Cancerous

A/N: Since it's the New Year season, how's about a filler scene? Well, this isn't actually a filler, it's just a pretty dialogue—so let's get on with it.


Akari pleads through the phone. "I honestly just want to apologize, that's all."

Izumo replies. "You did that before. You failed."

"I didn't expect your big 'ol boss to come running in."

"And I didn't expect you to call me like this."

He can feel her smirk. "What would you rather have? Me wrecking your precious bar?"

He rolls his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Other than a bottle of wine and a pocket full of cash? You accepting my apology."

"Give me a reason to."

"It's a new year!"

"New Year's was about a month ago."

"It isn't too late to start on your resolution! And you're in mine!"

He makes a face of disgust, hoping that she can feel it. "Am I supposed to be happy?"

She didn't. "Ecstatic! Not much people get into my list of New Year's resolutions."

"I consider myself unlucky."

"Treamarie Towers. The incomplete one. Bring alcohol. I'm on the thirty-second floor."

"Why?"

"Never too late to apologize."

"You think I'll actually come…"

"Well, I guess it's better than me slobbering all over that hardwood counter."

He promptly hangs up on her, and sighs.


She stares at his approaching form. "I never thought you'd actually come."

He shows the bottle of win from behind his back, it was the first one he's seen since he got her call, and it would be disrespectful of him to not bring—which doesn't mean that he's got a decent amount of respect for her, he's still suspicious. "No tricks."

She raises a brow. "No tricks?"

"No."

She shrugs. "Alright. Then I guess it's too late to say this—" She whips out a gun and points it to his chest. "I'm going to kill you."

He walks forward. "No, you aren't."

She considers, "I might."

"Pull that trigger." He sets down the bottle in front of her. "I dare you."

"You play pretty hard, bartender." She pockets back the gun. "That's what I like about you."

"And there's nothing I like about you."

She stands up, holding out her hand. "Mayonaka Akari, I believe we've met before."

He stares down at it. "I've never seen such an insane person before."

"Well now you have, now let's shake hands."

"I'd rather not."

She smiles. "We're all friends, aren't we?"

"I'm not with you."

"Then let's make amends."

"Why are you here?"

She lowers her hand. "The question is, why did I call you here?"

"Either or."

She shrugs. "Dunno, I felt lonely."

"Then why don't you bother someone else?"

She picks up the wine bottle. "I don't have anybody else."

"Should I actually feel sorry for you?"

"I don't need anyone's sympathy." She sits back down, her back facing him. She looks forward at the setting sun. "I just need some company."

He takes out a cigarette, and lights it. "Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"You're joking." He inhales a long drag.

"You've got alcohol and that's all that matters."

He exhales. "Crazy drunkard."

She continues for him, "Hacker extraordinaire."

"I wouldn't call you extraordinary."

"Then what would you call me then? Insane?"

"Bingo." He takes another drag.

"You're too sweet, you know that?"

He mutters, "I guess I am."

She attempts to be cute, and fails. "You're giving me a toothache."

"You're giving me a headache." He motions his hand to the wine bottle beside her. "So there's your alcohol. I'll be going now."

She calls out. "No, don't leave me here!"

"What do you want?"

"Just stay here. Let's—" She looks up, trying to find a word, and settles with "—talk. Let's reach a compromise."

"On what?"

She points to him, and then to her. "On you and me. Bartender and drunkard."

He takes in a drag, and exhales. "Sounds disgusting."

"And yet you're still here." She smirks. "I knew I was irresistible."

He shakes his head. "No. You aren't."

"So what do we do now? Call for a toast?"

"To what?"

"To the new year."

He closes his eyes, takes in a drag. "Got any glasses?"

"No."

"Then how's the toast going to be, well—a toast?"

She stands up and walks over to him. She touches the back of his hand with the back of one of hers. "Fist bump." She pats his shoulder. "Pat on the back." She leans in, "Then kiss—"

His lips almost lose grip on the cigarette. "Wait, what—!"

She laughs, stepping back. "Just kidding. I wouldn't kiss you."

"Neither would I, you."

"So what do we do now?" She places her hands on her hips. "Stare at each other until someone pulls out a gun?"

"You already pulled out yours. I can't see why—"

She glares at him all of a sudden. "Don't you dare berate me ever again," She pulls out her gun, "Bartender."

He hears it click a loaded bullet. "Oh, it's loaded this time?" He mocks her, "That's actually surprising."

She steps forward, cocking her head to one side, "How can you be so calm when I've got a loaded gun pressed to your forehead?"

He feels the cold metal on his skin. "You can't pull that trigger."

"Watch me—" She almost pulls the trigger—

"I'd rather not." He grabs her wrist and twists her arm behind her back. He brings her to her knees and shoves her face to the floor. She loses her grip on the gun and falls face forward. He sits on her back, her gun in his hands.

She struggles against his weight. "Oi! Get off!"

He examines the gun. "It's loaded with pellets." He gets the hard plastic "bullets" out of the gun and throws them aside. "Take back what I said earlier, you're as pathetic as it gets."

She doesn't take away her pride. "Don't you insult me! I can kill you and all your HOMURA punks!"

He pulls her head up the hair, intimidating her. "Then why didn't you?"

She grunts.

He stares down at her face. "Why did you hesitate? What made you hesitate?"

She comments. "You know, under different circumstances, I could find this arousing."

He releases his grip on her hair, and gets off of her, walking as far as possible from her. "You make me sick, you know that?"

She stands up and walks over to the unopened bottle of wine. She makes fun of it, her sitaution. "Sick enough to go drinking this classy bottle of wine with me." She looks at the label, "Like, what is this—aged twenty?"

He takes in a long drag, and sighs. "Twenty-seven."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Italy."

"Wow. You must've been a huge brat to get this."

"Cost me a fortune."

She looks up at him. "So we're friends?"

"I've got to be insane."

She walks over to him, shoving the bottle to his chest, silently demanding that he open it. "Like me. See? We've got lots of things in common."

He does open it, and makes sure to let the cork to miss her on purpose, and let the foamy spirit spray over her, which does. He smirks when it happens. "How about no?"

She takes the bottle out of his hands, and licks her lips of the wine. "You smoke. I drink." She takes her free hand to wipe her face. "We're going to die young and most likely make pretty corpses and all the necrophiliacs can ogle at us."

"That's disgusting."

She takes a swill as he takes a drag. "We both don't give a damn about the world."

"What makes you say that?"

"You didn't care when I was about to get murdered." She shrugs, and takes another swill. "I didn't care at all."

"That doesn't make any sense."

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "The Red King. You just—want him."

"He's been my friend for the longest time."

She nods, and corrects herself. "Correction. You want to be with him."

"Do I even have to explain?"

"I want him dead."

He takes a drag; somehow it feels normal for him; people wanting Mikoto dead. "So you were planning to kill him."

She corrects herself again, "Correction." She takes a swill, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Someone wants him dead, I'm just the means of killing him."

"Only a king can kill a king."

"A king is just a man, much like any of us."

He looks at her now, at her fixated expression. "You don't get it, do you?"

She shrugs. "What's there to get? He's just a man."

"He's not just any man. He's the Red King."

She scoffs, "Take that away and what is he left with?"

"Us." He nods. "HOMURA."

"Strip him of his title and you strip him of his dignity." She walks forward, wine bottle at her side. "You're nothing without him. He's nothing without his crown."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Just for you to know." She adds, "It's the King system."

"I couldn't care less about this so-called system." Because he cares only for Mikoto and for HOMURA.

She takes a swill. She exhales. "The Sword of Damocles," She sounds so sure, "That's the kings' crowning glory. Take that away and he's left with absolutely nothing."

He denies her completely. "He's strong."

She goes and blurts out a deniable truth. "He's got cancer for crying out loud!" She acts as if he, Mikoto, matters all of a sudden. "When's the last time he got chemo? Medication? A check-up?"

Mikoto doesn't have any disease as far as Izumo knows. "He doesn't have—"

He thinks she's making up lies. She just continues, "I didn't take-up medical psychology for nothing, bartender." She stares right at him. "I know when a man's dying and when hell hath no fury to a woman on her period."

"He's not what you think he is. Who are you to place your judgment on our king?"

She steps back, breathes in, and calms herself. "I'm the rest of the people who live in fear of those self-appointed kings."

"There's nothing to be afraid of. You're casting illusions on yourself and everyone else."

"Isn't being a king an illusion too?" She becomes exasperated. "There's no overflowing wealth, no might and glory, no everlasting power, nothing."

Mikoto doesn't need any of those superficial things. "He doesn't need any of those."

She concludes, looking down at his feet, "If I know, I'd guess you'd want to be king." She provides support for her claim, albeit sounding bitter. "You know; rid your friend of that burden of running an already decomposing hole you call as HOMURA."

He uses the possessive term; he's a protector of HOMURA as much as Mikoto is the creator. "I'd like to warn you about insulting my clan, but you won't listen."

"I'm listening, it's just that I'm not afraid of you or your king." She smirks. "He can kill me. You can try to kill me, but you can't. You can't hurt a poor soul like me."

"Why not?"

"Because you've been your king's knight." She purposely drawls out, "I wouldn't say knight-in-shining-armor, but you're that combat-weary, heartbroken knight."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You'd kill only if your king kills, and so far he hasn't."

He—HOMURA—is different from her, yes—he thinks. "We aren't criminals."

"And does that make you any different from me?" She answers herself. "No, it doesn't. In fact, we're pretty much the same, you and I."

"No, we're not. We'll never be."

She is true about one thing, for the first time she is. "You've got something you want to protect and I've got mine. We both just want to see them happy and alive."

He turns his back to her and starts walking away. "I'm leaving."

"Well isn't that just dandy?" She complains. "Leave a woman alone to fend for herself in the night."

"I doubt that."

"Right you are, bartender." She takes a swill. "Send my regards to your king." She smirks. "I'm sure he'd be glad to hear from me."

He takes a drag as he nears the lift. "I doubt that he would."

"Of course. He's a dying man." He hears her footsteps approaching him. "No one lying on their deathbed would want to hear death's phone call."

He looks over his shoulder and sees her confident face. "You're a complete lunatic."

She puts a hand on her hip, and takes a swill. "And so far, you haven't tried to kill me." She says—exclaims, practically shouts out he thinks—

"I like you, bartender."


The moment Izumo locks the doors to HOMURA, Mikoto comes from the stairwell, "Where have you been, Izumo?"

He gives him a smile. "Nowhere, just some place where the alcohol really gets the drunkards going."

Mikoto gives him a small smile. "I'm glad you're safe."

"So am I." Izumo doesn't mean himself.


A/N: Okay, so I have this theory of Mikoto having cancer... It's possible though. Cells deteriorating? His Sword of Damocles deteriorating *dies* I've been having a particularly bad day today. School has been hell, I've got lots to do, but I'm glad the weekend's near. I basically spent my Christmas break as unproductively as I can, and that's not really good. I wish it was already summer. Read and review?