Vietnam… You were only supposed to be a small side-character in the first part… Why do you seem to be getting a mention in everything…
Anyway, this one's pretty light-hearted, and I'm sort of experimenting with a different writing style (aka writing in the present tense). Background for this story is that Japanese diplomats are in Russia for talks on something or other, and Kiku thought, hey, I'll pop and visit my buddy Ivan.
Also, I know I tend to write Kiku kind OOC, it's just I really enjoy writing him as a bit of an asshole. But I also think that Kiku would be forgiving to Ivan, since he knows what it's like to do terrible things in the name of your country.
This fic also mentions Mathias (Denmark), and he will be getting fics of his own, but all my muse seems to be centred around Kiku at the moment. Plus, I'm lowkey obsessed with Mathias and Kiku being friends.
The bit about Kiku sneaking up on Ivan and using his blade to get his attention was inspired by a Naruto fanfiction I read a short while ago, but which I have completely forgotten the name of.
Finally, Kim Borey (Borey being his given name) is my headcanon name for Cambodia. Borey means 'country or great city', and, yes, he's Lien's love interest.
Oh yeah, RusAme's a thing in this universe. Because they're cute.
16th March 2008
The house is dark and silent when Kiku arrives, save for one lit up window- Ivan's office- on the second floor. He barely spares the front door a glance- he knows where the spare key is even if Ivan doesn't want to let him in, but he also knows that the door is held by some of the loudest hinges he's ever encountered.
Kiku doesn't hate Ivan. He's quite fond of him, even. But it's still delightfully amusing to tease him, and Kiku never pretended to be nice.
Besides, it's been a while since he's broken into someone's house. It's easy enough to practice the skills of a samurai- even in these paranoid times, knowledge on how to use a katana or yumi or naginata or bō staff is hardly stand-out rare. And following their rules and traditions were easy enough in everyday life (if not to the extent that most of the other personifications think, of course, because in reality samurai were often just as dishonourably practical as any other warriors in a battle). But it was somewhat harder to explain to a government agent what you were doing practicing using throwing knives or blowguns, or making happō because he was bored, okay, he wasn't actually going to use them.
It was also somewhat difficult to practice the art of espionage and slipping in and out of places unnoticed. Not because he was bad at it and often got caught, but because there wasn't anywhere in particular he wasn't supposed to go, an it was just no fun if there was no pressure to succeed. Of course, sneaking into Mathias' house to surprise him- just sneaking up on him in general, actually- never lost its charm, but creeping up on Ivan was far more fun.
He smirks as he skims around the edge of the property, until he finds the downstairs boot room window, which never closes properly. Ever so carefully, he slips his tantō into the crack, and gently prises the window open. Ivan has always thought it was too small for anyone to fit through, and for the most part he's right- but Kiku has a few tricks up his sleeve.
Dislocating his shoulder is no effort at all, barely blinking at the pain he's very much used to, although he knows his arthritis will flare up later. He slips through the tiny window, bringing his bag with him, and landing on silent feet, popping his arms back into their joints and rolling his shoulders. There is no sound from upstairs, but Kiku doesn't allow himself to get cocky just yet.
Years of experience in Ivan's hand are his friend, as he clears the stairs with no effort, knowing just where to step to avoid the many creaky floorboards. The house is dark, but that's ok. Darkness is a ninja's friend.
Once he reaches Ivan's office, Kiku stills once more. It's at the end of the corridor that branches off into the bedrooms that were once occupied by the union, with no door, so that Ivan could be privy to the comings and goings of his housemates. Of course, it was easy to slip past him, if you knew how to do it (which, of course, only Kiku did, because Westerners in general were loud).
Ivan is sat at his desk, gazing at some papers, but judging by the way his pen is unmoving, poised over a few documents, and has dripped ink all over them, Kiku knows that work isn't exactly at the forefront of Ivan's mind. He's moping, and Kiku fights the urge to roll his eyes- the effect will be lost, anyway- because there are few things that he has less patience for.
Given that he's a thousand miles away, it's disappointingly easy for Kiku to approach the much larger man. He all but strolls up behind him, taking in the slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, and decides that a little shock is exactly what Ivan needs.
He unsheathes his tantō, before taking the final step to be right behind Ivan. Then he leans forward slightly, before tapping Ivan's throat with the blade.
Ivan startles dramatically- Kiku dodges the chair as Ivan kicks it back- and the automatic curse that the Russian spits is rather gratifying. The wary, almost fearful, look he sends Kiku is not. Ivan, of all people, should know that Kiku is not out to kill him. If he was, he would hardly have let the taller and far more physically fit man know about his presence, would he?
(Despite what people think, Kiku is not a sadist. A sociopath, maybe, but not a sadist. He may be able to detach himself emotionally from what he's doing, but he doesn't enjoy it. He's never enjoyed it, and if he has the opportunity to finish something quickly, then he will.)
But he doesn't show his faint hurt to Ivan, instead sheathing the knife with one quick move, meeting violet eyes head-on. He's not anxious around Ivan. Well, okay, he's low-level anxious all the time, but Ivan doesn't make him stress like most do. And even if he does, well- Kiku has centuries of experience of playing the asshole.
It's not really acting- as Lien has told him on many occasions, he's as salty and snarky as they come, it's just hidden beneath layers of crippling social anxiety and shyness. Etiquette and manners are a godsend- they don't provide an answer to every social conundrum he runs into, but they give him a set of basic rules to follow, give him an idea of what he should do. And it's an easy step to slip into that pretentious bastard persona, to shield himself behind the mask of faked niceties and sentences that are phrased to be humble but take just the slightest inflection to become arrogant.
Besides, Ivan is millennia younger than him, barely over a thousand years old, and he's put Kiku through too much for him to feel any trace of remorse for being a complete prick.
'Kon'nichiwa, Ivan-kun,' he says with a wide smile that he's been told is very fake. Despite the fact that it was inspired by his own creepy grin, Ivan hates it, which is exactly why he uses it. 'You should really be more aware of your surroundings.'
Ivan growls, but it's a lacklustre effort at best. There are bags beneath his eyes, his clothes are rumpled, and his hair is lank and dirty. Kiku wrinkles his nose delicately, and doesn't bother to hide it. For decades he's been cultivating a hobby of getting on Ivan's nerves, and he's rather proud of the results he can get.
Not because he dislikes Ivan, or bears him any particular ill-will. But Ivan needs someone who isn't scared of him to visit and dish out some sage advice sometimes. Though Kiku's advice tends not to be sage, and more just common sense, since that's a utility many of these idiot westerners he's forced to put up with seem to lack.
'Kiku.' Ivan clenches his jaw. 'What are you- you know what, never mind. I'm not in the mood right now, ok?'
'That's a very rude thing to say to your guest, Ivan-kun,' Kiku responds, enjoying himself immensely. He doesn't get to do this with anyone else, because the only people he's familiar enough with to speak honestly to are Mathias and Lien, and they don't feel the same compulsions to be at least a vaguely good host as Ivan does. 'You should really offer me refreshments. The flight from Tokyo is very long, you know. Shall we go down to the kitchen?'
Ivan glares at him for a moment longer, before scowling and stomping past him. Kiku just smiles and follows him, noting the layer of dust that has fallen over everything. He sighs, but stays quiet as Ivan leads him to the kitchen and opens a cupboard so aggressively Kiku's surprised he doesn't rip the door right off its hinges.
'So,' he says, once a mug full of black tea has been placed before him, Ivan has left to have a quick shower, and has dumped a packet of biscuits on the table, 'What's the matter with you?'
'That,' growls Ivan, ripping open the packaging of the fancy biscuits, 'Is none of your business. I'm fine.' He grabs one of the delicate biscuits, which immediately explodes all over him. Kiku snorts. Ivan glares.
'You're right,' he agrees sardonically, 'I can't believe I ever thought you weren't the epitome of calm.'
'Shut up.'
Kiku watches Ivan scowl moodily at the table, and stirs his tea thoughtfully. Russian Caravan tea isn't his favourite, but Ivan goes into rhapsodies about it, so he doesn't mind too much. Besides, as Ivan never tired of telling him during the Soviet days, green tea is a disgusting abomination. He's wrong, of course, but Kiku hardly expects these westerners to understand the finer aspects of Asian teas, so he lets it go.
'Is it Amer- Alfred-san?' He asks, once Ivan has been silent long enough. Ivan gives a start, and gazes at him, his eyes big and sad and Kiku feels a stab of pity. 'Ah. Tell me what happened.'
He'd heard from Lien about the great romantic saga of Ivan and Alfred, and the subject is always good for a joke or two when he and Mathias are together. Not that Mathias can talk- Kiku has sat through far too many long and impassioned speeches concerning Lukas Bondevik's hair, skin, eyes, clothing, voice, personality, etcetera. And the amount of drama that Kiku has been dragged into related to Lien and Borey's will-they-won't-they relationship doesn't even bear thinking about. At least Kiku usually has the decency to suffer through his enduring and deeply pathetic crush in silence.
Of course, Kiku has little experience when it comes to relationships- he's dated in the past, but none of his partners had ever been particularly serious. But he has long years of experience of sitting through someone bemoaning the status of their relationships, and he's happy to be the sympathetic party for Ivan, since he has nothing better to do.
'I don't think he loves me anymore,' whispers Ivan, gazing mournfully into Kiku's eyes with his own violet ones that are alarmingly wet, and Kiku really hopes that he won't be forced to comfort him, because there are few things he's worse at. His only real method of comfort is patting people on the back and saying 'come on' in a soft voice until they stop crying.
'Why wouldn't he love you anymore?' He asked, settling back and taking another sip. 'What happened?'
'We had an argument over something stupid- he was being annoying, and I was tired,' Ivan answers, picking up another biscuit, 'and I stormed out. I thought he'd come after me, but he hasn't. He hasn't even phoned me.'
'Have you phoned him? Or visited him?'
'Of course!' Wails Ivan suddenly, making Kiku jump and come dangerously close to slopping tea down himself. 'I've called him and emailed him and everything, but he's not answering! I can't visit because the roads are closed, and the weather's been too bad to fly!'
Your own fault for living in this godforsaken part of Siberia, thinks Kiku, but doesn't say it aloud. 'Maybe he thinks you don't want to speak to him. Maybe he's trying to give you your distance.' That sounds like a thing that could feasibly happen, right? Maybe he's been reading too many romantic manga.
'Maybe…' Says Ivan doubtfully. Kiku feels like he hasn't done a particularly stellar job of comforting his friend, but he's all out of ideas, so he remains silent.
The silence slowly becomes more and more awkward, and Kiku wants to say something, but he isn't sure what. All that he knows about Alfred and Ivan's relationship comes from Lien, who likes neither of them, and a few muttered facts from Ivan, who is generally childishly embarrassed about the whole thing. It's not like Kiku and Mathias would tease him. Not much, anyway.
It's during this long and tense silence that someone knocks on the door with the forced of a battering ram. It's a good think that Kiku has set down his tea, because he flinches so hard he almost tips his chair back, and has to bite back a comment about irritating gaijin trying to give him heart failure. And, yes, it's hypocritical to complain about people making jump, but that's not the point.
Both he and Ivan stare at the door, and Kiku has a creeping suspicion of who this might be, and if he's right, then he should probably leave.
'Evie?! Babe?! You there?!'
'Fredka!' Ivan breathes, and, yep, that's Kiku's cue. He's not sticking around to watch Alfred and Ivan fawn over each other. He prefers his sappy romantic moments to be 2D, thank you very much. He taps Ivan's shoulder with a smile, a real smile this time.
'I'm off,' he says softly. 'Have fun.'
If he was Mathias, he would say something crude and humorous about what Ivan and Alfred may hypothetically do tonight (and he's not thinking about that, that's a whole world of nope right there), but he's not Mathias, so he doesn't. He does think it, though, which is just more evidence that he's been spending far too much time with the great blond idiot.
Ivan barely twitches, but Kiku just smiles, and exits the house the same way he came, avoiding the awkward confrontation with Alfred that he's been avoiding for quite a while now. There's the taste of black tea on his tongue, and he can hear Alfred's happy laughter behind him, and Kiku nods to himself contentedly.
Kon'nichiwa: hello, Japanese
Gaijin: foreigner, Japanese
Evie: Alfred's nickname for Ivan
Fredka: Ivan's nickname for Alfred
Note: a happō is an eggshell filled with a blinding powder, a yumi is a Japanese longbow, a tantō is a Japanese dagger, and a naginata is a long pole weapon with a blade on the end. Please, bear in mind that I got all of this information from the ever-reliable Wikipedia, so if I've got anything wrong, I'm really sorry.
As for the dislocation of joints, I read somewhere that young ninja would be trained to dislocate their joints by being laid down and having their joints dis- and relocated to help with hiding and escaping bonds. I'm not all together sure whether that would actually help squeeze through a window, but I think it would. (By making the torso narrower maybe? I don't know.)