Rivalry Stage 1

ACT 8: Bonding

By Amaniblue

AN: I've just finished off a huge translation project and now am diverted back to the fic. Sorry about the long wait.

Side note: Anata in Japanese refers to mainly as 'you', but when used by a wife to a husband then it refers to an endearment to address said husband.

Summary of the last act: Takeshi gets a rude awakening from Keisuke's drunken antics just as Takumi comes to Mogi's rescue. Meanwhile, the Sagano's review their plans for the Takahashi brothers and Rui's instant infatuation with the Hachi-roku driver.

///The Fujiwara's home///

"Our only guest room is used as storage right now, so um… if you don't mind, you can use my room," said Takumi as he led her through the house from the store in the front and up the stairs to the living quarters.

Mogi, without her usual bounce, silently followed him. In fact, she had been quiet throughout the whole drive down Mt. Akina. Albeit her change in behavior was warranted, Takumi found that he did not care to see such a despondent expression upon her face at all. He especially hated when her eyes would flash around nervously for a brief moment, then a hunted grimace would follow soon after. Thus, he strove to keep both their minds from thinking and discussing what happened until she was ready.

When they reached their destination, Takumi slid open the sliding door to his bedroom or his 'neat' room as his best friend would insist to call it. Takumi grinned at the memory when Itsuki walked into his room for the first time back when they were still in form 1B. His friend had declared instantly that it was not how a boy's room should look like. He even said his room smelled like a hospital room and felt like one too. Takumi didn't think so, but then maybe he was already use to it? Or maybe it was just how his friend saw it, since Itsuki is practically the only person Takumi had ever brought home with him.

Takumi didn't take it to heart though, it was just like all the other nonsensical comments his friend would make often times. After all, Takumi insisted many times to his friend: 'that he is simple person with simple needs'. He has a bed, a decent study area, a half-filled closet of clothes, and more than plenty of books to read. These possessions were more than enough for him.

He wondered briefly whether Mogi would make a similar comment as Itsuki. It was uncanny how the two of them could make similar observations sometimes.

Takumi stepped aside from the entrance and gestured for her to enter. She padded her way to perch on the edge of Takumi's full size bed, all the while maintaining her eyes on the floor.

His brows furrowed for a second before he remembered something.

"I'll be right back."

Raising her lackluster eyes, she watched Takumi briskly made his exit. The shuffling of boxes can be heard down the hall. He came back moments later with an armful of clothes.

"Ah. Here. These clothes use to belong to my mother. They might be a bit large for you, but I hope it'll do."

"Thank you," Mogi softly replied. She took the offered clothes and held them to her chest.

Takumi's lips tighten and he tried again, "Are you hungry? Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, thank you."

Resigned to leave things as it is, Takumi release a small sigh and made his final exit, "If you need anything, I'll be downstairs."

Just when he was about to slide the door close, Mogi called out his name, "Takumi-kun."

Takumi paused at the threshold and looked up with expectant eyes, hoping perhaps she would reach out to him.

"May I use your bathroom?"

Breathing another sigh of disappointment, Takumi supplied, "Ah. It's down the hall to your right."

"Thank you."

Takumi nodded and slid the door closed.

///The Fujiwara's home, several hours later///

A scream of terror cut through the silence of the night. Takumi woke up immediately and rush upstairs to find Mogi thrashing about and battling the bed sheets. Unsure of what to do, Takumi called her name several times. With no response, he loomed over her and gingerly grabs a hold of her shoulders to shake her awake.

Mogi jolted to a sitting position and screamed at the darken figure looming above her as she scooted back to the corner of the bed where the wall meets the headboard. She batted at the hands that were trying to get a hold of her.

"Mogi! It's me, Takumi! Mogi!"

When she did came to and recognized who it was, Mogi's tearful demeanor shone with relief and she threw herself into Takumi's arms and wept afresh. Takumi lost his balance and tumbled to a sitting position with Mogi between his legs and her arms clutched around his shoulders. Helplessness and fear for her gnawed at his innards, invoking him to action. Takumi hesitantly raised his arms and wrapped Mogi within the security of his embrace, hoping that she would be comforted by his silent support.

As the night stretch on, Mogi's heart wrenching sobs diminished to low shuddering whimpers. Her eyelids drooped while her breathing deepened as exhaustion finally overtook her and she crumbled against a slacken Takumi, who's own fatigue had drawn him into slumber long before. Her dead weight caused both of them to tilt over and sprawled on the bed with the quilted covers barely covering them.

It was around this time that a thinly sober Fujiwara Bunta returned home from his weekly trip to the local sake house. Raising his right hand to cover a tired yawn, Bunta glanced up at the clock on the wall and thought, ten minutes till.

He turned his head to look at the staircase as his ears strained to hear any sounds of movements. When none came, Bunta grunted in disappointment. Lazy boy. Always like this.

"Takumi! Wake up! It's time."

Silence greeted him.

"Oi, Takumi!"

No answer. Bunta dug into his pant pockets for his packet of cigarettes and drew out a stick. Placing it between his lips, he lit the stick with a lighter and took a long drag before he climbed the stairs. Although the occasions were few, his son would creep into a state in which he would sleep like the dead. It was during these times that Bunta had to resort to extraordinary lengths to wake him up. Thinking that tonight was one of those occasions, Bunta trotted to his son's room, little did he expected to see what was behind the sliding door.

Bunta's perpetual slit for eyes cracked open and his brows almost touched his hairline. The cigarette dropped from his open mouth and fell pass his outstretched arm that was connected to the door frame.

That girl his son was seeing was curled up against said son with both arms wrapped around his waist and chest. Her head was resting on his shoulder comfortably. While his son had an arm between her shoulder blades and the other on the small of her back. Both their legs were entangled. Belatedly, Bunta registered the burning pain of the cigarette that was burning a hole through his socks on his left foot. On reflex, he kicked the offending cigarette butt off his foot and crouched down to pick it up. He almost cursed out loud when he remembered the two sleeping forms. Bunta quietly slid the door close and crept downstairs as quietly as he could while a smug grin formed on his lips.

That morning, Fujiwara Bunta returned to delivering tofu, a duty in which he avoided for five long years.

///Outskirts of Myougi, on a deserted highway///

A stream of yellow painted the deserted highway as it flew across the wiry trail with ruthless precision at an alarming velocity. Inside the vehicle, the occupants relived the wild days of their youth. Just then a soft ringing brought them back to the present.

"Anata, where's that ringing coming from?"

"I don't hear any ringing," the driver shifted in his seat as the phone continued to ring.

After successfully locating the phone under the passenger seat, Sendo Sasha shot a hand out to dangle the still ringing yellow mobile phone in front of her husband and deadpanned, "This ringing."

"Oh, It belongs to the owner...er person who lend...er yeah, who lend me the car. He must have forgotten about it. I'll take it back to him tomorrow," Sendo quickly recovered from his near slip of the tongue. Unfortunately, he wasn't a very good liar and his wife wasn't born yesterday since she was suspicious of his story since the beginning. Sasha turned off the mobile phone and placed it inside the glove compartment while she shrewdly scanned her husband's face then turned to inspect the interior of the car. Her keen eyes lit up with disbelieve when she realized she overlooked the missing car key. Despite her husband's efforts in hiding his handy work, some loose wires peeked out from the bottom of the steering wheel. She could not believe it. Her husband had stolen the car. Ready to spit fire, Sasha poked her husband hard in the ribs with her index finger, "Anata."

"Hey!" Sendo winced in pain and pulled the Mazda RX-7 to a stop along the shoulder of the road. "Anata, you promised me never to go back to your old habits again. How could you!?"

Knowing that he's been caught, Sendo sought to placate his wife. "The guy's drunk as hell. He won't miss it if we take a little joyride." Sasha didn't budge. "Anata."

Incredulous by the very fact of her unspoken demand, Sendo replied in astonishment, "You haven't driven in fifteen years!" When she didn't even blink, he tried another tact, "At least let me drive."

"I'm taking the car back, end of story."

Knowing that he had no choice, Sendo's lips formed a thin line before he grounded out, "Fine."

He opened the driver side door and stomped over to the passenger side door. He then held the door open for his wife, looking none to please with how things worked out. Sasha gingerly extracted herself from the seat, ignored her grumpy husband, and walked over to the driver side. While she buckled up and adjusted the mirrors, Sendo plopped onto the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

She turned to him and said sweetly, "Buckle up, dear."

Sendo did as he was told, then crossed his arms across his chest and quietly fumed.

Smiling widely, Sasha shifted the gear and stepped on the accelerator hard, forgetting about the clutch entirely. The wheels of the yellow FD floored the paved road, burning rubber. With a jolt, the car accelerated backwards and rammed right into the guardrail before it stopped with another jolt.

By the time the billowing dirt around them dissipated, Sasha's eyes had rounded in chagrin when her husband snickered with satisfaction, "Hah."

Sasha promptly pouted and sunk into the seat in embarrassment. It was apparently her turn to sulk.

///TBC - ACT 9: The Morning After///

Review Responses:

Strawberry Buttercup – I hope you don't dislike her too much, she's there not to really screw things up… but more along the line to plod things along. And yes, Keisuke's feelings are revealed in his drunken sleep… but the true question is: what will he do when he's sober? Ryousuke will have his hands full, especially with Rui as his rival ne?

Ultra Rodimus – Mogi has a side arc to the main story, but don't worry, I will address this as the fic progresses. As for Keisuke, this you will have to read in the next couple of chapters in which Keisuke will or will not make a decision to pursue.

Azer – Oooh, you are good! But don't count Rui and Mogi out of the picture yet. I'm glad I was able to help during your stressful times. Good luck on your studies.

Fluffypuppykins – Hi, I'd send you a reply about the email thing, but never got a response back. So, I couldn't send you this for beta-read. I guess until the next time then.

RuByMoOn17 – Oooh, a follower! Thank you for checking up on this fic again. It's nice to read that.

Me – Well the premise to the story is contrived in many ways. I mean, realistically I don't see shonen-ai a possibility in the main manga and anime series at all. But since this is fanfiction, a scenario for contrived events is possible. I wouldn't say Takumi has a propensity for violence. It takes the right amount of provocation and inducement for Takumi to act out in violence. I think he's a pretty layback kind of fellow most of the time. Now given that as my premise, since Takumi is unknowingly the main hero being contended as the prize per se by all these people, he's not entirely immune to all their charms. Thus, it's more along the line of who will he choose and what will he do? In the manga and anime, Takumi makes his own decisions for sure, but then the events and other influencing factors tugs him along the road to do certain things he doesn't want to anyways. I wouldn't say Takumi is weak or submissive. I do have him assert himself later on in the story. I hope this satisfies your inquiry. Actually, it was quite enjoyable for me to respond to this. Thank you for the thoughtful review.