Title: Expanding Horizons
Fandom: Bakuman
Characters: Fukuda/Aoki
It begins with a proposition.
It begins with Aoki Yuriko knocking on Fukuda Shinta's door with a giftbag in hand and a bag of assorted items of questionable content that Yujiro-san assures her would be essential to enlisting Fukuda's help in her mission, however dubious it is.
"... What the hell are you doing here?" Fukuda says, bewildered.
"Shinta," Aoki says, voice solemn, head held high, "would you like to sleep with a man?"
Fukuda stares at her. Somehow, Aoki isn't too sure she phrased that well, so she tries again.
"Will you let me watch you sleep with a man?" She asks, and thinks, at the sight of Fukuda's face, wrong question.
The ending is contrary to how Yujiro-san envisioned it to be, even after Aoki pulls out the latest copy of Comic Kairakuten with not a single shred of embarrassment or disdain, to her credit. "I have a G Pen and I'm not afraid to use it," Fukuda says - no, screeches, but then it would be beneath him to admit to that later. "Are you an idiot?"
He slams the door in her face, and she stares, blinking.
Was that a yes or a no? She texts.
"GO TO HELL," he shouts, banging his head against his desk.
But first, some explanations.
How it really starts:
Aoki purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest. "A BL magazine? You want me to do a oneshot for a BL magazine?"
"Yes!" The bright eyed, hopeful editor says, and goes into a long, rambling explanation of how this would be a wonderful experience of expanding her horizons and going back to her shoujo roots minus, well, the actual insertion of female characters, and her art is so lovely, it would fit in perfectly with their concept, don't you think so, Yamahisa-san?
Meanwhile, Yamahisa would be laughing his ass off in the background if it weren't for the fact that this was part of his job and he had to look professional, of course, so it comes out more as a cross between a snort and a snicker. It sounds strangely reminiscent of a dying cat, really. Death by strangulation.
"... I've always found the concept fascinating," Aoki amends, thinking of Takagi-sensei and Mashiro-sensei and how close they were.
Yamahisa gives in and falls to the floor with a painful thud.
"I've come to the conclusion that you and Mashiro-sensei are the best people to come to for advice." Aoki's voice sounds gravelly over the line, rough and indistinct and devoid of any ounce of shame, which, Takagi figures, is part of the job description. Suddenly Takagi feels the urge to curl up in a fetal position and hide in his closet.
"Look," Takagi says, scratching his cheek and looking like he'd rather put the phone down and run away screaming, "don't you have other guy friends you can ask about this? Ones that aren't. You know." Taken. Married. Totally. Straight.
"Aren't what?" Aoki says, and, after a pause, adds, "I assumed you and Mashiro-sensei were, well, soulmates, after your last declaration."
This, Takagi thinks, is the most bizarre conversation he's ever had with another girl, which is saying a lot what with the whole Miyoshi-and-Iwase thing, and whoever's started the rumor mill on that would be drawn with poop on their heads on the whiteboard at the next serialization meeting, in detail. Wordlessly, he passes the phone to Kaya, who looks properly confused.
What is it? She mouths, pressing the phone to her chest.
"Please defend my sexuality to Aoki-sensei," Takagi says, ever the long-suffering (sane) one. "She thinks Moritaka and I are dating on the side."
Kaya brings the receiver up to her ear, and says, gleefully, as she tears the rest of his remaining heterosexuality to shreds, "Aoki-sensei, have I ever told you about that time in junior high when they went inside the same cubicle together...?"
And now, we go back to Aoki Yuriko standing outside of Fukuda Shinta's apartment with a gift bag in hand and porn, of all things, as a form of payment. Compensation. Certainly not bribery, of course.
Aoki considers getting a cup of coffee, in case this might actually take a while, but his assistant opens the door, managing to look less than completely menacing in spite of his punk hairstyle and the number of piercings on his ears.
"Sorry," he says, sounding amused, "but he really doesn't want to let you in."
"I see," Aoki says, carefully brandishing the clear plastic bag, the one that isn't a gift bag, in his vision, "I'll just wait outside, then."
"Hey," he says, hesitantly, "is that-?"
"Tenma," she supplies, helpfully, "it even has Yamatogawa-sensei's work."
"Uh," he says, rubbing the back of his neck, sounding like an awkward middle schooler about to trade porn with a classmate for the first time in his life, which, of course, he isn't. Aoki's figured that much, so she - accidentally! - drops the whole bag to the floor, pages and pages of - colored! - hentai manga strewn across his feet, ripe for the picking.
"SENSEI," the assistant yells, "SHE HAS CHI-RAN. CHI RAN."
The door opens, just a fraction, and Aoki smiles, thinking, ah.
"I don't need much," Aoki says, over the tea she prepares as Fukuda greedily devours the contents of the latest Yuri-hime anthology, "maybe a few pointers. Tips. Some, er, demonstrations."
Fukuda looks up, eyes narrowed. "Demonstrations? You want me to show you how to 69 with another dude?" Not cool at all.
Aoki fiddles with the Doraemon mug. "I was told a position resembling a canine's mating ritual would be more appropriate. And romantic."
WHAT PART OF THAT READS ROMANTIC, Fukuda's mind screams in agony. "Oh great," Fukuda says, despairing, "I'm sleeping with a pervert. Is this what happens when I help people with panty shots? Am I being punished for calling Hiramaru a pansy?"
"You were very helpful, Fukuda-sensei," Aoki says, honeyed tone laced with words of flattery that would surely inflate Fukuda's already bloated ego, "and superior to me in so many ways."
Fukuda fingers the edge of the magazine, nervously turning the page even as his smirk grows. "That is true."
"So you'll do it?" Aoki says, covering his hand with hers, for good measure, the softness of her palm belying the hint of sharpness in her gaze, the edge in her tone. "Please?"
"... Only if I get to keep my clothes on," Fukuda mutters, and Aoki squeezes his hand, smiling beatifically.
"Don't worry," Aoki says, consolingly, "I'll make your character very pretty."
"You mean handsome."
"Of course," Aoki says, "wasn't that what I just said?"
Suddenly, Fukuda feels very, very tired.