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scriveynerTitle: gifts & curses
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Nightbreed
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi, Keiko, Masanori
Rating: T
Length: 1251
Summary: They were still prisoners, here.
The small bedroom was a marked improvement from the cages, small things with thick metal bars and a single torn blanket for sleeping on – but it was still a cage, even if it was prettied up. Keiko paced the room in the middle of the night, measuring its width. Their most recent jailers were different, they provided actual food, and clothes – and there were futons even if they hadn't been spread out on the floor.
Masanori was curled atop the folded futons, tail covering his nose, made as small as possible – but his gold eyes were open, he watched her pace the room, tail held high, tip swishing with every step.
They were still prisoners, here.
“He smells different,” Masanori had said, one morning as they curled together for safety, in the corner of the room, out of sight. “The gold one.”
She knew what he meant, the taller of the pair – she'd bit him twice, when he'd dared to enter their cage, but he'd never struck out at them in pain or anger, not like their previous handlers. There was something in his eyes she didn't understand, soft with rounded edges, soothing – it reminded her of her mother and Keiko buried her snout and squeezed her eyes shut.
It was days before she tried the door, and found that it had been unlocked all along.
#
“Okay, so step one of your brilliant plan,” Masanori said, one hand on the strap of his school bag, the other hanging onto the back of Keiko's uniform. “We made it to the city. So, now what?”
“Now, we find our parents,” she said, as if it was just that simple.
Masanori sighed – he was holding onto her because they were being carried by the tide of humanity, this crush of adults who had exited the train, and he was small and not-exactly defenseless, but the last thing he wanted was for Keiko to get upset and default to transforming to get out of trouble. “Okay,” he said. “We find mom and dad.”
How, exactly, was something that wasn't being elaborated on.
They moved through the crowd easily, despite the crush – Keiko wove through people expertly, and Masanori followed her lead – it was just like when they hunted. He could easily imagine the sea of people as a forest of trees, and the pair of them ducking through and around until finally they emerged to the street, and Masanori stopped to crane his head and look up and out.
“Do you remember,” Keiko said as they sat on a bench opposite a pastry store. “Where we used to live?”
He didn't, and she knew it. He didn't remember much – they had been separated from their pack young, taken as – hostages, he was told, but he wasn't quite sure that accurate – just a few fleeting memories. But, Masanori was used to humoring Keiko, and he shook his head as he slowly ate the purchased crepe.
Masanori expected a story – Keiko waxing poetic about how good it used to be, the four of them – but instead she looked down at her own half-eaten crepe, and said softly, “I don't, either.”
They sat in silence, finishing their crepes – they didn't need to talk, the stillness between them a comfortable blanket. They didn't talk in wolf-form either, they didn't need to. Masanori finished his first, binned the wrapper in the trash across the sidewalk. “Gotou will be upset with us,” he said as he stood, waiting on Keiko to finish hers. “Hazama too.”
“Let them be upset,” Keiko said, but didn't look up at him. “We'll have our parents, we don't ever have to see them again.”
There was a weirdness in his stomach at the way she said that – and he thought of the way that Gotou carried him to bed when he'd fallen asleep half under the kotatsu, watching anime – or the way Hazama lit up when they came home from school, asking questions, genuinely curious about his day – and said, softly - “That's not fair, neechan.”
“Life's not fair, 'nori,” she said, finishing her crepe and balling the wrapper in her hands.
“So where do we start?” he asked instead, still feeling the awkward, ill feeling but pushing it aside, knowing it was useless to argue with her when she was like this.
“At the beginning,” Keiko said, and stood up.
#
Gotou stood naked in the kitchen and sighed, scruffing his hand through his hair, the other on his hip. He hadn't reallyexpected to come across the kids out roaming on the last night of the full moon – but even when they didn't meet up, at least Masanori, if not Keiko, would respond to the moon-song, letting him know that they were safe, somewhere out in the expanse of the wilderness.
Last night, the only thing he heard was his own howling, echoed back to him distant in the night.
When he got in there was no sign of them being home, their scents faded and lesser. His nose was already slowly fading, the ability to discern those scents diminishing as the day grew longer, away from the last full moon of the cycle, and that left him with little to go on. He sighed again, and picked up his cell phone from the counter charger.
There wasn't anything by way of missed messages – just the one from about fifteen minutes earlier, as Gotou had been ducking into the house naked and hadn't heard the text alert tone. It was from Masayoshi, of course – one hundred percent completely inappropriate, his naked selfie showing off his erection laying back against his belly as he sprawled on the bed.
Gotou smiled despite himself but didn't send a picture back. Naughty. I miss you too.
He wouldn't bother Masayoshi with the kids being delinquents, because he'd worry himself sick about it. Gotou would, however, involve Koji – so he swiped open a new text message to compose – and as he did so, he accidentally triggered the previous day's alerts, which included the card alerts he'd set up.
“Oh,” Gotou said, calmer than he thought he'd be. “Shit.”
#
Even for being late autumn, it was hot out – and lying in the sun was just not worth it, especially in the city. The white wolf lay under the table, mostly in the shade, eyes closed and ears back, collar settled around and matting the fur at their neck.
The scent of cubs made the wolf lift their head – eyes narrowed, as it watched the two children crossing the street, determination on their features and in their stride. The whine made their keeper look up from his coffee, and he leaned forward, stroking a broad, calloused hand over the white wolf's head.
“What's up, you smell something?”
The wolf got to its feet slowly, shakily – it stretched out, nose pointed in the direction their prey went – and the man laughed, pulling out his wallet to pay the bill. “Sounds like we've got a big one,” he said.
The wolf stretched against its leash, and squealed.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Nightbreed
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi, Keiko, Masanori
Rating: T
Length: 1251
Summary: They were still prisoners, here.
The small bedroom was a marked improvement from the cages, small things with thick metal bars and a single torn blanket for sleeping on – but it was still a cage, even if it was prettied up. Keiko paced the room in the middle of the night, measuring its width. Their most recent jailers were different, they provided actual food, and clothes – and there were futons even if they hadn't been spread out on the floor.
Masanori was curled atop the folded futons, tail covering his nose, made as small as possible – but his gold eyes were open, he watched her pace the room, tail held high, tip swishing with every step.
They were still prisoners, here.
“He smells different,” Masanori had said, one morning as they curled together for safety, in the corner of the room, out of sight. “The gold one.”
She knew what he meant, the taller of the pair – she'd bit him twice, when he'd dared to enter their cage, but he'd never struck out at them in pain or anger, not like their previous handlers. There was something in his eyes she didn't understand, soft with rounded edges, soothing – it reminded her of her mother and Keiko buried her snout and squeezed her eyes shut.
It was days before she tried the door, and found that it had been unlocked all along.
“Okay, so step one of your brilliant plan,” Masanori said, one hand on the strap of his school bag, the other hanging onto the back of Keiko's uniform. “We made it to the city. So, now what?”
“Now, we find our parents,” she said, as if it was just that simple.
Masanori sighed – he was holding onto her because they were being carried by the tide of humanity, this crush of adults who had exited the train, and he was small and not-exactly defenseless, but the last thing he wanted was for Keiko to get upset and default to transforming to get out of trouble. “Okay,” he said. “We find mom and dad.”
How, exactly, was something that wasn't being elaborated on.
They moved through the crowd easily, despite the crush – Keiko wove through people expertly, and Masanori followed her lead – it was just like when they hunted. He could easily imagine the sea of people as a forest of trees, and the pair of them ducking through and around until finally they emerged to the street, and Masanori stopped to crane his head and look up and out.
“Do you remember,” Keiko said as they sat on a bench opposite a pastry store. “Where we used to live?”
He didn't, and she knew it. He didn't remember much – they had been separated from their pack young, taken as – hostages, he was told, but he wasn't quite sure that accurate – just a few fleeting memories. But, Masanori was used to humoring Keiko, and he shook his head as he slowly ate the purchased crepe.
Masanori expected a story – Keiko waxing poetic about how good it used to be, the four of them – but instead she looked down at her own half-eaten crepe, and said softly, “I don't, either.”
They sat in silence, finishing their crepes – they didn't need to talk, the stillness between them a comfortable blanket. They didn't talk in wolf-form either, they didn't need to. Masanori finished his first, binned the wrapper in the trash across the sidewalk. “Gotou will be upset with us,” he said as he stood, waiting on Keiko to finish hers. “Hazama too.”
“Let them be upset,” Keiko said, but didn't look up at him. “We'll have our parents, we don't ever have to see them again.”
There was a weirdness in his stomach at the way she said that – and he thought of the way that Gotou carried him to bed when he'd fallen asleep half under the kotatsu, watching anime – or the way Hazama lit up when they came home from school, asking questions, genuinely curious about his day – and said, softly - “That's not fair, neechan.”
“Life's not fair, 'nori,” she said, finishing her crepe and balling the wrapper in her hands.
“So where do we start?” he asked instead, still feeling the awkward, ill feeling but pushing it aside, knowing it was useless to argue with her when she was like this.
“At the beginning,” Keiko said, and stood up.
Gotou stood naked in the kitchen and sighed, scruffing his hand through his hair, the other on his hip. He hadn't reallyexpected to come across the kids out roaming on the last night of the full moon – but even when they didn't meet up, at least Masanori, if not Keiko, would respond to the moon-song, letting him know that they were safe, somewhere out in the expanse of the wilderness.
Last night, the only thing he heard was his own howling, echoed back to him distant in the night.
When he got in there was no sign of them being home, their scents faded and lesser. His nose was already slowly fading, the ability to discern those scents diminishing as the day grew longer, away from the last full moon of the cycle, and that left him with little to go on. He sighed again, and picked up his cell phone from the counter charger.
There wasn't anything by way of missed messages – just the one from about fifteen minutes earlier, as Gotou had been ducking into the house naked and hadn't heard the text alert tone. It was from Masayoshi, of course – one hundred percent completely inappropriate, his naked selfie showing off his erection laying back against his belly as he sprawled on the bed.
Gotou smiled despite himself but didn't send a picture back. Naughty. I miss you too.
He wouldn't bother Masayoshi with the kids being delinquents, because he'd worry himself sick about it. Gotou would, however, involve Koji – so he swiped open a new text message to compose – and as he did so, he accidentally triggered the previous day's alerts, which included the card alerts he'd set up.
“Oh,” Gotou said, calmer than he thought he'd be. “Shit.”
Even for being late autumn, it was hot out – and lying in the sun was just not worth it, especially in the city. The white wolf lay under the table, mostly in the shade, eyes closed and ears back, collar settled around and matting the fur at their neck.
The scent of cubs made the wolf lift their head – eyes narrowed, as it watched the two children crossing the street, determination on their features and in their stride. The whine made their keeper look up from his coffee, and he leaned forward, stroking a broad, calloused hand over the white wolf's head.
“What's up, you smell something?”
The wolf got to its feet slowly, shakily – it stretched out, nose pointed in the direction their prey went – and the man laughed, pulling out his wallet to pay the bill. “Sounds like we've got a big one,” he said.
The wolf stretched against its leash, and squealed.
Tags:
- au: nightbreed,
- au: werewolf,
- character: hidenori gotou,
- character: hidenori gotou (werewolf),
- character: keiko hazama,
- character: keiko hazama (werewolf),
- character: masanori hazama,
- character: masanori hazama (werewolf),
- genre: multi-part,
- genre: urban fantasy,
- pairing: gotou/masayoshi,
- series: samurai flamenco,
- wc: under 5000
