I have returned from the pit of exams :0 and ready to hurry up and finish this fic! Chapter three, here we come~~~~~
(Also, if you like D Gray Man, I have new fic for it up today ^^)
Redthorn13: Well, you've GOT the next chapter, now. Here you go!
KelAlexshipper4evah: I think everyone would like to see Yata kiss Saruhiko… *evil grin* you might get one, but it'll be after the big reveal to keep these AU babies IC
DidiMag: I think this update should explain some of that for you~ thanks for reviewing!
Oraldisaster101: Aaaaaahh I love you some much for reviewing! Hope you enjoy this chapter c:
Guest: HELLO AGAIN MY GOOGLE TRANSLATE ISN'T WORKING SORRY BUT THANK YOU :D
Taz: YES TAZ THE JELLYFISH AND NOW THE UNDERWEAR~
Mizuouji: M-m-m-MIZUOUJI? As in, LEADER OF AQUA SCANS MIZUOUJI? Thank you dear and your wonderful team for bringing us gorgeous little scans awww I'm all happy now *giggle*. It's fine, you were only a little late for the party and I still have plenty of food left, so sit back, relax and enjoy! Ahhhhhh, this is a 'T' fic, so…..we'll have to see…
Call Me Tom: I AM STILL SO HYPER FROM MCM YOU HAVE NO IDEA ALSO LEN THANKS FOR REVIEWING DEAR YOUNG JEDI
If you can, please play the 'Pink Panther Theme' whilst reading the part after the first italics below… it actually fits so much oh my gosh…
Living Twice, Chapter 3
The boy stumbled down the alley, one hand clutching the opposite arm, as the cold breeze of the night gripped his frame mercilessly. The sound of breath was ragged and the heartbeats were at irregular intervals, sometimes fast and painfully furious, others slow and weak. Every few moments there was a pause in the uneven trail and a large, shaky gasp. It usually ended with a whimper. Dry tears stained skin and eventually the child had to stop. The jagged surface of an aged wall scraped through the kid's only shirt as his back collided with it, hard, drawing more blood as the body slid to the floor.
Pain. There was so much pain.
It was really dark here, besides from a single yellow lamp. The cobblestones were rough on the ground and made no contribution to comfort, their presence made increasingly obvious when the wet surface reflected off the harsh glow. That was the only thing enabling the child to see.
Pain.
A shaky hand was lifted up and the kid stared at the crimson-stained palm, eyes wide and very unfocused. Something was different, very different. As to what that was, hopefully it would be easy to work out without too much trouble. There was too much pain to think much.
"Cue mysterious saxophone music!"
"Not the time, Totsuka-san."
Yata blinked, the front half of his hands sliding over the fence. His eyes came into view, too, peeking over the wooden barrier in a narrowed fashion. He clenched and unclenched his toes in his shoes out of a mix of distress and anxiety as he observed the garden. There was no car parked outside the house it belonged to, and a quick glance in the garage earlier showed more evidence that the homeowners that lived here were indeed away for the day.
The male growled softly when his gaze found what he was looking for, and he bounced up and down a bit out of agitation when the pink and purple patterns caused his face to turn an unnatural shade of red.
Kamamoto was groaning in pain, mostly likely from the heels of Yata's trainers digging into his back as the larger man supported his weight.
"Yata-chan, can you see them?" Totsuka's voice sounded again from below.
He could. But he didn't want either of them to, too.
A deep frown set on his face, the red-head pulled his jumper back up onto his shoulder and looked down at the blonde.
"Rikio-san, give me a leg up. Totsuka, bag."
"On it, Yata-chan!"
He gripped the handles brushing against his palm that Totsuka had shoved towards him, and then felt himself rising as Rikio grunted loudly from his weight (or maybe out of his lack of fitness). Yata lifted his leg over and tried to keep his balance while he adjusted himself for the jump down the other side. This fence was a high one – a fair bit taller than Kamamoto and made of the kind of wood that gave you splinters too easily. He felt some digging through his shorts and into his thigh as he twisted his body round with a quick wince.
Yata's knee scraped on the edge as he gripped the rim tightly. He bit his lip and shot a glance down and over his shoulder at the concrete below.
"Think you'll land it?" he heard the youngest's voice.
"Yeah," he paused to swallow, "easy."
With that, the red-head let go. His landing was a little awkward; his feet were a misplaced and one landed on the concrete patio instead on the planned grass. Therefore, it was also very ungraceful. Thank God no one was watching. Wincing slightly from the physical shock, he stood up, one hand on a probably bruised hip in a style that made him frown because it forced him to look like an old man. Yata trudged over to the washing line where the underwear waved around in the wind in all its glory. He cringed at the colours and reached out a tentative hand to pry the pegs off and grab the clothes. One blew off the line before he could grab it, and it collided with his face. The smell of lavender filled his nostrils and it was almost enough to suffocate him.
He couldn't resist letting out another moan.
"What's up?" The Totsuka yelled the question.
"These ones are scented with fucking flowery fabric softener, guys!" Yata shouted back, his face bright red.
"Even better! Fushimi's gonna be so happy!"
"He doesn't smell Misaki's underwear!"
"…Has he ever tried? Because I think you'll find he'll-"
"Shut up!"
The red-head glanced around, worried that there could be neighbours watching their seemingly-perverted antics from their windows by now, but, thankfully, there were none. He slowly began the process of unpegging all of the female underwear from the washing line, or enough of it that it wouldn't be noticed, and chucked the pegs into a basket he found full of them nearby. Holding one of the pieces, he eyed it in more detail. Silky… laced… would anyone really miss these? And he would have to wear them in few days' time? He much preferred the boxers he was current wearing, and Misaki didn't really have anything down there that would restrict size, so…
"Argh! Can't I just get some from another garden?"
He heard the sound of laughter come from the other side of the fence, two types of laughter.
Oh great, he's got Rikio-san getting fun out of this, too. I should never have brought these too idiots along…
"Oh, quick, Yata-chan! I think they're coming back! Better hurry up!"
He could hear the lie and taunting in the other's voice, but it was enough to motivate him enough to finish his 'job'. It really was a lot of effort to break into people's back gardens and steal underwear. These types of womanly-motivated endeavours often wiped him of a lot of energy, anyway. And the sun was setting soon.
Yata's grand total for this small adventure was six pieces, all taken from random points on the line, and, adding on the fourteen he had collected from three other houses in this district left him with twenty lovely pieces of 'new' underwear that would hopefully be somewhat in Misaki's size and keep her going for a while. Another reason why he didn't want to do this again anytime soon was also because of Totsuka and Rikio… it was embarrassing enough himself when he did it on his own (and even more so during the times where he got caught once or twice), and just having them there made everything a hundred times worse.
The loose and uneven stone tiles on the concrete path clanked together underfoot as he got off the lawn and headed to the fence, preparing to throw the bag over before - no. It was better to make sure Totsuka never got his hands on what was inside here.
With a heavy sigh, he trudged over to the gate and reached tiredly for the bolt…
…Only to find a padlock.
"Argh!"
Yata bent forward to bang his head on the hard wood and did, with a loud thump echoing around the side of the house.
"What's wrong now?"
"You never said how I was supposed to get back!"
"Smile, Misaki-chan!"
"Why do you want me to-? Oi! Don't fucking film me, not like this anyway."
Totsuka pouted, setting his video camera down on his lap after switching off the 'record' function. "Aw, Misaki-chan, it was so much nicer when you were shyer around us."
"Well," she shrugged, digging her hand into a packet of Prawn Cocktail crisps, "that was a month or so ago, when you had only just found out and Rikio-san was still super awkward about it all. I can act how I usually do and how I want to as Misaki around you two, and I like that."
"Well, you don't seem to mind doing all the gushy stuff around Fushimi," the blonde argued jokingly.
"That's because I need to make sure he thinks there's a difference!"
He crawled closer to her, waving his camera in front of her face with a grin and switching it back on again. "Pleeeease," he asked, "just act like 'Misaki' would for my little video project, please?"
"And what does this 'project' entail?" she replied with a question, her mouth almost full with her snack.
"Just the usual stuff! I wanted to make a fan music video for a new song I like – all you have to do is… you know, smile, wave a little, maybe lie down on the sofa and do a little bit of modelling…"
"Modelling?" she exclaimed, spitting out half of her food.
"But you've got a really great body shape as a girl and-"
"Totsuka-san," Kamamoto sighed as he walked back into the living room, a can of cola in either hand, "stop asking Misaki-chan to do embarrassing things. You wouldn't do the same if she was Yata-san."
"Seconded," it took her a few seconds to recover, "you still treat me so differently when I'm Misaki. I'm the same person, you know."
"You're so not! You even insist on us using different names for the both of you!"
"Only to protect my identity!"
"Yeah, but…" Totsuka trailed off, spotting Kamamoto pass one of his drinks to Misaki and then open the other for himself.
"Hey!" he moaned, the small argument forgotten, "you could have grabbed me one, too."
The larger blonde nonchalantly took a slow, long sip, "you could have asked for one."
"…Can I have a cola please?"
"Get it yourself," he answered, laughing at the fact that it actually worked.
Pout still remaining, Totsuka stood up and headed for the door, camera swinging in his hand as he went out of sight and his footsteps faded into the kitchen. The mutterings of him talking to himself could still be heard.
"So," Kamamoto crossed his legs, "how's the new underwear been treating you these past few days, Misaki-chan?"
"Oh please," she moaned, "can you two stop bringing it up?"
He smiled, "don't worry – I was only messing around. You're always under a lot of stress and we're trying to help. Totsuka is, too, in his own way."
She returned the grin, thinking of the antics in the recent weeks, "yeah, he is. I can't thank you guys enough for all the support you've provided me… like, you're over most mornings and evenings to help me out with the change, and you're buying me food because I have barely any time to work anymore. God, you've even offered to pay my rent, haven't you? You know I've found a way to keep my finances up – didn't I say?"
Rikio gave her a funny look, "…no, you haven't mentioned anything about that."
"I haven't? Oh… well, you see, I was in the main city a few weeks back, and-"
"Misaki-chan! Oh my God!" a cry from the kitchen interrupted them once again, "what is all this?"
"What's he talking about?" Kamamoto asked quickly, They were both on their feet now, hastily heading out of the room.
"It seems," she smiled, hands on her hips as she entered the room Totsuka was in, "that Totsuka-san here has discovered my main source of income."
"And what is…? Oh my God…"
The youngest of the three was hovered over a pile of three or four black sacks, one not yet tied up because it wasn't full. Misaki supposed that it wasn't odd to see such a pile in one's kitchen, but as to what was leaking out of the open one…
"This is all the hair you cut off every morning, isn't it!" Totsuka realised, a strange grin that was half nervousness and half excitement on his face, "why is it all in these sacks?"
"I sell it," she stated proudly, walking over to the open sack and gathering up the edges so that nothing would fall out, "wigmakers and hairdressers pay a lot of money for real human hair these days because it takes ages to grow and leaves people with short hair for ages… except for me, as you know."
"That is such a great idea! How did you even think of that?"
"Like I was saying to Rikio-san, I was in the main city a few weeks back, and I saw a notice about wigs for cancer patients in a hairdresser's window. They like to have real hair in a wig and stuff, so… I just went inside and said that I could drop some off at the end of each week for the foreseeable future."
"And they didn't even question where you got it from?" Kamamoto's voice was suspicious.
"I think that they were more grateful than suspicious. I would be anyway. I can afford to remain in this apartment and they get their wigs made of real hair. In fact, after tomorrow morning's change, I need to finish filling this bag up and drop it off."
"We'll definitely be round to help you," Totsuka promised with a beam, taking a gulp for his cola, "and…" his voice fell "I think there are also a few things I actually want to ask you."
She was surprised over his sudden change in tone and focused properly on him, her expression also becoming serious, "it's not something stupid, is it?"
Misaki didn't know why she asked that – it was blatantly obvious it wasn't. Totsuka was being thoughtful… and she didn't think it was fair to add a 'for once' onto the end.
"I wanted to ask you more about you and your… um, curse, Misaki-chan."
She stiffened.
"…And, yeah, I know it's a touchy subject for you, but maybe if you let us know then we could help you out with getting rid of it. Isn't that what you're trying to do?"
Her eyes fell to gaze at the floor. Of course she wanted this fucking curse to go away, to stop the pain from coming every time she woke up and every time before going to sleep again. She was sick of always aching throughout the day and having barely any energy left to eat dinner at the end of it. She was tired of having to maintain two completely separate identities and personalities, especially around Fushimi, because…
"Clumps-kun," she whispered.
"What about Fushimi?" Totsuka bent down to stay level with her height as she slouched.
Her head went up again and she looked him in the eye, wanting to kick herself for getting so emotional over him so suddenly, but it was for a good reason. "As much I want to be back to normal again, it would mean that Misaki could never, ever, meet her Clumps-kun again."
"Misaki Yata!" the child's mother's voice echoed in the hallway, staring intently and angrily at his dirty-looking clothes and marching briskly towards him, "your father and I have been worried sick about you! He's out looking for you now! Where have you been?"
The only reply he was able to give as she kneeled down in front of him was a quiet snuffle, using his right hand to wipe tears away. It was dark in this part of the house; he knew she was only shouting at him because she couldn't see his appearance properly. Once she saw all the blood on his body…
She grabbed his arm, practically pulling him upstairs behind her. "Honestly, thirteen years old and you can't learn to be home before half-past seven! I've had just about enough of this," she continued onto the landing and into the bathroom, "we need to get you away from those friends of yours – they aren't doing you any good if you're coming home this late."
Turning the light on, she made straight for the bath and begun to run water whilst instructing him to get his clothes off and get into the water so she could clean him up and send him to bed.
When he was in, she sat herself down on the toilet seat with a moan as she turned the moveable shower head on. "Your father won't answer his phone – he's obviously too focused on finding you."
All this time, the boy had said nothing. He'd sat there in the water, legs crossed and head down, listening with tears in his eyes.
"Misaki, are you listening to m- oh my God, is that all blood?" she frantically dropped the shower hose behind him and began to search for the wound, "where have you hurt yourself? Tell me?"
"I…" he hiccupped, "I don-"
He suddenly felt his mother's hands on his shoulders go rigid and then pull away, and then he finally turned up to see her face staring back at his with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open. Her expression was a mixture of most negative emotions – worry, anger, confusion…
Fear.
She stood up briskly and stared for a little longer, then eventually spoke to him.
"Where is my Misaki?" her voice was low, barely above a whisper she asked the question.
"Right here!" he replied through sobs, his weak voice as strong as he could make it now, without…
"You don't even sound like him! You expect me to believe that you are my son when you're a girl?"
"But I really am!" he choked, getting desperate as she pulled the bath plug and tried to get him out, despite his thrashing.
"Put these on," she thrust some old clothes at him, "and don't impersonate my son like that again. There is a shelter for homeless orphans somewhere in this city. Go and find it before I call the police!"
He was out on the street before he could even blink, the lampposts lighting his way along the cobblestones again.
"There was a lot more detail to that than I can remember," Misaki admitted, fists clenched, "she didn't suddenly snap like that, she's definitely not that cruel to children, I'm sure… that first night with the curse was hell. I thought I was never going to change back to a boy… I-" her crying stopped her from saying anymore and she gave an inhibited sniff, only to find Totsuka's arms around her, squeezing her hard in an attempt to comfort her.
"I was actually going to ask if you remembered anything about how you became like you are now, if you know what I mean," he said softly, "but that's enough for today. Don't worry yourself, ok? It'll all work out, Misaki-chan."
She looked up and his face was inches away from hers, displaying a small, goofy smile that was a little toned down from his usual one to try and not make it come across as unwanted. Misaki felt a third hand and realised it was Kamamoto's on her shoulder. She glanced at him gratefully as she returned the younger's embrace before speaking again.
"I think we should leave Misaki-chan and go home, Totsuka-san," Rikio said, his voice as quiet as the others', "we'll be here bright and early tomorrow morning, ready for the change, yeah?"
"Yeah," they both seemed to reply at once.
Of all the people he had to accidentally walk into that day, especially after the episode the night before, it just had to be Fushimi.
They were as it usually went during their daytime meetings: a metre or so away from each other, staring angrily at their enemies' face, although only one of them actually meant what they were doing.
I suppose, Yata thought solemnly as he ignored the next round of insults (it was best to let the monkey win sometimes to keep his confidence up for when he sees Misaki, after all), that I'm lying to him so much at the moment. Too much. But, if I told him… there is no way I can know how he'll react. Either he'll treat me the same and keep on… loving… Yata too, avoid Misaki and Yata or just hate both our guts. And, to be honest, I don't think I'll ever be comfortable with any of them. Not even the first one; the awkwardness would still be there and probably wouldn't ever leave.
"You know," he shoved his hands in his shorts' pockets and stomped a foot onto his skateboard, "a few weeks ago I saw you and your bitch up at the aquarium. Poor thing, terrified by the sharks, she was."
"How could you have been that close to us without me seeing you? That corridor was fucking tiny!"
"I have my ways," he shrugged.
"Bastard!" this was probably the thousandth time Fushimi had grabbed Yata's collar, "what are you, a stalker or something? You're a pervert, watching me with my girlfriend."
"What?" he scoffed, "how is watching another couple make out in public perverted? Any passer-by could have seen what you two did."
"You saw us-? Fucking Yata…"
And then he did something he had never done before – he punched him in the face. Hard.
Yata felt the skin split instantly and it began to swell as soon as he was dropped to the floor. There was an ugly bruise forming already and he held a hand to his cheek, letting out a pained gasp as Fushimi kicked him slightly less hard in the side and began to walk away.
"If you come near us during our date tonight," he growled as he left, "I'll make sure you get more than that. I might be weaker than a lot of guys, but I know many who are stronger."
Yata grunted in pain, keeling over and falling to his knees. He weakly glanced around as he clutched his stomach and ignored the concrete digging into his skin. Good, he didn't think anyone was likely to come into this alley for the next ten minutes or so and see him, so he tried his best to curl up and find a comfortable position despite the rain that was falling mercilessly from the sky. It splashed around him and drained the blood from his scrape-wounds away down a drain and also gave him something to focus on in an attempt to ignore the pain.
Why did he see this coming? It was obvious it was getting dark ages ago – what made him forget and then lead him to having to change in an alley that smelt like shit? His hands left his stomach for a second and he rubbed them against his face, scraping his growing nails down his skin to see if it was also good enough to distract himself. The evening ones were always the worst. The only ones that made him bleed. The only ones that felt like his chest was on fire. The only ones that twisted and warped his body to be like something it shouldn't, something it simply couldn't cope with.
For a second, he'd wondered just how long he would be able to cope before he couldn't anymore.
Struggling to find a third distraction (three or more was a good number to ensure maximum pain relief, he'd found out), he tried going over the stages of the change in his head to make the time seem to pass by a lot quicker.
The first was an uncomfortable feeling – cramps in his stomach and that general area that didn't hurt at first, but quickly grew into sharp pains like flaming needles were being dug into his skin with every breath he took. This could last from anywhere from a minute to fifteen minutes.
The second was when things, per se, actually started 'happening'. Not really great or pleasing to describe; in summary it was all the internal things appearing that made a girl…a girl, and all the male parts disappearing in a way that he never bothered to find out about because it hurt too much. This would cause bleeding in… places, and that lasted for about five or six minutes before the pain seemed to die down a little.
Oh, but no – it didn't stop there. This curse was to give him the general, stereotyped image of a girl his age; long hair, long nails, a curvaceous body and a fuller face. And that fucking hurt too. Not to mention other 'general' things like a higher voice, daintier hands and smaller feet. Pain, pain everywhere.
Now that was it, thankfully. It would just take him another forever to recover from it and continue with his evening life as usual. Expect, now, as a female member of the human race.
"Miss? Miss, are you ok?"
A voice pulled her from her third distraction, and a quick pain check in her throat told her that it was safe to speak with the stranger and tell him that she was ok and to leave her alone, but she didn't have the chance.
She heard hurried footsteps getting closer to her and the figure bent down beside her, placing a hand on a part of her back that wasn't against the wall and rubbing it gently.
"What's wrong?" the soft voice asked, "are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? Oh God, you're bleeding – don't tell me some guy ra-"
"No, no, I'm fine. Nothing like that happened," she responded feebly, "I just… fell, I think. I'm fine now, I can stand, look. See?"
"How old are you?"
"Um…17."
"You haven't been drinking underage, have you? It's not good…"
"Nothing like that, I promise!" she turned to face him desperately, tears still in her eyes.
Someone of her own age was staring back, his dark eyes widening worriedly behind his midnight-coloured hair. His face held a concerned frown and his hands were now firmly on her shoulders, but not enough to make Misaki feel threatened.
"I'm Fushimi Saruhiko," he told her carefully, "what's your name, miss?"
"Ya… uh… Misaki. It's Misaki."
The one time she could use her feminine first name for a good cause.
"Don't want to tell me your last name, Misaki-chan?"
She thought it best to just shake her head.
"Come on," he said, starting to walk whilst still clinging onto her, "even if you won't tell me what's wrong, and I completely understand that because I'm a random guy you've never met you before, I'm still going to get you something to eat and drink, ok? In a public place where I definitely can't do anything, yeah?"
"Yeah, ok."
Did I really just write a thousand words about three men stealing women's underwear…?
I could have made the second flashback a lot more disturbing, but I don't think you all want that, and I'm not sure it would fall under 'T' either, with what I wanted to address. And with that, it's probably something I won't ever talk about in the whole story and just ignore because that's convenient~!
Ah, well. Two weeks' time, guys! Promise!