The trip was short and uninteresting. Very little happened, except for the meeting of Tsumori outside the supermarket. Even so, Nowaki merely waved slightly, and the two continued on their way.
When they arrived at Akihiko's flat, they were greeted by a very tired and panicked looking writer, two chatty editors and a quiet secretary. Though, no Misaki, Hiroki noted quietly. Must be why Akihiko's as disheveled as he is.
Nowaki and Aikawa instantly hit it off, and Hiroki just rolled his eyes. Of course, leave it to Nowaki to make instant friends.
Instead of joining in the annoying story of how Nowaki had decidedly cooked eggs this morning, he decided to sit next to Asahina, eyeing the arsenal of weapons currently sprawled across the whole room. Any weapon he could think of was there; swords, lances, guns. You name it, chances are, it was there. Quietly, he added his weapons to the stockroom and leaned his back against the couch.
He watched Akihiko stalk over and plant one foot onto the coffee table with a grunt, surveying each member in his posse, and turning to Hiroki.
"Why is he here?" Akihiko asked with a growl, pointedly glaring at Nowaki. "He can't fight, he obviously doesn't have any senses. He's just going to slow us do-"
"I told him," Hiroki snarled, pointing his own glare at Akihiko. "Now that he knows, he won't be safe." That was a saddened thought, that things would never be the same between them.
"But he's useless. You shouldn't have told him." The tension was increasing, and neither of them realized, but the entire group had gone quiet. A wave of fury overcame Hiroki's restraints and he stood, slamming his fists on the table, watching with furious anger as it crumbled onto the floor.
"Get real, asshole! He would've found out eventually." Hiroki scowled, crossing his arms with fervor and sick contempt, smirking a bit when Akihiko turned on him. In the background, he could see Nowaki's glare, though he was thankfully being held back by Aikawa.
"I don't give a shit if you have angel blood or not, I am going to murder you!" Akihiko snarled as he lunged at Hiroki, fiercely ignoring the shouts from the others telling him to stop. Though his attack was cut short when he heard a bang against the door.
"Akihiko, you bastard!" Rang throughout the flat, and the silveret groaned, massaging his temples.
"It's open, Onodera.(1)" He shouted, and the door jarred against the back wall. In the doorway was a very pissed off editor, fuming as his scars bunched with his frown.
He looked around as he walked towards the group, snarling and gathering Akihiko's shirt in a fingerless grip, pulling him down to his eye level. "You better fucking fix this." He started, "Do you see what they've done to me?! I have three fucking fingers left!"
Akihiko's eyes grew to the size of tea plates as he took in the status of his former editors form, scars running jagged across pale expanses of skin. "W-What happened to you?"
Onodera scoffed and let go of his shirt, "Your stupid oni got me. And he didn't even have the fucking decency to call me the right name."
".. What did he call you?" Akihiko already knew the answer, but perhaps on the off chance his editor might be wrong, he asked anyways.
"Misaki or something like that. The fucker.."
He awoke to find himself bandaged up around the core of his body, and cloth wrapped tightly around his head. His lungs and throat burned in the coarse air, and he shivered in the December chills. The candle flickered wearily, as if threatening eternal darkness and damnation. He began to come to, blinking the blurry visions away.
Against him lay a boy, no older than him, but no younger than eighteen. His dirty blonde was marred with blood, and the boys hands curled against Misaki's chest, as if it were a protection attempt. The pale skin was stark compared to his, and Misaki reached out to wake the boy. The weight of his head against his shoulder burnt with a dull pain, and his hair tickled Misaki's cheek.
"Hey, wake up." He said quickly, ruffling the boys hair. He heard the other emit a soft groan and then his face was to a copy of the demons.
In terror, Misaki knocked the offender backwards, staring into the demons eyes. Though, they were no longer red, but a cobalt blue..
The other sat, rubbing his head while spitting numerous curses at Misaki. This was no demon, this was a boy.
"What the hell is your problem, asshole?" His curious gaze was returned with a ferocious growl, the blonde boy glaring from under his bangs. Though it softened as he realized the situation, the snarl never fully left his face. His face.. he had seen it somewhere.. but where?
Once again, the angered voice broke him from his thoughts. "Dammit, you should be thankful! I saved your goddamned life." The boy grabbed the candle and stood, looking around the room once, then back at down at Misaki, motioning for him to stand as well. "Whatever. There's an exit around here, but it's hidden."
Confused, Misaki stumbled to his feet, balancing himself on the concrete walls. His head was still a bit dizzy, and it took him several seconds to regain the ability to stand straight.
"What's your name?" Misaki asked hesitantly, breathing slowly to still his heart a bit.
"It is unimportant." Was his reply, and Misaki frowned. He was just attempting to be polite, and the boy didn't have to be so rude. He shifted a bit where he stood, mildly discomforted by the tightening bandages. But before he could displace them for a bit more comfort and less corset, the boy glared back at him. "Don't, I made them tight for a reason."
Misaki nodded, and sighed with exhaustion. Fainting wasn't half as good as a nice long sleep, and the cold concrete made it worse. The crick in his back hurt, but there was no way to stretch out in these bandages, and if he did, it'd probably tear the slowly healing cuts.
He heard a soft gasping sound from his partner, followed by a muffled curse. The boy turned on him, quickly handing the candle over to Misaki. In a flash, his partner pushed him into the wall where it separated into two dank passageways.
"Take the left." the boy said, ushering him toward the flight of stairs, and Misaki began to climb, only pausing when he noticed the boy wasn't following. As he turned, the boy sported a sad smile, nodding at him in a silent exchange of words. "Beige makes a dry burial shroud, doesn't it.(2)" All was silent.
After a while, Misaki said, "I never did get your name." The other boy just smiled a bit wider.
"What, going to tell on me?"
"No.." Misaki smirked a bit at that comment. "I'd like to know the name of a hero." The boy was silent once again.
The boys smile faded a little over time, "I am no hero, merely the hosting body for a demon, but.. Shinobu. Shinobu Takatsuki."
A/N: (1) the main character of a spin-off manga of Junjou named Sekaiichi Hatsukoi. Those who haven't watched it are strongly recommended to by me~
(2) a parodied version of Theodora I's quote: "Purple makes a fine burial shroud." during the Nika riots.
so i hope you have enjoyed this chapter~ I get out of school tmrw, so I'll try and have another chapter up sometime this weekend.