A/N: Guys! I've uploaded a chapter 6 so in case you've lost track of updates, there's a chapter before this thats new! Go read that first!
"— and as much as I want to know what's going on in this city, Agent, too many resources are being wasted on him for something that may or may not be true."
"I understand Agent Fujikawa, but what's happening state-side might as well be Priority Zero in the near future. We've nearly gotten Stark on-board as technical consultant, and that, combined with Dr. Selvig's work on the bridge —
" — which is why you need all hands on deck. Let our team take some load off your shoulders while Project BEAST can take a back-seat. I've tried to do it your way, and he's somehow managed to get more out of us then we have out of him."
"That's interesting, are you sure he's alone in this? From what you've told me, he's the teenager we all wished we were. Not very challenging to impress."
"Oh he's impressed alright, but still cautious. It's quite disconcerting since he's about as subtle as… well Stark was when he was fifteen.
"…But he's not like Stark."
"That's not what I meant, no. He's perfectly average, just very loud. The point is, this isn't nearly as important as the new project the WSC sicced us with. BEAST is contained to the Karakura region — Tokyo at most and not a step beyond. It's being managed by Kisuke Urahara's people somehow, and I believe we can discard the theory that it had anything to do with New Mexico."
"…"
"My agents are getting restless, Coulson, and I need to give them something before some Level 3 decides to go snooping again."
"That's exactly why I need them to be preoccupied with this Agent Fujikawa. The project is still infant and word of it cannot go beyond Level 7. If it is within SHIELD's realm of possibility to give the boy what he wants, as long as it's reasonable, he can have it. I know if I was a kid and some spies showed me their tech and fighting skills, I'd be pumped."
"I'm quite sure that's what happened to most of us anyway."
" Play along for now, make him feel special. He'll open up to you sooner than you think."
"Understood, Sir."
Fortunately, by some miracle of the universe, SHIELD decided to follow up on their word and had him sign an application form for self-defense training and an NDA that Keigo tried his very best to read through and not fall asleep halfway. In fact, they encouraged (read: intimidated) Keigo to begin his lessons the coming Saturday, where one of their employees was meant to turn Keigo into a total badass.
Unfortunately, the road to total badassery was paved with more blood and pain than Keigo could have imagined in the form of Krav Maga.
Now, Keigo has been on the receiving end on a fair share of Karate moves (Tatsuki) and was quite adept at dodging kendo sticks (Madarame) on several occasions. He knew on an instinctual level that the best way to deal with attacks were to avoid them altogether by getting the fuck outta dodge, which is why Keigo was appropriately confused when his instructor —initially dubbed Mr Mustachio before he insisted Keigo call him Just Bando— told him to stop being a fucking wimp and attack him already.
"But just 10 minutes ago you told me to not engage if I have an option!" the teenager panted as he hid behind one of the punching bags.
"Oh for— the whole point of self-defense is what to do when you don't have an option you idiot!" Bando yelled back, stomping his way towards Keigo and yanking him to the center of the room again. "How the fuck did SHIELD let you get away with this?"
Wow. Rude much? Sure, Keigo's quest on being self-aware manifested only recently, and he learned quite a few things about how not special he was, but having other people say it still stung, no matter how many times his friends had all but shouted it at him. Keigo kinda hoped the hurt in his chest would go away but nope. Still there. And still throbbing like a motherfucker.
Or that could be because of the completely unforeseen slap that Bando laid on it at the start of the session.
"Maybe SHIELD thought I had something worth it." Keigo harrumphed defensively instead.
Bando snorted. "Kid, if they thought that, they would'a assigned you to an agent above level 1."
"Above what now?"
"Oh my God. Forget it, let's start again."
The thing about krav maga was that the style was… well there was no style, as far as Keigo could see. It involved a weirdly large amount of literal face-palming and sure as hell didn't look as cool as Jujutsu did. Hell, even kendo had more technique than this. Krav maga looked like something a guy would do to some poor, homeless man if he lost the money and the kids in a divorce; it was messy and reckless and if Keigo had more balls, he probably would've taken on the school bullies with a poor rendition of it already.
Like the idiot Bando told him he was, Keigo said as much out loud.
Bando eased from his position of way-into-Keigo's-personal-space and sighed. "What we're doin' here kid, ain't some flowery showin' off shit. Now, there'd be a whole load of people tellin' me otherwise, but krav maga ain't art. Every time I've used this was to save my ass from dyin', and I've wanted to do it fast. To get outta that situation. In the end, how you get away doesn't matter as long as you do yeah? SHIELD trusted you to know somethin' about it or else they wouldn'a taken you in."
Keigo looked down, his mind unwillingly going back to facing Aizen, where his body begged him to escape-run-hide because in the end it didn't matter how cool Keigo would have looked if he was dead. He supposed Bando had a point, if we was being attacked Keigo was 96% sure all aforementioned 'flowery showin' off shit' would jump right out of the window and he'd be left helpless and scared. As always.
Keigo sighed, "Fine. I get it, let's do this."
They finished three hours later, with Keigo internally screaming in pain while outwardly he was only whining. Parts of his body he didn't even know existed were bruised and sore and he was limping sluggishly on his way home (Bando insisted that he walk for extra cool-down, all while smirking like the sadist Keigo was beginning to think he was).
Ichigo was nothing compared to this. At least the carrot-top fucker stopped after one punch. He was starkly reminded of Bando scoffing —his frankly glorious mustache aggressively oscillating to his words— at his stamina after the first hour, which apparently was 'merely feeble for a 15 year old'. Keigo was so (justifiably) immersed in his own agony that he completely missed the figure standing outside his apartment building leaning against the wall and fiddling with his phone. He stopped just short of getting into Kojima's bubble and hastily took a few steps back.
"Um,"
"Keigo. Hey," Mizuiro said, calm as ever but with an air of awkwardness Keigo had rarely seen in him. "…What's up?"
Keigo blinked. He had forgotten about the very existence of his best-friend over the past 48 hours; how, Keigo thought, SHIELD managed to take so much of his time and parts of his… world was astounding.
What was more astounding though, was Keigo's shameful lack of resistance to be whisked away from the people he thought were most important to him.
Struck with that realisation, Keigo let out a shaky exhale and placed his arm at the back of his head sheepishly, Mizuiro's eyes travelling with it,"Well I was— I was uh…"
"What's that?" his friend's gaze narrowed as he pointed towards the limb. Keigo turned to look at the gigantic, fresh bruise that painted his entire tricep. Shit, Mr Mustachio really did a number on him. "I thought it had stopped."
"Um…" Keigo came up blank. Sue him, he was exhausted.
"How long as this been going on?" Mizuiro asked, something akin to agitation lacing his voice, "I didn't think Oshima would have the guts to— after Ichigo—"
"Oh!" It occurred to him that Mizuiro was talking about the bullies and hadn't, in fact, caught up on Keigo's secret liaisons with world intelligence."No no. No. Haha— this wasn't them it was. I'm. Taking self-defense classes."
Well technically it wasn't a lie, he even had the form to prove it.
The tautness in Mizuiro's shoulders reluctantly loosened, "Some self defense class, to give you that." Keigo felt incredibly uncomfortable at his arms being stared at, in the non-sexy way, and scrutinized. Damn, Kojima was always an observant one. Him and Tatsuki. Not to mention the rest of the gang. Of course Keigo decided to force his way into this OP band of steroid-filled superhumans.
"Yeah it was— it was pretty um… tiring. I accidentally took the advanced class and by the time I figured where I was, well—" Keigo awkwardly made jazz-hands before cringing and folding his arms away from prying eyes.
Mizuiro chuckled. Huh, that's new. "Typical," Oh. Yeah. Typical Keigo being typically stupid.
"Yeah."
"So. The we're all planning to go watch a movie tomorrow. Inception, you know, the one with the dreams?"
"…Right." This was weird. Wasn't this weird? Keigo was beginning to feel weird.
He was probably just lightheaded and starving and was therefore coming up with hallucinations of his best friend attempting to invite him to a group activity. There was no way it could be happening in real life —right after Kojima's little tantrum on Thursday where Keigo was too preoccupied to even fully register what Chizuru was suggesting— 'cause if it did, that would be weird.
"…So I'll book a ticket for you then?" Mizuiro asked slowly.
The movie ticket as close to an olive branch as Mizuiro could give, Keigo's lethargic brain read between the lines. And in retrospect, after Keigo's own not-so-little tantrum yelling in front of the whole class, he could admit they were both assholes. Mizuiro more so, but Keigo was no saint. So he really, really should be jumping at the chance of resuming their Magnificent Bromance and saying something along the lines of "Yes! A thousand times yes!" but…
But. His next lesson was tomorrow as well, along with a meeting with a bunch of SHIELD scientists to trade in his information. They knew he was free on weekends. Because he was. Because usually, his friends didn't invite him to the movies and always declined when he initiated any chances to meet up. So.
Keigo had no idea how long he was supposed to even be at the SHIELD office, but he could still cut it short. They'd understand, he thinks, if he said he had to keep up appearances and so couldn't miss the movie. The last thing SHIELD wants is to be the target of suspicion.
Or he could get to the bottom everything the Soul Society wasn't telling him once and for all for the sake of his own peace of mind.
(The fact that he'd turn to a US-based government agency for peace of mind should be quite telling, but Keigo was already betraying his friends a little bit —yes, that's exactly what it was Asano, admit it— so in for penny and all that right?)
Mind made, Keigo gave a forced smile, "Why don't you… why don't you text me the information and I can confirm by tonight?" It was just as much a No as a Yes but not exactly a Maybe so perhaps he didn't sound like a total tool.
"You're busy?" The words were part-disbelief, part-wariness and Keigo forced himself not to get offended. Mizuiro wasn't wrong to assume his friend didn't do much. There was a childhood worth of proof for it.
"I have this class tomorrow as well and um… Mizuho's asked me for some help with something." Keigo fibbed.
Mentioning his sister has always been the perfect excuse to almost anything, since it was no secret how demanding she could get. Keigo would feel bad for overplaying a lot of the things she's said to get away with stuff but it worked damnit (they didn't have to know her other side, the caring, ridiculously overprotective one that Keigo decided to keep all to himself).
"'Kay. See you then," Only Mizuiro could look cool doing a two-fingered salute while walking away, Keigo concluded. He personally looked like a dork. Keigo sighed and trudged up to his flat, where he crashed onto his bed and promptly passed out.
