[ closed ] well, it's all I used to believe.

[errandry]

When; January 18th, well after this.
Rating; PG-13, for Agito.
Characters; two-thirds of Kogarasumaru!
Summary; One bright day in the middle of the night.
Log;

There was nothing about this that wasn't a bad idea.

Kazu had a hazy idea of the areas and hours Agito liked to run—kind of the same way, he suspected, fish would mark off certain parts of the ocean in their tiny fish-brains with red alert warnings: DO NOT SWIM HERE—PREDATORS ABIDE. A few months ago, he wouldn't have needed more information; the idea of calling Agito to account felt not unlike tying a red scarf to one's face in a bull pen, and only Ikki would do that. But that was the funny thing about time—pretty much the only funny thing. Time passed, and the passing kicked you down and hauled you through paradoxes until your boss was waking up in the next room with all the wrong accessories, and the only thing you could think of doing was to keep running.

Towards something, though, not away—and that idea was a new one.

(That goddamn wheelchair. If the deities hadn't picked that moment in time out on purpose, Kazu'd eat his own hat. Of course, the conversation had died as soon as Kogarasumaru's leader had bitched them out of it, casual and oblivious as it was. And Kazu'd let it go 'cause what could he say? But the thought hadn't gone anywhere. That was the point, wasn't it?)

He yanked himself out of his thoughts as the throng of buildings slid low, opened into cleared, flatter spaces. Stranger grounds. Winter had begun to ebb out of the City—but that still left flashes of ice on sidewalks here and there, and air like swallowing knives. Kazu kept his breaths shallow as he wove around the slippery patches. He ducked his head low, pulled his collar stiff and his gloves tight over his knuckles. Headlong he went, cutting sparks and speed out of the dark, straight into shark country.

He had the night to look, and the advantage: Agito wasn't running from him anyway.

Comments

[sixwinged]

Agito stopped just barely in front of where he had been before, the tips of his fingers keeping themselves just barely tucked into his pockets, ready to raise in case-- this scuffle went any further than it had already. Not that Kazu was the sort, he knew better than to think that. A hit to the head, a kick to the gut or anything in between was plenty, for the beanpole. Agito didn’t need to take it any farther than that-- well, he would, but.

Stopping right behind the flames he had created, Agito tilted his head back, looking towards Kazu through them as they died down. His eye remained trained on that stupid white beanie, watching, waiting for just the slightest of reasons to use those hooks attached to his pants. A reason to let loose, something he hadn’t been able to do since arriving here.

Yet then that answer was coming, and it was obvious enough they were done for now. No carving his bloody road into that stupid thin body (not that he would be satisfied with that at all, considering Agito did consider him a teammate, if anything) and no more flames to lick at his heels.

“Are you done here, then? Fuck, I have better things to do than listen to you, remember? If you’re going to stand around like a fucking idiot, then get lost.”

[errandry]

He was coming away mostly unbloodied, whole-boned and with the answers he'd wanted. This, Kazu was pretty sure, was goddamn good luck—the kind you blessed and didn't press.

If you weren't an idiot with better priorities, anyway.

"One last thing," he admitted, and the words came to his mouth like an apology—the excuse pressed ahead of the rest, raised like a shield before Agito could cut his tongue out of his mouth with a wheel-swipe for taking too much time. Despite the sinking flames, the night felt hot; even the cut of wind seemed an echo of fever chills, raising hairs 'til sweat prickled along his skin. Kazu tugged at his hair, dragged the beanie off with the motion, and stood, absently stretching it between two hands. He lingered, asked his last questions without being prompted—because if he was running on good luck alone, who knew how much longer it'd hold?

"How much'd you tell him, anyway?"

The he and how much didn't need explaining. There was only so much they were keeping back. Stuff like the future—things they could reconcile to themselves because he'd find out whether they told him or not. Stuff that, unnumbered, made it easier to pretend that the wheelchair was anything like normal.

[sixwinged]

One last thing.

Kazu had already interrupted him, already ran around attempting to show off like his trick was any good (which it wasn’t, as far as Agito was concerned), and now he was asking for one last thing. No, it wasn’t bad. Yes, if Agito had been a ‘normal’ person, that wouldn’t have bothered him at all. He would have asked what, answered it, and moved on.

The question had enough merit, just enough that he wasn’t sending another kick into Kazu’s side. Yet, at least. “Nothing. I haven’t told him shit about anything.” No, Akito had been coddling up to him, team times were spent doing obnoxious things, not discussing the time Ikki had missed out on back in their world. At least, if the wheel chair and broken leg was from that point. It could have been from after the battle-- maybe Ikki had gotten hurt then. It hadn’t come up, and back here in this pocket dimension, Agito didn’t think it mattered much anyway.

“Now get lost, before I kick your teeth out, fucking beanpole.” His trecks kicked at the ground absentmindedly for a moment or two, then without any warning raised, sending a fang in Kazu’s direction. A warning. He was done, wasn’t continuing this conversation further. The trick could be easily dodged, by someone with Kazu's speed, but his intention wasn't to hit.

[errandry]

It shouldn't have felt this weird. There was plenty of stuff they didn't tell Ikki—hell, most of it would've worked against them anyway. Self-preservation and all that. It made sense not to fuck with the future—and what would Ikki do, anyway, if he knew? Take Genesis on months early from his chair? Go walking like a prophet, talking madness and treachery until somebody took him down? So he'd find out when he went back. He'd deal. They didn't have to complicate this, being here—and how much was it worth it, anyway, to explain a fucking mess like Takeuchi Sora just to push the extra weight from their own shoulders?

The Fang came as it was meant to—like a warning he felt in his bones, the infinitesimal tremor that was as good as words spoken out loud: your time's up. get the fuck out before this turns into a real hunt. A heartbeat's notice was enough; Kazu spun out of the way without even bothering to vanish. He knew lines, drawn and crossed. There wasn't any real answer he could offer to that anyway.

Aloud, he said, "Yeah, yeah." Spreading the beanie open, Kazu jammed it back over his head again. He twisted away, back towards the City's streets and mazy lights. Over his shoulder, he glanced back once, briefly. "G'night, Agito."

Then he evaporated, leaving neither smoke nor shadow to betray his direction. Getting the last word, after all, probably qualified for a Level 10 Offense with a shark.