InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "become an hero"

Shirai Reizo | 白井雷三 (some_other_dog) wrote in disappear_rpg,
@ 2010-03-08 18:06:00

Entry tags:

beachthread, kiriko, reizo

Something's afoot.
WHO: Reizo and Kiriko
WHAT: Ikeda is pissed.
WHERE: In a hallway.
WHEN: After the fun with pictures.
WHY: Because KIRIKO'S MAAAAAD.

Reizo stalked down the hall. Not that he was angry, or after anyone, it was just that stalking had become his normal mode of transport. If his mood had the better of him he might have been skipping, or had a spring in his step, but it was all the better that he had such fierce control of them. Reizo coming down the hall towards you with his shoulders hunched and his cigarette burning cancerously bright in the gloom of just after sunset was scary, but Reizo skipping towards you inflicted mild psychological trauma and stuck you with a psychiatrist bill.

Either way, there he was, the tall boy stalking down the hallway in a stereotypical mobster strut, in bright swimming trunks and one of the army of button-up white shirts he’d brought with him and never taken off. Not in front of anyone, anyway. It was probably a little foolish, trying to keep his tattoo secret, especially when the shirt he wore stuck so defiantly to his back and was thin enough for the colors of it to show through. More so when everyone knew what he was, but he was stubborn. At least he never tried to swim with his shirt on.

Not that he hadn’t enjoyed some time to himself in the sea away from prying eyes. No, he’d spent more than enough time lazing around in the water, the screams of the other bozos off in the distance somewhere, far enough away to be washed out by the ebb and splash of the water.

He stopped at the largest window in the hallway and leaned out of it, letting the sea breeze blow across his face and snatch the smoke out of his mouth. He grinned to himself around the cigarette. The day had been interesting, and fun in its own way, and he was very pleased with himself.

The only thing he wasn’t happy about was the people that would inevitably show up at his proverbial doorstep, wanting to have a word with him, and he hadn’t finagled with his story enough to get it quite perfect.

He pushed off the window with a sigh, took a drag off his dwindling cigarette, and set off down towards his room.

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apathyisboring
2010-03-08 11:35 pm UTC (link)

"You do know!"

She stormed into his room after him and kicked the door shut behind her, already resentful at having been passed over. Impotent rage was definitely the worst kind. She had plenty of good reason to hate the feeling that there was nothing she could do, and unfortunately it seemed to be true that the only thing she stood a chance at getting away with was lobbing a pillow at his head.

"And maybe you can bullshit everybody else into believing you, but you don't fool me and you never will. So tell me why you had to drag her in."

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some_other_dog
2010-03-09 12:55 am UTC (link)

He was, of course, sitting on the bed and searching through the suitcase. Eventually he produced a small vinyl case, opened it and stuffed the Polaroid he’d stolen earlier down into it. He paused thoughtfully, plucked another pair of shorts out of the suitcase and finally locked it and stowed it away in the closet again. When he sat down on the bed again he looked at her finally, then at the door she’d kicked shut minutes earlier, and frowned hard at her. As if he was trying to puzzle out why she was in his room and staring angrily at him. As if he couldn’t recall what she’d just said.

“Are you jealous?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow and smiling wickedly as he stood back up. It was amazing how fast and deceptively he could move. How soon she was nose-to-nose with him and his head was tilted at just the right angle, smile twisting into a devilish smirk. Then he pulled away from her with a laugh and stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

A moment later he poked his head out.

“Because you shouldn’t be. It was just an apology date.”

The door closed again, and a minute later he was out in his trunks with a towel draped around his shoulders. If not for the shirt he might have looked like he fully intended to hop out of a window and out for a swim. The way he looked at the door made it apparent that, yes, that was his plan.

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apathyisboring
2010-03-09 01:03 am UTC (link)

Being kept waiting was even more infuriating. It was all she could do to suppress the rising urge to break something. Her hands curled and uncurled into fists at her side as she waited for a response, and her shoulders stiffened as soon as she got one.

Jealous? Maybe. Even if she was, that was completely besides the point - the point being that he had not only attacked her friend, but gone through her to do it. And he'd lied about it, too! It was silly to expect a blackmailer to tell the truth, really, but then she supposed she was silly. And justified. Definitely justified.

Her jaw set and she stared defiantly back at him until he moved away from her. Her arms crossed tight across her chest again as soon as he'd left her vicinity.

"Apology date? Apology for what? How you were about to screw her?" Unfortunate wording. "In more ways than one."

She watched him through narrowed eyes but could already feel herself deflating. This wasn't going to go anywhere. She'd just once again be proving herself Ikeda-who-wants-everything-and-can't-do-anything-alone. She should leave before she was dismissed, but stood rooted to the spot, waiting, nonetheless.

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some_other_dog
2010-03-09 01:22 am UTC (link)

He opened his mouth to respond. Closed it. Worked his lips around, trying to form them around a word. What was he sorry for? Rather, what had the pretense of that-- oh, right.

“For the ducks,” he said, and left it at that. If she wanted to know she could ask Kondo herself, since they were such good friends. He frowned at the tall girl afterwards. She knew it’d all been him, and as much as he wanted to admit to someone and brag about it, it couldn’t be the best friend of one of the marks. Confessing to her would end badly either way, and if never did own up to it she could never be 100% sure.

“And I didn’t fuck Kondo,” he conceded. Admitting he didn’t bang her was good. It would be a sliver of truth. He glanced up from unbuttoning his shirt at her to gauge her reaction to the news. It felt incomplete. He wouldn‘t admit that without an addendum. “If I did the whole school would have known straight away. I do live right beside the dormitories.”

He grinned again, arrogant and haughty; the meaning shining full on his face. He even wriggled his eyebrows for effect.

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apathyisboring
2010-03-09 01:44 am UTC (link)

Kiriko could feel her face flushing from the fresh wave of anger that had just rolled over her. She wanted to scream, knock him over and pull his hair out strand by excruciating strand. The flashbacks to the ruined wedding hall were a comfort more than a warning at the moment.

"Why the hell are you still lying to me about it?!" It wasn't quite a shout, but her voice was raised and that was certainly impressive enough for a girl like Kiriko. "Didn't either of you get your laughs out of it the first time?" She walked over to his closet, threw the door back, pulled out the suitcase and threw it (rather more ferociously than she had meant to) on the bed.

"Do you just think I'm some kind of idiot? I saw the pictures - you just put one away in there--" she jabbed an accusing finger at the suitcase "--and you're going to stand here and say you didn't do anything?!"

She dropped her arm. It looked ridiculous to be pointing like that. Almost as soon as her hand touched her side again she lifted it up to rake her fingers distractedly back through her hair.

"And you know, I don't even care what you two want with eachother, but I thought someone might have at least said something to me."

Not all of that was meant for him, she realized after she'd already said it, but it was too late to take it back now. She pulled her hand out of her hair and jerked her head up, staring at him as scornfully as ever.

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some_other_dog
2010-03-09 02:16 am UTC (link)

His head rocked back and he laughed. She was really letting loose. It was a great, booming, roar of a laugh, like some great deity had reached down and was rhythmically squeezing and releasing him. He sputtered once in between great whoops for breath, and was forced to stop when he started hacking up a lung.

“You’re losing it,” he said in between gasps of air, pushing away from the wall and giving her a look. One that suggested that if he’d worn glasses, he’d definitely be peering disappointedly at her over the top of them. He pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb and looked at her from out behind the rock of his hand, chest rolling in deep breaths as he tried to calm down.

“You saw me put one away,” he explained patiently, “into a case. Kondo’s rich, and no family likes to see their pretty daughter moseying around with a yakuza boy. So this picture, those pictures, are pretty valuable. You know, just in case we ever need anything from them. I really wish they hadn’t been torn up.”

He sighed wistfully, then shook his head. He had plenty of copies, of course, but..

“And even if we did want something to do with one another, why should we need to tell you? I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else, but I have been NICE enough to explain to you why I took her out and that nothing happened. Nothing beyond a clever photographer taking some nicely angled photographs.. You know, maybe if you‘d bothered examining them a little more and they hadn‘t been torn up..”

He waved a hand at her dismissively.

“So unless you want to come for a swim and admire my badass muscles and tattoo, you can go away and have a talk with your friend.”

He opened the door for her, like a proper gentlemen with apparently badass muscles, and smirked again at her.

“Or we can stay in here and you can get over your jealousy.”

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apathyisboring
2010-03-09 02:33 am UTC (link)

The laughter was just insult to injury. She imagined how that suitcase would look flying towards his head. If she was lucky, one of the corners would get him right in the eye. Her shoulders drew up when he finally said something coherent to her. Who the hell was he to look down on her like that, anyway?

Possibly a stupid question with an obvious answer, though one that made her feel no better. She couldn't think of anything she resented more than being made an idiot of, and now he was explaining in a patient schoolteacher voice the usefulness of photographic evidence (well obviously) and how she was not privvy to the details of his personal life (ignoring the principle of the thing completely) and something about a clever photographer and nice angles (wait, what?).

Her brow unwrinkled only a fraction. She'd checked the pictures for fakery - looking for stray pixels and blur tool usage or other obvious stuff like that. Was it worth going back to have another look? But, no, why should she have any reason to believe him? It was as he said, he was certainly under no impetus to tell the truth.

Her internal debate came to a swift stop at the jealousy comment. She stood with that same rage shaking her on the inside, then stomped towards the doorway, muttering as she went past.

"You're such a fucking idiot."

She started down the hallway in a huff, not bothering to look back.

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