I promise I'm still working on To Arms. A lot has been going on around me and my writing is always impacted first. I thought a change of scenery might help, so here's chapter 1 of a story that is not set in the TA universe. They're all still adults because that's fun (and easier) for me to write. I still take the stance that being thrown into violent, high-pressure situations where everyone and everything depends on you would create a very traumatized but functional adult. My stories are probably a lot darker and maybe a little grittier for that reason. I have a hard time writing about a grown-up bunch of heroes that are still super light and innocent, and I think the Troopers have a lot less to keep them on the happy, still carefree side of that, so they're probably much moodier and broodier than I'd have the Senshi be. Warnings for alcohol consumption, mild depression, swearing, and a very cranky Touma who needs a little light in his life. :) I'll update this as I can, per usual.
And hey, if you're reading this? Thanks a whole lot. I appreciate it. Otherwise, I'd just keep this stuff on my hard drive and read it myself for funsies when the mood struck. Which I probably should just do anyways.
Less Death, More Destruction - Ch. 1
Touma curled his lip in disgust at himself and let the breath he'd been holding out into the air of the empty hallway.
What was he – still in high school? He was a full-grown adult, and men didn't have crushes. Frustrated with himself at the stab of disappointment that refused to abate, he jabbed his key home into the deadbolt and gave it a vicious twist.
"Rough day? Be careful with that! It'll break off in the lock!"
And just like that. Just the sound of her voice, and everything inside him lit up. This was out of control. He should move somewhere else. Touma turned to greet the newcomer.
And knew he'd never move so long as she continued to live next door.
Hair up in her usual ponytail, smile bright and welcoming, Makoto Kino, the Girl Next Door that had been featuring in far too many of his daydreams lately, gave him an enthusiastic wave. Touma gave her a weak wave in return, his brain trying to kick his heart out of the pathetic state it had fallen into.
Passing her own door, she moved toward him. His heart went jackrabbit inside his chest as she approached. This was new. She'd never come near him before, just chatted at him from her door before they both went inside their respective apartments and Touma spent the rest of the night drinking beer and playing video games in a vain attempt to get her out of his head.
She drew up beside him, so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. The delicate scent of roses and warm vanilla sugar hit his nose, and he tried not to groan. This was wonderful. This was terrible.
If she hadn't cemented herself in his brain before, she sure had now.
With delicate fingers, she brushed his hand aside, carefully turning his key in its lock to the correct position. Her hands were warm. Her skin was so soft. She smelled amazing. Fuck. Why had she gotten so close to his personal space? He'd thought he had it bad before? He was done for now.
"There!" she said cheerfully. "Take it easy on this stuff, huh? It's probably super cheap, and I bet a locksmith would charge you an arm and a leg to fix it!" Touma managed a nod and a muttered "Thanks."
"Aww hey! Cheer up! Look – I brought you something. I had some leftovers today so I made you some cookies. I remember you telling me you liked sweets," she went on, oblivious to his increasing catatonia. She remembered he liked sweets? Part of him went a little warm and fuzzy. Kino reached up, dangling a rose-scented handkerchief in front of him, folded neatly and knotted around said cookies.
Buddha, could she be any cuter? The handkerchief was a pale green patterned with elegant roses in full bloom. Her initials were embroidered delicately on the corner of the top flap of the bundle, their letters curved and graceful. MK.
"Uhh Hey? Hashiba, are you ok? Are you feeling all right?" She put a hand to his forehead and Touma snapped back to himself, realizing that if he didn't get it together and she kept touching him, kept hovering in his space, he was going to have even bigger problems than he had now.
"Oh uh yeah. Sorry, really long day, I'm just kinda tired," he fumbled, holding out his free hand to take the sweets from her. "Thanks for these, it was really nice of you to think of me." She beamed at him, and he felt the weight of the pastries hit his palm.
"Great, let me know what you think, ok? It's a new recipe. Have a good night!" And then she was waving at him.
And then she was gone, leaving him standing in an empty hallway again wondering if he'd been desperate enough to hallucinate a simple meetup in front of his door or if she'd actually been there beside him, giving him sweets. A curl of sugared rose wafted briefly against his face, and he realized that no, he hadn't been hallucinating. The kerchief was soft against his palm, its contents still warm. He salivated a little at the thought of cookies so fresh they were still warm. He couldn't remember the last time someone had baked for him since…well..Nasuti probably.
Concerned for his own mental health given his recent descent into almost stalker levels of obsession, Touma let himself into his apartment, shutting the door after him. He dropped his keys into the chipped pottery bowl he kept on the tiny table near the entrance for just that purpose and then deposited the cookies on a clean spot of kitchen counter.
His answering machine was blinking red, and he pressed the button as he loosened his tie and wandered over to the fridge in search of a cold can of Kirin.
"Touma! Stop working so late man. Drinks on Friday – if you don't show up, we're all coming to your place instead." Touma rolled his eyes. Shuu was annoyingly persistent. Still, he set a mental flag to leave work early enough on Friday. The last thing he wanted was a drunk and rowdy Shuu in his space when he wasn't around. Or when he was around. At least everyone else would behave. Mostly.
"Touma. Just confirming you'll be coming here for the archery competition next month. Naturally, you can stay with us. Let me know." Touma sighed and tried to ignore the censure he could hear between the lines in Seiji's voice, even through a recording. It wasn't that he didn't want to compete…It was just that he didn't want to compete. He still made sure he put in time for a regular workout routine so his skills stayed sharp and his body stayed in shape. Just in case. And that was really all he cared about.
But Seiji had suddenly started stirring the pot around their new armors – and the fact that they were barely acquainted with them. After ten years. Touma understood where Seiji was coming from, but—
"Touma. Call me when you can. I have some preliminary results." He cringed. Nasuti's voice sounded way too somber. He'd really been hoping his suspicions about the anomalies he'd started seeing in his recent scans were just that – suspicions. Without basis. It'd been ten years. He really didn't want to think about another war. Hadn't they been through enough already?
He opened a cabinet and pulled out a shot glass, setting it on the counter next to his beer. Bending down just slightly, he opened his freezer and dug in the back for the bottle of vodka that had been gifted to him from a colleague in Russia. He poured himself the shot, downed it, and then chased it with the beer, grimacing at the burn.
"Touma! I can't believe you stood Nao-chan up last night! How could you be so rude?! You need a woman in your life – you aren't getting any younger!" Mood completely black now, he poured another shot and downed it again. He reminded himself that he hadn't ever consented to the well-meaning machinations of his research colleague and resolved to come up with some kind of way to get her off his back.
He didn't need a woman, dammit. His time as a Trooper had made him too strange, too volatile. He barely fit in to normal social situations he encountered at work. He was practically a robot when it came to small talk. Touma didn't socialize. Hell, he barely hung out with the Troopers and they understood his oddness. Or at least accepted it. Most of his colleagues had taken the hint and left him to his own devices, but Sayaka had gotten this crazy idea in her head that a wife was going to fix him.
He eyed the package of pastries sitting innocently on the counter, approaching it slowly. He ran gentle fingers over its tidy little knot, a warmth welling up inside of him.
And then a vision of his sweet neighbor getting tortured by some monster, some warlord, flooded his senses, and he yanked his hand back.
The last thing any woman needed was all the baggage he brought with him into any relationship. The last thing any woman needed was the risk of ending up in the crosshairs, suffering simply because his enemies would consider her excellent leverage to bring him in line.
Touma poured himself another shot, and chased it with the rest of his beer. He left the cookies on the counter and didn't bother returning his calls, jogging up the tiny set of stairs to his tiny loft where he kept his at home lab. Nasuti had said she'd gotten preliminary results and spending the evening going over some of his more intricate tests seemed like a good way to occupy himself.
Kino's voice, singing, drifted to his ears in muted tones through the thin wall connecting them.
Touma hunched his shoulders up and pretended not to hear it.