pslplz | Futureverse

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

>>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.

Edited 2018-08-14 02:15 (UTC)

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.

"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.

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."

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.”

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."

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.

Edited 2021-07-29 00:59 (UTC)

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.

double double, toil and trouble

domesticity + quantum universes

rock star fabulous

going mad in Wonderland (prequel thread)

Not the movies anymore