(no subject)

[z-e-r-o-shame.livejournal.com]

When; Monday, July 2
Rating; PG - 13
Characters; Sakagami Kouya z_e_r_o_doubt and Nakano Yamato z_e_r_o_shame
Summary; Reunion at Cybernetics.
Log;

Horrible, wretched, stupid place.
How does one go from the the floor of the bathroom to a city square?
How does one get back?

And no help from the strange crowds whatsoever.
Except to go and post your question, with a point in the direction of the internet cafe.
Computers were not an issue.
(Not that posting had done any good. At first.)

It was being alone that was the worst.
Separation, rightly to be feared.

And if these people, these "helpful strangers" were to be believed, there was no station, no connecting line, and no way back.

Notes and words, and a small cluster of faces.
She didn't feel much like responding to them, but still felt obliged.
No help, no help, no help at all.

And then, another.
The other.
Her other.
Yamato.

Nevermind. I'm coming to get you. Hold on, okay?

She could feel the beginnings of relief spreading across her mind, down into her throat, a change in the tenor of her anxiety.

Back to things as they were, somehow.

Not lost.

All right.
It is all right.

If she had been paying attention to anything but the throb of blood through her veins and the way it collected in a small knot of heat at her breast bone, right beneath the still-faded lines of the Zero tattoo, she might have noticed that this was the fastest she’d ever run before.

As it was, the buildings and people she passed were colored blurs, sweeping by unnoticed, unimportant.

At the back of her mind, some treacherous worm of doubt crawled and hissed in her ear that perhaps this was a joke, a cruel taunt by a City that had never bothered to be kind. What if Kouya wasn’t there waiting for her? What if she ran and ran and found nothing, no soft black hair curled around her wrist, no cold skin to warm with a kiss and a blush?

What if she found nothing?

It was a possibility she couldn’t ignore. Not when what had been so long threatened had stared her in the face for all these weeks.

To be replaced. To be abandoned for something stronger, something better. But Kouya wouldn’t really allow that, would she?

The café winked at her with its contribution of neon light. Prodded her to move, to stop being such a child and just look…

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. In her chest, something throbbed and stabbed, and she welcomed the feeling.

Pain.

Only one person had ever made her feel it like this.

“Kouya.”

Yes, there.
That voice.

"Yamato."

Kouya stood up, slowly, and turned, slowly, away from all the bright screens and hopeless messages: you can't get out.

Yamato had said she was waiting.
Why?
They'd seen each other last night. And tonight they were going to...go again.

But she was here.
Good.
And the phone didn't work.
Good.

Was Yamato...worried? Impossible.
She was the worried one, with tears she hated prickling in the corners of her eyes, spotting her glasses.

It was just like before.
She walked towards her, like before, tears threatening to spill over; the small relief they provided.

If there were some she knew here already, what if there were others too?
Nagisa-sensei--and she stopped that thought.
Even if they were trapped together, that didn't mean they would stay together.

A voice: speak, answer.
What was it she wanted when she felt this way?

"Yamato."


Her name.

The right person was finally saying her name, and oh it felt good enough to erase all those mocking tones Beloved had given the syllables when he said them.

This was familiar. This was home.

She saw the glistening at the corners of Kouya’s eyes, struggled to check the tightness in her own throat. She was the Sacrifice. Nothing was ever supposed to touch Kouya, or harm her.

Lips quivered, and twisted upwards into a smile.

“Hey,” she whispered, coming closer. Close enough to brush at the soft strands of hair on Kouya’s cheek, she repeated words she didn’t think she’d have the chance to say again.

“I’ve been waiting for you forever.”


Then the tears came, with the familiar touch of those fingers.
Familiar hands, familiar gestures, familiar expression--almost.
Stop--she wiped at her eyes.

Still something odd, something off, something broken in the way she smiled now. Not nearly so unconcerned as she usually was, though she acted the same.

Kouya didn't mean for her voice to sound so hard, so harsh, not to her, Yamato--but it had to, it had to, to keep her from crying more.
She set her jaw and clenched her teeth enough to hold herself back.

Even feigned anger would do.

"Waiting? But I just saw you last night."


Last night.
Of course.

She knew time worked differently in the City. She knew that but, it didn’t seem fair, that all this time she’d been without Kouya, had longed for her, and missed her, and needed her, and yet for Kouya she’d only been gone less than a day.

Not even long enough to miss.

It was selfish to want Kouya to have felt the same. Selfish and cruel, and it made Yamato ashamed to think it. Shouldn’t she be happy? How could it matter so much, when they were both here together now?

The roughness in Kouya’s voice made her swallow past the guilt. Slowly, she fit her hand into the dip of the other girl’s shoulder, grazing the neck with her fingertips. Gentle, always gentle even though causing pain was impossible.

“Of course you did,” Yamato laughed, the words dropping from her lips with barely a quaver. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

If Yamato only knew how bad the day had been so far. If she knew about Kouya trying desperately to keep herself calm in class, but still hiding out in the girl's bathroom, vomiting again. Still worried, still afraid. She wanted to say I missed you too but that didn't make sense.

I missed you was what one said, but felt more like I wanted you or I needed you. I needed you to make things better again the way she always did.

Tell me it's all right. Tell me you're unconcerned.

She half-leaned into Yamato's touch. Make it all right.

"It's good you found me then."

“Yes,” Yamato sighed, her other hand coming up to twine their fingers together.

“I found you.”

Relief now. This was the way it should be.

This was what had been missing.

It was too crowded here to do what she really wanted to do. Too many prying, curious eyes, and although she never minded being publicly affectionate, this was something different.

Kouya was crying. She hated crying, especially in front of people.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Yamato said, giving Kouya’s fingers a light squeeze.

I’ll take care of you.

Quietly Kouya locked her fingers into Yamato's, her eyes sliding shut.

And if she, they, both were trapped here, impossible as it seemed, then there would be no fight. No need to prove anything.

She was beginning to feel calmer already.

Not perfect certainty, but already something better.
She felt the beginnings of a smile on her face.

"Yes."

Tugging slightly on the hand clasped in hers, Yamato started to walk out of the café, wondering what it would be like now.

Kouya was here. She didn’t need to stay with Fuu-chan, to have a crowd around her to drown her thoughts and guard her dreams. Besides which, as tolerant as Mugen and Jin were being about her staying with them, she didn’t think that would extend to both of them.

There was already a lack of space at the hot springs.

“There are empty apartments,” she said out loud, having already made up her mind. “We’ll move into one of those. Just the two of us. I’ll need to pick up a few of my things and then...”

She smiled and ducked her head closer to Kouya’s, breathing in the familiar clean scent.

“…Then you can pick the place. Near a doughnut shop, please?”

Kouya followed, willingly, happily, and she was led along back out into the city.

Pick up a few of her things? So Yamato had been here for some time. And to move into an apartment? Then she expected to be here for some time. But that made no sense, no sense at all. The idea that it would be another world like this, trapping them, changing how time

But, the two of them: not divided by families or schools or distance anymore. They could be and stay together. It didn't matter to her what apartment they moved into, where it was, how it looked, none of it.

Near a what?
Doughnuts. Again. As ever.

Kouya matched her, leaning towards her Sacrifice, her other half, with sharp, teasing eyes.

"Fine. But I keep telling you: don't blame me if you get fat."

There would be questions.  For Kouya, only a night had passed.  For Yamato it had been almost a month of separation.  They were in a strange place with no exit, and incomprehensible curses.

But more importantly, there was no Nagisa-sensei. And although Beloved and Loveless and the other Zero were here, without orders from Nagisa they had no reason to fight them. Unless they wanted to.

They could do whatever they wanted now.

The sudden sense of freedom was so overwhelming, her knees almost buckled. Yamato masked the stumble with a playful bump against Kouya’s hip.

“If I get fat, you’ll just have to find a way to help me…work it off,” she said suggestively, a leer showing in the curve of her lips and the lowering of her brows.

"Hm. You've been eating a lot of doughnuts lately," Kouya replied, feeling the curve of Yamato's hip against her own.

She leered back, pulling their locked hands up between them. It felt good, even in this strange place, to hear the same teases, the same suggestions, Yamato's banter. Even if she couldn't play the game as well as Yamato, she loved it. So she leered back as best she could.

But the leer didn't last. Yamato had taken her hand, and was leading her through the strange streets she hardly noticed, as fixed as she was on the other girl, but they hadn't embraced, and they hadn't kissed.

"Yamato," she said quietly, her eyes large with some still unexpressed worry.

"Kiss me."

Yamato let the remark about her eating habits pass by uncommented on. She knew Kouya loved her curves anyway, the softness of her body and the fullness where her hips flared out the sides of her skirt, where her breasts strained against the fabric of her shirt.

She almost laughed when Kouya tried to copy her lecherous grin, tempted to tell her how cute and out of place it looked, to tease some more, maybe induce a bit of a chase like old times.

And then Kouya’s expression changed and the laughter died in Yamato’s throat.

Things were still different. Apparently, more reassurance was necessary.

Yamato slid the hand that wasn’t holding tight to Kouya’s fingers up to a shoulder, a neck, cupping the back of Kouya’s head to bring it closer.

“You’re so bossy,” she whispered, before placing a soft, closed-mouth kiss on the corner of Kouya’s mouth, waiting to see if those lips would open and gasp for her from just that bare touch.

Bossy? Maybe. But Yamato let her be that way. She gave in, gave her what she wanted. It seemed to be what Yamato wanted more often than not. Good.

At the first brush of Yamato's kiss, Kouya's eyes slid shut and her mouth fell open, lips soft and slack. It felt good to be touched, to be kissed, to be wanted. Yamato's soft scent lingering. Even that small a touch could send sensations and heat rippling through her. She knew a blush was rising up her throat and across the bridge of her nose, coloring both cheeks. She...didn't care now.

She pulled away, still blushing, breathing shallowly, and spoke, if only to break the delightful tension between them.

"You know where all the doughtnut shops in this town are already. Which one is your favorite? We'll live near that one."

We'll live...

Was it right for the idea of freedom to be as frightening as the idea of entrapment?

One always fears the unknown.

We'll live wherever we want.

Yamato wanted to keep her eyes open while they kissed. She liked watching Kouya. But her eyes seemed to close of their own accord as soon as she felt soft lips against her own. She leaned into it as much as she dared, the hand curled in Kouya’s hair almost trembling with the effort to hold back.

Because she wanted more than this, and even if it felt like they were the only people in the universe right then, Yamato could feel curious eyes peeking at them from street corners and windows.

So she let Kouya pull away, reluctantly, her eyes opening after a beat or two while she cradled the taste of Kouya’s mouth on her tongue.

Red cheeks. So cute.

Yamato felt a brief flash of smug pride before her own body reminded her of her own harsh and shallow breathing, and the way her own skin was warming, although she could keep the blood from rising to her face.

“Any one with Kouya nearby is a favourite,” she said truthfully.

It was a little weird, talking about living together, making their own plans. Without Nagisa-sensei…

Would they be able to do it on their own?