The tension in the cramped flowershop was high. The room, tightly packed with fangirls (and a few well-disguised fanboys) of all ages, watched silently on with bated breath. And in the midst of the crowd's muted chaos were two tall men, determination scribed upon their handsome features.
And lo, they danced.
The taller of the pair brushed flaxen strands of hair away from his jade eyes, continuing to writhe to the rhythm of the pulsating music. His feet shuffled to hit the buttons etched on the Dance Dance Revolution game platform, hitting them with cat-like grace. The playboy allowed himself a wide smile as he heard his partner's labored breathing.
"End of this level, Ayan," Kudou Youji purred. "Still think that you can beat me at this?"
The red-haired bishounen shot daggers at his opponent. "Of course," Aya replied in his icy I-ain't-takin'-no-nonsense-from-you-boy-ee voice. "You don't know about my reputation at this game." There's a reason I was known in DDR circles as 'Twinkletoes Ran-chan', he thought slyly.
"That so? Mm, that explains why you're so winded, my kitten," Youji said mildly.
"I just haven't played in awhile." A pause. "Ready?"
"Of course."
Track change. Aya grit his teeth and began to dance with increased fervor. Jump, step, press, jump, step, press. The stage changed again, and still, he played on, unresponsive to Youji's continued goading.
Soon, however, a change began to manifest in the assassin. Aya was no longer just dancing; he was the DDR king, and his swank dance moves were going to take him straight to the TOP! He concentrated harder on the game, and when it seemed that he should be passing out from sheer exhaustion from the strenuous workout the game gave him, he flourished; a flower amidst a desert of addictive gameplay.
Youji noticed the subtle metamorphosis in his colleague's behavior. He started to find himself hard-pressed to keep up with the now-frantic pace of the game. Aya, who had just minutes earlier been gasping for breath as he played, was now gliding across the keypad with seemingly little effort. It boggled his mind!
After what seemed like an eternity to the former PI, he couldn't take any more of the game. Youji collapsed in a tired heap on the tiled floor of the Koneko No Sumu Ii. The hordes of his fans rushed to aid him while those favoring the brooding redhead's win erupted into a cheer at his victory. The man in question just continued playing the addictive dance game, oblivious to his win, oblivious to the masses of fangirls, just intent on keeping in time to the infectious tunes pumped out of the game machine.
Sweatdropping, Ken and Omi entered the shop, large bags of potting soil in tow. Ken paused upon seeing the crowd surrounding Aya. "Are they *still* at it?" he inquired, shaking his head.
"I think it was a mistake to bring that game in here," Omi sighed, eyeing the offending Dance Dance Revolution machine. "We're never going to be able to pry Aya-kun away from that thing at the rate he's going!"
"Shall we attack it with baseball bats when he's sleeping, then?"
"*If* he's sleeping, you mean." Omi extended his hand to the older bishounen. "It's a deal!" The two florist-assassins resumed their work amidst the bustling of the flowershop and the sounds of Dance Dance Revolution.
