Setting
Default Location for Purple Rain
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Tokyo, Japan is a part of 
Purple Rain.
2 Characters Here
- 27 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
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Takashi expects a steely glint to dance in Sato's eyes, cold enough to match the chilling blue of his irises. He expects a passive-aggressive timbre in his voice as it speaks words of barely-concealed contempt. Takashi expects to have to maintain his perfectly composed demeanor, as he is so familiar with doing, before sheathing it like the sword of a knight who wears his armor just for pretenses.
Sato . . . does none of that. Takashi stands there, still as a mannequin with his practiced smile still plastered onto his face, as Sato's features soften into something hedoesn't want to can't describe. Takashi stands there, as Sato's oh so strange words send an indescribable jolt from his chest to his throat, as if his beating heart momentarily escapes the confines of his ribcage.
And then the moment is over, and Takashi doesn't know what to think.
Takashi watches Sato's form leave the grounds of the Kanayama estate, before his thoughts suddenly erupt into his mind, indecipherable and confusing like a tangled mess of yarn. He's confused, and he would try to describe his thoughts beyond that, but whatever preexisting knowledge Takashi has about the world can't even begin to stack up against what's running in his mind.
Takashi can feel the blood rush to his face and bloom into pink on the apples of his cheeks. He registers how he's still grasping the cold metal door handle, and how the chill his hand detects is just about the only sensation grounding his buzzing mind and floating body. His thoughts are a measly swirl of . . . what? what, what? and not much else -- at least, not much he can make sense of.
After a few dangerously long seconds of lingering in the doorway, Takashi's mind settles on a single thought. Maybe Sato isn't the plain gray paint swatch I thought he was.
Takashi forces a light chuckle, shaking his head to himself as he shuts the door firmly, his feet guiding him back to his room. He focuses on that one thought, ignoring how his breath quickens and how his ears ring and how his heart shakes in his ribcage, like the fluttering wings of a butterfly begging to break free.
Sato . . . does none of that. Takashi stands there, still as a mannequin with his practiced smile still plastered onto his face, as Sato's features soften into something he
And then the moment is over, and Takashi doesn't know what to think.
Takashi watches Sato's form leave the grounds of the Kanayama estate, before his thoughts suddenly erupt into his mind, indecipherable and confusing like a tangled mess of yarn. He's confused, and he would try to describe his thoughts beyond that, but whatever preexisting knowledge Takashi has about the world can't even begin to stack up against what's running in his mind.
Takashi can feel the blood rush to his face and bloom into pink on the apples of his cheeks. He registers how he's still grasping the cold metal door handle, and how the chill his hand detects is just about the only sensation grounding his buzzing mind and floating body. His thoughts are a measly swirl of . . . what? what, what? and not much else -- at least, not much he can make sense of.
After a few dangerously long seconds of lingering in the doorway, Takashi's mind settles on a single thought. Maybe Sato isn't the plain gray paint swatch I thought he was.
Takashi forces a light chuckle, shaking his head to himself as he shuts the door firmly, his feet guiding him back to his room. He focuses on that one thought, ignoring how his breath quickens and how his ears ring and how his heart shakes in his ribcage, like the fluttering wings of a butterfly begging to break free.
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XX Sato Jirou xx#836F6E
A week passes, and Kanayama doesn't make so much as a hint toward Jirou's personality switch after that first study session. Jirou finds he's both grateful and disappointed- his only regret is that he has no idea how Kanayama reacted. Jirou gleefully pictures him flustered and off-kilter.
Almost anything would be better than that plastic fucking smile.
They don't address each other at school, both too aware of how a connection between them would appear. At night, it's more of the same, though Jirou catches Kanayama's eyes more than once.
Part of Jirou wishes he could afford to avoid the places Kanayama seems to frequent, but oh well.
"What's with you lately?" Hikaru asks one night. "First you're normal, then quietly terrified, and now you keep eyeing the crowds like you're preparing for the devil himself to pop out."
"Maybe I am," Jirou says, almost immediately.
Hikaru stares him down, clearly unimpressed, and Jirou returns her stare with narrowed eyes. She raises an eyebrow at him and then sighs dramatically, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.
"Well, pretty sure if the devil were here, he'd have bigger priorities than hunting whores."
Jirou can't but snort at that, and he wins a sly smile from Hikaru. It's gone as quickly as it came.
"Really, Jirou," She says, voice hushed and urgent. She's worried. "Just tell me. The girls love you, and we'd all be happy to help if we can. You know that."
Jirou doesn't want to tell Hikaru about Kanayama and the deal they've made. There are two ways telling Hikaru could go- she'll either laugh at Jirou, or she'll stab Kanayama in an alley. Jirou is fully prepared to face her nagging curiosity for the rest of time if it means he avoids both options.
Unfortunately, the evening crowd chooses that moment to part, allowing him an unimpeded view of Kanayama's stupid, handsome face. Their eyes meet, just briefly. Jirou stops breathing.
The crowd shifts, and Kanayama is gone. Jirou doesn't have to look at Hikaru to know she saw him staring and who he was staring at. He doesn't have to look at her to see the gears spinning in her mind. Hikaru is smart- too smart. She's already making guesses at Jirou's predicament.
"I see." Is all he gets from her before she melts into the crowd, as if she were never by his side.
He doesn't see her again that night.
XX ❋
It's late, very late. Possibly it's early. No way to tell without a watch in this bright, bright place, where even the moon is swallowed by the lights and color above. Not that it quite matters.
Hikaru's sparkling stilettos click eerily on concrete, a call to those who know to listen for it. Now, though, Hikaru's mind isn't focused on the men she lures. Now, her mind is fixed on golden hair and golden eyes. She could see those eyes shining even from a distance. Familiar eyes.
Her eyes.
Hikaru's target slips into an alley and she slips in after him. She knows he's aware of her. You need a clever mind and sharp wits to intimidate Sato Jirou, and while she doesn't truly think he was intimidated, there was something in his stature that suggests she not take this teenager lightly.
Sure enough, the boy has turned to face her, lying in wait. He gazes at her with sharp eyes, and Hikaru gazes back unflinchingly. No cold, empty stare could ever compare to hers.
"Good evening, darling." Hikaru drawls, moving her hair to expose her collarbone. A test.
A week passes, and Kanayama doesn't make so much as a hint toward Jirou's personality switch after that first study session. Jirou finds he's both grateful and disappointed- his only regret is that he has no idea how Kanayama reacted. Jirou gleefully pictures him flustered and off-kilter.
Almost anything would be better than that plastic fucking smile.
They don't address each other at school, both too aware of how a connection between them would appear. At night, it's more of the same, though Jirou catches Kanayama's eyes more than once.
Part of Jirou wishes he could afford to avoid the places Kanayama seems to frequent, but oh well.
"What's with you lately?" Hikaru asks one night. "First you're normal, then quietly terrified, and now you keep eyeing the crowds like you're preparing for the devil himself to pop out."
"Maybe I am," Jirou says, almost immediately.
Hikaru stares him down, clearly unimpressed, and Jirou returns her stare with narrowed eyes. She raises an eyebrow at him and then sighs dramatically, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.
"Well, pretty sure if the devil were here, he'd have bigger priorities than hunting whores."
Jirou can't but snort at that, and he wins a sly smile from Hikaru. It's gone as quickly as it came.
"Really, Jirou," She says, voice hushed and urgent. She's worried. "Just tell me. The girls love you, and we'd all be happy to help if we can. You know that."
Jirou doesn't want to tell Hikaru about Kanayama and the deal they've made. There are two ways telling Hikaru could go- she'll either laugh at Jirou, or she'll stab Kanayama in an alley. Jirou is fully prepared to face her nagging curiosity for the rest of time if it means he avoids both options.
Unfortunately, the evening crowd chooses that moment to part, allowing him an unimpeded view of Kanayama's stupid, handsome face. Their eyes meet, just briefly. Jirou stops breathing.
The crowd shifts, and Kanayama is gone. Jirou doesn't have to look at Hikaru to know she saw him staring and who he was staring at. He doesn't have to look at her to see the gears spinning in her mind. Hikaru is smart- too smart. She's already making guesses at Jirou's predicament.
"I see." Is all he gets from her before she melts into the crowd, as if she were never by his side.
He doesn't see her again that night.
XX ❋
It's late, very late. Possibly it's early. No way to tell without a watch in this bright, bright place, where even the moon is swallowed by the lights and color above. Not that it quite matters.
Hikaru's sparkling stilettos click eerily on concrete, a call to those who know to listen for it. Now, though, Hikaru's mind isn't focused on the men she lures. Now, her mind is fixed on golden hair and golden eyes. She could see those eyes shining even from a distance. Familiar eyes.
Her eyes.
Hikaru's target slips into an alley and she slips in after him. She knows he's aware of her. You need a clever mind and sharp wits to intimidate Sato Jirou, and while she doesn't truly think he was intimidated, there was something in his stature that suggests she not take this teenager lightly.
Sure enough, the boy has turned to face her, lying in wait. He gazes at her with sharp eyes, and Hikaru gazes back unflinchingly. No cold, empty stare could ever compare to hers.
"Good evening, darling." Hikaru drawls, moving her hair to expose her collarbone. A test.
- 27 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2