Uh - hi there XD I've been gone for a long time, but it's the holidays now and I really have nothing better to do, so I thought I'd try my hand at another Air Gear short!Fic. This will probably go up to maybe two or three chapters at the most... XD If i can make it that far.
Anyway, uh, have fun?
Communications
"Hey – Hey! Where are you taking me? Who are you? Dammit, bitch, open the laptop. I can't see anything from here! Is that you, Kokuen? Kazu-kun? Buccha-kun? …Itsuki-kun! I have a job to do, you know – people to see, noobs to train – you understand? I'm a King you know – you can't do this to me. I don't care if I'm dead. I don't care. Just put me back or I'll spark at you – I'll spark!
"Note to self: lay off the sake when leaving these sorts of messages…
"…
"Kokueeeeeeeeen! Kokuen? Kokuen, my right hand man! What the fuck were you doing while all this is happening? Why did you let some idiot abduct me, dammit? What are you – useless? I almost gave you my title once – well that would have been a mistake, you stupid, foreign sonnofabitch. Why, why, would you let something – someone – like me out of your sight? Does the fate of the Air Trek world mean anything to you? What about my regalia? Is it safe – if it's not… What's the matter? Someone beat you up and take it?
"…
"Well… uh… Kokuen? I hope you're oka…y?
"… I wonder if this sort of situation will ever actually happen. Because that would be kind of… inconvenient… Well. Better to be safe than sorry…? Fuck I need to pi-"
The indignant voice from the laptop fizzled out as Spitfire's recording stopped. The young man running with it hefted the computer into a more comfortable position under one arm, protecting the valuable piece of equipment from the rain. Each trick he pulled was accentuated with a grunt as he tried to maneuver himself around in the wet without using his arms for balance.
As he came to a halt, raindrops dripped down his nose, and his hair, previously blown off his face by the speed he was travelling, stuck to his forehead uncomfortably. His coat was damp and clammy, but the laptop, as well as the treks under his other arm, was safe.
"Ah! You're here!"
Pyon held the boy assassin in her arms, trying to protect him from the rain with her body. Sano graced her with a cold look and headed towards the jeep.
"Where did you get those?"
She nudged him with her elbow and used her eyes to gesture to the fiery treks he had under his right arm. He stayed as nonchalant as he could.
"Oh. These? They're just something I found… lying around."
Pyon noticed the blood on the sleeve of his coat but decided to say nothing. She knew what he'd done. She asked if he was okay. His only response was to walk away from her, and, after depositing both mementos in the car, hold the door open so that she could climb in, nursing the bleeding young boy.
"Black Flame? Black Flame! Kokuen!"
Oh god, moving was not a good thing. He felt frozen, despite the hot blood pooling in his mouth and running down his chin. Someone was shaking him, he couldn't really see who. His eyes didn't seem to be working – or rather, the things themselves were fine, but his mind couldn't understand the images that flashed before him. Familiar fur, he understood that much. Takizawa? Other members of Volcano and Koka Fire? He didn't know. Everything just felt so confusing.
"Give him to me," he heard someone say. He was lifted into a sitting position, even as his limbs screamed at him to stay still, and he vaguely recognised the face of an old man in front of him. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air, and there was a terrible agony shooting through his back.
Kokuen sat up, wincing and shooting an irritated glare at the old priest who'd woken him up. He didn't feel frozen anymore, just pained and tired – a feeling which didn't leave him when he remembered why he was in such a state.
He got to his feet as fast as he could manage and ran towards the statue in the middle of the temple, searching desperately for the things his captain had left behind. Kazu, who had just arrived with the rest of Kogarasumaru, caught on quickly, and ran to join him.
"He did take them…."
"What the hell!" he shouted at him. "Where the hell are they?"
Kokuen gave a panicked grimace as the new Flame King became livid. "They're gone, aren't they? What the fuck did you do?!"
"Well…"
"Someone's stolen them!"
"I -"
"What!?"
"I… tried…?"
He knew how stupid that sounded. But all his language bravado had gone to hell, or so it seemed. He'd been meaning to work on composure since that humiliating incident with Om and the water… in front of Benkei. He shuddered at the thought. Kazu was still yelling.
"You're the strongest person out of all Spitfire's followers, aren't you?"
The answer was immediate. "Yes!"
At least he answered that one with confidence. Maybe now Kazu could see that his opponent had to be exceptionally strong to defeat him, and so he just had no hope. Maybe he'd… let him off the hook?
Well it wasn't Kokuen's fault that Sano-kun had gotten special attention from Spitfire. The King never taught Kokuen any special moves, did he? Nooooo.
"So wouldn't it – make sense – that you – would attract – attention – if you suddenly started hanging around one place?!" Kazu seethed through gritted teeth. The rest of his team looked on awkwardly – even Ikki was speechless. Kazu wasn't very fun when he was angry.
Kokuen was shot through. "I – well…. That is, I…." He really, really hadn't thought about that.
Kazu gave him one last furious growl and turned on his heel, running out of the temple and into the rain. One of the monks followed him and held him back, even as he screamed louder and louder about the one who'd stolen the Flame Regalia. Kokuen stood listening, consumed with guilt, wearing a frown that seemed to him to be etched into his face.
What was he going to do now? Where the hell was Spitfire now?
"Sano-kun?
"If it's you, though, you're just borrowing it from Kokuen and Kazu for the evening. I can sense my regalia nearby, so I can't be too far from the others. Were you looking for some words of wisdom, Sano-kun?"
"What would make you think that?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. It was late, and he'd changed out of his usual attire into something more fitting – pyjamas – delightfully patterned ones, in fact. Purple, as all clothes should be. He was even wearing the nightcap Mimasaka had given him for his fourteenth birthday, years ago. The richly furnished room was dark but for the light of the laptop, bearing the face of the Flame King. From his posture and the lack of red around his eyes, this recording was from before he'd gotten to the sake. His red eyes were harsher than normal. Sano was hit with the powerful urge to reach out and touch him.
"Now, what other reason would you have to come to me alone?"
"You'd be surprised," Sano teased. He played with the collar of his PJ's and smirked, feeling kind of stupid all the while. Was he flirting with a dead guy on a laptop?
He had to admit that yes, yes he was.
"The following response could go one of two ways."
Spitfire's image appeared in a separate box at the bottom of the screen, while the larger picture went dark. Sano watched and observed curiously, trying to figure out the system. He supposed there were pre-recorded responses to the questions of individuals. How long had it taken Spit to think of all the different conversations he could have with all the people he left behind, or was it up to them to address the most important topic, and the only responses were in relation for such a thing? Exactly how many responses did he have?
"Please choose your preference."
Two windows appeared on screen, both bearing two different expressions on the King's face. The one on the left looked serious and solemn, and the one on the right looked… like he was well and truly drunk.
Sano knew he should at least start with a serious conversation, but there were too many good memories of the king while he was drunk. Training camps and the dark, for one. He moved the cursor, shaped like the fire of Spit's earring, and picked his preference.
"You won't be able to access the other option unless conversation once again begins to head in that direction. Do you want to continue?"
Sano blinked, considered for a minute, and clicked yes. The right window expanded to fit the whole screen, and Spitfire's red eyes narrowed as he stared out from his virtual world.
"Saaaaaano-kun! How dare you go and get me drunk? I absolutely refuse to say another word until a cup of sake is in your hand. I doubt I'll remember much of this in the morning – ehe. I'll make another one to uh – maybe talk about more serious things?"
Spitfire sat back in his white armchair and crossed his legs with dignity, looking down upon the camera. Slender fingers tapped his knee impatiently. When Sano didn't move, the message cut off and repeated, and did so until he got up in a huff, stalked towards the generous liquor cabinet, and, falling short of sake, pulled out a bottle of wine.
"Is wine okay?" he asked snidely. The figure on the screen sighed, crossing his arms.
"Drink. The computer will recognise when you're drunk enough for me to continue. I always enjoyed drinking with you, Sano-kun, since we couldn't have one civil conversation when we were both sober."
Sano blinked irately but did as he was told, soon giving up on pouring himself a glass and acting in favour of chugging it from the bottle.
"Sensors say you're drunk enough. So. Did you just try and flirt with me? Is that what you would do to this poor dead guy?"
"I wasn't aware computers could interpret things like that," Sano scowled, head feeling fuzzy. Spitfire had spoken up out of the blue, after a good deal of alcohol had been consumed. He had to remind himself that Spit was actually dead. It could just as easily be webcam, if not for the knowledge in the back of his mind.
"I expected it, and so I prepared responses. You should try it out, when you have time, and see what kind of dirty monstrosities you can get out of me. I think there maaaay be one clip in which I strip off. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You're a naughty, naughty boy, Sano. We should call you the Pervert King. You wouldn't need my flames then."
A wave of fuzz flashed across screen as it switched to the appropriate recording. His face had gone contemplative, and Sano slumped forward on the desk where the laptop had been placed, resting on his folded arms and looking up at the screen.
"I enjoyed being on a team with you, you know. I liked the training camps the best, personally. What with all the close-quarter living. It's too bad things never got further than… well - attempted rape."
"You told me you were drunk," Sano growled, smashing his head on his folded arms before glaring accusingly at the screen. "I was off my face. You knew what I was like! You'd just beaten me. Again. And besides - you weren't too disagreeable."
"Sano-kun, I would never let you do me. If anything, it would be the other way around. You're a good kisser, though. And you're pretty… skilled… at other things - even when you're drunk."
Red eyes squinted into a cheery smile.
Sano ignored the compliments and focused on the more important topic.
"You wouldn't top me," the uni student slurred indignantly. "Even by body type alone – you're to skinny to be on top. Too finely-built."
"I'm taller."
"I wouldn't allow it."
"You'd love it. I have a program, you know, he said slyly through the slight slur in his voice. I left it for the others to fight a virtual me by using the computer, but I could use it for other things, too."
"I don't know if I'm that depraved," Sano muttered after a good five minutes of consideration. "Maybe after a little more wine."
"Heh… Wine. So western. So modern! So sophisticated. Mummy and Daddy's little rich boy."
"You're just jealous," he spat back, adjusting the glasses that had slid down his nose. He didn't pay the bitterness in the dead king's voice enough attention then, but with Spitfire's next comment, it seemed a whole lot more obvious.
"About having a family? You have no idea."
"What?" he asked, sitting up. "Why the hell would you be jealous of me? You're a King, you're one of the most talented people in the world riding AT's. I've never beaten you. Not once. You're probably as rich as I am!"
"My boy's grown up, lately. You've gotten so much stronger."
Sano growled. That wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. What could he have meant by saying he was jealous? He hadn't mentioned anything except his parents and the family's money.
Come to think of it, why hadn't he ever heard anything about Spitfire's parents? They'd known each other long enough. What was the story?
"What did your parents do to you, for you to be jealous of mine?"
The clip switched again, and suddenly there was a bowl of noodles resting on the arm of his chair. Spitfire stared at him a long time, a confused frown on his face. Sano stared hard at the screen, curiosity growing. After shooting down a couple more cups of sake, the king raised his hands to his eyes and removed the red lenses, revealing the crosses beneath them. Sano frowned, still not understanding. But the markings were similar to that of the Takeuchi brothers.
"I'll speak to Sora," he promised himself under his breath.
Suddenly Spitfire sat up, eyes alert. Despite the juice running down his chin from the large amount of noodles he'd just shoved in his mouth, Sano still felt a shot of empathetic fear – just for a second.
"Don't go near him, Sano. Not for my sake. I don't want anyone to die because of me – the whole point of this was so that the flame could continue on. Kogarasumaru need you to protect them. Don't do it. Sora killed me, Sano. He's powerful, even though I'm not what I used to be. The battle would be on here somewhere. Watch it. I don't want to imagine it. Don't make me think about it. Don't take him on."
"I'm not going to take him on, moron. I said I'd just talk to him."
"Don't go near him, Sano. Not for my sake. I don't want anyone to die because of me – the whole point of this was so that the flame could continue on. Kogarasumaru need you to protect them. Don't do it. Sora killed me, Sano. He's powerful, even though I'm not what I used to be. The battle would be on here somewhere. Watch it. I don't want to imagine it. Don't make me think about it. Don't take him on."
At first, Sano tried to argue, but after a repetition of the same response every time he mentioned Sora's name, he finally figured it out.
Spitfire had never imagined any other situation for which Sano would associate with the Takeuchi brothers other than his want for vengeance. It shot him full of guilt as he saw the urgent expression on the king's face. He'd betrayed him for the sake of his company, and the usually shrewd businessman was sick to his stomach.
"Okay. I won't go anywhere near Sora," he promised uneasily.
Each time there was a response the screen glitched slightly, and occasionally he would be in a different position. Now, instead of leaning forwards towards the camera, he was sitting back, relieved, in his chair, holding yet another cup of sake. Sano marveled at the steadiness of his voice, but remembered the recordings could have been done across a couple of days, so that he would have time to recover.
"Thank you, Sano-kun.
"…
"Do you remember… on the day that I became a King, what you said to me?"
"Not… really…" he lied.
"You said the only reason you would come back to see me again would be so that you could kill me yourself. I guess you're gonna luck out, huh?"
The laugh that followed was cracked and pitiful, and suddenly the sake cup was on the floor in pieces. He had put his right hand tightly over his mouth, like someone would if they had seen something they wanted to forget. Mortification and fear screamed from every pore in his tense body. Sano felt it through the screen. The want to touch him was suddenly overpowering, and he was surprised at the potency of the feeling.
He'd wanted to touch him before, of course – oh yes, definitely so – and he did have the chance – several times – to get a taste, but that was all lust, completely sexual. As pathetic as it sounded, he just wanted to hold him now. Hold him and rock him and sooth him until he fell blissfully asleep on his shoulder. He felt like he would do absolutely anything that would get the expression off his face made all the worse by the witnessing of his murder and the fact that there was no way in hell he could ever do something like that again.
"I'm going to die, Sano. "
His voice cracked, just a bit.
Again, that feeling, as Spitfire's thumb dug deep into his jaw, hand still held tightly across his own mouth. Sano had never seen him like this. Not ever. And it scared him. He didn't answer, and to his horror, the clip played over and over, without a response to lead it somewhere different.
"I'm going to die, Sano."
He watched on in terrible fascination. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. 'You'll be fine?' – a lie, and they both knew it. 'You tried?' – definitely not.
"K-Kazu has the Flame Regalia. He's… He's safe."
The image blipped and suddenly the king was fine, eager, not yet drunk: completely fine.
"Ah! That's excellent! I was always happy, just being a seedling of the flame, you know. Are you pissed that I couldn't give it to you? I know you wanted it. Forgive me?"
He winked deviously.
Sano, reduced to sinking his teeth into his fist to make sure he didn't get too emotional, listened to the relieved phrase over and over again until there was a savage knock on his door. The voice of Takeuchi Nike thundered through the wood. He was tired and grumpy, and Sano regretted offering up his home as the headquarters of the leaders of Genesis. Maybe he could lend them a plane, or something….
"Hey! Homo! I don't know what the hell kind of gay otaku game you got going there, but I wanna be able to sleep without having to worry about you jacking off to a computer. Shut the fucking thing off and go to bed!"
Sano bit his tongue. Pissing of Takeuchi Nike was a bad idea, no matter who you are.
"Sounds like you have company, Sano-kun. Have you woken up the others?"
"I… have to go."
"Ah. Bye, then. Make sure you give me back to Kokuen in the morning."
Sano slammed the laptop shut.
"Not on your fucking life."
Well, I hope you liked it. Air Gear doesn't get enough love XD