Surprise! A big thank you to Crooked Mile, who agreed to adopting Achromatic Colors and Colors of Blood! It's been a long long time since I wrote my first chapters and I noticed they were less than satisfactory but we're not going back to change since that's going to take an eternity. She's so good at writing and I'm so happy she adopted my two abandoned puppies XD Anyone read her Unto Derision could tell! (Lol, I even featured her on ch11) Much better than me at any rate…
And now, a word from her:
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A/N: I—Crooked Mile--have, quite shamelessly, adopted this fanfic. Well, it was sort of an adoption, as Firey typed up all the notes and plot skeleton (which I have been told was a long, torturous affair which may or may not have taken her soul) and I add all the pretty little details. Summarily, she can be blamed for everything that is happening and I can be blamed for the characterization and everything else in between.
Warnings: Religious themes, yaoi
Pairings: Thrill, maybe more
Disclaimer: Neither of us own Prince of Tennis. Surprise, surprise.
Achromatic Colors
XII. Bubble Gum
Indigo eyes surveyed the structure in a mixture of ambitious longing and concealed awe, though the long strides made by lithe legs were an ample representation of the impatience simmering within the winged creature. He would stop, every moment or so, as if his thoughts alone would call his target towards him. Momo wasn't christened with such a Gift, though, and so his hopes were dashed every time as the doors to the restricted building refused to open to admit the youngest archangel into view.
Momo sighed for the umpteenth time. Ever since Sakuno had failed to give Ryoma the message--having been too depressed to even glimpse her beloved with the (incorrect) information about the archangel's "Karupin"--he had been assigned the task of delivering Ryuuzaki's message. While usually that would be little trouble to Momo, as he hardly had the reserve of Sakuno, the young archangel had chosen to isolate himself inside the archangel-only building, leaving Momo outside to wait – and he was not allowed to call upon the people inside unless it was an emergency. Truth be told, Momo was starting to feel an inferiority complex build as he waited for the snarky male to show up.
The ornate gate to the front doorway began to slide open (because Yukimura-forbid if the angelics found artistic taste in simplicity) and Momo edged forward with determined eyes. If it turned out to be Tezuka, perhaps Momo could ask a favor of the stone-like angel to call Ryoma outside. Luckily, said boy strode out through the open doorway, face carefully set at expressionless that he must have learned from the stoic archangel that had raised him.
"Echizen!" Momo called, flying over as if walking would somehow impede his mission. (He still couldn't believe he was called to deliver a message, but anything was better than the mountains of paperwork waiting for him back in his office.)
Ryoma paused, glancing back with an inquisitive gaze. Momo hurried forward to cut off the boy's path, as the archangel had a habit of walking away if Momo talked for too long, as was Momo's habit.
"Momo-senpai." Ryoma greeted, once Momo had stopped in front of him. The older angel frowned--he had been aiming for a cute pout, but with Momo's matured facial structure, it remained obstinately as an agitated downward turn of lips--shaking his head as if exasperated with the other.
"Do you know how long I've been waiting out here?" Momo whined, wings dissipating almost subconsciously. "You're so much work, Echizen, too much work."
Ryoma rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with the other's complaints. Why should he care? Momo didn't even have a lifespan, being immortal, so what was waiting some odd hours for Ryoma to break off from training? It wasn't like the spiky-haired angel had anything of real importance to do.
"What do you want, Momo-senpai?"
Momo opened his mouth to respond--whether with a retort or Ryuuzaki's message remained unclear--but was cut off as a pair of arms encircled the young archangel from behind, pulling the younger boy back to a flat chest as a chipper voice crowed out a triumphant "Ryoma-chan!"
Ryoma looked like he was ready to pull out his weapon, but managed to stop himself when he realized he recognized the voice and decided, a mere moment later, that he didn't feel like harming the owner of it. Vivid red hair topped a pale, smiling face, the delicate curve of the mouth closed but revealing that the owner was chewing on--Momo sniffed the air--candy. Very sweet, gummy candy.
Ryoma sighed, but gave into a smirk even as he lightly tried to push the other off of him. "That was sneaky, Marui-senpai."
Marui smiled charmingly, arms loosely clasping around the shoulders of the shorter boy in a defiant manner. "Guess I'm still good enough to sneak up on you, Ryoma-chan." The name was accented with a musical lilt that, had any other person been doing it, the young archangel would have been bristling.
"You should be careful next time, Marui-senpai. You might end up with a hole in your face." The off-hand manner in which the comment was delivered in made Momo cringe at the overly-explicit and not-at-all innocuous boy, but Marui just laughed as if Ryoma had told a funny joke. This was either proof that the seraph was insane, was extremely dense, or was just too used to Ryoma's character. (It was most likely the latter, but there had been some bets floating around on the first one after seeing the redhead hover around Tezuka like an over-talkative leech.)
Momo let the strangeness of this impromptu encounter wash over him, so that he could think about it later where he would be hidden away from view to ogle. While it wasn't that odd to see Marui Bunta talking amicably with another, it was strange seeing Ryoma looking almost relaxed as he bantered with the redhead. The only time Momo had ever seen Ryoma enjoy another's company was when he had tailed him that one day to find out who Karupin was.
Marui Bunta was quite the accomplished seraph, if Momo recalled correctly, having reached that class at a young age compared to others of the rank. The redhead had presently been on a mission assigned by Yukimura, so he hadn't been seen for quite awhile. It was a little strange for the redhead to be so attached to the young archangel, but Momo remembered hearing that Marui had once worked under Tezuka and had probably grown attached to the boy from when he was young.
Momo spared a moment to speculate what a small, young Ryoma was like. He glanced over at the currently-scowling boy. He was probably a lot cuter back then, Momo decided absently.
"Ryoma-chan, what's with all this 'Marui-senpai, Marui-senpai'? Call me onii-chan like before!" Marui whined plaintively.
"Yadda." was the insensitive response.
"But Ryoma-chan! You were so cute back then, clinging to the hem of my uniform--"
"I never clung to you." Ryoma interjected in mild irritation.
"Calling me 'onii-chan' and begging me for candy!" Marui turned false-teary eyes to the archangel. "You're not as cute anymore, Ryoma-chan. Don't you want some candy?"
Momo snickered to the side, and Ryoma's golden-flecked gaze swiveled to the other with a murderous glint, preferring to direct his anger towards him than the redhead. Momo turned away, hacking into his fist as he valiantly tried to suppress his own laughter.
"Ryoma-chan!" Marui crooned again.
Ryoma sighed in utmost exasperation, turning back to the redhead with a small scowl. "I'll call you that only if you win against me." He smirked.
Marui beamed in response. "I haven't fought you in a long time." he remarked, as the archangel turned and re-entered the exclusive building. Momo looked eagerly at Marui in a silent plea to watch, but the redhead just shook his head with a small smile.
"Not this time, Momo." He waved the other male off. "But the tournament is coming soon, isn't it?"
The seraph was quick to follow the already-gone youth before he could reply, and Momo watched with a small frown at the missed opportunity.
Then he realized that he forgot to give Ryoma Ryuuzaki's message, and cursed in a way that defied the conventional piety of an angel.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Flashback
Striding down the open hallway with absolutely no trepidation, Marui couldn't claim to be a bit surprised by the setting. There was something about the light, furnished wood of the flooring; the smell of pure air; the sound of the consistent striking of bamboo; the omnipresent light that shifted through the air; all of this screamed irrepressibly of Tezuka. It was both regal and refined, a perfect picture of reservation and serenity that truly befit the stoic archangel. In comparison to Atobe's outrageously glamorous tastes, Tezuka's lands held the true beauty found only in nature, a civilization set in adaptability rather than a clash of power.
That was Tezuka for you. A natural force of calm control.
Marui tugged uncomfortably at the hideous blue and gold-accented uniform he was dolled up in. How reconnaissance angels got any work in these stifled articles of clothing was beyond Marui, and he couldn't wait for a promotion if only to get out of this horrible outfit. A tiny voice in the back of his mind--which sounded disturbingly like Wakato--mourned about how the uniform didn't compliment his hair at all.
With an irritation born of being compromised about his fashionable appearance, Marui chomped down slightly harder on his candy apple. He scanned the Japanese-esque setting with evaporating annoyance, especially as he slid open one of the paper doors to reveal his superior seated at a low-set table. Tezuka didn't even glance up from the documents he was perusing, the light glinting off his glasses at such an angle that the hazel irises were blind from sight.
Marui heaved an overly-enunciated sigh. Tezuka didn't so much as twitch.
"Commander, I have returned from my perilous journey abroad, bearing the tidings of ill-favor." Marui started dramatically. Tezuka shifted in a new sheet of paper to criticize in response. "It wounds me to say this, as I'm sure it will wound you to hear it, but Commander--" Marui cut off for a small, choked sob. "Kajimoto-kun refuses to partner with Shinjyou-kun, on the grounds that Shinjyou-kun is making passes at Hanamura-san, Kajimoto's tutor. Now, Shinjyou-kun denies these 'baseless accusations,' though every recon worth their feathers knows he is infatuated with Hanamura-san. While Kajimoto cites that the (nonexistent) relationship would not bother him, he doesn't want to be caught in the crossfire should the two enter a lover's spat--"
"Does any of this connect to your mission in Persia?" Tezuka cut in blandly.
Marui smiled, rocking on his heels in amusement. "Well, no. Though the flood was caused by demons, as we suspected."
Tezuka nodded, completely disregarding the redhead's prior monologue as he gave the finishing touches to one of the reports. "Have the report on my desk within the next three days."
Marui pouted. Why did Tezuka always want the reports so soon? He had an eternity to go over them, after all, unless another Holy War started up. Even if that happened, paperwork would always be waiting afterwards. Paperwork was perhaps the only thing that lived longer than an immortal.
Marui's attention was pulled away from his superior as the paper door to the adjoining room slid open, revealing a tiny figure stumbling in. Wide, golden-flecked eyes were half-lidded in grogginess, a small fist rubbing at the corner as if to wipe away the traces of plaguing sleep. Adorned in a snow white yukata, the smooth skin was slightly blessed with the kiss of the sun. Dark, green-tinted hair remained tousled from just rising, and one hand rose to absently smooth down the flyaway strands after the owner stifled a tiny yawn. He looked about 4 to 5 centuries old.
Those large, innocent eyes turned to focus on Marui, and the boy abruptly paused to give a polite bow. "Sorry for intruding. Pleased to meet you."
Marui would not be restrained by formalities. An enamored grin stretched his lips as he made his way forward, bending down to beam at the child. "Commander, this is Nanjirou's son, right?" Tezuka nodded, but Marui didn't turn to look and confirm, already confident in his deduction skills. "How adorable! I'm Marui Bunta!"
Ryoma beamed back, immediately put at ease by the friendliness. "I'm Ryoma!"
"You can call me "oniichan", Ryoma-chan!"
Ryoma blinked in confusion. "'-chan'?"
Marui grinned and nodded, ruffling the boy's hair playfully. "Sounds cuter, ne? Fits such a cute boy like you!"
Ryoma grinned back, flattered. Marui reached down to pull the younger boy up, easily holding the light form. Ryoma clasped his arms around the redhead's neck, laughing slightly as Marui paraded around the room with him.
"Are you here to see oji-san, oniichan?" Ryoma asked curiously, peering at Marui with bright but intense eyes. Marui froze mid-motion, staring at Ryoma with wide eyes, the smile falling off his lips.
"...Oji-san?" Marui echoed hollowly. A moment passed as Ryoma stared at the redhead in budding confusion, while his guardian stared at his inferior with a darkening glare. Marui buried his face in the hollow of Ryoma's shoulder, muffled chuckles escaping as his body shook from his failed attempt at stifling his own laughter. Tezuka's glare intensified to withering proportions.
"I think I love you, Ryoma-chan!" Marui suddenly burst, swinging Ryoma around giddily. He set the child back on the ground, leaning down to whisper theatrically into his ear. "Though you shouldn't call Commander that. He'll have a heart attack, you know." Ryoma's eyes widened in comical horror. Marui nodded solemnly.
"All that tea and meditation. He'll start to wrinkle like Ryuuzaki-san." Marui forcefully chocked back the grin that wanted to escape at Ryoma's gasp of terror. "Just call him Mitsu." Tezuka's glare went from 'withering' to 'concentrated inferno', but Marui ignored him (more encouraged than frightened, actually) as he nodded mock-wisely. "He really likes to be called Mitsu."
Ryoma nodded in dutiful understanding. "I will, oniichan! Mitsu won't get wrinkly because of me!"
Marui could hold it no longer; he burst into laughter.
While Marui would be sent on many missions afterward--undoubtedly Tezuka's revenge, but at least it gave the redhead more experience and would make him rise in the ranks--he would visit Ryoma as often as possible, claiming that leaving him alone with Tezuka would beat all the life out of the child. This arrangement had worked for a couple of centuries, but after returning from another mission, the redhead found himself at the end of the gaze of a different child.
"What's wrong, Ryoma-chan?"
Ryoma stared back, eyes just as intense, but this time, no smile was on his lips. A smile wouldn't grace his lips for centuries.
/Flashback
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"Ryoma-chan is so intense, ne?" Marui muttered, sheathing his sword as the archangel snorted. If angels were given to perspiration like mortals, Marui knew he would be sweating buckets; as it was, all he had was the exhaustion in his limbs and a bit of wounded pride. To be honest, however, he had not expected to win; Ryoma was an archangel for a reason, and Marui knew better than anyone that age could mean nothing in terms of skill.
"Seraphs specialize in brains, though, not battle." Marui felt compelled to say, if only to defend himself.
Ryoma snorted, weapon already stowed away and stretching lightly. "A loss is still a loss, Marui-senpai." the boy replied indifferently. "Being a seraph doesn't mean--" Abruptly, a candy apple was shoved into his mouth by an unrepentantly grinning redhead.
Ryoma glared for a moment, before looking away with a muffled sigh. "...Thanks." he mumbled softly, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. He immediately regretted it as arms clamped around him in a choking embrace.
"Marui-senpai! Get off!" Ryoma protested, shifting in mounting annoyance. Marui actually cackled, tightening his hold briefly before letting go. Practically dancing out of arm range, Marui grinned and blew the boy a kiss. "You were just so cute, Ryoma-chan, that I couldn't resist."
Ryoma looked ready to launch forward and change the redhead's mind about his 'cuteness'.
Idling over to the exit, Marui halted his steps to glance back at the boy. "By the way, Ryuuzaki-san wanted to see you." The archangel frowned, glowering at something in a memory that Marui couldn't see. The redhead sucked down another candy apple, a smile on his lips but his eyes unusually solemn.
"Go see her, Ryoma-chan." The seraph advised. "For my sake?"
Ryoma's gaze returned to him, hardened once more, but at least the boy nodded.
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"My lord," Marui called, entering the study. It was warmly lit, the soft glow of an absent but ever-present sun luminating the furnished wood of the desk, absent of paperwork but not of strangely-colored quills. Slender fingers drummed an unknown rhythm on the tabletop, consistent and fluttering, strangely entrancing but at the same time, there was something inherently different about the melody. Marui thought he could liken it to the drums of war, but his imagination has always been of the overactive sort.
Tap-taptaptap-tap-tap-taptap....
"Ah, Bunta." Yukimura greeted, smiling at the redhead with a knowing glint to his eyes, his fingers abruptly ceasing. "Did you enjoy your escapade in the Persian Gulf?" He chuckled lightly. "You always have enjoyed the weather there."
Marui closed the door behind him.
That was true, but Marui knew that Yukimura knew all the details of his latest mission and didn't see the need to go over them. Especially as he would just have to write it all down later. There was nothing Marui hated more than monotonous repetition. (That was like hanging out with Tezuka for an extended length of time. The thought made him shudder.)
"I met with Ryoma-chan before I came. He's cold as always and he hardly talks, and when he does it's like he learned how to be snarky from the Snark King himself!"
Yukimura didn't feel at all compelled to remind Marui that he shouldn't be giving other angels cruel nicknames behind their backs. Chances are, though, Shishido would never find out about Marui's nickname for him for a long while.
"I remember a time where he used to cling to me and chant for more candy, when he called Tezuka 'Mitsu', when--"
"--he was a dutiful little minion to you, helping you with all your pranks and so on?" Yukimura concluded in amusement. Marui nodded, utterly shameless. The blue-haired male smiled, chuckling. "You do realize Shiraishi has yet to return his arms back to their normal state. They've been scaly for centuries now."
Marui paused to reminisce, a dreamy smile on his lips as he remembered that particular prank. The archangel had been good-natured about it all, having used his bandaged state to keep his rambunctious disciple--an overly-eager boy by the name of Kintarou--in check.
"Yuki," Marui started, using a friendlier name now that they were alone but his tone was serious. "He has changed."
Yukimura hummed. "You heard about Karupin, of course."
Marui nodded. "He always had a soft spot for cats." He muttered monotonously. "…especially when he was little." He clenched his fists.
"Time heals; some need more than others, but time will ease them all eventually." Yukimura looked out the window. "That or they will drive themselves to their own deaths."
"He's afraid, Yuki." Marui began. "Ryoma-chan is so different after 'that'! He stopped calling me 'oniichan'! He hardly talks, he won't hug me back like before… and-" He stopped abruptly, as if struggling with what to say.
Yukimura watched on silently, allowing the other to vent. It was better to allow the redhead to say his piece or else he would never see reason.
"Ryoma-chan should not have been put with Tezuka in the first place! If I had had him, he wouldn't have turned out like this at all!" Marui claimed decisively.
Yukimura eyed him calmly.
"You know better, Marui." That was enough to make Marui flinch.
"You can't predict the future." Yukimura stated idly. No, the true form of that particular Sight was reserved only for a beautiful lady of Hell, as Yukimura well knew. "Besides, you weren't a seraph then." He smiled.
Marui lowered his head, looking apologetic. With a shy nod, the redhead mumbled a hurried apology. Yukimura nodded back.
A grin formed on Marui's lips. "Ryoma-chan...He's been training very hard, hasn't he, Yuki?" Yukimura nodded, looking out the window as if he could see the young archangel through its depths. With his ability of Sight, Marui knew, he very well could. "The tournament is coming up soon."
Yukimura remained silent.
Marui's smile turned hollow. "He always forgets her while in the heat of battle."
But Yukimura already knew that. He closed his eyes, and in his mind, he hears the melody his fingers had been drumming previously.
Tap-TapTapTap-Tap-Tap-TapTap...
"Ryoma-chan...when will you smile again?" Marui murmured.
A/N: Drop a review, if you would. Firey needs to know if she should get another author to adopt this story if everyone doesn't like my "style". :) No flames, though—there's quite a difference between a critique and a flame.
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Ignore that comment above. She's good. But a review/words of encouragement/etc will energize the both of us! XD
Published: 10/07/09
Edited: