Work Text:
Every few minutes or so, you were met with the sound of paper getting flipped.
It was the only source of noise which graced the deathly quiet room. That, alongside the clock that hung above the door, welcoming every second with a tick.
Chisaki was positioned at his desk, skimming through various reports concerning the state of the organization.
With every adding moment the unbearable stillness prolonged, a part of you died with it. No words had been exchanged from either party for nearly an hour.
While Overhaul was simply not one to take his work lightly, your motive as a loyal supporter was not to disturb this dedicated focus – for his focus was evident, and clearly it was not on you.
You look over at him. A calm expression currently graced his features. Pupils following the small text on the documents in front of them.
His persevering diligence was a trait you had long been accustomed to. You had always known just how hardworking the man was. Always thinking up how to sustain the clan from distinction, devising novel, out of the box solutions to do so. Albeit the conclusions he drew did often come off as idealistic.
However, Chisaki did possess one (of many) saving traits that changed the whole structure of the game, making it all seem infinitely more achievable – he had the brains. The brains needed to back up all his nonsense.
Which is how he currently holds the honor of getting to mold the Yakuza with his own two hands.
You would be lying straight through your teeth claiming that Chisaki's unwavering confidence in knowing just what to do regardless of the situation did not blow the mind of your indecisive self. Yet no matter how admirable you found this drive of his, the lack of stimuli was beginning to drive you mad.
You, yourself, were sitting on one of the two couches in Chisaki's unofficial office. With your left elbow resting on the armrest, supporting the weight of your head, you were ever so lazily slouching like a sack on his dark, leather couch.
To your left was Overhaul's desk, and on your front stood a coffee table made of glass accompanied by an identical leather couch to that you were sitting on, positioned on the other side.
With restlessness settling in, your eyes start darting across the room's four walls. You feel desperate as you search the room, scanning every corner in hopes of finding something new, anything new, to yet again fixate on. Just praying that this next bet will ease the crippling boredom that's now weaving into the very fabric of your being.
Suddenly, your eyes deadlocked with a surprisingly fat clump of dirt that had some time under the day latched onto your shoe. It throws you off your guard and you freeze dead in your search.
Well…there we have it. Guess your survival instinct is that of an ice cube.
Admittingly though, you had always believed fawn to be your fight- or flight response. This unexpected revelation leaves you a quarter emptier than moments prior. Behind closed doors, you took pride in self labeling yourself as a people person.
The unassuming piece of dirt was drawing you in. Soon it was almost as if you could see them – the bottom class farmers ploughing the land. They are preparing for next season's harvest. Everyone was out, tirelessly working to their bones while bearing the dooming responsibility of feeding the nation.
As the weekend rolls around, the farmers all attend church. Every week is the same. They try to take in the wisdom spoken by their priest, to learn, to connect and to pray for what is dear in their hearts.
But every week, while seated on their bench, one unified problem bugged them all – none could understand the language in which the wise spoke! Times had changed since the Empire's fall, yet the sacred language of Latin remained. Only that now the majority of attenders did no longer comprehend it. They too must have grown restless through the hours-long assemblies.
Boredom sure is the universal experience that no one can escape.
Well, it is said that the churches were supposedly quite magnificent. That means, unlike your current predicament, at least the people from medieval time would have had nicely decorated interiors to observe, while you are stuck in the space of your minimalist partner. Genuinely, what is this? He must have taken inspiration from a white room.
In the end, you could not even top the medieval peasants, ey?...
Tick…Tock…Tick…
Whatever sick high you had gotten thanks to your shoe dirt, sadly, though unsurprisingly, had not lasted very long. Because when your eyes caught a glimpse of the clock, you knew that not even five minutes had passed since you transcended reality.
What a bummer.
Fearing that the restlessness could at any moment resume, you quickly adjusted your position. Butchering the boredom before it even has a chance to revive. Mulling over, you place your head on the spot your elbow formerly resided and kick up your feet to the other end, resulting in you lying horizontally across the sofa.
Amid all this rustling, you earned yourself a dubious glance. “You’ll dirty the couch.”
That was the sentence that ultimately relieved you from the silence.
Thrilled by this long awaited change, a smile instantly spreads across your face. You shoot back your head and see his furrowed brows staring back at you.
"Don't worry, leather is easy to clean off!” You reassure, not particularly bothered by the thought of a measly stain or two. “Two wipes and it's gone!” You add, while gesturing a peace sign with your hand, further elaborating to your point.
“And I assume you’ll be the one wiping it off?”
Oh, he got you immediately.
“Well…the nearest sink is kinda far. I'll call someone on their way later to fix it. I think.”
You weren't exactly lying. The interior of Haisaikai's main stronghold was not to be scoffed at. Even with its declining influence, the Shie Hassaikai had multiple bases across the country. Though the main one is slightly bigger in scale, that wasn't its biggest asset.
No, while the surface was like any other traditional minka building, this one possessed a secret underground layer. One which was built much like a high grade security maze. With identical hallways continuing in twists and turns and doors to rooms with no labels.
In short, there was no way of identifying your position. For newcomers this meant that the underbunk would be impossible to distinguish, let alone navigate. And for you it meant that you actually had no idea where water could be fetched.
“I’ll just get Mimic to clean it up later.” He sighs, knowing that you would only make a bigger mess trying.
Before his focus got redirected back to paperwork, you exclaim, grabbing his attention. “Care to join me for a break?”
He pauses for a second, mulling over the question by himself. “You haven't done anything since coming here.” He states. Yet despite his words, he rose from his seat and walked to join you.
“Of course I have.” You sit up straight. “This entire time I've been keeping close eyes on your work – I have to make sure the new boss can manage! In fact, you could call me Ms. Manager.”
“I think the organization would fall under your management.”
The side of the sofa dipped as Overhaul sat down beside you. Exhaling a long breath, he leans back to relax.
As you are both sitting next to each other. Without a warning, out of the blue, all of your… scandalous thoughts resurface from the dusty pits of your mind and you tense up. This sudden and unexpected betrayal of your own mind causes your face to heat up—
“—Wow, it sure is hot in here, isn't it?”
"What?" He raises an eyebrow at your question.
“Yeah, it's like, hot in here. Maybe you should invest in building ventilation.”
Seems like all those feelings you had formerly suppressed had taken a bigger toll on you than originally thought… Go figures.
A moment passes where both are quiet.
Tick…Tock…Tick…
Unlike the previous silence, in this new flushed state you were in, the silence left you excited and thrilled and craving for more as your imagination ran wild.
“Uhm, you in the mood?”
“What?” Chisaki is repeated again. This time, with his eyebrows raised even higher, and a concerned look plastered on his features.
You blankly stare at his puzzled face with no intention of explaining the context of your question.
No. You are busy.
In those rich amber eyes of his you search for a yearning similar to yours. To see if he, too, felt the same as you did.
Unable to resist your desires, you do the only other thing. You yield. Placing a hand on the man's left shoulder, you lean forward and push him down. Through your eyelids you catch how Chisaki's eyes widen, even if just slightly.
Oh, don't play the fool.
When Chisaki's back met the cushion beneath, you were towering over him.
A grin crept upon your lips. His expression was hard to decipher. The bottom half of his face concealed by his usual black face mask did not make the attempt any easier.
Though the anticipation in his eyes was evident.
While the tension grows thicker a hearty laugh escapes your lips. “Ah…do you mind?” you ask after calming down. He breaks away from your eye contact. His ears flushed with pink.
“Just…do what you wish.”