Makishima Yuusuke/Kinjou Shingo, 645 words, fantasy AU
Makishima spends a lot of time watching the sea. It moves, he thinks, a lot like the dragons in the stories his mother used to tell him, or maybe he just imagined that they moved like the sea. It has been so long since he’s heard his mother’s voice that her stories in his mind are little more than the sound of water against stretched canvas, the smell of salt in the air, the way the wind whistles through the high cliffs.
He ties another knot in the stretch of twine between his knees and looks down to see there’s no remaining slack. He used to tie the twine into his hair when he was younger, play at being a parcel tied up for shipping, or mingle twine with the seaweed he dug from the sands and become a monster from the depths. His commander will be calling him soon and it seems he’s spent his entire rest period daydreaming like a fish monger’s child at market.
The sun is nearly directly overhead, and he’ll have to finish his drills without the aid of a midday meal if he doesn’t move quickly. He drops the twine on the dock and glances back over his shoulder. The waves have not changed, they still tell the same stories they told him when he was a child, and they make him the same offer.
His commander is a hard man, though not as hard as many think him to be. Makishima has caught him staring towards the sea on some days, or smiling into his meal when a fellow guardsman makes a crude joke. Makishima doesn’t make many jokes himself, but sometimes he wishes that he did, if only for Kinjou’s smile.
“Makishima, did you inspect the harbor this morning?” Kinjou asks him, and Makishima is startled to the point of confusion. He had been completing a report, charcoal squeezed between his fingertips and parchment pressed uncomfortably against the exterior wall of the barracks. He drops the charcoal, but manages to catch the parchment before it flutters to the dirt.
“The harbor--Um… sir?” He manages, but he knows his voice doesn’t sound as compliant as it should. He had never thought he’d be a guardsman. Kinjou’s face doesn’t change in response, and Makishima is confused. He was not on patrol in the morning, and the only time he’s been near the harbor was during his rest period.
They stand in silence for a few more seconds, Makishima making eye contact that most people find uncomfortable until Kinjou claps him on the shoulder and laughs.
“It was a joke.” He explains, and when Makishima doesn’t smile he continues. “I noticed you there, were you making something with that twine?”
Makishima thinks he should probably smile, or try to, but his eyes narrow in distrust. Had Kinjou been watching him? Was he going to chastise him for how he spent his downtime? “I was simply thinking.” He responds instead, keeping his voice as even as usual.
Kinjou nods as if Makishima had revealed a great secret. “Do they speak to you, too?”
“They?” He asks, and he watches the way Kinjou’s stance straightens, fingers clenching around the bottom hem of his mail tunic.
“The sea people? Perhaps not. I only thought…” His voice trails off and he turns away.
Makishima doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kinjou embarrassed before, but that is what it looks like is happening. Kinjou begins to walk away and Makishima catches his arm.
“I didn’t know they had names.” He says, too quickly, and Kinjou’s expression softens into wonder. Makishima doesn’t let go of his arm, and it's strange that the contact does not feel uncomfortable. “Do they bargain with you as well?”
Kinjou straightens again, no longer embarrassed, but he does not move his arm away. “Will you tell me more of what you hear?”
FILL: TEAM MIYUKI KAZUYA/MIYUKI KAZUYA, Rated G
Makishima Yuusuke/Kinjou Shingo, 645 words, fantasy AU
Makishima spends a lot of time watching the sea. It moves, he thinks, a lot like the dragons in the stories his mother used to tell him, or maybe he just imagined that they moved like the sea. It has been so long since he’s heard his mother’s voice that her stories in his mind are little more than the sound of water against stretched canvas, the smell of salt in the air, the way the wind whistles through the high cliffs.
He ties another knot in the stretch of twine between his knees and looks down to see there’s no remaining slack. He used to tie the twine into his hair when he was younger, play at being a parcel tied up for shipping, or mingle twine with the seaweed he dug from the sands and become a monster from the depths. His commander will be calling him soon and it seems he’s spent his entire rest period daydreaming like a fish monger’s child at market.
The sun is nearly directly overhead, and he’ll have to finish his drills without the aid of a midday meal if he doesn’t move quickly. He drops the twine on the dock and glances back over his shoulder. The waves have not changed, they still tell the same stories they told him when he was a child, and they make him the same offer.
His commander is a hard man, though not as hard as many think him to be. Makishima has caught him staring towards the sea on some days, or smiling into his meal when a fellow guardsman makes a crude joke. Makishima doesn’t make many jokes himself, but sometimes he wishes that he did, if only for Kinjou’s smile.
“Makishima, did you inspect the harbor this morning?” Kinjou asks him, and Makishima is startled to the point of confusion. He had been completing a report, charcoal squeezed between his fingertips and parchment pressed uncomfortably against the exterior wall of the barracks. He drops the charcoal, but manages to catch the parchment before it flutters to the dirt.
“The harbor--Um… sir?” He manages, but he knows his voice doesn’t sound as compliant as it should. He had never thought he’d be a guardsman. Kinjou’s face doesn’t change in response, and Makishima is confused. He was not on patrol in the morning, and the only time he’s been near the harbor was during his rest period.
They stand in silence for a few more seconds, Makishima making eye contact that most people find uncomfortable until Kinjou claps him on the shoulder and laughs.
“It was a joke.” He explains, and when Makishima doesn’t smile he continues. “I noticed you there, were you making something with that twine?”
Makishima thinks he should probably smile, or try to, but his eyes narrow in distrust. Had Kinjou been watching him? Was he going to chastise him for how he spent his downtime? “I was simply thinking.” He responds instead, keeping his voice as even as usual.
Kinjou nods as if Makishima had revealed a great secret. “Do they speak to you, too?”
“They?” He asks, and he watches the way Kinjou’s stance straightens, fingers clenching around the bottom hem of his mail tunic.
“The sea people? Perhaps not. I only thought…” His voice trails off and he turns away.
Makishima doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kinjou embarrassed before, but that is what it looks like is happening. Kinjou begins to walk away and Makishima catches his arm.
“I didn’t know they had names.” He says, too quickly, and Kinjou’s expression softens into wonder. Makishima doesn’t let go of his arm, and it's strange that the contact does not feel uncomfortable. “Do they bargain with you as well?”
Kinjou straightens again, no longer embarrassed, but he does not move his arm away. “Will you tell me more of what you hear?”