Eh, they will be somewhat out of character because different situations make them slightly different people. But not entirely for some personalities are decided from birth.
Warning: The speech sometimes implies discrimination toward... well anyone! ... but only a small hint. It's only in the story, not the message/moral/idea of the story.
Japanese:
Adjective: Shioppoi- Salty
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Twas a month after their encounter with one another. Another page in his book turned over. The reader would notice however, that the text was larger than any other chapter in his story, and virbantly decorated to compare.
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The younger bandit had lost. Plain and simple. He was too "weak" for the position of leader as opposed to his best friend, who had knocked him out ten minutes into the match. The older drunken thieves made fun of him. The younger, more inexperienced patted him on the back. And Kouji, well he was different. Kouji went on being the annoying "older brother" that he always was.
"Oi! Genrou! Cheer up! I didn't beat ya THAT hard!" The older bandit's grin spread from cheek to cheek with a cheerful passion. Genrou felt a hard slam on his already tortured back.
"The hell ya doin' Aho!" The beaten pile of bandages sprung to life and knocked his friend over.
Within an instant, he was slammed back onto the bed with a supposed "Dr. Kouji" at his side. "Ya shouldn't be outta bed, Genrou! After our fight, ya have ta heal naturally."
"Don't make like ya weren't hurt too!" Genrou seethed at his friend poking a bandaged bruise on the arm.
"*cough* Well, not as much as Gen chan!"
"Oh yeah?" The redhead slammed a palm at the exposed bandages on his friend's forehead.
"UWAAAAA!!"
For I-don't-know-how-long, both of them ended up torturing eachother's wounds.
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"Daaaa!" The rain dropped down onto the forest once more just as the mage jumped into the emtpy refuge house. He slammed the door shut and sighed to himself. "That was close no da!" Earlier in the day, it was pouring before it cleared up cheerfully. And of course, called to the road as usual, the mage set out thinking he could reach the next town before the rain would eventually come again. And... well, soon after in the middle of the mountains it drizzled slightly and here he was.
Chichiri knew that this house was normally occupied by the bandits when rain or storms trapped them. But now that it was empty, there was no need to worry... yet.
"They might run here if they're caught in the rain." He sighed again. "I can't seem to rest today no da."
The fire was started and the place turned nice and warm. From the corner of the room where blankets were piled up, the mage heard a low, grateful groan.
"Daaaa!" His high pitched voice screeched cutely. "Monster no da!"
"Who the hell ya callin' a monster?" The voice growled once more and then emerged a young, very bandaged, red-haired man. His lower lip quivered a little from the warmth replacing the cold, wet sheets.
"Tasuki?" The mage's voice was a normal low once more.
"Oh fuckin' lovely."
The young bandit was ushered in front of the fire while the soaked layers of blankets were strewn out to dry. Genrou protested of course, but didn't fight in his tired condition.
"You're all beat up no da." Chichiri sighed. "You should lie down no da." After no word of response, he gently forced the young man on his back.
"I don't need ya ta tell me what I fuckin' need." The bandit's voice was hoarse from fatigue.
"How long were you in those wet blankets no da?" The mage's brow furrowed in irritation when the young man was still silent. "Did someone fight with you?" He folded his cape into a pillow and fitted it under the younger man's head. "Gomen, it might smell a little sweaty no da..."
The bandit inhaled the light scent of the cloth. Chichiri started to fumble with the wet bandages and the wet clothes. The bandit relaxed, breathing in the older man's touch. "Thanks..." He mumbled before falling into sleep.
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As his eyes opened tiredly, the first thing he layed eyes on was the older man sitting next to the fire with one of his old blankets, now dry, wrapped around him. He slumped his head back down. After a few moments more, he sat up.
"Konbanwa, Tasuki no da."
A grouchy groan was the response.
"I took some money from your bag to buy food no da." The fox face didn't look at him. It wasn't smiling either.
The bandit groggily took a bun and bit into it. "Fuck, it's cold."
"I had to buy the leftovers since it's night no da."
Genrou growled and stared into the fire. It was definately night. He glanced outside at the dark clouds still pouring before staring at the flame like his company. Eventually, those golden eyes, like a cat's grace, snuck over to the man sitting next to him. He bit into the bun once more before realizing that the mage's hair was damp. "The hell happened ta ya?"
"I said I went to town no da." The blue haired man looked at him, somehow knowing what he was inquiring. "It's been raining ever since you slept no da."
The redhead swallowed hard. "Sorry for makin' ya do that."
"Daijoubu na no da. Your blankets come in handy no da." The older man glanced over. "You should wrap yourself with my kesa. It'll keep you warm na no da."
"Che." The grouchy bandit turned away and stared into the fire once more. But he did as he was told and a tingly feeling caused him to shiver a little under the dark blue cloth. "Last thin' I wanted was ta be stuck with YOU, ya know."
"That can't be helped no da." The mage leaned back and stretched out on the floor.
"I know that!"
It was silent. From the back of the room... drip... drip...
"Ya don't need ta fuckin-"
"Would you be quiet no da? I can't sleep if you keep talking na no da."
The air was quiet for a short while before the bandit swung around and opened his mouth to yell.
But then he caught sight of the slender body strewn out shirtless, skin bared to the world. It was so slim but small etches of malnutrition and somewhat of a tone lay there, hauntingly eye-catching on the blanket. The young bandit stared at him, wondering idly how long it would take before the older man noticed.
He sighed and turned back to the fire, fidgety. "Yer not asleep, are ya?" He asked in a harmless accusing voice.
"Not if you keep talking no da."
Drip. Drip. Silence, then...
"Yer pretty fuckin' skinny. The hell do ya eat...?"
"Why? Are you fat no da?"
"That AIN'T what I meant, AHO!!!"
"You're so talkative Tasuki no da. Just like before."
Silence overcame them once more. Drip... drip... drip... Genrou was seething silently to himself.
"Che. Yeah well, at least my voice wasn't frickin' high."
"Like THIS no da?" The high-pitched voice rose up cheerfully. Then with a sudden octave drop once more, the older man resumed his lower voice and replied, "Yours was at one time."
"Tha's cause I was a kid. Yours was cause' yer gay."
The mage raised an eyebrow in shock. "I am not no da. I never was. But you were na no da."
"If I was the fuckin' gay one, why did YOU come back? It was because a' the promise?" He turned fully around.
"I thought you forgot that na no da. I came back to see how you were doing no da."
"Che, yeah I'll believe that one. Perverted old man." He smirked, satisfied.
"I would never do such a thing!" The mage sat up and glared at the redhead who then, glared straight back. "A little conceited aren't we no da? If I'm the weird one, Tasuki, how come YOU'RE the one getting worked up over something that happened in the past no da? Why is it that you can't let go of it no da?"
"And what the hell is that supposed ta mean!?" A firestorm lit up in the blond orbs, golden lightning cracking blindly over the river of flames.
"Nothing, Tasuki no da." The mage lay back once more, dismissive. "That's exactly what the past means. Nothing."
Chichiri was finished with it. But Genrou wasn't. The young bandit jumped, up furious. The burns that his wounds tried to scream only fueled his outrage. How dare he... How dare he tell me what matters and what doesn't...
He pounced hard onto the body underneath. The mage let out a cry of both anger and surprise. Tasuki wrestled with all his might, the pain in his bruises finally taking their toll on his strength. Chichiri on the other hand was both worried about the bandages and angry at the bandit's false accusations. The bandit was so vicious. His nails tore at any exposed skin possible, and his fists connected hard with the solid flesh.
"What are you doing, TASUKI!!" He snatched the bandit's wrists and held them up high.
"Don't touch me, you gay fuck!" The younger screamed against the rhythmic drops of rain on the roof. He glared hard at the mage, unable to shed his thoughts, afraid of tipping the dangerously filled glass of his bitter stress.
"BAKAYARO!! You spoiled little brat!" The young bandit was flown into the wall, his limp form pasted to the vertical planks of wood. His eyes wearily looked up to watch the swift, commanding movements of the mage casting a spell. He couldn't move. He was stuck. He turned away in shame, tears still falling down his face. The mage stalked closer to his still body.
"Tasuki... what happened to you...?" The older man released the spell and cradled the younger man into his arms. "W... what's going on?" He rocked gently back and forth, his bare skin aware of warm, touch of flesh to flesh.
The young bandit snuggled unconcsiously into his arms. His broken, golden eyes gazed up at the shioppoi raindrops dropping from that deeply toned chin. Everywhere ached but it didn't really matter. Is he crying for me?"Nothing happened to me... 'Chiri... don't worry..." He sobbed.
Chichiri sat there, silent, cradling the younger man's form in his arms. Both avoided each other's gazes. "Ne, Tasuki?"
Genrou looked up, his breath too heavy to respond normally.
"I suppose... I was gay at one time... because I let you be my boyfriend long ago..." He sighed.
And the mage could have sworn that he had heard a chuckle.
To Be Continued...
AN: the teardrops were on the chin b/c the mask can't cry.