make it better. Once upon a time, Jae-ha could have mocked this mentality. He's come to respect it over time, even adore it.

And so here he waits by the vending machines at Akaya's apartment complex. Because if he can't show the same kind of courage, what right does he even have to look at the man as an equal?
 
God but it's getting late... Late enough that he's starting to wonder about bags under his eyes. So late that it's early. So late, that by the time he finally does spot Akaya he's too tired and impatient for nervousness, and he hops out in front of him with all the flair and flamboyance of a man who hasn't for a single second considered the possibility of being unwelcome.

"Yoooo, welcome home!" He greets. "Are you surprised to see me? I made a special trip out."

[crimsonmoon]

It's been a long day. Akaya actually has actually been up since 7am, which is hella early for him, because the band had a media event to go to. It's the kind of thing they don't really tell you about before you get famous. Being in a band isn't just about making music and playing concerts. There's a shit ton of other work that happens, inevitably at balls o'clock in the morning.

Then there was a photo shoot with the hip new lifestyle e-zine that took up several more hours. Followed by some time with his manager and the team heading up the administration of the upcoming tour. A few hours of actual music in the studio and now he's finally heading home.

Aside from a few snatches of sleep here and there on a green room couch or back of a car, he's been up almost 20 hours.

He's looking forward to face planting into his bed and being unconscious for the next ten hours.

Instead, he's greeted by this.

There might have been a time when Akaya would've done almost anything to see that ugly face, but that hope has long since passed. Years of waiting in disappointment and anger eventually turned into indifference and detachment. After all, if his brother didn't give a fuck, then why should he?

So of course, his reaction should've been how he'd always pictured it would be: an eyeroll, a shrug. Not even a glance backward as he walked past.

Instead, he finds himself balling his fist and then stepping in without hesitation to slug him across the face.

Apparently, the rage never went away. Typical.

[twin_star]

The stars have aligned. That’s certainly how Hokuto sees it, when the twins are in town at the same time, which doesn’t seem to happen nearly as much as it ought to, in her humble opinion! But such are the demands of their musical life, and she knows it is a privileged problem to have, given their mutual successes. And so it is that she makes sure to take full advantage of these rare moments by inviting herself over to Seiichi’s at the first possible opportunity (hush, her presence is welcomed and adored, of course!)

She doesn’t come empty handed. Hokuto arrives with several bags of groceries, because surely whatever remains in her brother’s fridge is not a whole lot after coming home from touring, and it is thus her duty and pleasure to fill it with all the things she thinks it should have. Hokuto can be quite opinionated on such matters, but she does have an excellent sense of Seiichi’s favorite foods.

Comfort food is a must for travel-weary souls, so it was her executive decision to have shabu shabu tonight. After several demands to chop this and plate that, they’re finally seated around the bubbling pot surrounded by multiple platters of meats, veggies, tofu, noodles, and the like.

“There’s quite the speculation,” she says teasingly as she places the enoki mushrooms and napa cabbage into the pot, “about your latest single.”

Ah, those gossip blogs, just love to dissect every little thing about her brother’s life. His lyrics are a peek into it, maybe. Lucky for her, she’s got her own private window, which she guards jealously.

[senseskill]

Before fame, it's easy to look at touring in simple terms. Glamour, excitement, a sea of cheering fans that made a special trip out of their evenings just to come see you sing in person. And for the first time or two, it is glamour and excitement, and the rush of adrenaline and adulation is as overwhelming as it is rewarding.

Then the magic wears off, and when it comes time to tour again, you start thinking about the relentless exhaustion and the jet lag, the cheap food because there isn't time for anything else, the cameras and marketing and the rehearsals and by now you know how much of it is pure performance. Most of the music isn't actually being played live. You certainly aren't singing live because how would you when you're constantly out of breath from dancing and strutting the stage in between timed costume changes?

It's glamorous and exciting the first time or two, and then it becomes part of the job. These days, it's the coming home and hiding from all the cameras and screaming that's appealing. It isn't that he's ungrateful for his success or interested in giving it up; he's simply gained a greater appreciation for the moments that more closely resemble what normal used to be. Like having a home-cooked meal with his sister, just the two of them.

It's a rarity compounded by Hokuto's own busy rock musician's schedule. How she manages to find the mental energy to plan and carry out a stockpiling of a kitchen that isn't even hers is something beyond Yukimura's understanding.

He looks up with amusement at her statement. "Is there?" He says with equal humor. "I can't imagine why. It seems quite straightforward to me."

Of course, straightforward lyrics about the thrill of falling in love said nothing for how applicable they might be to him personally at the moment, the answer to which was not at all. But he doesn't think it should need to be. In a way, it's a method of coping with the opposite. Remember how it felt to be in the throes of infatuation as an escape from the heartache and disappointment of a romantic dead end.

[crimsonmoon]

It’s late. They’ve been walking for a while now, after having dinner at one of Akaya’s favorite tempura joints downtown. He should’ve spent the entire day in bed, given the crazy touring schedule that just wrapped up a couple days ago. But somehow, he’d messaged Omi earlier, and here they are, lingering in each other’s company. He forgets how exhausted he is when he’s laughing with Omi about the latest memes, or or breaking down the twist ending from Mizuki’s recent movie (did you see that coming?), or having a serious discussion about whether celery should be tempura’d or not.

“I don’t mind it,” he says with a grin. “It’s crunchy. Besides, it’s battered and fried. It all tastes the same.”

[oneblackcat]

When he got Akaya's text, Omi took a moment to stare down the probable all-nighter he'd be pulling to make a deadline for a client and jumped at his chance. It would be worth the rough night ahead to see Akaya while he could.

"Ugh," Omi sounds, and despite himself he's grinning, too. Akaya is doing this on purpose-- he knows he hates the stuff. He doesn't mind this kind of teasing, though.

"That's lucky, then. I know I can count on you to eat every bite of it for me." He could eat it if he really had to, but what's the fun in saying that?

He accents his point with a little accidentally-on-purpose bump of Akaya's shoulder.

[flashback] Dinner Delivery

[volleygenius]

Yukimura is out for the evening doing a television appearance, which means it's a perfect time to drop in on his favorite former kouhai. It's not that Marui avoids Yukimura (he's a close friend, in fact), it's just good sense not to make a surprise appearance when he and Akaya are home together. As passionate as both of them are, there's ten different ways that could go incredibly wrong. No thanks!

He blows a bubble of his favorite gum (green apple) to pass the time while the lift hauls him up to the penthouse floor. Strung from two fingers over one shoulder is a plastic bag with two of the boxed meals he picked up after practice. The third one is already gone, enjoyed at the restaurant with another old friend from their Rikkai days.

The lift chimes and opens to the fancy lobby of the penthouse suite. Marui steps out and leans casually against the frame of the entry, giving it a few raps and calling out afterwards.

"Hey, open up! You don't want your food getting cold."

[crimsonmoon]

So the clothes were still in a pile on the bed. Big fucking whoop. They're not even dirty. Akaya just hasn't had the time to push them into a dresser. Never mind that they've been there for a week, getting wrinkled as he punts the pile back and forth from his chair to the bed. He doesn't wear anything that needs to be ironed, right? With Yukimura, you have to pick your battles, because there can be a lot of them. Akaya likes the challenge, but sometimes he just wants him to shut the hell up and fuck him already. Akaya can be quite persuasive in that department, but as he's learned since they moved in together - it can wear thin when the petty arguments come up again and again.

So, surprisingly enough, he's actually putting those clothes away when he hears a rap on the door, followed by a familiar voice.

"Senpai?"

He leaves the drawer half open and makes his way to the door, which he swings open, wide. His gaze drops to the food, then back to Marui's face. He grins.

"You're my fucking hero."

[flashback] Preliminary Research

[volleygenius]

In his gut, Marui already knows he's going to do it. The family was offering good money for it, and what was the worst that could happen? People with lots of money were still just people. And Marui knows how to handle people.

Why bother Atobe, then? Curiosity, mostly. And a need to be at least somewhat prepared for what he's getting himself into. Marui isn't much of a planner, but neither is he stupid, and sometimes knowing how to handle someone meant doing a little bit of research first. The fact that this family insists on a professional athlete (and not the far more sensible option of an experienced coach) already speaks volumes. Most of it sounding disturbingly like the words 'This is a bad idea.'

Oh, well. Marui has never been one to run away from a challenge, and he's not about to start now. So here is is, logging into the VR call system for ten minutes of Atobe's time in a setting of his choosing.

Time to see what King has to say about them.

[flashback] A Blind Date

[volleygenius]

Marui finishes his ice cream cone and drops the wrapper into the next trash can as he walks up the front steps to the mall and checks his watch. It's just about right for the time he should be meeting his date. 2:30 today, west entrance, at the fountain, male date is all he knows. The mall is pretty casual for a date, so he's dressed down to a nice pair of khaki shorts and a white knit polo shirt with a clean pair of tennis shoes.

He doesn't really need to go blind to snag someone to spend a Sunday afternoon with, especially with the kind of sex appeal being a professional athlete afforded someone, but it's a special request from his cousin, and the fact is it's very hard to say no to her sad puppy face. Not that he'd really tried to, but anyway.

At any rate, he's here now, and trying to determine whether he's the first one. He pops a piece of green apple bubble gum into his mouth and glances around the fountain area for anyone who looks similarly in search of company.

[crimsonmoon]

Since when does Akaya need help with his dating life? Never, that’s when. Certainly not from his own brother. He’s only just starting to get to know Jae-ha again and has no idea whether his taste in dating partners can be trusted. But being a rising rock star makes spontaneous meetings almost impossible. Akaya is never sure if people want him because of the fame or out of genuine interest. Finding someone to fuck or fawn over him is easy, but it’s mostly shallow fluff, boring. This is the only reason why he’s here today, because the curiosity has gotten the better of him. And besides, if Jae-ha has hooked him up with an asshole, he gets to punch him in the face later.

Akaya approaches the fountain with a casual gait, scanning the crowd for the likely guy. He doesn’t have much to go by, except that he’s supposed to be around the same age and “cute.” Clearly he’s not here yet, because the only single guy standing around the fountain is none other than…

“Marui Senpai?”

He cocks his head to the side, smiling with a touch of surprise. “Hey! How long has it been?”