graphic-ish descriptions of violence, character death/resurrection 866 words.
The first time it happens, Miyuki is kicked off the thirty-first floor of a skyscraper and hurtling towards his death. He hadn’t expected this situation when he saw someone snooping around and tailed them, voice recorder already on. He also hadn’t expected that that someone to be the criminal, the culprit that he had been chasing for the past two weeks, the same culprit that bombed three buses in the span of ten minutes with each bus being at least ten miles outside of each other’s radius.
Not now, I’m so close, Miyuki thinks, and dies upon impact.
**
“Ugh,” he hears a voice murmur in his ear, “wake up, Miyuki Kazuya!”
Miyuki groans—don’t use my full name—and then blinks his eyes wide open because wasn’t he supposed to be—
“Dead? Well, you are dead. But I’m sending you back.”
“You can do that?” Miyuki wrinkles his nose, “I don’t want to be part of any Final Destination-esque situations.”
“Please,” the voice huffs, “those movies are terrible.”
**
Miyuki wakes up, lying on his back on the concrete sidewalk outside of the fifty-story tower. There’s a crowd of terrified people surrounding him and warily, he flashes his badge, NYPD, and hisses in pain.
His pinky is sprained.
“You should wait for the ambulance and police to get here before you move,” a man from the crowd orders.
“Where’s the police,” Miyuki rasps, “oh, wait, I am the police. Excuse me, I have an arrest to make.”
He gets up. Aside from his sprained pinky, everything else seems to be pain free. Then again, he should be dead from falling at that height, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
**
“The NYPD makes an arrest on the series of bombings that happened two weeks ago on Tuesday, March 13th, with strong evidence. Officer Miyuki Kazuya presented a voice tape of the culprit confessing the crime after some goading from said officer.”
**
“I should be dead,” Miyuki says and twirls a pen. “But I’m not.”
“Cool,” Kuramochi says, “finish your paperwork.”
**
Three months later has Miyuki’s chasing, one of his favorite things in the world, when he rounds the corner and the culprit bashes his face with a crowbar.
Swearing as his glasses break and there’s a nasty trail of blood that drips steadily from his right eye, good lord, the culprit grips him by the head and bashes his face into the wall of the warehouse. Miyuki can feel himself slowly fading away with every flash of pain that runs through him.
The culprit drops him, face horribly mangled, and Miyuki dies.
**
“Again,” the voice says dryly.
“What can I say?” Miyuki laughs, “I’m popular.”
“Ugh,” the voice replies, “your face is horrible.”
“Isn’t that how I died?” Miyuki sighs—it’s morbid, casually talking about something that was so terrifying.
“No,” the voice snips, “I restored your face. It’s still horrible.”
“Gee, thanks,” Miyuki replies.
**
Miyuki wakes up with a split lip and a nosebleed. He tasers the man in the back, handcuffs him, and makes the arrest.
He’s not sure if he’s supposed to do that in that order, but really, who cares?
**
“I died again,” Miyuki muses. “He destroyed my face.”
“Who wouldn’t,” Kuramochi replies.
“No,” Miyuki tries to keep this as light-hearted as possible but, “I saw my eyeball on the ground; he yanked it out with a crowbar for fun.”
Kuramochi stares at him.
**
“Will you ever not bring me back,” Miyuki asks when he wakes up and it’s just white and the voice.
“If you ask me to,” the voice replies.
“Why would I do that?” Miyuki raises an eyebrow—or at least, he thinks he does. He’s fairly sure that his wounds are being healed by something that he can’t quite figure out.
“Well,” the voice murmurs, “if you were to be buried alive and died due to suffocation, I’d bring you back every time but who knows if you’d be able to get out. Eventually, you’d ask me to just let you die.”
“Okay,” Miyuki says, “got it—stay away from being buried alive.”
**
His right arm feels as though his funny bone has been hit.
“Christ,” Miyuki says, “I can’t shoot like this.”
He pulls out his taser.
**
“Wow,” the voice says as cool hands cup his cheeks, “you like dying a lot, don’t you?”
Miyuki gives a self-deprecating laugh.
“Well, back you go,” the voice says.
**
Miyuki wakes up next to the barrel and hacks out the remaining water in his lungs.
He sprawls out, gulping in large amounts of air as he remembers what happened. That’s right—he was chasing the culprit, they turned the tables on him, he met the voice again, and now he’s here, ready to chase them again.
**
“Will I ever get to see my savior?” He asks one day.
“Miyuki Kazuya, seriously,” the voice replies, “you know that I exist in your world, right? I just interfere in the space from your world to the next.”
FILL: TEAM Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, M
graphic-ish descriptions of violence, character death/resurrection
866 words.
The first time it happens, Miyuki is kicked off the thirty-first floor of a skyscraper and hurtling towards his death. He hadn’t expected this situation when he saw someone snooping around and tailed them, voice recorder already on. He also hadn’t expected that that someone to be the criminal, the culprit that he had been chasing for the past two weeks, the same culprit that bombed three buses in the span of ten minutes with each bus being at least ten miles outside of each other’s radius.
Not now, I’m so close, Miyuki thinks, and dies upon impact.
**
“Ugh,” he hears a voice murmur in his ear, “wake up, Miyuki Kazuya!”
Miyuki groans—don’t use my full name—and then blinks his eyes wide open because wasn’t he supposed to be—
“Dead? Well, you are dead. But I’m sending you back.”
“You can do that?” Miyuki wrinkles his nose, “I don’t want to be part of any Final Destination-esque situations.”
“Please,” the voice huffs, “those movies are terrible.”
**
Miyuki wakes up, lying on his back on the concrete sidewalk outside of the fifty-story tower. There’s a crowd of terrified people surrounding him and warily, he flashes his badge, NYPD, and hisses in pain.
His pinky is sprained.
“You should wait for the ambulance and police to get here before you move,” a man from the crowd orders.
“Where’s the police,” Miyuki rasps, “oh, wait, I am the police. Excuse me, I have an arrest to make.”
He gets up. Aside from his sprained pinky, everything else seems to be pain free. Then again, he should be dead from falling at that height, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
**
“The NYPD makes an arrest on the series of bombings that happened two weeks ago on Tuesday, March 13th, with strong evidence. Officer Miyuki Kazuya presented a voice tape of the culprit confessing the crime after some goading from said officer.”
**
“I should be dead,” Miyuki says and twirls a pen. “But I’m not.”
“Cool,” Kuramochi says, “finish your paperwork.”
**
Three months later has Miyuki’s chasing, one of his favorite things in the world, when he rounds the corner and the culprit bashes his face with a crowbar.
Swearing as his glasses break and there’s a nasty trail of blood that drips steadily from his right eye, good lord, the culprit grips him by the head and bashes his face into the wall of the warehouse. Miyuki can feel himself slowly fading away with every flash of pain that runs through him.
The culprit drops him, face horribly mangled, and Miyuki dies.
**
“Again,” the voice says dryly.
“What can I say?” Miyuki laughs, “I’m popular.”
“Ugh,” the voice replies, “your face is horrible.”
“Isn’t that how I died?” Miyuki sighs—it’s morbid, casually talking about something that was so terrifying.
“No,” the voice snips, “I restored your face. It’s still horrible.”
“Gee, thanks,” Miyuki replies.
**
Miyuki wakes up with a split lip and a nosebleed. He tasers the man in the back, handcuffs him, and makes the arrest.
He’s not sure if he’s supposed to do that in that order, but really, who cares?
**
“I died again,” Miyuki muses. “He destroyed my face.”
“Who wouldn’t,” Kuramochi replies.
“No,” Miyuki tries to keep this as light-hearted as possible but, “I saw my eyeball on the ground; he yanked it out with a crowbar for fun.”
Kuramochi stares at him.
**
“Will you ever not bring me back,” Miyuki asks when he wakes up and it’s just white and the voice.
“If you ask me to,” the voice replies.
“Why would I do that?” Miyuki raises an eyebrow—or at least, he thinks he does. He’s fairly sure that his wounds are being healed by something that he can’t quite figure out.
“Well,” the voice murmurs, “if you were to be buried alive and died due to suffocation, I’d bring you back every time but who knows if you’d be able to get out. Eventually, you’d ask me to just let you die.”
“Okay,” Miyuki says, “got it—stay away from being buried alive.”
**
His right arm feels as though his funny bone has been hit.
“Christ,” Miyuki says, “I can’t shoot like this.”
He pulls out his taser.
**
“Wow,” the voice says as cool hands cup his cheeks, “you like dying a lot, don’t you?”
Miyuki gives a self-deprecating laugh.
“Well, back you go,” the voice says.
**
Miyuki wakes up next to the barrel and hacks out the remaining water in his lungs.
He sprawls out, gulping in large amounts of air as he remembers what happened. That’s right—he was chasing the culprit, they turned the tables on him, he met the voice again, and now he’s here, ready to chase them again.
**
“Will I ever get to see my savior?” He asks one day.
“Miyuki Kazuya, seriously,” the voice replies, “you know that I exist in your world, right? I just interfere in the space from your world to the next.”
“Well,” Miyuki groans, “tell me your name then.”
**
He wakes up with Sawamura Eijun on his lips.