Author: Nami-chan.
Pairing : :DateSana, MotoMoto for now
Disclaimers : I think we all would like to have the on right Sengoku Basara, but it's not my case
Bad Luck Day.
Introduction.
It was all this was Motochika's fault.
He was the only one responsible for this. This fucking surfer with bleached hair who thought he was a pirate was the source of all his problems. Date Masamune would have done better to shoot himself the foot the day when he had met Chosokabe Motochika. Anyway, that was another story.
The young brown haired male was going to make his best friend or future ex best friend Know that he was nicknamed the one-eyed dragon for good reason, and that wasn't only because he hid behind his missing right eye behind a medical eye patch, Motochika was hiding his left eye's scars in the same way after all. Eye patch bro, in life and death ... my ass. His revenge would be terrible. He could already imagine many ways to torture the other young man.
Well, as soon as he could manage to extract himself from under this pile of cardboard box.
This day had been a living hell, a series of complications. It was something usual for Masamune not to be very organized, as he preferred to live in day to day. So, he had simply forgotten to remind his friends and members of his group the day of the move was today. Okay, this one at least was his own fault.
It shouldn't have been a big deal considering the fact that all his life could fit in a car. Yet it would have taken that for him not to be the leader of an old biker gang and that the only person he knew possessing a car was away on a business trip across the country. Kojuuro would have lent him the car if Masamune had though of warning him. Maybe, that too was his fault.
"Moves another day." Motochika had told him just before jumping without any shame on his boyfriend who had just come out of the shower and reminding Masamune why he absolutely had to leave. The sooner the better
As a result, no one was available except Motochika, his motorcycle and a small trailer.
It was the least that his friend helped him to move. So far, they lived together until his roommate's boyfriend, a maniacal and psychopathic little brunet appeared.
Being forced to see honeyed love scenes turn into wild battle or vice versa day after day typed on our dragon nerves and it hadn't taken a long time before he took the decision to pack his boxes and find a new place.
There by cons, he had been lucky. He found a really cheap stuff, furnished and close to the university too. Joy.
To return to the situation of how he had come to find himself under a pile of his own cardboard box in his brand new apartment, no one to help him, and that that was truly Motochika's fault.
The surfer, who was about a head and a half taller than him and who moreover had a sense of humor that was very special to him, had thought it would be fun to put Masamune's cardboard boxes in a high pile while the other had gone to a second trip to retrieve the last of the boxes. And because he could be really hilarious when he wanted too, the other had placed the boxes containing the items of basic necessities at the top of the stack.
He should have been laughing hysterically imagining Masamune struggle to reach them.
Beating him to a pulp will never be enough punishment, but it should relieve the one-eyed dragon.
It had been more than fifteen minutes since the pile fell on him and that Masamune had been trying to free himself from under several big box containing books, and it hurt like hell too. Masamune lying on his back and not having any of his arm free, that promised to be the contrary of an easy task.
He swore again, how he was going to make Motochika suffer.
That reminded him, the pirate had just gone to answer a call, right? What could well take him so long?
"Motochika! I swear, if you don't immediately returns here, I'll put pictures of your private parts on the Internet!" He yelled, his angry voice resonating in the empty apartment.
Empty, it was what Masamune thought before a shadow suddenly passed between two fallen boxes, casting a shadow on his face.
The young man stopped his struggling to get free, ready to scream into Motochika's ears when he looked up at the person above him.
This person too had white bleached hair like Motochika, however the guy was knee high to a grasshopper and had a lovely child face. Except that his triangular haircut, a peak hiding his nose looked nothing like the stylized mess his friend called an haircut.
His olive eyes were riveted on Masamune, his face deadpan.
"Your parents have a great sense of humor, your haircut is priceless." Masamune couldn't restrain a smart comment.
He was quick to realize his mistake when the child's eyes suddenly changed, and then really slowly, he raised his hand on one of the boxes still above Masamune.
"Die."
Masamune hadn't time to register what was happening.
Motochika's deep voice was what he perceived first, then there soon was another voice, although he was still too woozy in order to perceive what they could be talking about.
His back was no longer on the hard ground and its members seemed free to move. Masamune knew he was on the couch ... how he got here was a mystery.
His eye opened, his field of view obstructed by red cushions at first, he blinked before looking up. A long chestnut hair on a back that looked appealing was the first thing he recorded. A smile stretched his lips because if Motochika had brought a pretty girl with him to be forgiven then it changed everything.
"Hi baby. Are you here to be my nurse?" he tried, using his best crooning voice. Even if it came out more like a grunt .
The face that turned to him was definitely not that of a woman, and it was very very furious.
That didn't prevent Masamune to feel like he had been struck by lightning, invaded by something indescribable at the sight of that sparks in those big russet eyes.
This man, probably older than Masamune by just a few years was tall and slender. His white buttoned up shirt didn't show much, but it outlined his fine musculature. His long brown hair seemed untamable, attached to the bottom of his neck to come run down his back. His face, his adorable face ... was that of a man who had seen battles and who would live to see others.
Once again, Masamune's mouth activated before his brain, "What are you doing in my home?" he asked, dazed.
The oldest sighed, the aggressive and wild glow fading from his eyes. He turned to Motochika who just shrugged.
"The problem is," he began, his warm voice trailing as if he didn't know how to say this, "It is my home."
A long moment of silence passed.
"Shit."
The last good thing had to go wrong.