Title: Tribulation Within
Pairing: Satoshi/Daisuke
Summary: (SatoshiDaisuke) A new play debuts, a steamy kiss ensues, love is snubbed, feelings are uncovered, Satoshi avoids confrontation, and Daisuke just can't wait to confess his love. Thus, the drama unfolds – all of it on stage, but not in the script.
I changed the summary. XD I didn't like the first one… But the new one kinda sucks too… Tell me which on you like better, and I'll change it (or keep it, whatever).
Disclaimer: Still don't own. /mushroom sigh/
Japanese Vocabulary
Bakayarou: bastard
Aniki: older brother
Noh: traditional Japanese theater
Yukata: informal summer kimono (I think it's for guys…)
The play is in italics.
Tamer-Angel conversations are in bolded italics.
Anything not pertaining to the play – like Dai and Sato veering completely off the script XD – is in normal mode.
For the most part, I will refer to Satoshi and Daisuke as just Satoshi and Daisuke. It'll be like a SatoDai story within a SatoDai story, so double the SatoDai-ness! Everyone else will be referred to by their stage names. Keep in mind, I will be using the word 'he' for everything Daisuke does. But he is STILL dressed as a girl. So he's pretending to be a she, but she is called a he. XD
But sometimes I'll be saying 'Yami no Dorobou' or 'girl' and be using female pronouns, so yeah… You're all smart people (I'll assume n.n), you'll understand what's going on. XD Oh, and all ------'s mean a scene change, meaning the curtains are being closed.
And one more thing – /dodges boots and popcorn thrown by readers for delaying them from the start of the chapter/ – I'm overjoyed by all your enthusiastic reviews! ./cries/ I LOVE YOU ALL! And a big thanks to Pocky Whore. Omigod, her review was so fricken long and sweet and I hyperventilated when I read it and couldn't stop giggling to myself and it makes me type run-on sentences. xD
------
It was the dead of night, and not a soul in the entire city was stirring. A seamless black painted the skies, a palette of pure darkness uninterrupted by the customary white specks of evening stars. Only the moon reigned, its bright beams of white light illuminating the earth below. A single silhouette stood out against the moon's brilliant glow, poised rigidly atop a three-story building, with long, dark tresses that whipped up in the wind.
A gray cloud drifted lazily to the left, cloaking the moon behind its foggy veils. By the time it had moved, the moon had changed its angle, and its light was directed on the figure's face.
Daisuke had to keep his itching fingers clasped securely together to restrain himself from tugging his skirt down and resisted the urge to glow scarlet when he heard the comments being thrown from the crowd. Many of the admiring, love struck remarks came from the mouths of male teens, who either hadn't bothered to read the posters in order to realize that the darkly clad 'girl' before them was a guy, or perhaps belonged to the Group for the Sexually Confused.
Daisuke let his eyes quickly flit over to the section filled with his classmates, where all of them were staring slack-jawed at him. At least Takeshi had stopped drooling…
Scruffy ebony bangs framed a pale face, contrasting against the rather childish cherry red eyes the silhouette owned. The rest of the little gray cloud wafted who-knows-where, and the moon's light only shone brighter, revealing inch-by-inch the rest of the figure's body. With a slender hourglass shape (with plenty of sand at the top of the hourglass, thanks to the costume designers and their talent for stuffing bras) and long, slim legs, it was obvious that the figure was a girl, sixteen at the most.
The young woman disconnected her clasped hands and pulled out a garnet-colored rose that seemed to glow with an ethereal light from one of the many folds of her dark ensemble. Two even rows of pearly white teeth glinted in the dim lightly, revealing a rather feral grin as the set of cranberry eyes gazed fondly at the flower.
However, in less than a minute, the rose lay forgotten on the cement ground of the building the figure was situated on. It seemed that her attention had been snagged, much like a straggly piece of thread on a protuberant nail, on a new happening that was occurring only several blocks back. The girl turned to watch the spectacle behind her, observing another rather tall building with smug satisfaction.
The museum.
An entire row of windows on the fourth floor lit up with an artificial, yellowish light and loud, disruptive noises erupted from the building, though muffled and incoherent to the faraway ear. Out of the corner of her eye, the girl was pleased to see the familiar red and blue flashing of police vehicles, which of course came with the complimentary shrieking of sirens that was quite an irksome annoyance to sensitive ears.
Again, the figure's attention was averted, this time to an off-white helicopter hovering harmlessly in the air. It seemed innocent enough, but suddenly, without warning, a white spotlight beamed its way down to earth, illuminating large circles of sidewalk/building/tree/hobo with its brightness.
The beam began its journey to the scene of unfolding drama, rotating in large circles as it pressed on. The girl, having no intention of being caught loitering – on a roof of all suspicious places – swiftly shouldered the straps of some inconspicuous bag so to secure it more safely. With one last glance back at the tall building, which was bathed in the lights of camera crews and flying helicopters, she hopped off the roof and onto another building closer to ground level.
She paid her load great attention, careful to keep a supporting hand beneath her bag so to prevent any sudden dropping. She couldn't risk letting anything happen to her newly acquired possession, now could she?
Snickering softly to herself, she jumped once more, this time into a dark alley, where she melted into the black shadows and disappeared from ignorant, slumbering eyes.
The next morning, the humble citizens of Tokyo would awake to their usual cup of joe and morning papers, where one key message will be splashed across the headlines: The Dark Thief Strikes Again! Yami no Dorobou is on the Prowl.
------
Satoshi fixed his glasses for what seemed like the tenth time that night. He pressed them painfully into the flesh above his nose, cursing his costume designer for damning him with this pair of lens. They were a bit too large, and continued to fall down the bridge of his nose repetitively. Several fan girls had told him that he looked quite 'irresistible' whenever he 'did that bishie eyeglass thing,' but he thought nothing of it.
In fact, that 'bishie eyeglass thing' – which of course, was pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger on either lens – was quite an annoyance. He did not understand why girls found that 'irresistible…'
But back to more important manners: the play (not that in was of high importance on Satoshi's priority list). Several senpais were running around the stage, concealed by the royal gold curtains, trying to get some last minute props in place.
Satoshi brushed a lock of artificial silver hair from his face and secured his glasses once more, eyes twitching. He leaned nonchalantly against a light post (also artificial) and cleared his mind of all distractions. Tipping the brim of his baseball cap over his left eye, he let his eyelids close and tried not to remember the little mishap that had happened on stage just a few moments ago. Long story short, there was Daisuke, his short skirt, his unending clumsiness, the floor, straddling, and many babbled apologies.
Satoshi felt a wave of heat roll over his pale cheeks and tried to quash all visuals, no matter how gratifying they were. He distracted himself from all dirty thoughts, crossed his arms, and then uncrossed them again as whispers broke out in the crowd, seeping through the thick fibers of the curtain.
That certainly forced him to put his act together. The hasty gesturing of a well-manicured hand kind of helped too… Along with Ika hissing: "Hiwatari! Get your ass in gear! 5-4-3-2…1 –––"
"I can't do it, Katou," Satoshi decided, crossing his arms unfalteringly. He shifted his position on the light post he was leaning against and transferred the weight on his left foot onto his right.
"What do you mean you can't do it? I've seen you in action! It'll be a cinch." Katou dragged his friend away from the pole and to a nearby bench, where he forced him onto his bottom. "Pays well, too." He plopped himself down beside Satoshi, staring him in the face.
"Let me rephrase that: I don't want to do it." Satoshi looked away from Katou's scrutinizing gaze and pulled at his hat, a strange little habit he had picked up whilst roughing it as a private investigator.
Katou exploded. "What?" He grabbed a hold of Satoshi and shook him madly, causing his glasses to bounce around and end up half on, half off his face. "You've broken my heart, you cold bakayarou!" Then he broke down and wept pitifully on the hoary-haired boy's shoulder.
Satoshi froze, eyes widening at the displays of insanity. "Get a hold of yourself, man!" he shrieked, pushing Katou off him as though he had the cooties. "I'll do it, I'll do it!"
"YESSSHHH! That's SCHWEET! Thanyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" Katou pumped his fist into the air and would have started jumping around the park if several passersby hadn't been milling around, ready to stare horrifically at him if he even tried. "Yes…yes… This is great… Heheheheh…" The russet-haired teen laughed evilly to himself, tenting his fingers together like the evil mastermind he was. "Once and for all, I will catch the notorious criminal thief who has been plaguing the humble town of Tokyo with mass robberies of ghastly proportions for too long!"
Satoshi eyed Katou, rather concerned for his mental companion. "Aren't I the one who's gonna be doing the catching?" he pointed out.
Katou stopped his ranting. "Well yes, but I get the credit for employing you! I can see the headlines now--"
Satoshi rolled his eyes. "Maybe I don't want to do this now…" he thought aloud, baiting his eager comrade.
With an ecstatic (and slightly mad) grin on his faze and both hands up in the air to illustrate the making of a headline, Katou froze. The image was quite comical. "Yes…" He lowered his arms and folded them primly in his lap, looking like a kicked puppy. "The headlines… 'Teen Detective Takagi Heiji catches Yami no Dorobou.' That's what I meant…of course…"
Satoshi chuckled to himself. "Whatever, Katou. It doesn't matter to me. You're such a loser." He clapped the brunette on the back jokingly as Katou's eyes sparkled happily. "I'll let you have the publicity."
"Heeheeheeheehee……… Yaaayyy!"
Satoshi sighed. "Okay, fine. Now…back to business. What is it exactly that you want me to do again?"
"You're supposed to catch Yami no Dorobou!" Katou responded, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, as though catching the notorious thief was the most obvious and easiest thing to do.
Satoshi glared at him. "I know that, but how?"
Katou shrugged and leaned against the back of the park bench. "Hell if I know- you're the great investigator here."
Satoshi groaned in defeat and mimicked his friend's actions, folding his hands behind his head in the shape of a butterfly. "You could have at least given me something to work with…" he sighed, staring up at the sky.
"Well…" Katou's voice was deviously low and laced with something suspicious, causing Satoshi to turn an inquiring head. "I do have a little info that could prove to be useful on your woman-hunt…" He trailed off slyly as his smug grin widened, inwardly expecting his friend to topple over in surprise.
…And topple over, Satoshi did. By the time he had regained his composure, his eyes were widened in shock and his face was inches away from Katou's. "Are you serious?" He choked on his own surprise and tried to placate his erratic breathing. "Are you SERIOUS?" he repeated wildly. "The great Yami no Dorobou is a GIRL?"
Katou hurriedly covered Satoshi's mouth with both hands, effectively shutting him up. "Hey, watch it, Takagi. There's a reason why we have to keep this quiet. I'm not even supposed to know this."
Satoshi shot him a look. "Then how do you?"
"…I swiped one of my aniki's files." Katou ignored the incredulous stare he was receiving and stared absently into space. "Wasn't very hard, either. He may be the big man in charge of the Dark Thief case, but he's a downright slob. I took it from the clutter of his home office."
"Pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?" Satoshi commented blandly.
Katou nodded, not sensing the sarcasm, and pulled a manila folder out from the inner pocket of his jacket. "Here, sift through this." He handed the folder to Satoshi and began to tick off his fingers. "The first few pages are newspaper articles concerning our favorite thief, followed by a section of top secret police reports on her, and the rest of it is…"
"Pictures of Yami no Dorobou!" Satoshi exclaimed excitedly, pulling several photos out of the folder and holding them in the air.
"That's right! Unreleased to the public, taken by a museum camera Yami no Dorobou hadn't managed to take down."
Satoshi shuffled a couple of pictures, eyeing them meticulously. "How could she miss this one camera when she managed to disconnect every other camera in the museum? And she got past all the lasers and alarms without trouble, too."
"We're under the impression that Yami no Dorobou intentionally left the camera there. Damn arrogant girl...thinks she's so great... Seems like she wants Japan to know of her little escapades, build up a reputation, y'know? That's why she leaves her calling card." Katou unearthed a small credit card-sized slip of paper from the pocket of his jeans, one that Satoshi immediately recognized. They displayed it every night on the news whenever some priceless work of art was stolen by Yami no Dorobou; a pressed rose glued to the little card and accompanied by the sweet message: "Took it. -Yami no Dorobou." Blunt yes, but it made its point.
"Hn, I'll bet," Satoshi replied distractedly, still engrossed in the pictures.
Obviously, the audience couldn't see what the contents of the pictures were, but it was implied that the girl in the pictures (Yami no Dorobou) was the girl who had made her appearance at the beginning of the play (Dai-chan!). If it weren't that obvious, then the person who didn't understand the subject of the images was an idiot. x) Oh joy.
"Now that you know what she looks like," Katou continued, twirling the card between his index and middle finger, "maybe you can-"
"Hey, but why aren't the authorities telling the public the gender of Yami no Dorobou?" Satoshi interrupted, leafing past the photos and back to the police files. "All the newspaper articles call her Yami no Dorobou, without any pronouns. It's pretty annoying, reading the repetitive name. Throw in an 'it,' I don't care, just stop with the 'Yami no Dorobou this,' 'Yami no Dorobou that.'" He rolled his eyes.
Katou patted his back sympathetically, but he frankly didn't care. Thus, he answered short and to the point. "Aniki's superior has this thing against women in power. He thinks that if the publics gets wind of Yami no Dorobou, the great, undetectable thief of our time, being a girl, then women'll try to...usurp him...or something. Dunno why, though." He ran a hand through his wispy brown hair and chuckled. "The wife's got him whipped already."
Satoshi grunted, eyes quickly scanning the records on a priceless Peruvian vase – imported from an institute in Peru and donated to the Bunkamura Museum of Art – that was stolen last night.
"So now you can help us!" Katou grinned. "Use your great detective skills to catch that no-good thief!"
"All right then!" Satoshi couldn't help but be pumped up by his friend's enthusiasm. "You're right! We'll catch this thief. We'll stop her from stealing more pieces of art. We. Will. PREVAIL!"
"…" Katou blinked. "Eh…yeah. …Weirdo."
Satoshi wholeheartedly agreed and wanted to shoot the scriptwriter for making him yell out such a stupid thing.
------
It was the dead of night once again, and Yami no Dorobou found herself in the middle of the Nihon Mingeikan Art Museum, a museum specializing in Japanese folk crafts and pieces of art relating to Japanese folklore.
Daisuke swiped a precious painting from its position on the wall, frame and all, chortling as he did so. It was a beautiful piece of art, and he spared several minutes to take in each breathtaking stroke with an admiring gaze. The subject of the painting was a pure, majestic angel with cropped hair that looked as soft as silk, while at the same time taking the color of refined steel. His eyes were soft with love, though shaped narrowly and colored a poisonous emerald green, as though he were more accustomed to glaring at people.
Daisuke wasn't one for Japanese folklore, but if the tale this seraph was in were on tape, he'd watch it for the sole enjoyment of watching him
However, once Daisuke's attention was off the charming angel in his hands, he scoffed, unimpressed. As the great Yami no Dorobou, he was used to breaking into museums without any trouble, but this was just pathetic. This museum didn't have any lasers, or even a night guard to patrol its art-filled corridors. The owners were just begging to be robbed, and he never failed to disappoint.
Scowling in the dark, Daisuke was aware of the attention he was receiving from a security camera in the corner in the corner of the room (the rest on that floor had been short circuited by some…divine force of nature…). Succumbing to the temptation of dropping the incognito act, he bounded up to it, leaped onto a nearby pedestal (making sure not to disrupt the craft atop it), and shoved his face at the lens, clutching the painting to his chest. He grinned widely, blew a raspberry at it, and made victorious, albeit stupid, faces at it. Hopefully, any officer on the graveyard shift would see him, decide to get off his lazy bum, and give good chase.
A yellow light on the camera blinked cheerfully and the air all around Daisuke began to scream. Red sirens glowed on and off again in time with the alarms, bathing the black room in red.
Not bothering to stifle the grin on his face, Daisuke detected the faint yells and banging of footsteps coming from a floor below, even with the boisterous shrieking of the alarms. He spit a wad of chewed gum into his palm and transferred it to the lens of the camera, spreading it out over the circular glass.
It always felt good to escape from the cops undetected. If they knew which exit he had taken, it gave them a chance to pursue him. Sure, he could take them, but that would ruin his Thief of Darkness reputation that made it seem as though he could actually melt into the darkness to make his escapes. …Plus, if the Fuzz ever managed to tail him, they'd be boasting about it for months. Down with the Fuzz! Rebel against the Man, man! …Eh, carrying on ---
Daisuke reverently stashed his new treasure into his inconspicuous bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. After securing it to his back, he jumped off the pedestal and stood before a small display case pulled to the wall. The entire top part was made of glass, while the bottom was styled to look like a series of drawers.
But they were not drawers, Daisuke knew. He ran his fingers under the ledge of the cabinet part of the case, feeling its rough wooden texture, until…
The drawers slid down without so much as a whine or creak, revealing a dark, empty space beneath the glass display. Behind it was a small, rectangular tunnel that had brought Daisuke to where he was at the moment. That same tunnel would bring him back.
As the sound of yells and footsteps grew louder, Daisuke noiselessly scurried into the cramped opening, rolling the faux drawer faces up to a close, encasing him in darkness and the musty smell of dust.
About a dozen policemen came running into the exhibit room, with guns and batons at the ready. They looked around wildly, scanning the room for any sign of movement. But they knew it was no use.
Yami no Dorobou had disappeared.
One officer sighed and signaled to the others. The alarms and sirens stopped, leaving them in a silent darkness until someone switched the lights on. And with that, the gang of cops fell into a weary pace of standard police work, rather miffed at the fact that Yami no Dorobou had managed to thwart them again. They set up yellow police tape around the scene of the crime, marked off the spot where the piece of art had been, and took the chewed gum in for questioning (it was impossible to tell whether of not they were unaware of the fact that it would not respond to them).
About forty-three minutes later (though it was only about three minutes for the people watching in the audience), Satoshi came bursting into the exhibit, looking ruffled and windswept. "I came here as fast as I could!"
The man in charge of the museum's security, Commander Wakano, stepped up to him, jaw set in a scowl. "Takagi-san, it has been an hour since the alarms sounded. We expected you to come sooner. I don't know how you got your little hands If you are truly serious about this case, then I suggest you shape up."
Satoshi returned the scowl, muttering inaudibly about the fact that it was barely three quarters of an hour since the alarms had sounded. However, he stared at Wakano, the dislike evident on his face, and nodded. "I'll do that, Wakano-san." And with that, he turned from the taller man and began to skulk around the room, mentally taking note of everything- the ceiling, the angles of the shadows, the camera, any nearby pieces of art, and the little bit of wall covered by Yami no Dorobou's calling card.
It was tacked onto the wall right where the stolen painting used to be, and the dry, pressed rose was staring at Satoshi, mocking him. Satoshi merely glared at it spitefully and continued to investigate the room.
There was an air duct right above a glass display case that was pushed up against the wall, but Satoshi blatantly ignored it. He knew that Yami no Dorobou was too clever and complex to take such an obvious escape route out of the building. Even if he wanted to search the aerial passage, security was already all over it; they had a man in there crawling through the steel maze in search of the shrewd thief.
Satoshi sighed and turned away from the air vent and glass case, continuing his search. What he didn't manage to spot was the curious pair of scarlet eyes peering out at him through the holes of a traditional Noh mask sitting upright between two others atop a purple lining in the display case. The eyes continued to follow his every movement interestedly for the duration of his investigation, glittering with mystery. This Noh mask, like its companions, had a head of deep black hair attached to its apex; but unlike its companions, the hair was shining stunningly, looking rich and healthy. Unlike its companions, the hair didn't look as though it came from a straggly horse's tail.
Eventually, the police left the scene of the crime, pledging to come back tomorrow morning to handle all the media affairs and such. Time passed, and Satoshi, too, left. The glittering crimson eyes were left to their own devices, alone in the dimly lighted museum behind the Noh mask.
A clock somewhere on another floor chimed forbiddingly, and the moment it hit 2:00, a hand shot out from beneath the velvet lining, blindly grasping the air until its nimble fingers managed to grope the mask. Said digits wrapped themselves around a hooked nose and pulled it off, revealing the beautiful, pale face of our favorite thief: Yami no Dorobou. Daisuke.
Daisuke wriggled his head out of the hole he had created, placed the Noh mask back onto its spindly stand, placed the stand back onto the piece of cabinet he had cut out, and connected it back into its hole.
Daisuke slipped out of the space beneath the glass display and back into the room he had just robbed. Standing in the middle of the exhibit, he stared at his treasure fondly, holding it out at an arm's length.
"Who was that boy?" Daisuke wondered aloud to himself, turning his gaze to the ceiling in deep thought. "He looks a lot like the angel in my picture…"
The audience had been given pamphlets containing things like the roles of people and contributions made by volunteers. On another page was a downsized picture of the painting Daisuke had stolen, drawn and painted by Daisuke himself and donated to the drama club as a prop. With this, the audience could see the uncanny resemblance between the angel in the painting and Satoshi, a.k.a. Takagi Heiji.
Daisuke clutched the painting warmly, eyelids lined with cherry and kohl closing over ruby eyes. "He looks like my angel." He sighed dreamily, a pensive smile curling his gloss-smeared lips.
It was the dead of night once again, and Yami no Dorobou found herself in…fatuated.
------
Throughout the course of the next week, Daisuke stole five more pieces of irreplaceable art. After each robbery (all five of them successful and without a single hitch), he would stash his new treasures into his bag and submerge himself into an undetectable hiding spot close to his escape route. From those spots, he would watch his living seraph from afar, admiring his flawless beauty and perceptive way of thinking.
Sometimes, Daisuke would learn little things about the sleuth whilst hidden in the untraceable confines of his hideouts. For instance, on the first night, he had caught Satoshi's home office address and cell phone number. On his second day, he noticed little habits Satishi possessed, such as pulling the brim of his hat over his left eye, and flipping out his wallet and gazing at something inside it with a mixture of fondness and reverence after each failed search for any trace of Yami no Dorobou. On the third day, he figured out what that something inside the wallet was.
Daisuke had overheard Katou – Satoshi's nosy, enthusiastic friend who had tagged along on an investigation (against the head of security's wishes) – talking to a young rookie cop in his late teens about Satoshi. He hadn't really been trying to listen in; they were right in flippin' front of him. He couldn't bloody well ask them to move so he could get a better view of his investigating angel…
The senpais playing Katou and the rookie cop were currently backstage with a pair of microphones in hand. Speaking into said battery-operated instruments would project unto the audience the idea of a flashback, since the school couldn't afford any expensive machinery that would made the air around the stage all fuzzy and…flashbacky,
"Hey you!" Katou called, referring to the cop. "Mamoru, was it?"
Mamoru grunted in affirmation. "Yep, that's me."
"Wanna go to that new club down the street after the investigation's over?"
Mamoru coughed uncomfortably. "Sorry… I'm not gay…"
"Neither am I!" Katou boomed. "We'll go pick up chicks!"
Another uncomfortable cough. "…Do I know you?"
"Nope!" was the cheerful response. "But I'm Katou Naoki, it's nice to meet you. So do you wanna come with me?"
"Uh… Didn't you come here with that gray-haired guy? Why don't you go with him?"
"Who? Takagi?" Katou made a 'pscht' noise and scoffed. "I'm never bringing him to a club again."
"Hm." Mamoru grunted again, though this time it was slightly distracted and accompanied by the rustling of plastic. He was obviously in the middle of some sort of work. "Why's that?"
"Eh, Takagi's a wet blanket. Sure, he brings in the girls, but all he ever does is reject them and sit there like a lump on a log."
"Hm. Why's that?" Mamoru repeated inattentively, sounding as though he didn't really care. More rustling sounded, followed by the dusting/clapping of his glove-clad hands.
"Well, I shouldn't be telling you this – ("Then why are you?" Mamoru muttered.) – but Takagi's not into girls and dating and stuff. – ("Is he…?") – And no, he's not gay. Dude, stop asking me that. Anyway, Takagi's family was one of those old, traditional Japanese families. Kimonos, yukatas, tea ceremonies- y'know, the works. Well, Takagi's dad, a monk, set him up on an arranged marriage. Takagi wasn't into the whole traditional way of life, which explains why he wanted to be a police officer/detective, and he shunned the idea of being engaged to someone he didn't know. So on the day his and his fiancé's family were to meet, he didn't attend the rendezvous- blew it off, actually. But while he was gone, an arsonist set Takagi-san's temple on fire, and they all died. Takagi blames himself - though I dunno why - and now he won't date."
You could almost hear Mamoru raise an eyebrow inquisitively. "What does the death of his family have to do with not dating?"
"Takagi wanted to honor his family's wishes and old customs, because the last time he saw them, they were all on bad terms. So to follow their tradition, he agreed to the marriage and promised to be forever faithful to his fiancé."
Mamoru was silent for a moment. "But wasn't the fiancé in the fire?"
Katou made an affirmative noise. "Which is exactly why he doesn't date. His family wanted him to marry the fiancé, but she died, so he couldn't. So he did the next closest thing and swore off dating altogether, to honor their wishes."
"That's gotta suck," Mamoru commented wisely.
"It sure does. I've tried to set him up millions of times, but as I've said before- he's just a lump on a log! He won't go on the dates, and when I bring him to clubs, he'd rather sit at the bar and 'make friends.'" Then Katou began to murmur incoherent things about being such an asexual idiot and whatnot.
"Well," Mamoru interjected, concern lacing his voice, "I'm sure it's just a phase, and…"
Daisuke had tuned out the rest of their conversation, because the living emulation of his folklore painting had come into view, and he frankly didn't care much for the loud bigmouth and disinterested cop.
But the data said bigmouth had spewed was quite informational. The thing inside the wallet was obviously a picture of his family (though why he always gazed at it after an investigation, Daisuke did not know; perhaps it was an honorable mannerism).
Something inside Daisuke bubbled angrily at the thought of his angel swearing off dating. That seriously sucked, in his opinion. Daisuke was a thief, and a stubborn one at that. He wanted to steal Satoshi away from civilization, and bring him home all for himself, like he did with the rest of his stolen art. Because, after all, the investigator was a magnificent piece of art, what with his bright eyes, graceful figure, and affable countenance.
So yes, Daisuke was pissed. He wanted Satoshi, gosh darn it!
But then again, there was no use whining about it, Daisuke decided. He was a thief, and he would do as his mind had subconsciously planned. He would steal Satoshi.
But of course, meeting Satoshi face-to-face was his main concern at the moment… And that was why he had robbed yet another museum out of yet another beautiful piece of art.
Daisuke leapt onto a canopy hanging in the air, having already found this hiding spot the first time he visited the museum as a civilian. The tarp was made of a thick, sturdy material, wouldn't swing an inch when weight was shifted upon it, and was naturally lumpy, so no one would suspect that he was hiding in it. He had deposited his bag (its contents being the ruby charm he had stolen) somewhere along his escape route sometime beforehand and was ready to focus his attention solely on his newest attraction.
And focus, Daisuke did. He watched every movement Satoshi made: studying the architecture of the museum exhibit, jotting facts into his tiny notebook, tipping the brim of his hat, etc. He especially relished the times when Satoshi bent over to examine something low to the ground.
The minutes ticked by, and the security guards and police officers on duty slowly trickled out the room's doors, having crammed a solid day's work into an hour and a half. Eventually, Satoshi was the only person left in the room, and the lights around him were shutting off one by one until the only sources of light were two flickering light bulbs, one over the door and one over the window-wall opposite the threshold.
When Satoshi's hand slowly made the inevitable movement down to his pants pocket, Daisuke knew it was time to act. With poised grace and great precision, he hurdled down to the ground, landing several yards away from Satoshi's turned back.
Satoshi's ears perked when he heard the distinct clacking of something hitting the marble floor. Behind him, somewhere, it was accompanied by the faint rustling of cloth. He stood still for a minute, the seconds ticking by as slowly as mechanically possible, hand still poised three inches away from his pocket. Unnerved by the many possibilities of things/people/monsters that could have appeared behind him, he slowly rotated his navel, his chest, and finally his neck, until he spotted…
Complete and utter darkness.
Satoshi was positioned rather closely to the doors, where a light bulb was illuminating luminosity. The only other light in the exhibit was all the way across the room, a fair distance of about forty meters. This being said, it only made sense to realize that the entire middle of the enclosure was shrouded in blackness, thus stopping him from seeing anything farther than five feet in front of him.
Satoshi heaved out a breath of relief, trying to convince himself that it was all a hallucination, all a trick his panicked mind had made up to spook him. There could be nothing in the darkness, contrary to those horror movies wherein all the most horrible monsters and evil people popped out at you. Wherein the main characters were all killed in a dark, seemingly empty room. Wherein innocent civilians clicked on an innocent light switch and found the bodies of many dead people in the dark.
Gah. Scary thoughts, scary thoughts!
Satoshi shook them away, tugging sharply at his detective's hat. How silly of him to reminisce about such fictitious things like monsters and zombies and –
Footsteps slowly approached from the darkness, set at a steady, even pace. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
The clicking and clacking soon subsided, but Satoshi knew that someone was there. The question was… Who?
The person shuffled a little bit forward, not letting the 'click clack' noise escape his/her feet. Finally, he/she stepped forward a little, yet still beyond the light's reach. The light shone out at a slight slant, revealing only the rounded toes of a pair of leather boots.
Satoshi let out another sigh of relief, though he was wary. It was no monster, but what was some secretive prowler doing in the middle of a taped-off crime scene anyway? His eyes narrowed at the intruder. "Come out; stop hiding in the shadows."
"As you wish," chuckled a smooth voice from the darkness.
Satoshi, anticipating the barrel of a gun to be pointed in his direction, did not expect a flower to be thrown at his feet- a rose, to be precise. He barely glanced at it before redirecting his attention to the darkness, where a slim figure was slowly emerging.
Satoshi's narrowed eyes widened considerably. Before him was a girl (of course, we all know it's a boy in drag /wink.), no older than he, clad in tight, shiny clothing the color of obsidian. Her tank top clung eagerly to her slim navel and buxom chest before disappearing beneath a layer of black denim and some sort of gray, flowing fabric that made up her short skirt. The glossy, black leather gloves and boots (stopping right above her elbows and knees) that adorned her arms and legs were complete with tiny ribbons on the sides and a customary shine.
He compared his own clothes – a long-sleeved, button-up dress shirt that was loosely tucked into a pair of semi-tight russet pants, stylish mahogany suspenders, a formal red tie (the both of which earned many star-struck comments about him looking both sophisticated and sexy), black leather dress shoes, and of course, his brown, detective-styled hat – to hers and felt oddly underdressed for the occasion (for whatever occasion this happened to be).
Satoshi continued to blatantly stare at the girl (for he was a detective, and staring was what detectives did), focusing primarily on her eyes. They were a beautiful garnet color that shone with a hungry light, though the effect it had on her face was not unnerving; the look of hunger on her innocent face was as misplaced as a pair of fangs on a puppy dog. Her hair was long and dark, practically melting into the shadows of the exhibit room, and her pale skin seemed to glow ethereally.
Letting out a slightly shuddering breath, Satoshi made eye contact with her and asked: "Who are you?"
Daisuke smirked mysteriously, eyes raking over his angel's form. Yes, meeting Satoshi face-to-face was the right decision. He let the silence drag on for dramatic purposes before answering the detective's question with a question. "Who am I?" His smirk grew alongside a pregnant pause. "I am a shadow in the eternal darkness. I am a staff of thorns beneath a beautiful rose." His lips curled mockingly, eyes crinkling in amusement. "I am hurt, above all things, that you do not know me. You have, after all, been trying to find me throughout the past few days." His eyes grew misty and he simply smiled idly at Satoshi's reaction.
The sleuth's eyes were widened in shock, pupils dilated at the prospect of actually being confronted by his prey. He let an audible gasp escape his lips before letting out a shaky, "Y-Yami no Dorobou?"
Daisuke chuckled softly, looking down so that his bangs shielded his eyes. "Correct you are, dear detective. Now to whom do I owe this pleasure?"
Satoshi glared, the shock receding back into his nonchalant system. "To your own thieving ways, Dorobou-kun. Now give back whatever you've stolen from my clients (for everyone was his client, despite the fact that he was never formally employed by the museums), or I'll be forced to use these." He pulled out a pair of shiny silver handcuffs with dramatic flourish, having received them for no apparent reason from another museum guard on duty. "Just in case," the man had said.
Daisuke lifted his head, claret eyes glittering with glee. He giggled rather girlishly, snapping his wrist in Satoshi's direction. "Like I'd ever do that, dear Tantei-kun," he replied smoothly, calling him by his occupation rather than his name (he didn't want him to think that he was a freakish stalker out to get him or something, now did he?). "Now you ought to show some manners while in my presence. I am a lady, after all. You don't go barging into a woman's special hideout and demanding her personal belongings."
Satoshi growled. Special hideout? It was the flippin' museum Daisuke had robbed only several hours ago! "Personal belongings my ass," was his rejoinder. "I'll show you manners!" He took a running leap and pounced on the unsuspecting thief amidst the awed gasps and muffled giggled coming from the audience. Gravity and the detective's weight (or lack thereof, that unhealthy, bread-eating, anorexic bastard…) forced them both to land rather unceremoniously onto the cool marble tiles of the flooring. The hoary-haired one landed on top, pinning his opponent to the floor with his palms.
"Get off me!" Daisuke snapped, struggling profusely.
"I'm not getting off until you've given me what I want," Satoshi replied coldly, spinning the pair of handcuffs around the index finger of one hand while the other held Daisuke down by the neck.
Daisuke giggled despite the hand on his neck. "You sound dirty," he commented, grinning at his angel's flustered reaction. He giggled again.
"Shut up!" Satoshi rejoined hotly, looking anywhere but at his prey's mocking face. He, having never had a date before in his life, was uncomfortable with such talk.
"Though, if I may say so myself, that's not a bad idea." Daisuke simpered smugly at Satoshi, and abruptly thrust his lower body into Satoshi's inner thighs. Using this to distract and unsteady his adversary, his hands shot out, grasping the detective's forearms, and he quickly threw the other's form off his. He kept hold his grasp on Satoshi's arms and rolled on top, efficiently switching their positions.
Daisuke's palm journeyed out and held down the sleuth's chest to prevent him from sitting up. While he made himself stable upon Satoshi's upper thighs, he touched his knees to the floor and straddled the blue-eyed one's slim waist.
"Get off," Satoshi ordered frigidly, glaring at Daisuke threateningly.
"But you have such lovely eyes…"
Daisuke's eyes glazed over as they lingered on Satoshi's fallen form, giving Satoshi the impression that the redhead's mind was on something other than the script's instructions (briefly glance at clothing, body, etc; regain eye contact). He made a show of tucked a stray lock of hair back behind his ear, but Satoshi – who was under him and had the perfect view of everything he did – saw that he had bent the microphone connected to his ear away from his mouth.
Daisuke quickly spared a glance at the blunette's face before looking down again, as though enthralled by his rumpled white button-up shirt. "I love you, you know that?" he whispered thoughtfully, lips barely moving. He ignored Satoshi's shocked expression and sighed inaudibly. "I've been trying to tell you, but you haven't been listening. But here—" He grinned rather ruefully, but the shadows thrown by his flowing black wig shielded the audience from this facial expression. "Here, you can't run. You have to listen."
Satoshi nearly threw Daisuke off him, resisting the urge to throttle him. He wanted to hurt him, hurt him for hurting him. He wanted to yell at him, yell at him for being so stupid. Daisuke didn't love him, and he knew it. The idiot didn't have to lie to protect his feelings, he didn't have to take it this far, he didn't have to start 'caring' all of a sudden right in the middle of the freaking play.
Satoshi dared not to do anything rash to the boy above him, lest he be bitch slapped by Ika later for 'destroying' her play, so he settled for glaring at Daisuke instead. "Shut up," he hissed lowly, not having to relocate where his microphone was pointed; it had been pushed at an angle away from his mouth during his and Daisuke's position switch. "Now is not the time."
"When is the time?" Daisuke demanded softly through his teeth. "After the play, when you'll just ignore me again?"
"Niwa!" Satoshi snapped, leaving out the honorary. "Stop it."
Daisuke shot Satoshi a searching look before firmly inclining his head an inch. "For now, Sato-kun," he whispered, wholly enjoying another look of shock on Satoshi's face. "But by the end of tonight…" He trailed off.
And so, both boys fixed their microphones and the play continued on. If the audience had noticed their odd behavior, they hadn't shown it. Actually, a majority of them were still giggling about the fact that there was straddling going on between two guys (even in one was dressed as a girl).
"What does that have anything to do with getting off me?"
Satoshi let out automatic responses without really listening to Daisuke. Each memorized line was organized in chronological order somewhere in his head, and after practicing this scene many, many times, even his subconscious knew when to say what. Because of this, he let it take over the performing and used his deliberate mind to mull over things.
"Lean chest, sense of style…"
What was Daisuke's problem? Was he that guilty about hurting his feelings? Did he pity him that much? Was he that incredibly brain dead? Couldn't he think of a better time to try talking to him?
"What are you saying?"
Satoshi didn't understand a single thing going on inside Daisuke's head. (Hey, neither do I. xD We'll just pretend that Dai-chan was feeling incredibly loving towards Sato-kun at that exact moment in time. /grin/)
Dark, can you go to sleep for a while? Daisuke requested while Satoshi said his lines.
Why? Dark questioned curiously.
I don't want to suddenly turn into you.
And why would that happen?
I'm gonna molest Hiwatari-kun, was the blithe, innocent reason.
Oh, okay, was the equally blithe, innocent response. Have fun! Zzzzzzzz…
In fact, Satoshi couldn't even guess what insane thing Daisuke would do next. He had been known to do dangerous things for people he sympathized with (one of these dangerous things being voluntarily eating Risa's cooking). Maybe he would jump off the school roof during lunch as penance for hurting his feelings… Such a fool.
"Smooth skin, beautiful hair…"
Satoshi's was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when a pair of soft lips pressed themselves against the skin of his neck.
Oh my GOD. Satoshi's head reeled back in shock as his mind began to process just what was going on. Is he kissing me?
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Killah: And this is where I leave you, my friends. /happy grin/ Looks like this is no longer a three-shot. -.- This chapter's already longer than the first (which is longer than the second), and I still have a bunch more to write. So I decided to split it up into two parts. The next chapter will be the last. THIS I GUARANTEE! …Hopefully. XD Sorry bout this, guys… It's a spontaneous thing, ya'know?
And also, I didn't even bother to try destroying the horizontal scrollbar, unlike the prior two chapters (though those may still have 'em if you have a different browser/resolution than me). ...So even though it pisses me off, it's there. -.- Omg, I hate all horizontal scrollbars... /stabs them/
Hee hee… Want to read the elaboration on Dai molesting Sato? Then REVIEW! xDDD Yay for SatoxDai-ness! ./dances around in circles/
Plus one last note: Heh heh heh... Fear my insensitive chapter titling. xDDD
Next Chapter: SatoxDai-ness to he max! …I know I promised that last time, but this time I'm not lying! …I sorta said that too last last time, but I really mean it now. xDDD …I'm pretty sure. O.o Heh heh…
