Short AN: Yes, I will update Sinners soon. I meant to, but then I went downtown and saw a drum circle and read Rincewind 2.0's Growing on Me and this happened. Not much to say except for it's an AU, Kensei is a policeman, Shuuhei is a student and part of a kind of hippy-ish counterculture movement. It is intended to be Shuuhei/Kensei eventually, although when that happens depends on whether or not I get the momentum to continue this.
Anyway. Hope you enjoy and please please please review!
They first met in a park.
It was two years after Kensei had become a full-fledged police officer. Despite being young, his intense dedication and determination earned him the respect of the entire squad. Unfortunately, that didn't completely negate his lack of seniority and so he was occasionally left with assignments like clearing the druggies from a local park.
It was a recent thing. A counterculture movement had been sweeping the nation, but had only recently reached their relatively quiet and conservative town. Even in a city like that, there were people who refused to bend to social norms and in fact, took joy in flaunting them. They were harmless, really, more of a nuisance than an actual issue. The only illegal thing they did was drugs, and then it was typically just marijuana. However, the mayor of the city didn't see it that way. Elected for his effective economic policies and traditional morals, he viewed even something as innocuous as their weekly drumming circle as an assault on the values of his town, which is why Kensei had been sent to deliver a warning and ideally cause them to disband for the night.
Kensei hated jobs like this. For one, they were typically boring. But mainly he disliked being the bad cop because he sympathized with these people. He had been like them less than a decade ago, rebellious and wild and free (And selfish, he reminded himself, don't forget selfish.). But that was before, and there was no point dwelling on it when he had a job to do.
He walked to the clearing in the local park with a mixed kind of anticipation. Although he had heard about this group of people and their exploits (mostly in disapproving whispers from middle class women), he had never actually been witness to them. He would never admit it, not to himself and certainly not to the rest of the policemen, but he was curious to see what these people were like.
On first glance, they appeared to just be a mob. A clump of bodies assembled roughly in a circle-sitting, standing, sprawled. But none of them seemed to be still. The drummers were sitting in a smaller circle within the crown, leaving just enough in the middle for several women and one effeminate man to dance. They kept up a simple beat which eschewed any type of melody, preferring to be completely comprised of the varying rhythms of the drummers. Some onlookers clapped, others tapped their feet, and some simply watched. Spread out on the periphery were young people twirling glowing hula hoops and glow sticks on threads, and he thought he saw a burst of flame off on the far side of the group.
For a moment he just sunk into the crowd, watching. The people were dimly lit by the sparsely placed lamps in the park and in the dark it was easier to get the impression of a person than the details. But Kensei had been trained and so he could scrutinize the particulars of appearances even in this hazy atmosphere. And hazy seemed to be the word. The crowd seemed itself to be a blurred mass of energy where the boundaries between people seemed to disintegrate until the individual was lost to the group. Things like gender and sexuality seemed fluid. Really, the gender of a person's body was immaterial, of much less importance than what you could do with that body to create rhythms and movements. The air smelled like smoke from the fire tinged with the vague scent of marijuana.
For a moment, Kensei was overwhelmed by the urge to forget his job, forget the last five years, forget everything and sink into the crowd, relinquishing his identity to the vibration of the drumbeat in his chest and the patterns traced by the dancers' skirts. This was his past and he had loved the feeling of releasing all rational thought and simply letting the sensations wash over his body. But just as he began to lose himself, the starched fabric of his uniform brought him back to reality. He was a police officer, and he was doing a job. Observe these people and their behaviors, and then clear them out.
Observe he could do as long as he kept them at arm's length. Kensei stepped sideways, twisting to get to a less dense part of the crowd, and began to cast his eyes over the people. The word vibrant came to mind as he assessed their varied and often colorful hair, clothes, jewelry and tattoos. One of the dancers had bright red hair bordering on orange, which she shook around to its full volume as she swiveled her voluptuous chest and hips, She dressed in a tight shirt which accentuated her breast and a loose skirt which appeared to be no more than a swath of fabric wrapped loosely around her waist and secured with a knot. Somehow, she managed to look sensual rather than downright erotic as she turned her smoldering gaze onto all the men in the audience. The other female was taller but slimmer, with smaller curves but an extremely fit figure. She had chosen to dress all in black with loose pants and a skintight tank top and she kept her deep purple hair up in a ponytail. Her face was vaguely feline, as was the grace with which she moved around the circle teasing members of the audience. The other dancer was male, but perhaps more beautiful than either of the women. He had opted for tight pants and a form fitting shirt, accentuated by an orange choker around his neck. His sleek black hair was cut cleanly at chin length, drawing attention to his attractively androgynous face, where he sported two feathers sticking up from the corners of his right eye. He flirted with the other dancers playfully and occasionally slid over to drape himself around one of the drummers, a muscular bald man in a white tank top who wore smudges of red around his eyes.
As he watched the male dancer try and fail to distract the bald man from his drumming, Kensei slid his eyes around the circle of drummers. Next to the bald man was a woman whose dark hair was haphazardly tied back by a bandana. Her clothes seemed to be little more than rags in a way that revealed just a little more of the curves of her breasts as she drummed, a manic expression in her eyes. The man on her other side seemed just as insane. He was easily the largest of the group and one of the strangest in appearance. His hair was jet black and stood out from the back of his head in long gravity defying spikes, each of which had a small bell attached to the end. They jingled merrily in time with his constant laughter. He wore an eye patch over one eye and had scars all over his face and chest. Perhaps the strangest thing about his appearance was the tiny girl with bubblegum pink hair who was hanging onto his shoulder and singing in a nonsensical type of babble. Next to the pair were a boy whose hair was so intensely orange that it had to be dyed and a man whose hair was similarly fire engine red. The red haired man had no shirt on, displaying the thick black tribal tattoos which ran unbroken from the bottom of his chest to the tips of his arms and forehead. Occasionally he would let out a yell or a whoop which would be echoed by the other drummers and the crowd.
The next man made Kensei pause in his observations. His face flickered as if illuminated by firelight, the effect caused by the combinations of the nearby lamps and the whirling movements of the dancers. His face was strikingly handsome, although it was marked by three thick parallel scars and a prominent tattoo of the number 69. His dark brown hair appeared to be natural, unlike most of the others, and was slightly styled in messy spikes. His sleeveless black V-neck revealed well-muscled arms and hinted at a fit chest. He was smiling joyfully and laughing along with the other drummers, clearly expressing his pleasure without any restraint. Kensei faltered in his mental cataloguing of the people. His attraction to men was just one of the things he had learned to suppress since joining the force and there was no reason that his composure should be slipping at this moment.
Unfortunately, the redhead caught him staring and nudged the man that Kensei had been admiring, whispering something in his ear while impressively maintaining the beat on his drum. The man nodded and glanced over at Kensei before standing and making his way towards the police officer. He slipped through the crowd with amazing ease and was soon right next to Kensei.
"Is there a problem here, Officer?"
The kid was very well-mannered and ostensibly polite, although Kensei could see the underlying worry and thinly veiled annoyance in his eyes. Probably because the man had stepped very close to Kensei so as to be heard over the noise.
"Officer Kensei Mugarama. Police force, but you can see that." Kensei faltered a bit, unusually flustered by the situation. "Would you mind stepping off to the side so we can hear each other better?"
The man complied, and Kensei was able to regain his composure and his personal space as they moved a few feet away from the crowd, although he was faced with a new challenge as he found himself staring at the 69 tattoo on the man's face.
"Shuuhei Hisagi. Student, but you could probably guess that." He noticed Kensei's concentrated attempt to look anywhere but his tattoo. "Curious about this? It's ok, everyone is. Short story, actually. Of course, it's not one I tell to strangers. So to repeat my earlier question, is there a problem?"
"It appears so. I'm supposed to give you a warning."
The kid's-Shuuhei's-grin twisted in amusement. "For what? Disturbing the peace?"
Kensei was uncomfortable. Most people respected the authority of the police enough to retrain from talking back. Apparently not this kid. "Yes, actually, that is the reason that I was given."
"Even though no one lives within a mile of here?"
"Well…" Kensei paused as he tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Shuuhei chuckled quietly at his obvious discomfort, which annoyed him enough to give him something to day. "Look, kid. I don't know whether you're disturbing anyone or not. But I do know that the mayor has a problem with people like you and I was told to give you a warning and break this little party up. I may not understand it and I may not like it, but it's my job, so I'd really appreciate it if you'd cooperate!"
Shuuhei looked slightly startled for a minute before his grin returned, this time with a somewhat mischievous tint. "Alright, Officer. I'll make you a deal. You stay here and listen for a little while, and I'll send everyone home in half an hour. Deal?"
Kensei grumbled. "Fine."
"But let me trade you one warning for another. Your disapproval means nothing to us and your police warning is not going to make us stop coming. You can keep that or tell it to your boss, but that's how it is."
Shuuhei flashed him another smile, then returned to his drum and resumed playing after a quick word to the redhead. Kensei, as promised, stayed for a little bit (in reality, the entire thirty minutes. Just to make sure the man kept his word though). After thirty minutes, Shuuhei had graciously asked everyone to head home and miraculously, they all had.
Kensei returned to his home with drumbeats in his head.