I'M BAAAAAACK~

IT'S BEEN TOO LONG, MY LOVELIES, AND I DO APOLOGISE FOR THAT. WHOEVER SAID ADULTING IS EASY MUST HAVE BEEN ON SOME SERIOUS DRUGS! BUT I'M HERE AT LONG LAST WITH A NEW CHAPTER, WITH MORE JUNKO GOODIES!

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN KnB, AT THIS POINT, IT'S LIKE A MANTRA...

Junko loved writing. It was no secret to anyone who knew her. She wasn't always doing it for the money, or the glory. Sure, it was nice to have a crowd of people willing to give money to read your stories, but deep inside, she knew she would have kept doing it even if her career suddenly went downhill.

Still, there were a few things she disliked about her profession. Deadlines… Writer's Block… Over-enthusiastic fans (she could still remember a couple of those who had asked her to sniff her panties for inspiration)… And movie adaptations. Those always came with the classic meetings with producers, script writers, composers, and all that technical mumbo-jumbo. She had adopted a way that seemed to work for her – threaten with bodily harm the guys in charge not to ruin your book or characters with a deadpan voice, and then give them permission to help themselves to anything else. (Kazu, to this day, kept nagging at her lack of manners on the matter.)

But the interviews? Those she could happily live without. Always having to dress up, sit straight, and act lady-like. How the hell is a lady supposed to act, anyway?! Not only that, but she also had to endure at least an hour of pointless chit-chat (an hour she could have spent writing, thank you very much), answering the dumbest questions the air-headed TV-show hostess – who was unlucky enough to have her as a guest – fired at her.

Speaking of air-heads…

She stared disdainfully at the creature that was currently "interrogating" her. Why people thought it was only fitting to deposit her on women with big breasts, she would never know. Maybe because she herself was busty and all the other females would feel inferior? But really, did people seriously care about stuff like that?

The black-haired hostess in front of her didn't seem to catch that the object of her attention was spacing out most of the time. Her grey eyes, smoky with eye-shadow and mascara, were focusing on Junko only slightly, anyway, and they seemed… empty. Her crimson-red lips were stuck in a fake, sultry smile, accentuated even more by the beauty mark right below them. And her breasts – which weren't real, even Junko could tell – looked ready to escape the prison of her white, tight dress.

The writer managed to snap out of her musings just in time to hear Takayama Arisu's next question.

"So, what can you tell us about your villain this time around, Hayashi-san? What is he like?"

"He's that kind of psychopathic doctor", she replied smoothly. Talking about her characters was perhaps the only topic she could converse with other people in a civil manner. She decided to put a little joke in the equation to please the masses, as Kazu would expect of her "He also has a unique way of lighting up a room."

The other woman perked up at this. "Oh, he must be handsome then, right?", she winked at Junko, in a conspiratorial, girlish way that made her eye twitch. OK, fuck being civil. "Has that devilish kind of charm and a smirk that could make - "

"What?", the writer deadpanned, looking at Takayama the same way she would a complete idiot. "No, are you nuts? When was the last time you got laid, woman? He's an arsonist on the side."

Silence followed her reply. The whole studio was speechless, staring at her. The hostess gaped, a faint blush warming her pale cheeks, before her eyes hardened, and a chipper, fake smile made her lips turn upwards. "Oh, my, what a bold woman you are, Hayashi-san! And with that, we're going to take a few minutes' break, everyone!"

"Truly, the headaches you bring to those around you when you open your mouth, never cease to amaze me", a sarcastic male comment made her snap out of her bored state and straighten her back, ready to fight. Junko turned her amber eyes, previously sleepy, but now fully awake and murderous, on the one person she hated the most in this world: her next-door neighbor.

"The fuck are you doing here, shit-for-brains?", she growled menacingly, unknowingly drawing the attention of the fussing TV staff.

"The name's Kasamatsu, neighbor-bitch, I'll thank you to remember it", he growled back, stepping up to her and nearly head butting her as he got into her personal space. His manners on how to treat ladies had long gone out the window when it came to this particular woman. "And I was invited here. The question is, what are you doing here?"

"Arara, what are you two being all secrety-secrety over there?", Takayama chirped "happily", feigning interest as she all but skipped towards them. "Is it some hot new scoop about 'Mutants In My Dreams'? If so, that's unfair of you, you know you have to share with our eager audience, right?"

Both individuals , after cringing at her pouty tone – one more obviously than the other – scowled. Then, in perfect sync, pointed at each other and snapped "What does he/she have to do with my movie?"

This seemed to make them both stop and stare at each other in sudden horror and realization.

"Wait…"

"Don't tell me…"

And that's how they ended up sitting on either side of a too-hyper-for-her-own-good TV hostess, glaring daggers at each other, and inwardly cursing their agents for this set up. Although, as time went on, and the conversation flowed to the best of Takayama's abilities, the male member of the duo begrudgingly had to admit that he was partially to blame, too. If he had researched the writer whose work he had been tasked to musically enhance, this wouldn't have happened.

He stole a glance at the woman who had been haunting his life these past few weeks. She was currently not paying attention to him, as she was busy answering some kind of stupid question the airhead between them had asked. Her voice was a bored monotone, and her eyes looked almost… sleepy. Like she was ready to doze off.

Speaking of sleepy, he really should praise her flatmate – because there was no way in hell she was capable of pulling off this appearance of 'Just woke up from a rather… interesting night' all by herself. Granted, she was an attractive woman, but her outfit accentuated all her fine outer qualities (because inner ones he was sure didn't exist). Dressed in various shades of soft pink, she had her hair held back by a headband decorated with hearts, and a rose-shaped choker showing off her long, delicate neck. Her legs seemed even longer thanks to the peach-pink ribbon heels, and the tight, short dress. Speaking of the dress, Koizumi had made a good call by making her wear a fluffy-looking wool jacket. It lessened the slutty impact of the dress's length, without taking away its appeal.

"So, Hayashi-san, now that we're done with the… mundane stuff", Kasamatsu saw clearly the face of the writer harden at the fact the other woman had called the info about her book mundane, "let's focus on the more… juicy parts. What's this I hear of you holding a child at gunpoint in a bakery near your house? Is that true or a rumor?"

The busty bluenette gave her a blank look "Oh, that. No, it's completely true. I was researching for my book. Kinda like how medical examiners do that autopsy thing on corpses."

"That's different!", the composer had just about enough with this impossible woman. He jumped to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger at her. Having heard of this incident from Kagami and Aomine – the first one was present, the latter was called to, once again, arrest the woman – he couldn't help but be enraged at her total disregard towards societal rules. Not only that, but she had not dragged a child into her crazy, illogical pace. "Totally different, you manhandling, moving danger-to-the-society! It's like comparing cookies to cake – we're talking THAT much difference in levels of common propriety!"

"OK, one, don't talk about sugary stuff in front of me, Kazu has me on a fucking diet and I'm this close to you", she gave an impressive growl herself, standing up and getting right into his face, not caring about the wroooong way in which her words could be interpreted. "And two, you're not helping your case in making me like you enough to work with you – in fact, your face keeps getting more annoying by the second."

"You wanna say that to my 'annoying' face, bitch?", he snarled, pushing his forehead against hers, both of them trying to shove the other's head back – with no avail.

"I am saying it to your annoying face, asshole!", she retorted, not budging an inch.

As it turned out, the interview was "the talk of the day" for at least a week and a half. And unfortunately, it only served for the rumors surrounding those two to escalate…

PREVIEW:

"Someone needs to talk to them and make them see reason. Bakagami, you do it."

"Why me?!"

"Because you're a good diplomat, you put up with that demon of a coach and managed to live the tale through high school - plus, the brat and the cold-ass bitch watching over you."

"Have you forgotten that I'm in trouble with said bitch and the so-called brat would rather see me bleed out right there at his feet? And you'd better make sure Coach Aida doesn't hear any of your name-calling concerning her person - diplomacy never helped with this woman, it was ALL survival of the thickest during practise! Thickest skin, that is. And Kuroko was there, too, make HIM do it."

"He's gone."

"Damn it, Kuroko-teme!"