Title: Improbable Crossover
Part: One in a series
Author: September's Nobara
Fandom: Digimon 03, FLCL
Characters: Most of them.
Pairings: For now, not applicable, but please see the "Warnings" section.
Rating: Straddles the K+ and Teen rating.
Genre: Humor, (eventual) Romance
Warnings: This will be firmly couched in Silliness. While I ship everyone with the "humor" genre (which means that humor should exist at points with all characters), I do have a set eventual romantic sub-plot concerning specific characters.
Disclaimer: It's a fanfiction, being submitted to a fanfiction site. In other words, I don't own a thing outside the basics of the fiction and the plot of this specific story. No copyright infringement is meant, nor am I attempting to obtain a profit from the existence of this story.
Archiving: Yes, just ask first
Feedback: Yes, please, and constructive criticism is very welcome!
Author's Note: Thought process of story creation: "Huh, Fanart Friday, eh? I should do something like that," became "Well, here's a bunch of cute/funny ideas, I should start something," to "Hey, Yamaki and Amarao would make a great comedy duo!"
The first impression Mitsuo Yamaki has of his new partner is that the other man clearly has no taste in clothing whatsoever. Instead of anything even resembling formal or business wear, the red-headed man is in a fading pair of sunflower yellow shorts and 'I-am-a-Tourist-in-Hawaii' floral-print shirt. Along with loud, bright luggage the size of a moderate rolling backpack, a pair of thin-soled sandals and a set of sunglasses completes the 'look' for which he seems to be going.
"Amarao, I take it?" Yamaki's too stunned to state the password. He's even let go of his own luggage's handle for a moment or two.
"Please, call me 'Jacques Custodian'," the red-head introduces himself in a sub-par imitation of a French accent, "and you're supposed to ask me if the swordfish is any good this time of season." He looks around at the small café they are occupying. "Though I doubt we could order anything like that at the moment."
Yamaki lowers his own sunglasses to observe the individual before him. "You know," the blonde begins, drawing out the words, "you look different from your profile photo." Said picture is removed from a wallet and placed upon the table at which Amarao sits. Within the barriers of the image, a somewhat younger-looking Amarao has a look of complete surprise mixing with flabbergasted. He is wearing a suit, albeit sans the last part of his tie and most of the original stitching in place. Next to him, off to the left, is a boy. This boy, maybe eleven or twelve, is turning away while his face is three-fourths toward whoever is taking the photo. A dark blue electric guitar is held in the boy's right hand like some would hold a baseball bat: resting over the shoulder. In the background is dirt and rubble the color of playground sand.
One thing neither of the men can pinpoint, though, is what is off about this picture. After a moment, Yamaki notices Photo!Amarao is missing a full eyebrow, the other a large rectangle of what appears to be... dried seaweed? Yamaki takes a quick look at Amarao's brow. Both eyebrows appear to be natural. Somewhat thinner than what is in the photo, but natural all the same.
"Huh. Yeah, that'd be me," Amarao remarks as he raises his sunglasses to rest atop his head, "at least, when I had finished with a mission a year or so back." The man chuckles for a moment, in what Yamaki considers to be self-effacing amusement.
"And the boy?" Yamaki asks, resting a fingertip just under the chin of the boy in the picture.
"Still can't play the guitar," Amarao responds, after taking a sip from his condensation-collecting water glass.
"That's not what I meant," Yamaki grinds out.
"Would you like to have a seat?" Amarao gestures toward the chair opposite him.
"Said the spider to the flymon," Yamaki grumbles under his breath while Amarao requests another tumbler and, "please, a large jug for more water?" As the customer and employee send each other off with a mutual "Thank you, you're welcome", Yamaki looks up to the sky. Looks like it's going to be a long meeting, he observes.
"So, come up with a code name, yet?" Amarao jostles Yamaki back from the resentment-fest happening in the blonde's mind.
"Pardon?"
"'Come up with a code name, yet?'" Amarao repeats, with a raise of an eyebrow. "What do you think about Steve This-So?" Another gulp from the water glass. "Nah, too silly... wouldn't really work... hated that movie, too..." Yamaki frowns as all this is being delivered in a straightforward, serious tone. Thanking the waiter who brings out the second glass and water jug, Yamaki settles down in the shade of the table's umbrella, listening to Amarao's continuous conversation.
"Hey, what happened, Nandaba?" Ninamori pauses her snare drum. Naota says nothing, holding a palm to the strings of the guitar in his arms. For a moment, the young teen does not see the band room. He sees the sky outside the windows, and the almost non-existent wind ruffling the trees.
"Nothing," he says, "I just... got a feeling. That's all."
"You've 'got a feeling'?" Ninamori sings the last part of her sentence in English, mimicking one of The Beatles' songs.
"Yeah." Naota readjusts the shoulder strap for his instrument, while Ninamori wiggles a drumstick in her fingers.
"What kind of feeling?"
"Don't know." Naota shrugs.
"Let me know when you do, okay? 'Til then, let's get back to practicing." Ninamori rolls her shoulders and straightens her back.
Naota nods his head. "Yes, let's."
Their allowed hour of practice soon passes, and while Ninamori fills out the time sheet for the use of the drum kit, Naota zips up his guitar in a thin fabric case.
"Ready?" Naota asks, walking closer to Ninamori.
"Sure, just give me a moment—" Ninamori checks the wall clock's time against her cell phone's, and writes in the last required part for the sign in/sign out. "So, can I come over and get the sheet music for next week? I want to practice before then."
"That's fine," Naota says, "but, let me check ahead, in case Dad or Grandpa are busy." Ninamori nods in agreement as Naota retrieves a dented and scratched phone from his pocket.
"Hi, Grandpa. Ninamori's coming over for some sheet music... No, that's about it. Oh? Dad has guests over? All right, we'll be quiet if we practice any songs, I promise. 'Kay. Thanks. Talk to you soon, then." Naota presses the 'end call' button, and closes the top half of the phone.
"Aw, cute," Ninamori says with a toothy grin after Naota puts the small device back in his pocket. He only responds with a pursed-lip frown and downturned eyebrows. "Hey, c'mon Nandaba, I'm joking. But y'know," she says, a little more quiet than before, "it is nice that you talk more politely to your family now. Wish I could."
"Mm," Naota nods. "Feel free to... to call... if anything comes up... a-at home, I mean."
Ninamori raises an eyebrow before answering. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." She looks up. "We're here, Naota." Her head tilts. "Huh."
"What?" Naota looks to Ninamori, who is regarding the Nandabas' home/bakery.
"Looks like your family's having a party," Ninamori provides.
"What?" Naota repeats. "No way. Dad wouldn't... not in this heat... guests are one thing, but a party?" He regards Ninamori once more, then the warm glow coming out from the windows. "C'mon in... I promised you that sheet music, and I'm going to follow up on that promise." He enters the home before her, holding the door from the inside.
For the first time in a while, Ninamori laughs, and it is genuine. "Such a gentleman," she states, to which Naota rolls his eyes, and welcomes her into his home. The scent of bread wafts through from all sides, always giving an out-of-place "homey" feeling to the house. As of late, though, Naota's been appreciating the odd, though stable nature of his family—to be specific, when he has friends over. "Hi, Canti," Ninamori greets the blue robot, who is just passing through to the "home" part of the house.
"Hey," Naota waves. Canti acknowledges each in turn, then continues on the way. Naota and Ninamori head toward the 'house' part of the building, entering the main room, from where all the light and sound are coming. Before either teen can say anything, a voice comes from the table.
"Hey kiddo."
Canti, having been told to "turn up the music", is about to do just that. Fingers-equivalent gloves on the stereo volume button are about to turn, when Naota's scream of "What the heck are you doing here?" trips up the robot, which results in cranking up the volume quite more past eleven.
Naota has to now shout to be heard.
"What on Earth possessed you to let them in?" Naota yells to his father.
"It was hot out there, Naota. Inside, it is cool," Kamon responds after a small sip of green tea. Even with music loud enough to make a sullen teenager ask for a lower volume, the older Nandaba manages a calm, easygoing lilt in his voice.
"Yes, but—"
"Besides, they have no place to stay at the moment." A slight change in Kamon's breezy tone to something more casual-yet-serious makes Naota halt his exclamations.
"Naota... they need a place to stay," remarks Shigekuni, after sidling up to his grandson.
"You do have some pretty nice digs going on here," Ninamori takes her turn talking into Naota's ear.
"It is my place, my decision, anyway," Kamon says.
Almost all current residents are looking at the middle school boy. Yamaki and Amarao, meanwhile, do their best to keep their gaze and opinions to themselves. They do, however, keep a personal, yet all-together separate, rhythm to the over-loud music. Naota frowns, hunching over in the weighted, awkward sensation of being looked at by other people.
"Could you turn that down?" Naota shouts over his shoulder, in to where Canti is already attempting to perform the instructed task. After the noise level is down to an acceptable amount, Naota meets the eyes of his family. "Why d'you even care about my opinion, anyway?" he asks, his voice much more soft than minutes before.
"I am trying to create an atmosphere of love and peace," Kamon, with slow, absolute gentleness, holds out his hand. The index and middle fingers are crossing to form what Naota knows to be the signature pose of whatever old anime character his father is referencing.
Out of the corner of his eye, Naota catches Amarao smiling just a bit at Kamon—or, to be specific, Kamon's behavior. The young man hears something akin to "Loved that show," under the red-head's breath before putting his attention back on his father.
"So, please reconsider, Dear Son, your position on our guests' extended stay." Kamon folds his hands before him, resting his chin there.
For a moment, Naota frowns. He looks at the two men at the far end of the small table.
"Hey."
Yamaki and Amarao look up into Naota's disapproving face. Ignoring Ninamori's giggling at the serious expression on his features, the young man continues.
"Your work doesn't put you up anywhere?"
"Nowhere. These days, my division's too small to be able to financially provide for accommodations," Yamaki answers, a faint reeling sensation at the feeling of being questioned by the youngest person in the room. How did the kid in the middle school uniform inspire more straightforwardness and honesty than his current, full-grown partner? Yamaki chances a look at said man. Oh yeah, he remembers, the American tourist reject look-alike gig.
"And you?" Naota regards the man he had met last year with a more critical eye.
"You kiddin' me? After what happened last year, I'm still lucky to have people working under me," Amarao sighs.
Naota tilts his head, crossing his arms. The frown remains in place.
"C'mon, Nandaba," Ninamori uses the utmost care when she raps her knuckles against Naota's shoulder, "have a heart, why don't you?"
Seeming to wilt in an instant, Naota uncrosses his arms.
"Fine," he expels breath out with the word. "You're all right to stay, by me." A sudden explosion of exuberance makes Naota cover his head with his arms, looking out between them to see his family—even Canti, of all the silliest sights—running around to get random things.
"Oh, we'll have to grab the good drinks!" Kamon jumps from his low chair, hurrying off to wherever he keeps the alcohol. Naota's grandfather soon follows. Canti shrugs, and returns to the other room, perhaps to choose appropriate music.
"Family," Ninamori says after having a look at Naota's face becoming more and more expressive of anger. "Ya gotta love 'em, right?"
Letting out a sigh, Naota relaxes. "Right," he agrees, "you have to love family." Ninamori laughs, and says, "Naota, let's have a seat, all right?"
"All right, all right, gimme a minute." So, with a slow-setting sun in the background, the group sits down to enjoy (or in others' cases, tolerate) each other's company for the afternoon.
Soon, boiled edamame, sake, and other sundry quick snacks are sitting at the small Nandaba table before all guests, with Canti being the only one to have the spicy curry.
"Now, Naota, Miss Ninamori," Kamon, begins, rummaging through a plastic bag next to him, "I know you two aren't adults, yet—" Naota rolls his eyes at this, and Ninamori tilts her head, "—so, I took the liberty of getting you this!" With a flourish, the man faces his son and the young woman. In his hands are two soda bottles with bright, colorful bubbles and characters on the label.
"Ramune. Thanks, Dad," Naota says, a quick twist-and-push motion enabling the consumption of said beverage.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Nandaba," Ninamori replies before opening up her soda.
"But of course. We can't very well do a product placement-style advertisement for something from the Nineties, you know," Kamon gives them a wry smile, then looks at a spot somewhere toward the fourth wall in the room. "You know, Naota, I've been meaning to reconstruct that wall. Do you want to help me break it down tomorrow?" Down the table, where Yamaki, Canti, and Amarao sit, the blonde raises an eyebrow.
"Do you have any idea what he's talking about?"
Amarao looks up from his plate, a humoring expression on his face. "No. Not really. I'm not so good with home repair." he responds, then returns to the cold noodles and their toppings on his plate. Somehow, a Ramune has also appeared before the immigration agent.
Sighing, Yamaki turns to the robot to his left. With a blank screen, Canti regards the man as well. "I don't suppose I could get an explanation from you, huh?" Yamaki asks. Several sets of ellipsis show up on Canti's tilted television head. After what seems to be a few pages of dots, simple characters for "I wouldn't know. My apologies" appear on the screen, along with a generic sad-faced emoticon.
"Well, all right," Yamaki murmurs. "C'est la vie." Shoulders slumping, Yamaki takes a bite from his noodles, and resolves to ask questions later.
"It's getting late. Do you want me to get the music for you?" Naota asks Ninamori. He points to the window outside, where the sun, a light orange-gold, is set against a bright, cloudless sky.
"I'll go upstairs with you," she answers, standing up.
Can't say that I blame her, here, Naota thinks as they go up the stairs.
"Oh, Naota?" Kamon calls, with what would be an unnoticeable slurring to anyone but the older Nandaba's son, "Please grab some night clothes and bedding for our company on your way down."
Naota, still with a twitch in his eye from his father's call, sighs and responds in the affirmative. A chorus of "thank you" comes from the men downstairs.
"...You...You're welcome," Naota answers, again with a softer voice. Ninamori, two or three steps below, raises an eyebrow and looks at how Naota's ears turn a slight hint of red.
"Hey, Naota... About that sheet music..." Ninamori says, coming to the same narrow step Naota is.
"C'mon, let's get it," he replies, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time until he reaches the second floor. Looking behind him, Ninamori is keeping pace. Once both of them are in Naota's room, Naota goes into his desk drawer. "Here it is," he says, opening up a binder. A small, imperceptible smile graces the boy's expression as he hands over the music to Ninamori.
"Thanks, Naota. I'll get this back to you next weekend." Ninamori accepts the pieces of music.
"You're welcome, Ninamori—oh, no," Naota hits a fist into his other open hand.
"What? What's wrong?" Ninamori asks, concerned.
"I left the guitar in there!" Naota points to the open door, indicating the small downstairs.
Ninamori's eye twitches for a few seconds. "I see what you're talking about," she says after a moment. "I'll get the guitar—you get the bedding and things."
"Got it. Thanks, Ninamori."
"No problem, Naota."
Taking different routes once out of Naota's room, the pair don't give each other looks outside of a nod and turn. Ninamori tiptoes down to the first floor, while Naota goes to the linen closet.
Hand against the wall, Ninamori takes the stairs one at a time now, careful of the one or two uncared-for steps that grace almost every home with a staircase. Breathing with each step, she makes her eventual way to the first floor, peeking around to see the case leaning in the hall with the shoe shelf. Continuing the breathing regimen, Ninamori makes sure she's quiet as she picks up the guitar in its case. Holding the instrument by both handle and curve of the guitar itself, Ninamori makes her way toward the staircase hallway.
She tilts just her head past the wall to see up the staircase. The young woman can almost see her friend, arms laden with pillows and comforters, making his way toward the same stairs. They make eye contact, and with a nod, Ninamori is welcomed upstairs while Naota stands off to the side.
"Well, one good thing about Summer is, it's not a lot of heavy quilts or duvets, right?" Ninamori says, smiling, when she reaches the head of the stairs.
"Right," Naota agrees, heading downstairs. "Oh, hey, Ninamori?" Naota says halfway down the stairs.
"Yeah, Naota?" Ninamori pauses halfway into the bedroom. She looks at him, curiosity in her face.
"After I get back from this," he inclines his gaze to the mass of blankets and night clothes in his grasp, "d'you... may I walk home with you?"
Ninamori pauses, considers, and answers. "All right," she agrees. A small smile shows up on Naota's face before he turns to continue downstairs. Ninamori waits for him to enter the other room before allowing a few moments of silent chuckling to herself. She enters Naota's empty room, and sits on the desk chair. For the moment, she pulls out the pages of music from her school bag, and begins to read.
"And we have a small guest room upstairs for just such an occasion—Ah, Naota! Good to see you back, and so soon, too," Kamon says when Naota opens the sliding door to the dining room. "Ah, I see you got the pajamas as well! Wonderful." Naota follows his father, Amarao, and Yamaki into the entrance hall, up the stairs, and to the right, down the narrow hallway. Kamon opens up a door leading to a small guest bedroom with a wide window and a subtle floral print in the comforter.
"Thank you again for letting us stay," Yamaki says with a bow at the waist. Amarao follows suit, with a somewhat less formal motion.
"You're very welcome," Kamon replies. As he backs out of the room, Kamon allows more space for Naota to enter.
"Hey, just so you know, the bed's also a pull-out," Naota says, tossing the extra bedding onto the twin-size bed in the room. "Bathroom's down the stairs, to the left of the dining room. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask my father," Naota jerks his head in the generic direction of Kamon. "Goodnight." With a nod, the thirteen-year-old turns to leave, murmuring a "goodnight" to his father as well. "I'll be back after I walk Ninamori home."
"All right. See you later, Naota," Kamon pats his son on the shoulder. "Ahh, youth!" Kamon sing-songs in a cutesy voice as Naota heads toward his room. Rolling his eyes, Naota opens the door to his room.
"Hey."
"Hey, Nandaba," Ninamori looks over to him with a raised eyebrow. "Fun times, I take it?" She inclines her head toward the guest room. Naota nods. Standing up, Ninamori picks up her school bag. "Come on," she says, walking to the boy. "How 'bout you tell me all the annoying details on the way?"
"Well, all right," Naota responds. "I have to tell you, though, even I don't know the half of it all."
Second (extensive) Author's Note
-I briefly considered making this a more "serious" story/chapter, but ultimately wanted to practice my humor skills. There'll a plot, but it'll come second to the jokes and general silliness.
-"Jacques Custodian" comes from "Jacques Cousteau", a sea explorer, while "Steve This-So" is a play on "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou", a Bill Murray (dark) comedy about family and reconnection with family... on a submarine, I believe. Unlike this fiction, "Steve Zissou" isn't really K+ friendly.
-The "past eleven" scene is a reference to how the background music in the first episode of FLCL became very loud and energetic when Haruko shows up in Naota's house. It is also a reference to the mockumentary "Spinal Tap", which I've not seen, but the "up to eleven" meme is everywhere.
-"Said the spider to the fly" is a popular saying, similar to "the pot calling the kettle black". The use of "Flymon" in place of "fly" in Yamaki's dialogue here is to note the fact that he comes from the Digimon 03 universe, rather than the FLCL universe.
-The "love and peace"/crossed fingers part comes from the anime and manga series Trigun, which was/is very popular in the U.S., but was not, as far as I understand, popular in Japan. Considering the amount of idea- and gun-slinging that went on in Trigun, it stands to reason that Amarao could, with probability, be at least a little interested in the series. Why is Amarao acting like a fan, here? I can see him as being a casual anime viewer. Not so much in an "otaku" manner, more in the sense that a person may not like the Western genre, but can appreciate/enjoy movies like McClintock! (John Wayne comedy Western) and Blazing Saddles (Parody/Satire of the Western genre). We're given very little information on the secondary characters in FLCL, so there is a bit of a gap between what can be called fanon or canon when dealing with characterization.
-The fourth wall is a theatrical concept dealing with the idea that, aside from the three "walls" made by the two sides and back of the theatre, there is an invisible "fourth wall" that is in front of the stage. This "wall" separates audience from actors and their characters, as well as the characters themselves from the idea that they are characters in the first place—except in moments like what Kamon does here, where a character might make a sly remark, then regard the audience. The irony? Ramune comes from the 1800s, apparently.
-"C'est la vie" is French for, roughly, "that's life".
-RE: the architecture of the Nandaba home is a little bit of head!canon meets generic canon. There is a room off to the right in the upstairs hallway which isn't, from my memory, specified to be any particular character's room. I am going off the dub, here, so please bear with me. FLCL exists as an ever-changing environment, and I'd imagine the build of a room would be the least of a reader's concerns.