So, it's been a while since I properly submitted anything, and since I've been on a writer roll these days, I thought, ah, why not? For the amount of love this pairing seems to get in Japan (four doujins out already, come on!), it seems like the attention of the Western fandom is still focused entirely on other things. So I thought to myself, hey, I need to sort out my thoughts on the subject anyway, why not do it like this! And then one thing led to another...
Anyway, here it is. My first K fanfic. I doubt I'll write many for the series, but you can expect for me to least continue with this one here, and another Fushimi/Akiyama one, though.. I'll probably be slow like hell.
Anyway, without further ado~
Enjoy!
Side Blue: part 1
SCEPTER4 was probably most recognisable because of their... uniform system, so to speak.
Everyone knew someone was from the group just by looking at the clothes, the blue outfits unmistakable with anything else, aiding in giving the group an image of unity and order.
But it wasn't just limited to that, no, it went far beyond, to the perfect synchronisation and precise movements when drawing swords, to the rhythmical count (in alphabetical order, even!), all the way to how the work was split between its members from within.
It was supposed to resemble something akin to a police or a semi-military unit, and it fulfilled its role perfectly.
And yet, within this perfect clock of fitting clogs there were parts that stood out. Some simply due to their importance, like what gave the entire machine its momentum - the Blue King, Munakata Reiji - or what regulated its work, in the form of the sole woman in the clan, Awashima Seri.
But then there was a part that was neither really vital for Scepter4's functioning, nor fitting like most of the others were. A slightly bigger clog, one of somewhat twisted form, and one that, as one Akiyama Himori came to realise with time, actually enhanced the whole mechanism slightly. A sort of a joker, a cheat placed within the system.
Fushimi Saruhiko.
Truth be told, Akiyama didn't like him much. Yes, he did respect him, his skills, his intelligence, how fast he could deal with about any task given to him. Heck, despite being a bit younger than Akiyama himself, Fushimi had a higher rank than him already. But it was rather something about the guy's aura and the way he worked that rubbed him a bit the wrong way.
He clearly didn't like the job and yet the ease with which he completed his tasks, paperwork included, was impressive. He constantly complained, if mostly when he was sure no one was listening, muttering curses and profanities and threats under his breath, rambling on and on while filling out papers sometimes.
With every single given chance, he was looking for a way to get out from the rigor of SCEPTER4 and yet he never had to go through consequences of his arbitrarity, because every single time, what he did ended up playing out in favour of the organisation. It was not once or twice that Fushimi would slip away from the group for the sake of acting on his own and while Akiyama could definitely not approve of the methods, he would also be lying were he to say that the man wasn't effective. Because oh, he definitely was. Rule-breaking, but somehow, no one ever really seemed to find out - not any solid evidence at least, seeing how everyone knew what he did all the same - and it often hastened the investigations by days if not weeks on end, depending on the case.
Yes, Fushimi Saruhiko was a most infuriating individual that grated on his ambition and pride as a Blue clansman, but he was also an individual that deserved being admired.
Not like Akiyama admired him.
Well, alright, just a little.
He brought a twist of unexpectedness into their job that wasn't the usual element of unknown they had to deal with via their missions. He brought it to the very core of the organisation, to how it worked, to the members themselves.
But those weren't the only reasons why Akiyama felt uneasy around him.
It was no secret that the Blue and Red clans were far from adoring each other, although what their respective Kings really thought of it remained forever ambiguous, from what the man saw of the two interacting so far.
And yet there was a HOMRA member. Right there. Among them.
Wearing their uniform and emblem, wielding their aura and handling a saber like the rest of them did.
And it just made something inside Akiyama tingle with unease.
Jealousy turned to irritation, irritation turned to suspicion, and before he knew, his eyes were following Fushimi's every move.
In return, the man did sometimes watch him. He'd catch him do so from behind those heavily-framed glasses of his (the gleam from the monitor reflecting in them masking what direction he exactly looked in, yes, but not erasing the feeling of being watched altogether). And every time it happened, Akiyama would nod inwardly, swallow, and focus even harder on whatever task he had at hand at the time.
He was an efficient worker. He knew that. Not one to fool around like some of the other guys at SCEPTER4 (forever bored with the paperwork and only livening up once they had to move out for some case or another), diligent and precise. Akiyama hated mistakes. He hated doing things the half-assed way.
So whenever a certain bored Second Lieutenant would lean over his shoulder, checking his progress, he couldn't help the small frown twisting his features.
Why was this person more successful than him?
He has been giving it his all since he joined, and yet he was still stuck where he began, while Fushimi became the third-in-command from the moment Munakata has taken him into the clan.
Of course, it was a useless question to ask. He knew.
Fushimi was sharp, a genius almost, really, able to solve complex equation in his head within seconds at most, he was an individual able to think outside the frames, come up with answers and ideas that pushed cases forward so much. And honestly if not that forever-bored-and-annoyed air he had about him, Akiyama would perhaps admit that yes, he respected him. Looked up to him, just a bit.
Admired him.
Sighing to himself, he looked one last time over the result of his work.
His task this time was taking care of the video HOMRA posted just hours before, and so far he managed to single-handedly deal most of the issue. The reputation of the Red Clan did help with this task quite a bit, but still, making a few fake accounts and a load of comments here and there was inevitable if they wanted to successfully cover it up.
And then there it was, the tingling feeling on the back of his head and footsteps following that made him know without even turning his head that the Second Lieutenant was approaching his workspace, leaning as usual, casual and somewhat-respecting-the-personal-space to look over the information on his monitor. The office (if you could call it that, since the interior resembled a cafe or a restaurant with lots of monitors hanging everywhere rather than a proper office) was almost empty, spare for them and Benzai, an indication that it was still early morning, most of the staff not having arrived at their posts yet.
"How's it coming?" Akiyama glanced at his superior.
"I'm just about done spicing up the video HOMRA spammed across the net. We have the algorithm to manage all the information. Then, I leaked some gossip questioning the validity of the video. So far, I've kept it confined to the level of a well conceived internet prank."
Fushimi was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the moving red columns indicating the changes in responses to the post and lines of program moving as it automatically gathered data from all over the net. A barely audible click of his tongue, small shift to his posture, and he looked towards Benzai. "How about you?"
Their co-worker sighed. "I'm checking the database for people with criminal records, but... I'm not getting any hits."
The teen was not going to like that, Akiyama knew. He watched him long enough to learn his reactions almost by heart by now. The small 'tch' sounds, the frowns, the downturning of the corner of his lips, all of it. The sighs especially, being more silent, long exhalations rather than audible expressions of annoyance, but they were there, no less. And he could feel them especially at times like that, with Fushimi leaning right over his seat.
"I just hope the Greens don't catch on to all of this."
The Green Clan... they've kept to themselves, mostly, but they also took every opportunity to look on SCEPTER4's hands, looking for faults, mistakes... needless to say, they were a pain to deal with. They didn't have to deal with them often but when they did, it always was troublesome, even if just because they forced the already scrupulous Clan to double the perfectionism. For someone like Fushimi especially Akiyama could imagine why it would be undesirable.
After all, he seemed to despise the work enough as it was already.
The noise of an incoming PDA call broke the minute silence that fell over the office and Akiyama's eyes (or well, at least the visible one) followed the other's straightening form as he took the device out and responded. And it was no more than a heartbeat later that the usually bored face twisted in a smile (one that, the Blue clansman couldn't help but notice every single time, somehow didn't come across as healthy) and his voice changed completely.
Low, slightly drawly, on the verge of breaking.
Honestly, it caused chills every time Akiyama heard it.
Fushimi did not say anything anymore. He simply turned on his heel and left the room without a further ado, making the man whose side he just left realise that he still kept staring at his retreating back, and turn towards the computer once more with as much composure as he could muster.
Lately, those stares started becoming a habit almost, a habit he did not like. A habit that could suggest less dislike than he'd like to admit (something he only became aware of when one of the other clanmates pointed out that he really must admire Fushimi, with the way he's always watching him, making the man scoff and roll his eye and reprimand the other to get back to work if he has enough time to run off his mouth).
And at times like that, he was really glad he styled his hair the way he did.
That way at least from time to time, he could watch without being spotted.
And not once has he thought there was something wrong about that thought.