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ONE.
“Ne, come one and all~” Ramuda calls out, holding up several different brown paper bags in his hands. He beams brightly, his usual persona on display for fans and non-fans alike to see. “New Fling Posse merch is on the horizon! Designed by yours truly~!”
There are plenty of fans around that immediately come flooding around Ramuda. He smiles happy as he sets the bags down and begins pulling out the newly designed merchandise for people to pursue and buy. There are banners of several kinds—ones with their faces, ones with just their names (both MC names and their given and last names), and ones with a mix of both. Ramuda may have been doing a lot of research into popular merchandise for different types of groups and basing his own off of them.
There are buttons and pins, headbands with the kanji and English letters of their names. Ramuda had decided, on a whim, of course, that Fling Posse could use a bit more income—especially considering Dice’s gambling habits and the fact that Ramuda was constantly paying back his debts. (Ramuda should mind doing that more than he does, but, unfortunately, he does not mind that much. This power of friendship shit is a lot stronger than it seems on the outside.)
There are even some non-fans who stop by to check out what Ramuda is selling, and he does his very best to put on a charming smile and charismatic attitude about his division crew. Fling Posse is, after all, the representative of Shibuya! Ramuda needs to make sure his image stays intact.
He attempts to grasp the attention of people passing by, simply introducing himself and what his crew is, offering them a free sample of the smaller merch—buttons and headbands, if he can manage to get them to stop long enough.
As he’s doing so, a woman passes through the crowd of people without so much as a second glance towards Ramuda and what he’s doing. For a brief moment, it annoys Ramuda for some reason, before he shoves that feeling away and immediately chases after her.
“Ah, onee-san!” Ramuda calls out to them, holding up one of his own banners in a friendly manner. “Onee-san, please wait a moment~”
The woman stops walking, long enough for Ramuda to actually stop several feet away from her, and when they turn around, he’s—thrown into a momentary shock by the woman’s appearance.
Red, wavy hair reaches down to her lower back and they have bangs that frame the front of her face beautifully. There’s a lip ring right in the middle of her lower lip, and her right eyebrow is pierced, as well. Dark earrings dangle from her ears. Ramuda gets a little lost staring at them, caught up in taking in the woman’s features, that he nearly misses what she says next:
“Sorry,” they reach a hand up and tug slightly at a lock of hair. “I like Matenro more.”
Ramuda immediately becomes annoyed. He makes an about face, clutching onto the banner as he inwardly scowls to himself.
That damned old man, Ramuda curses Jakurai in his mind. Even all the way here in Shibuya, he manages to make my life hell!
Ramuda thinks over his options: he could easily move onto a fan who will already love whatever Ramuda is selling them, he could take the course of only gently offering the merch to the woman before him, or he could go all in—give them plenty of reasons to like Fling Posse (Ramuda) more than Matenro (Jakurai).
Unfortunately, Ramuda is much too petty to let this go and this lady is much too pretty for Ramuda to actually let her go.
“I promise you, Fling Posse is much better than Matenro!” Ramuda smiles and tries to not sound too eager with his words.
The woman stares at him for a moment, before a small smile seems to curl to her lips. Ramuda wants to go back to staring. “What makes them better than Matenro?” They ask, a slight curve of teasing to their tone of voice.
Oh, so it’s a game to her, too.
Ramuda smiles sweetly, lifting up the banner. “Many things! After all, just this year, we won the second Division Rap Battle—”
“And Matenro won the year before that,” she says, her eyes lighting up slightly in amusement.
Ramuda can feel his eyebrow starting to twitch, but he manages to stop it before it happens. “We have two very famous members, you know—”
“So does Matenro.” She even sounds amused now. “Jinguji-sensei and Izanami-san are very well known, even outside of Shinjuku.”
“Gentaro and I are well known outside of Shibuya, too!” Ramuda is not pouting. He’s not. Honestly, now he can’t even remember why he’s letting himself argue with this lady in the first place—
And then the woman laughs quietly into her fist, head turning away as they do so. Ramuda’s brain stops working for a moment as it registers and processes what he’s just seen. Red meets aqua as Ramuda takes note of the way the sunlight reflects off to their eyes.
“Yes, I’m well aware of your popularity, Amemura-san.”
Ramuda nearly lets his jaw drop. “You know me?”
The woman brushes hair over her shoulder as she schools her expression, returning to a much more neutral look. They look at Ramuda, before reaching out and plucking the banner out of his hand. It’s one of himself, one of the less flashy ones—simply his MC name in bold lettering, colourful all around, but much subtler than the banners that have his face plastered on them.
“I’m very well aware of who you are, Amemura-san,” she says, tucking the banner into their front left pocket. “After all, you’re famous.”
She turns to leave then, and Ramuda feels the need to reach out for her, suddenly.
“Ah, onee-san!”
“Also, please don’t call me ‘onee-san’,” they say, turning to look at Ramuda over their shoulder. “My name is Fuuju.”
They take their leave then, leaving Ramuda alone in the middle of the sidewalk. Ramuda can only stare after her, repeating her name in his mind.
Fuuju… Ramuda reaches into his pocket and pulls out a lollipop, jamming it into his mouth as he narrows his eyes in the direction in which they left.
Just you wait. I’ll make you see how much better I am than that old coot!
TWO.
The next time Fuuju runs into Ramuda Amemura, it’s within the Miyagi prefecture city limits. Not exactly where she would have imagined running into him again, especially not after how their last encounter went, but she supposed that even famous rap division crews can travel now and again.
The banner she’d stolen from him remains tucked away in a drawer, pushed back as far as it could go without them breaking the drawer in the process. After all, if she left it laying out somewhere in the open, they’d never hear the end of it from Saimei and Ryuusei. There is no way in hell that she’s going to let them find out about that little interaction with Ramuda. Fuuju really does not need that right now.
Anyway, back to the present.
Fuuju would be able to spot Ramuda Amemura a hundred miles away, with his pink hair and ego the size of the sky. He’s hard to miss and even easier to see when he’s around.
Which is why Fuuju is surprised to see the entirety of Fling Posse at a little festival in Miyagi. They’re not the only division crew around, either—for some reason, even the other three main division crews, too. Including Ramuda’s eternal rival, Matenro. Fuuju finds it a little amusing, if she’s going to be honest, but there’s no way they’re going to admit to that out loud.
“I can't believe all the finalists are hanging around lil’ ol’ Miyagi!” Saimei says, grinning brightly. “I wonder what brought them here!”
“Well, it is a festival,” Fuuju says, glancing up at their leader. “Word travels, I suppose.”
“It sure traveled far!” Saimei is much too excited for Fuuju’s tastes, but she supposed that happens when you’re in the presence of famous people. She wonders if someone could have spread the word about MATSURI BASTARDS’s performance later in the festival—and they remember just about only one person who might be able to do that.
“It’s you! Onee-san!”
Fuuju frowns, eyebrows furrowing a bit. She turns around and stares down at Ramuda Amemura, who is staring back up at her with a surprised expression.
“Yes,” Fuuju starts, trying to ignore the strange stares they feel from Saimei and Ryuusei. “Welcome to the festival, Amemura-san. I thought I told you not to call me ‘onee-san’.”
Ramuda doesn’t seem too deterred by Saimei and Ryuusei being around, though Fuuju is only worried about their leader. Ryuusei still isn’t able to understand a lot of spoken Japanese yet, anyways. “Are you part of the division crew for Miyagi?”
Fuuju raises an eyebrow. “I might be.”
“She definitely is!” Saimei throws himself over Fuuju’s shoulders, grinning as he points towards them. “One of the toughest and most badass people you’ll ever meet!”
Fuuju huffs as they push Saimei away. “I don’t need the peanut gallery’s opinion!”
Ramuda squints up at the two of them, gaze shifting between them, before he speaks again. “Is this why you like that geezer more?”
Fuuju blinks. “Who?”
Ramuda pouts. Fuuju has trouble believing this man is the age he says he is right now. “You know—Matenro!”
Quietly, Fuuju lets out a hum as she shrugs her shoulders. “I just like Matenro’s sound more. It’s… subtler, in some ways. Closer to the sound of MATSURI BASTARDS, almost.”
“Fling Posse can have a subtle sound, too, you know.”
“I think, unfortunately, Amemura-san,” Fuuju begins, lips slowly curling into a small smirk, “you are much too flashy to be any sort of subtle.”
Ramuda sputters in place, practically flailing his arms. Saimei guffaws next to her, though he also looks somewhat terrified for some reason. Ryuusei must have caught onto some of the conversation, because it’s snickering into its hand at the same time. Fuuju puffs out their chest a bit, prideful when they probably shouldn’t be, unable to help themself.
Saimei gives Ramuda a slightly apologetic smile as he steers both Fuuju and Ryuusei away, waving a hand in his direction, explaining that they need to practice for their performance. Before they go too far, though, Fuuju turns back around to point at Ramuda, wearing an almost sickly sweet smile.
“You’ll have to work harder if you want my favourite to be Fling Posse, Amemura-san.”
Saimei is probably going to scold her later, but it’s fine. As long as they get through their performance, Fuuju can handle a little scolding.
THREE.
The performance of MATSURI BASTARDS is wild. It’s unruly in a way that Ramuda’s unused to, even for the live shows that Fling Posse and the rest of the division crews have put on before. During one of their songs, the crowd had parted on a cue from the leader, Saimei, and fans and festival goers alike began going around and around in circles, like a whirlpool. It was fascinating to watch, especially in person.
Ramuda sort of understands what Fuuju had meant, when speaking about sound. MATSURI BASTARDS’s sound nearly grating for people who aren’t used to the sounds of metal music. Ramuda certainly isn’t well versed in that genre of music himself, but from what he’s hearing, he could probably get used to it. The appreciation of the genre has certainly already been planted.
Watching Fuuju in action also didn’t help Ramuda’s annoyance at the fact that her favourite group is Matenro. Not only is Fuuju pretty, but she’s also extremely talented? Now Ramuda really hates Jakurai. How come he’s always the one who gets fans like that?
“Wow! What a show!” Someone says the phrases in English, clapping their hands wildly after the performance is over.
Ramuda looks over, taking them in. He’s not too sure when a different crew ended up next to him, but he somehow managed—at least Dice and Gentaro are still with him this time. They all have brightly coloured hair—orange, tealish-green, pink—and the orange haired one is the one who had spoken.
He turns to Ramuda then, excited expression on their face. “Did you like it? They’re so cool—I’m glad I was able to post about them performing tonight! Who knew Fling Posse would come all the way to Miyagi just to watch!”
Ramuda’s sour mood turns positive as soon as he’s recognized, practically preening under the attention. “Of course! We wouldn’t have missed it for the world~”
And it most certainly isn’t because of—
“And Matenro, too! And Buster Bros!!! Even MAD TRIGGER CREW!”
“Zen’ya,” the pink haired one sighs, “You’re going to bore them. Or creep them out. Stop fanboying so much.”
“Aw, don’t be so mean, Zami-san.” Zen’ya, the orange haired one, doesn’t even sound offended. “It’s exciting! Don’t you want them to come to one of our performances later on, too?!”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I could care less.”
“Liar!”
“Are you two done being embarrassments?” Fuuju’s voice breaks through their argument, also drawing Ramuda’s attention right to her.
For some reason, Ramuda isn’t feeling as much annoyance as he had before. Huh. Weird.
Fuuju is the one who looks annoyed right now, glaring at Zen’ya and ‘Zami-san’ with a hand on their hip. Both the other MATSURI BASTARDS members are standing behind them.
“Hi, Fuuju-nee!” Zen’ya beams towards them, holding up his phone. “Hey, did you see? Matenro was in the crowd!”
Ah, there it is. The annoyance is back. Ramuda sneers to himself, boring his gaze into the back of Zen’ya’s head for bringing that old geezer up in the first place. Why did the conversation have to shift to them every time?
“I did.” Fuuju says, and Ramuda swears he sees the slightest bit of a flush on her cheeks. Over the likes of Jakurai? Ramuda thinks he might be sick. “I saw the other crews in the crowd, as well. I think one of the Yamada brothers went in the circle.”
Zen’ya lights up at that. “No way! Really?! Was it Jiro? I hope it was Jiro, he kinda seems like he’d do that—”
“Don’t know, don’t remember, you can maybe look at a video or something of the performance later.” Saimei grabs Zen’ya’s head and roughly ruffles their hair. Then he turns towards Ramuda, finally, and smiles. “Sorry, did they bother you any? Zen-chan here doesn’t know how to act normal.”
“That’s mean!”
Ramuda manages to smile, though it’s partially forced. He’s still focused on the concept of Fuuju blushing over that damned Jakurai. “No bother at all! They were just being friendly!”
Fuuju finally turns her attention back to Ramuda, her glare becoming more neutral and more of a gaze. When their eyes meet, she raises an eyebrow, and Ramuda feels like he’s being challenged to do something right now. Challenged to do what exactly, he’s not really sure. Fuuju is watching him like she’s expecting something from him.
“Hey, Fuuju-nee!” Both Zen’ya and the third member of their crew—the teal haired one, not the pink one—have made their way in front of Fuuju now, their attention now fixed on them. “Did you get to meet Matenro yet? I want to go meet them, too!”
“I want to meet Ichiro-san,” says the teal haired one, bouncing slightly on his feet.
“We’re not your personal chauffeurs,” Saimei says, sighing dramatically. “You can just go meet them yourselves if you want, you know. I’m sure Kitsu-nee doesn’t want to babysit you two.”
“I wouldn’t mind trying to meet Buster Bros!! and Matenro,” Fuuju says, despite Saimei’s words. There’s the tiniest smile on her face.
Ramuda feels almost irrationally irritated. He usually always does when it comes to Jakurai, but this is definitely taking the cake right now. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a sucker, ripping it open and shoving it into his mouth. It’s too bad he can’t smoke out here right now.
“Hey, you alright, Ramuda?” Dice nudges Ramuda’s shoulder slightly, shifting his attention away from the other crews for a moment.
Ramuda is still getting used to the whole having friends thing. Sure, he can probably trust Dice and Gentaro with a lot of stuff, but there’s no way he’s going to talk about his feelings with them.
…Not yet, anyways.
“I’m fine.” Ramuda bites down hard on his sucker before he turns to his crew mates and puts on a beaming smile for them. “Let’s go enjoy the festival, you two! Maybe I’ll find some more inspiration for clothing and merch designs while I’m here!”
And I’ll make sure to prove just how lame that geezer is, too!
FOUR.
It would likely be easier for Fuuju to get her hormone treatments in Miyagi, but she’s a skeptical person at best and distrustful of others at worst. Because of this, it’s easier to go to someone that she already knows she can trust for all of her medical dealings and appointments.
As such, Fuuju’s primary doctor—and, subsequently, her go-to for estrogen—is none other than Jakurai Jinguji.
The story goes a little something like this: Fuuju was essentially “disowned” by their family at a relatively young age (eighteen). While she was hopping from place to place, she needed somewhere to confide in about her transness and the medical things needed for HRT and possible physical transitioning. Jakurai’s hospital was one such place, and while they had been in Shinjuku at around the age of twenty, Fuuju made an appointment with Jakurai specifically to ask for assistance in their care. Thankfully, Jakurai had been more of a “no questions needed” type of doctor and was able to help her.
Now, several years later, Fuuju visits the doctor three times a year for her prescribed hormones, annual check-up, and for any other transition needs or problems they might be having.
Today is Fuuju’s appointment to get her hormones. Jakurai prescribes them for one year fully so they don’t need to constantly make trips to visit Shinjuku throughout the year; how he manages to do such a thing, Fuuju doesn’t know, but he does it, so they aren’t going to complain about it.
The visit goes well, as it usually does. Jakurai greets them and sits them down, talking through his usual doctor spiel that’s needed to be said on his end. He writes down the prescription as he does, so by the time he’s finished talking, Fuuju can simply take it from him.
“How have things been?” Jakurai asks kindly, a gentle smile on his face.
Sometimes, it feels strange to discuss such intimate details with a person Fuuju also knows outside of the doctor-patient relationship, but Jakurai never speaks about anything outside of the hospital and their appointment. Five years, and Jakurai has proven to be extremely trustworthy and faithful to his word. So Fuuju doesn’t mind so much anymore, these days.
“Good,” Fuuju replies, reaching up for her chest. She places her hands in front of it, pushing her chest out and towards her palms some. “Some days it still feels… strange to have these.” Fuuju says, in reference to their breasts. She’d only had top surgery done a year ago, and it wasn't even anything major—even so, it’s a whole new experience to constantly wear bras and trying to pad them to look somewhat realistic and not like some teenager trying to mature too early.
“Is it a bad feeling?” Jakurai asks, tapping his pen against his clipboard for a moment.
Fuuju shakes their head. “No, it’s just strange. I’m getting used to my body again—it’s like going through puberty a second time, but in a… much nicer way than I experienced it growing up.”
Jakurai smiles gently, nodding as he jots something down in his notes. “I suppose finally being allowed to express yourself makes it much easier than going through the opposite of what you wanted as a child.”
Fuuju nods, dropping their hands and letting out a bit of a sigh. She’s reminded of her family—of the shrine back in Kyoto, of their parents and the expectations, of her twin that she never talks to anymore. Fuuju frowns to herself, seeing a version of Shuu that they can remember—a teenage Shuu, probably fourteen or fifteen. Fuuju never saw them before she left. She doesn’t go looking for possible pictures of her family. She doesn’t know what any of them look like anymore.
She shakes herself out of her thoughts and looks up at Jakurai then, somewhat clutching at the script in her hand. “I haven’t decided on… the other surgery yet, either. I’m not really sure when I’ll decide on it.”
Jakurai nods. “That’s fine. There’s still plenty of time to decide, after all.”
The appointment ends without much fanfare, with Jakurai leading Fuuju out of the hospital himself. They exchange brief goodbyes before Fuuju leaves for their right pharmacy, tucking the script away into her front pocket.
She’s only walking for a few minutes before she hears a familiar voice.
“Onee-san!”
At this point, she’s starting to think Ramuda is calling her that just to piss her off. He’s literally older than her.
Fuuju turns and spots Ramuda running up to her easily. They scrunch their face up a little as Ramuda comes to a stop in front of them, looking up at her with a strange expression. She can’t quite telling what he’s feeling or thinking—which should be much easier than this, considering just how Ramuda lets himself show his feelings.
“Onee-san,” Ramuda starts, his voice bordering on sarcasm, a smile coming to his face. For some reason, it feels fake. Fuuju immediately frowns. “You got close with that old geezer pretty quickly, huh?”
It takes a few seconds for Fuuju to understand what Ramuda means, before Jakurai pops up into her mind. She snorts quietly, covering up her face with the back of her hand as she does. Ramuda furrows his eyebrows as he watches her, seemingly frustrated with the way Fuuju is reacting. If she weren’t in public right now, she’d probably really laugh, but she’ll have to save that for later.
“Why are you laughing?” Ramuda asks, a pour obvious in his voice.
Fuuju does her best not to laugh anymore, lips twitching as they bite down the urge to curl up and cackle. This guy gets jealous so easily. What the hell.
“Jinguji-san is my doctor.” Fuuju finally manages to say, loosely crossing their arms over their chest. “Today was my appointment with him.”
“That old man is your doctor?” Ramuda sounds scandalized by this new fact about Fuuju, eyebrows flying up his forehead.
He looks funny. Fuuju might have to tell Saimei and Ryuusei about this when they get home.
“Yes,” Fuuju reaches into her pocket and pulls out the script, holding it out for Ramuda to see Jakurai’s signature on it, but not the specifics of the script itself. “I visit him three times a year, unless I end up very sick somehow.”
Ramuda squints at the piece of paper like it’s offended him, his mouth twisting into some sort of scowling grimace. Fuuju rolls their eyes as they tuck the script away again, resting their hand on their hip once they’re done.
“So you like Matenro more because you know that old coot personally!” Ramuda points an accusing finger at her.
Fuuju lets out a noncommittal hum, shrugging a shoulder. “I told you why I like Matenro better. They match MATSURI BASTARDS’s sound more.”
Ramuda huffs, crossing his arms. His eyes are narrowed up at her, though they’re not fully glaring yet. “Fling Posse could go well with your sound, too! You can’t write it off. You’ve heard how we rap, haven’t you? Didn’t you watch the Division Rap Battles?”
Fuuju has, mostly because Saimei has made her watch them, really. She might like being in a rap crew like this, mostly because it gives her a freedom she didn’t know growing up at the shrine, but she could really care less about the rivalries and beef. Music is music—that’s really all Fuuju cares about.
“Why do you care so much about me liking Fling Posse?” Fuuju asks instead of answering, surely tripping Ramuda up. When he sputters over an answer, flustered, Fuuju’s lips quirk up into a small smile. “You really hate Jinguji-san, don’t you?”
Ramuda huffs again, straightening in place and squaring his shoulders some. “I just think pretty ladies shouldn’t waste their time on a geezer like him.”
Pretty ladies, he says. Fuuju willfully ignores the stupid fluttering in her stomach and chest.
They let out a slight huff of laughter, shaking their head some. “Even pretty ladies have their own preferences, Amemura-san. If you force things too hard…” Fuuju pauses, tilting her head a bit as she gazes down at Ramuda. “You may just end up making them hate you instead of liking you.”
Whether their words truly upset Ramuda or not, Fuuju is still unsure as they wait in line at the pharmacy. Ramuda’s expression flashes through their mind—hardened and fierce, like Fuuju initiated some kind of challenge rather than actually insulting Ramuda like the words probably should have done.
Ramuda’s eyes stay at the forefront of her mind the rest of the day, beautiful and somewhat haunting.
FIVE.
There’s something about Fuuju when she’s on stage, Ramuda realized, watching the Miyagi crew currently battle with Matenro.
Fuuju is dangerously confident off stage already, but when she’s up there, mic in hand and feral grin on her face, she’s downright lethal. The only thing that sucks about the whole thing is the fact that Fuuju looks so happy to go up against Jakurai, of all people. Of all the other divisions out there—and MATSURI BASTARDS have decided to go up against Matenro. They could have chosen anyone, and yet—!
Once again, Fling Posse is taking second place.
Ramuda wants to crush Jakurai beneath his boot.
He chews and bites aggressively at the lollipop in his mouth, staring at Fuuju and the way they move on stage. The kitsune mask of her microphone often covers her face when she sings and raps, but the moment they’re done, the mask moves away, and Ramuda can see their face again. Her eyes are bright, lit up with excitement and happiness and—
Ramuda is making himself angry again. He should probably stop doing that already. He can’t look away, though, and he definitely can’t leave. He doesn’t need Fuuju thinking he’s some sort of coward or sore loser. (He might be a sore loser, but who cares? Samatoki is an even worse one than he is!)
“Are thoust alright, Ramuda?” Gentaro speaks up from Ramuda’s left, startling the man out of his angry stupor.
“Yeah, you’ve gone through like eight suckers or something since we got here,” Dice says, pointing at the one currently in Ramuda’s mouth. “And I think you just bit that one in half.”
Ramuda did, in fact, bite this current sucker’s stick in half. He pulls out one half, then carefully pulls out the other half. Ramuda contemplates the pros and cons of simply giving himself over to those Chuohku bastards. Eventually, he sighs heavily, dramatic, and drops the stick halves to the ground. He pulls out yet another sucker, unwraps it, and shoves it into his mouth. At least he can’t get cavities.
“I’m about to give that fucking geezer a taste of my mind,” Ramuda mutters, his voice decidedly deeper than usual. He can’t help it—it often slips out whenever he gets in a foul mood like this.
Fuuju flashes a grin in Matenro’s direction, feral with teeth, her face becoming hidden behind the fox mask once more. She’s beautiful. Shit. Ramuda tries to not grind his teeth together, squeezing his hands together tightly.
Then, before he knows it, Ramuda is grabbing his hypnosis mic, grip tight as he holds it in front of himself. The battle between Matenro and MATSURI BASTARDS has ended, and though there’s no real winner, it’s obvious that Matenro has been given the advantage and that they’re who would be the victors, had this been an official D.R.B.
Fuuju laughs—actually laughs, not one of those little huffs or muffled snickers that she often gives. Their mouth is wide open and their head is thrown back, both of the other members of their crew laughing alongside them. It’s such a gorgeous sight, Ramuda can’t drag his gaze away from it. Something twists inside of his chest—something that’s not the anger, and isn’t that such a funny feeling? Ramuda suddenly feels like he might be struggling to breathe right now.
Shaking himself out of it all, Ramuda tosses his mic up in the air before catching it. He turns to Gentaro and Dice, staring them down. “Are you two up for a friendly little rematch with Matenro?”
Dice grins, already holding up his mic. Gentaro merely sighs, slowly shaking his head, though he’s reaching inside of his ridiculous robe for his mic at the same time. Ramuda smiles brightly, turning around to face the stage again, ready to get up there and kick Jakurai’s ass.
PLUS ONE.
Live shows for the other division crews aren’t Fuuju’s usual scene. Normally, she only goes whenever Saimei drags her and Ryuusei along to go see them—or Atsushi and Zen’ya, on occasion, whenever they come down from Hokkaido to visit. Truly, Fuuju isn’t some kind of fangirl or anything like that.
Yet she finds herself at one of Fling Posse’s live shows, surrounded by women and fans of all kinds. They’re all adorning their Fling Posse merch—the same ones that Fuuju had seen Ramuda selling when they first met. Their own banner, the one they’d technically stolen from Ramuda upon that first encounter, is currently shoved into their front pocket. She wants to pull it out, maybe see if she can blend into the crowd a bit—but she already looks so out of place, wearing mostly black and red in a sea of brightly coloured clothes.
As much shit as she gives Ramuda, Fling Posse is good. Just as good as Matenro is, and all the other division crews, too. It’s no wonder their crew made it to the finals. Fuuju watches them from a more distant position, off to the edge of the crowd, but close enough to the stage that it’s easier to see the three men.
Ramuda is just as bright as always, shining on stage. Fuuju tries to pay attention to Gentaro and Dice, too, but their gaze always drifts right back to the leader. She’s not sure if he’s seen her yet or not—she snuck into the live show behind the crowd, attempting to not be seen by too many people. (She’s not a celebrity or anything, sure, but MATSURI BASTARDS are starting to gain traction, thanks to Zen’ya and Saimei, and she doesn’t really want to deal with people questioning her or catching her there just yet.)
The live show concludes with a Fling Posse-style bang. Fuuju smiles to herself, gripping onto her banner gently, having pulled it out at some point over the last few songs of the show. She hasn’t held it up at all—they’ve merely kept it close to their chest, clutching it, bright eyes staring Ramuda down.
As Fling Posse exit the stage, Ramuda’s eyes meet theirs, and Fuuju can feel themself flushing without meaning to. It’s a difficult time attempting to squeeze through the crowd as everyone leaves, with Fuuju trying to squeeze herself past bodies. Most of the people are out of the venue before her, and right as Fuuju is about to leave, someone gently stops her by placing a hand on her shoulder.
Frowning, eyebrows furrowed, Fuuju turns around to yell at the person, mouth open and ready—only for her to slightly relax when she sees and realizes that it’s Gentaro.
“Yumeno-san.” Fuuju mumbles, trying to hide the banner somewhere he won’t see it.
Gentaro smiles lightly down at her, before he dips his head in the direction of the stage. “If you don’t mind staying, Ramuda would like to speak with you.”
“Speak with me,” Fuuju repeats, slowly blinking.
Gentaro nods, carefully turning Fuuju back around and nudging them in the direction of a door. “‘Tis the truth, though I know I’m one to tell lies.”
Fuuju glances back at the strange author, but stays silent. They walk to the door that leads backstage, and Gentaro helps lead them to Fling Posse’s waiting room. As Gentaro pushes Fuuju inside, Dice slips past her and throws her a thumbs up. She gives him a strange look, before the door shuts behind the other two Fling Posse members.
When Fuuju turns around to face the room, she comes face-to-face with Ramuda. He’s looking at her with slightly wide eyes, almost a look of awe . Fuuju feels oddly… shy under his gaze right now. She kind of hates it.
“Yumeno-san said you wanted to speak with me,” Fuuju loosely crosses their arms over their middle, still gripping the banner in their hand.
Ramuda watches her, gaze intense, almost uncomfortably so. Fuuju shifts in place a little, glancing around the room before her gaze lands on Ramuda again. Then, carefully, Fuuju steps a bit further into the room, and Ramuda meets her about halfway. Ramuda reaches up then, grabbing the edge of the banner, and pulling it out far enough to be able to see his name.
Looking at it, Ramuda asks, “You came to see us?”
Fuuju could laugh. She lets out a slight huff, stopping herself from rolling her eyes. “Yes, Amemura-san. I occasionally go to live shows, when I feel like it.”
Ramuda’s gaze shifts up to meet hers. “But what about Matenro?”
Fuuju cocks her head to the side. “Am I not allowed to see whoever I want to see?”
“Well—it’s just—”
“Besides, I lied about like them the most, anyways.”
At that, Ramuda’s expression turns into one of shock. “What do you mean?!”
With a slight laugh, Fuuju says, “Personally, I like MAD TRIGGER CREW the most. Aohitsugi-san is rather…” They pause, taking a moment to watch Ramuda’s face go through several different emotions at once. At last, Ramuda pouts up at them, and Fuuju can’t keep themself from smiling. “Maybe I shouldn’t say. You look like you’re going to get jealous again.”
Ramuda sputters, a slight flush coming to his face. “I’m not jealous! I was never jealous!”
“No? Then you started that rap battle with Matenro for ‘fun’, did you?”
“No! I mean—I did, but that’s not—”
Sighing softly, Fuuju uncrosses her arms and holds out the banner in her hand, showing it to him. “Can you guess why I still have this banner, Amemura-san?”
Ramuda’s cheeks puff out as he narrows his eyes at her. “You can just call me Ramuda, you know.”
“Maybe if you answer.”
“I don’t know,” Ramuda quietly admits, staring at the banner. “To throw it back in my face or something?”
Fuuju does roll her eyes this time, but a softer smile comes to her face after a moment. “No, Ramuda-san, if I had wanted to do that, then I would have done it the second time we met.”
“Then…” Ramuda reaches his hand up, placing it under Fuuju’s, palm resting against the back of their hand, his fingers brushing theirs. His touch is warm. “Why did you keep it?”
“I think, unfortunately for me, you’ve managed to weasel your way over my walls, Ramuda-san.” Fuuju mumbles, reaching her other hand up and brushing a bit of hair back. “I don’t like many people. It took me a while to even warm up to my crew members. This?” She shifts her hand as she holds the banner up a bit higher, shaking it a little. “I wouldn’t have kept this if I felt nothing. I would have thrown it out or sold it online or—something.”
Ramuda stares at her. It’s nearly that same unreadable expression like before. Fuuju doesn’t like it—she wants to be able to know what Ramuda is thinking and feeling, she doesn’t want to have to guess. It’s quiet between them for several moments, before Fuuju feels and sees Ramuda grabbing her wrist. He tugs, pulling them closer, and Fuuju tries to force the heat of blush away as they stare down at Ramuda, heart thumping in their chest.
“You talked about Matenro and that damn old man just to make me jealous?” Ramuda asks, head tilting slightly.
Fuuju shrugs, unable to keep herself from smiling wider. “You’re very easy to egg on that way, Ramuda-san. It was fun.”
Ramuda makes a noise in the back of his throat. He glares up at Fuuju, but there’s no real heat behind it. He lets go of Fuuju’s wrist and reaches both hands up, grabbing the front of her jacket and tugging her down to his height. They stare into each other’s eyes, silence flowing between them, before Fuuju finds herself leaning down and in—kissing Ramuda.
It takes both of them by surprise, somehow—Fuuju makes a quiet noise, body stiffening in surprise, and Ramuda’s hands grip onto her jacket a bit tighter. It’s a simple, chaste kiss. Ramuda’s lips are soft and warm, but all of his movements are unsure and nervous. Fuuju’s aren’t any better, really.
Slowly, Fuuju pulls herself back and stares down at Ramuda, not even bothering to hide the fact that she’s blushing now. Ramuda is in the same boat, his face flushed red, and Fuuju can’t help but think how cute he is right now.
“Maybe I should make you jealous more often.” Fuuju says, their face cracking in a grin.
This time, Ramuda glares at them. “Don’t you dare.”
Fuuju snickers, taking the banner and tucking it away into their jacket pocket. Then, she leans down and kisses Ramuda’s cheek, still grinning as she does.
I’m definitely going to make him jealous again.