Author's Note: This was written in a fit of active procrastination. I
assume my lab report will be written in a fit of very active panic. I do
not presume to either claim the characters or much ambition for what I've
written. I just hope it amuses you. Enjoy!
Manipulation is the Name of the Game
The metallic stairs clinked with the heels of cowboy boots as Yoji Kudo strutted down in all his glory. He paused for a moment at the bottom, surveying his teammates in calm superiority, then stepped down with an air of resignation. No one had noticed him. Aya's head was bent firmly, almost severely, over a classic novel as he methodically turned the pages, his violet eyes peering through his reading glasses. He presumed the foot in the air from behind the couch belonged to Ken. His limbs had a tendency to sprawl whenever not otherwise engaged in activity. An aimless pillow thrown into the air confirmed his suspicion. There were no soccer games on tonight. Throwing a wink at his reflection off the silent television screen Yoji ignored the snort that proceeded from Ken and sashayed over to the final member of Weiss.
"What are you doing, kitten?" Yoji slurred the words as he leaned over the young boy's shoulder, a knowing smirk playing over his lips. Omi was sitting upright, eyes locked dead onto the computer screen, as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "I'm...RPing...," he managed between key strokes, instant messaging another member of the game, and then slumping into an intense waiting. Yoji fiddled with a stray lock of hair, then combed his fingers through his mane. He grazed his hand across the youth's cheek, beginning,
"You know what I was thinking we could do tonight was, you and me could go to this club down the street, you know the one. The one with the cyber chicks, the kinds you like? Anyways, between the two of us I bet we could—"
The messaging screen flashed, and he was startled into silence as the teen sat bolt straight and read the new directions, responding with a burst of his own typing.
"Sorry, Yoji, I'm..." his voice trailed off as he paused a moment to think, then hurriedly typed a completion to his sentence. "..busy," he finished orally. Suddenly jumping into awareness, he fussed, "What? You know I don't like that kind of stuff. Clubs aren't for me." The disgust edged in his voice and as he returned his attention to the computer Yoji ambled off slowly, running his fingers along the silk edge of his shirt. He looked up to see if there had been any change in his teammates' occupations, but was disappointed to find none. Except for the fact that two feet were now above the back of the couch, intimating the agile Ken Hidaka was now watching the blank television screen upside down, nothing had changed. Scratch that. Aya turned a page.
This just wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all. Since Manx had forbidden solitary ventures until the "imminent danger" she referred to had passed he was stuck in the flower shop until another guy wanted to go out with him. Considering he lived with a hermit, a computer geek, and a displaced athlete his chances of getting out tonight were pretty slim.
He had to make things more interesting for himself. The night would otherwise stretch endlessly on. "I like to role-play, kitten," he whispered to himself, a leer stretching across his lean features. "You just won't know it," he laughed silently.
He timed it well. He watched Omi's earnest response to the messenger. The screen flashed, his fingers hung poised as his posture tensed, and then the blow fell. With a flick of his wrist watch Yoji sent a single wire into the most vulnerable portion of their internet connection, and the messenger reported "Bombay: signed off."
Another pillow flew into the air. So much for assassin instincts. Scratch that. Aya paused as he turned the page, then continued reading.
"Eh?!" The blonde's horror squealed.
Yoji took his moment. He'd been waiting for attention all night.
"Please, Omi, don't hurt me. I never meant to hurt you. I only loved you the best way I knew how, the best way I could."
Omi stared at the older man in confusion, then turned red with fury as he noticed the wire recoiling. "You," he began murderously, approaching with heavy tread. "You disconnected me, didn't you?!" He accused the man as though this were the deepest of betrayals.
"Please," Yoji whimpered, baiting the boy ruthlessly. "You know it's only because," he paused for a dramatic sniff, "because I love us. Not just you and me, us, but all of us." He stretched his arms wide to intimate the expanse of the room. Another page turned stolidly, but a brunette head popped up in curiosity.
"We never dooo things together anymore," he whined, arranging himself in a little blob on the floor, his silken shirt flowing about him.
"Yoji," Omi returned with silent fury, "we kill people together. I consider this a bonding experience. The only thing I think would make this even more personal would be if you were—"
"Omi, this isn't like you," Ken suddenly voiced. "Yoji," his voice grew awkward, "neither is this."
Yoji welcomed the new addition to his game and set up the scene for him.
"But Ken, you're so distant all the time," a perfect tear sprang upon his cheek. "I never feel your support when I need it. And I do need it, Ken." With a careful gesture he drew back his hair into a listless ponytail and proceeded to sit in miserable silence.
Ken squirmed on the couch, uncomfortable with the situation, but tried to make the best of it. "Since when do you need us? You have a new woman every night telling you how wonderful you are."
And this without any trace of mockery or insult, he thought to himself. Such an innocent.
"It's not enough, Ken. Don't you understand? It's just not enough."
"You want support, Yoji? I can give you support. I can pin you straight to the wall," Omi continued his approach, his fury abated none. A dart twirled dangerously in his hands.
Ken didn't notice this. He was dealing with this new view of himself. He liked to believe he was caring and supportive, but apparently he wasn't doing enough. He accepted his new role. He slowly moved from the couch and crossed to where Yoji was collapsed upon himself.
"I know I haven't always been there for you, but I'm here for you now." A shy hand crept onto Yoji's shoulder. "It's been—hard—ever since Kase died," his voice dropped in sadness, "hard for me to really know how much I feel for my friends." He placed his arm more securely around Yoji's shoulders. "but I really do appreciate you, and I want you to know, I'll always be here for you."
"Ken, move away from him. He's evil. You don't know what you're getting into!" Omi's voice reached hysteric levels. His finger twitched, the dart laying so temptingly against his palm.
The therapy session continued regardless.
"It is hard, isn't it?" Yoji sobbed.
"Very hard," Ken admitted, tears forming in his voice. "We all work so hard together, and what do we get?"
"Pain," Yoji finished mournfully. "We try to love, we try to win, and what do we get?"
"Pain," Ken sobbed.
"So what do we need?"
"Love," the brunette wept, throwing his arms around his teammate. They rocked together, holding each other as their tears mingled.
The redhead finally stirred as the book shut closed. Irked steps were heard approaching until they halted directly before the two.
"Yoji," the granite voice demanded. One jade eye looked tearily into his leader's and watched as his gaze drifted to the sobbing brunette. "Fix it."
"I can't, Aya, not without your help," Yoji simpered, placing Ken's head on his shoulder. He reached out and took one of Aya's hands in his own. "Can you help us change this cycle of self-hate and loneliness?"
The redhead shuddered and pulled his hand back. "I meant the internet," he corrected awkwardly.
"I don't know how," Yoji whispered, reaching out yet again. Aya jumped away, bumping into the murderous Takatori and apologizing swiftly. "I'll fix it," he murmured hurriedly. His dexterous hands soon found their storage box for electronic emergencies and found a new coil of cable. "C'mon, Omi, help me," he ordered, and soon began belting out a string of commands and reprimands to the youth. Yoji had never heard so many words at once from this man. His conquest was complete, the game won.
The computer soon regained its correspondence with the world, and Omi found himself flooded with angry posts about his sudden departure.
Depositing a quieted Ken on the couch, Yoji wandered again towards his young comrade and placed his hands gently on his shoulders. "I'm truly sorry, Omi," he murmured, "I just love you all too much."
Omi brushed his hands off like dirt, adopting Aya's death glare more successfully than would have been considered possible for a chibi.
"Don't play games with me," Omi threatened finally before sending an apologetic message to his fellow RP'ers. Yoji smirked. Enough damage done to entertain him for the next couple hours. Especially since Ken was now trying to give Aya a hug, telling him how much he truly appreciated him.
Manipulation is the Name of the Game
The metallic stairs clinked with the heels of cowboy boots as Yoji Kudo strutted down in all his glory. He paused for a moment at the bottom, surveying his teammates in calm superiority, then stepped down with an air of resignation. No one had noticed him. Aya's head was bent firmly, almost severely, over a classic novel as he methodically turned the pages, his violet eyes peering through his reading glasses. He presumed the foot in the air from behind the couch belonged to Ken. His limbs had a tendency to sprawl whenever not otherwise engaged in activity. An aimless pillow thrown into the air confirmed his suspicion. There were no soccer games on tonight. Throwing a wink at his reflection off the silent television screen Yoji ignored the snort that proceeded from Ken and sashayed over to the final member of Weiss.
"What are you doing, kitten?" Yoji slurred the words as he leaned over the young boy's shoulder, a knowing smirk playing over his lips. Omi was sitting upright, eyes locked dead onto the computer screen, as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "I'm...RPing...," he managed between key strokes, instant messaging another member of the game, and then slumping into an intense waiting. Yoji fiddled with a stray lock of hair, then combed his fingers through his mane. He grazed his hand across the youth's cheek, beginning,
"You know what I was thinking we could do tonight was, you and me could go to this club down the street, you know the one. The one with the cyber chicks, the kinds you like? Anyways, between the two of us I bet we could—"
The messaging screen flashed, and he was startled into silence as the teen sat bolt straight and read the new directions, responding with a burst of his own typing.
"Sorry, Yoji, I'm..." his voice trailed off as he paused a moment to think, then hurriedly typed a completion to his sentence. "..busy," he finished orally. Suddenly jumping into awareness, he fussed, "What? You know I don't like that kind of stuff. Clubs aren't for me." The disgust edged in his voice and as he returned his attention to the computer Yoji ambled off slowly, running his fingers along the silk edge of his shirt. He looked up to see if there had been any change in his teammates' occupations, but was disappointed to find none. Except for the fact that two feet were now above the back of the couch, intimating the agile Ken Hidaka was now watching the blank television screen upside down, nothing had changed. Scratch that. Aya turned a page.
This just wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all. Since Manx had forbidden solitary ventures until the "imminent danger" she referred to had passed he was stuck in the flower shop until another guy wanted to go out with him. Considering he lived with a hermit, a computer geek, and a displaced athlete his chances of getting out tonight were pretty slim.
He had to make things more interesting for himself. The night would otherwise stretch endlessly on. "I like to role-play, kitten," he whispered to himself, a leer stretching across his lean features. "You just won't know it," he laughed silently.
He timed it well. He watched Omi's earnest response to the messenger. The screen flashed, his fingers hung poised as his posture tensed, and then the blow fell. With a flick of his wrist watch Yoji sent a single wire into the most vulnerable portion of their internet connection, and the messenger reported "Bombay: signed off."
Another pillow flew into the air. So much for assassin instincts. Scratch that. Aya paused as he turned the page, then continued reading.
"Eh?!" The blonde's horror squealed.
Yoji took his moment. He'd been waiting for attention all night.
"Please, Omi, don't hurt me. I never meant to hurt you. I only loved you the best way I knew how, the best way I could."
Omi stared at the older man in confusion, then turned red with fury as he noticed the wire recoiling. "You," he began murderously, approaching with heavy tread. "You disconnected me, didn't you?!" He accused the man as though this were the deepest of betrayals.
"Please," Yoji whimpered, baiting the boy ruthlessly. "You know it's only because," he paused for a dramatic sniff, "because I love us. Not just you and me, us, but all of us." He stretched his arms wide to intimate the expanse of the room. Another page turned stolidly, but a brunette head popped up in curiosity.
"We never dooo things together anymore," he whined, arranging himself in a little blob on the floor, his silken shirt flowing about him.
"Yoji," Omi returned with silent fury, "we kill people together. I consider this a bonding experience. The only thing I think would make this even more personal would be if you were—"
"Omi, this isn't like you," Ken suddenly voiced. "Yoji," his voice grew awkward, "neither is this."
Yoji welcomed the new addition to his game and set up the scene for him.
"But Ken, you're so distant all the time," a perfect tear sprang upon his cheek. "I never feel your support when I need it. And I do need it, Ken." With a careful gesture he drew back his hair into a listless ponytail and proceeded to sit in miserable silence.
Ken squirmed on the couch, uncomfortable with the situation, but tried to make the best of it. "Since when do you need us? You have a new woman every night telling you how wonderful you are."
And this without any trace of mockery or insult, he thought to himself. Such an innocent.
"It's not enough, Ken. Don't you understand? It's just not enough."
"You want support, Yoji? I can give you support. I can pin you straight to the wall," Omi continued his approach, his fury abated none. A dart twirled dangerously in his hands.
Ken didn't notice this. He was dealing with this new view of himself. He liked to believe he was caring and supportive, but apparently he wasn't doing enough. He accepted his new role. He slowly moved from the couch and crossed to where Yoji was collapsed upon himself.
"I know I haven't always been there for you, but I'm here for you now." A shy hand crept onto Yoji's shoulder. "It's been—hard—ever since Kase died," his voice dropped in sadness, "hard for me to really know how much I feel for my friends." He placed his arm more securely around Yoji's shoulders. "but I really do appreciate you, and I want you to know, I'll always be here for you."
"Ken, move away from him. He's evil. You don't know what you're getting into!" Omi's voice reached hysteric levels. His finger twitched, the dart laying so temptingly against his palm.
The therapy session continued regardless.
"It is hard, isn't it?" Yoji sobbed.
"Very hard," Ken admitted, tears forming in his voice. "We all work so hard together, and what do we get?"
"Pain," Yoji finished mournfully. "We try to love, we try to win, and what do we get?"
"Pain," Ken sobbed.
"So what do we need?"
"Love," the brunette wept, throwing his arms around his teammate. They rocked together, holding each other as their tears mingled.
The redhead finally stirred as the book shut closed. Irked steps were heard approaching until they halted directly before the two.
"Yoji," the granite voice demanded. One jade eye looked tearily into his leader's and watched as his gaze drifted to the sobbing brunette. "Fix it."
"I can't, Aya, not without your help," Yoji simpered, placing Ken's head on his shoulder. He reached out and took one of Aya's hands in his own. "Can you help us change this cycle of self-hate and loneliness?"
The redhead shuddered and pulled his hand back. "I meant the internet," he corrected awkwardly.
"I don't know how," Yoji whispered, reaching out yet again. Aya jumped away, bumping into the murderous Takatori and apologizing swiftly. "I'll fix it," he murmured hurriedly. His dexterous hands soon found their storage box for electronic emergencies and found a new coil of cable. "C'mon, Omi, help me," he ordered, and soon began belting out a string of commands and reprimands to the youth. Yoji had never heard so many words at once from this man. His conquest was complete, the game won.
The computer soon regained its correspondence with the world, and Omi found himself flooded with angry posts about his sudden departure.
Depositing a quieted Ken on the couch, Yoji wandered again towards his young comrade and placed his hands gently on his shoulders. "I'm truly sorry, Omi," he murmured, "I just love you all too much."
Omi brushed his hands off like dirt, adopting Aya's death glare more successfully than would have been considered possible for a chibi.
"Don't play games with me," Omi threatened finally before sending an apologetic message to his fellow RP'ers. Yoji smirked. Enough damage done to entertain him for the next couple hours. Especially since Ken was now trying to give Aya a hug, telling him how much he truly appreciated him.