Chapter Text
For some reason she seemed abnormally happy. But I got the feeling that “abnormally happy” was her default setting. To be honest, even though I’d seen her before, I still couldn’t remember what she was like normally. But either way, it was hard to be put-off by this smiley-faced girl.
-NISIOISIN, ZAREGOTO: The Kubishime Romanticist
You find yourself drowning in those huge doe eyes.
The man kind of, for a moment, doesn’t look like he’s old enough to be on CCG property. In fact with how he holds himself on the ground, arms curled around his knees as he pouts at the display of the vending machine, he seems younger than even Saiko. And when you’d approached he’d looked up at you-- is still looking up at you, with the indisputable expression of a petulant child.
“They’re out of Boss,” He whines to you as if it is the most justifiable explanation. Maybe it would be for an actual child. But this close, staring into that face, you know though he can’t be much older than you, you’re much older than the two-year-old he is emulating. You barely flick a glance over the selection of canned coffee, where sure enough only the Roots Coffee brand remains, before you continue attempting to drill a hole in the guy’s skull with your gaze. A gaze that is surely uncomfortable considering how the other members of your squad are constantly flinching under it.
This strange creature however is unaffected and begins to worry his lower lip between his teeth as he turns back to the machine. “Man, I hate Roots.”
It’s a full minute later and he’s still squatting there drumming his fingers and sighing and you’re honestly at a loss. You’re surely not the best spokesperson for manners but you’ve never just sat in front a vending machine complaining to yourself when somebody is clearly wanting to use it and ignored them. You ask coldly, “Do you mind?”
The flatness of your tone implies that he better not.
“Nah man, knock yourself out,” He replies glumly, waving you closer. When you make no indication of moving he looks up again. “Having second thoughts? Their Aroma Black isn’t so bad if you’re truly that desperate.”
You frown at this, which coupled with your scowl has been rumored to resemble a hissing cat. The particular type of coffee he has just mentioned is actually your favourite, although you aren’t going to tell this ridiculous waste of space that.
“That’s my favourite kind.” Shit. Apparently the words did end up slipping out.
“Seriously? Oh, I’m sorry about that then.”
He’s surprisingly apologetic, which quickly turns to amusement.
“But your poor taste buds! How can you stand it?”
You hold your tongue this time and navigate around him in irritation. You’re angry that you even bothered responding to his mockery of your preferred canned beverage, and you’re regretting that you tried getting him to move. It just serves to announce your presence, and the awkwardness of reaching over him to press coins into the money slot, even more than before.
You key in your selection and resist the urge to tap your foot waiting for the coil to release.
And just when you thought you’ve had your full experience of this unexpected encounter and start bending to grab the can, he snatches it from the dispenser and stands to face you.
“My name’s Hideyoshi, but you can just call me ‘Hide’!” He declares brightly and extends the can towards you in a comradely fashion.
You’re torn between walking away and punching him in the throat. You do neither, instead jerking the can from him roughly. As ever, he remains oblivious to your agitation and tucks his hands into his pockets as he leans towards you. “Hey did you hear me? I said my name’s Hide, now comes the part where you introduce yourself.”
Leaning back and curling your chin upward to avoid him, there’s a moment where you process how he introduced himself and the conspicuous lack of surname. It’s so suspicious you wonder why he wouldn’t bother to invent a last name to conceal it, and then think maybe he’s such an idiot he doesn’t understand how weird he’s making himself out to be. This leads to actually examining the guy. He’s shorter than you, which you suspected, and has horribly honest brown eyes that remind you of a vacuum, pulling you incessantly forward, inward. ‘Hide’, as he calls himself, is also slightly darker than you, in that bronzed European way that matches up with his blatantly more Western-Asian features. His hair is black enough to rival pitch and flops over his face in a aggravatingly similar but also entirely too feminine undercut. Like you, he’s wearing sweats with the Commission’s symbol sewn to the right pocket.
He seems to realize this at the same time.
“Oh are you here to train?”
What a stupid question. This is the gym. Which had been, admittedly, gloriously empty while you moved through your stances but crowded or preferably not it is still the fucking gym. Why else would you be here? “No, I’m done for the night,” you tell him and pop open the Aroma Black, gulping heavily.
“Bummer, I was looking for a sparing partner but no one ever drops by this late. Actually, to tell you the truth you’re the first person I’ve seen hanging around at this time.”
The sweat slicking your hair, soaking your tee, is probably foul enough to drop flies, and you’re still not breathing a hundred percent even. Tonight’s routine had been a step up in intensity, part of your solo training program to increase your RC endurance levels, and though it was deliberately late, you’d actually lost track of time and ran over by an hour. You really just want to finish your drink and shower and really really really don’t want to deal with this moron.
Hide doesn’t get the message. “What division are you from?”
“Division I,” You divulge then pivot sharply on your heel. You walk and drink briskly.
He follows. “Cool, you’re an Investigator too? What rank are you?”
“Rank I.”
“Are you stationed here?”
“1st Ward.”
“Oh but you live around here then?”
“No.”
“Where do you live?”
“1st Ward.”
Suddenly there’s a hand on your shoulder and Hide is maneuvering in front of you. You don’t know why you stop, or rather why you let him stop you. You come to yet another standstill with this impossibly odd man, and this time it’s entirely of your own making.
The grin he sports is slightly abashed, slightly ... of an emotion you would have to say is fondness. Even though this is your first encounter.
“I can’t help but feel we’ve got off on the wrong foot somehow. That, or you’re not so subtly heading off quickly to upchuck the contents of that terrible coffee.”
“It’s not terrible!” You snap, crumpling the aluminum in anger. The bitter liquid nearly spills over and you force yourself cool and calm. Certainly Hide, for whatever reason, is working to get a rise out of you, so you can’t give him the satisfaction. You tunnel the animosity into a charring expression, focusing on making him feel small and crushed under your anger.
“Okay, okay, I take it back!”
Hide holds his hands up in surrender but he is wincing around a smile and it’s not like one of Sasaki’s fake ones or Mutsuki’s polite ones, it’s... fiercely genuine. It’s not beautiful or crafted but wholesome, and his entire face transforms with it, is molded into a baffling happiness. “Sorry I’m bad at meeting new people. I always make them mad somehow, I’m a little insensitive I guess. Must be the blon--”
Hide cuts himself off, appearing thoughtful. “Blood sugar. Low blood sugar. You ever hear of Twinkies? I need like five of those things a day to keep happy. Anyways... I’m really sorry about all that.” He peeks up at you through his bangs.
“...So, uh, how about that name?”
You’re making a face, deflated and resigning yourself to what is probably the only method that will satisfy Hide enough to leave you alone. You grab one of his hands from their ridiculous position and jerk it in a rough handshake. “Urie Kuki.”
Now Hide takes his turn staring, not-so-subtly examining his hand after you release it as if checking that you hadn’t corrupted it with some fatal disease. His next grin is so large it looks painful. “Nice to meet you Urie-san.”
Wish I could say the--
“Same here.” You lie so well it seems almost natural. Or maybe it’s that you recite it with the same emotionless, unimpressed lilt so it’s indiscernible.
“Ha ha, you don’t have to lie, I can tell I’m still bothering you.”
Major understatement.
“But like I said, I’ve kind of been looking for a sparring partner, and I know I haven’t exactly sold myself, but I was kind of hoping you’d like to give me a go?”
You know there’s a sprinkling of shock (that he actually has the audacity to try asking you for help) that filters through your neutral expression but Hide is simply scratching his cheek diffidently and playing with a stray lock that he twists and pulls. The shock becomes a flood of annoyance followed by deliberation. You think about how exhausted you are and how irking this ‘Hide’ is being, weighing the two in your mind.You smirk the kind of smirk that gives off a creepy vibe, the one that makes Saiko flip and call for Sasaki so you usually have to hide it behind a book or magazine or sometimes your hand while bolting from the room.
Hide is, unknowingly, offering you revenge in the form of practice. He is consenting to you hurting him.
Usually, you really aren’t this petty, mostly because you can’t be bothered. Exerting effort into other people means actually considering them valuable enough to waste time on, which is an appalling thought. Unluckily for Hide, this has been your worst week. You had to spend most of it listening to everyone near pissing praise onto Kuroiwa Takeomi for defeating that ghoul weaponless, like it’s so fucking brilliant of him to confront the thing barehanded. It wasn’t even a high end ghoul, not like Big Madam, but sharing that joint achievement with the Suzuya Squad somehow makes you less adequate than a moron who likes wrestling behemoths.
Mutsuki is also unnaturally friendly these days, asking how you’ve been when he sees you so he can not so slyly force you into ridiculous favours. Actually the whole thing feels backwards considering you’ve learned a vital secret of your teammate’s that technically qualifies as blackmail, yet aggravatingly it’s ended up with you wound around his finger unable to weasel away from those dreadful green cow eyes. He’s also interrogating you whenever you come home late, probably since you accidentally confessed to bypassing Sasaki to qualify for enhancement surgery so he’s determined to keep you from making bad choices like the surgeries are some sinful fix for you.
Kind of, but sort of not really.
Either way, you’ve never had anyone care for you so you feel this is a ploy Mutsuki is using to gain favour with Sasaki, reporting your movements back to him to prevent it happening again, even though you need it now more than ever to overcome Kuroiwa Takeomi.
Obviously everyone is just out to screw you.
The two combined pick just enough at your brain that you’re always wound painful tight, biting your tongue and avoiding everyone when possible to prevent lashing out in a way that could prove regrettable, like seriously going through with your daydreams about strangling Shirazu.
Mulling all this over, it seems a quick scrap with this Hide is an even better idea than the other man thinks.
“Sure, why not?” You reply to him.
He punches a fist into the air.
“Great! Thanks man, I owe you one! I’m going to work hard to change that opinion of me so that next time you can say it honestly. I’m just going to run and warm up, you rest a little more.”
He bolts, presumably towards the the tumble mats, and you’re given the opportunity to reconsider what is surely a poor decision. You’ve been warned before about entanglement with non-enhanced humans, which was only the second most embarrassing conversation of your life following father’s birds and the bees briefing with your toy poodle and pet turtle. The point being, you can seriously damage another person due to elevated aggression-- less politely put, blood lust-- and vigor resulting from a higher RC count. Which is why Sasaki strictly trains you exclusively with one another and it’s absolutely mandatory to disclose any intimate relationships to your supervisors, because get too hot and you’re at a serious means to kill and eat someone.
Hide is not Kuroiwa Takeomi, nor is he a Quinx. He is, judging by his lack of recognition to your name, also not aware that you are the later. You should really have some sort of predisclosure agreement in place before grappling with him just to cover your legal bases. You’re a whipcord about to be unraveled, stepping into the training room.
As you chuck your downed coffee into the recycling, you find you don’t actually care.
You’re more interested in putting a shiner around those smiling eyes.