Ship: Sekizan/Hachioji Fandom: All Out Major Tags: None Other Tags: none Word Count: 1280
i took the 'magical girl' theme and ran with it as fast as i could
***
Sekizan was walking home one night when he noticed a figure lying on the side of the road.
“Are you all right?” he called, stepping closer. It was dark, but he could see that it was a boy, maybe his age. A strangely dressed boy.
“Just fine,” the boy replied, propping himself up on his elbows with a groan. “Just taking a rest.”
“On the ground?” Sekizan frowned. The boy smiled at him.
“It's very comfortable; you should try it sometime.” The boy tried push himself up further, but Sekizan could see him wincing. Was he injured?
“Here,” Sekizan held out a hand. The boy took it with another smile, and Sekizan pulled him up.
Now that the boy was upright, Sekizan could see just how strangely he was dressed. He was wearing a sharply cut tailcoat, and tiny white shorts. Ribbons hung down behind him to the backs of his knees.
Cosplay?
“Thank you...” the boy trailed off meaningfully. Sekizan almost answered-- it would be the polite thing to do-- but stopped himself. He didn't know this boy.
“I don't give my name to strangers,” he said.
“Very smart,” the boy replied. “I'm Hachioji Mutsumi.” He looked up suddenly, all traces of good humor gone from his face. “Damn,” he muttered softly. “I hoped I had more time.” He gave one last smile to Sekizan and snapped his fingers. A giant mallet appeared in his hand from nowhere, trailing more ribbons. “Thank you again,” he said, and winked. Then, he jumped into the air, far higher than any ordinary person could.
Sekizan watched in surprise as the boy--Hachioji-- swung the mallet at a patch of darkness, which connected with a crack and burst of sparks.
Weird. Sekizan decided to ignore it.
–
Sekizan sat on a bench in the park, enjoying a sweet bun.
“Tell me,” a voice said behind him, “have you ever thought about becoming a magical boy?”
Sekizan whipped his head around, and there stood--
“Hachioji,” the boy said. “Remember?” Sekizan might not have recognized him in normal clothes, but that smile and overfamiliar tone were unmistakable.
Sekizan nodded and tried to think of a way he could escape the conversation. He took an overlarge bite of his bun. When he finished, he'd leave. Until then, he'd keep his mouth too full to talk. With any luck, this Hachioji would get bored and leave him alone.
“So, have you?” Hachioji asked. At Sekizan's blank stare he sighed. “Have you ever thought about becoming a magical boy? Fighting against evil in the name of truth and beauty and love?”
Sekizan had not. The thought had never even crossed his mind.
“You should!” Hachioji gushed. “It's really fun, and it feels good, and I think you would be great at it. With hair like yours,” he continued, gesturing at Sekizan's hair, “it would be a waste if you didn't.”
Sekizan frowned and chewed furiously. What about his hair?
“More of the strong, silent type, are you?” Hachioji went on, apparently unbothered by Sekizan's silence. “That's cool. It makes you seem mysterious; there's always room for a mystery boy. Being a magical boy is the best, really.” He smiled expectantly down at Sekizan.
“Why don't you ask someone else,” Sekizan said as soon as his mouth was empty. “If being a magical boy is so great, I'm sure there are a lot of people you can bother.”
“Ah, that's exactly the sort of thinking you need to become a magical boy!” Hachioji beamed. Sekizan wasn't entirely sure, but he felt a little like he was being made fun of.
“Have a good afternoon,” he said, and began to leave.
“Hey,” Hachioji said, when he was several steps away. Sekizan turned, to see the serious look he'd only caught a glimpse of the other night. “You saw the darkness, didn't you?”
Sekizan hesitated, remembering the patch of dark that was unlike the rest of the night, and the sound the mallet had made on impact.
“I don't know what I saw,” he replied, and left.
–
After that, Hachioji found him every few days to bother him. He'd weaseled Sekizan's name out of him in a moment of weakness, and used it at every opportunity. It would have been irritating, if all Hachioji did was talk about magical boys, but he was apparently a normal high school student as well, and they found other topics of conversation in between Hachioji's ridiculousness.
It was...sort of nice. Like they were friends.
Then Sekizan didn't see Hachioji for a week. It was a little worrying. Was he ok? Was he sick? Did he leave, or decide that he didn't want to talk to Sekizan after all?
Sekizan didn't want to worry, but he'd always been more tender-hearted than he let on, and, well, the first time they met, Hachioji was injured.
That night he found himself walking down the same street he'd met Hachioji on. He scanned the ground for a familiar shape.
There was a crack and a shower of sparks above him, followed by a pained grunt. Sekizan looked up.
Hachioji was surrounded by darkness. He swung his mallet into a patch, which exploded into bursts of light, but another piece slammed between his shoulders, hard. He flew forward several feet, then seemed to gather himself. He whirled mid-air, arms straight and mallet arcing around viciously. He hit the darkness back, once, twice, a third time, and it burst into sparks. He paused. Sekizan couldn't see his face, but he imagined Hachioji was tired.
But there was still more darkness to fight.
Sekizan wasn't sure how long he watched Hachioji fight, only that he watched until the end. He wanted to say something, to cheer or call out Hachioji's name or to warn him, but he didn't want to distract him. And there was a certain kind of beauty, of life, in the way that Hachioji persisted, swinging into the darkness time and time again.
Finally, the last patch of darkness was defeated. Hachioji floated down slowly.
“Are you all right?” Sekizan asked. Hachioji looked at him, startled, then smiled tiredly.
“Sekizan, hi,” he said. “I'm glad you're here. I don't think I can get home like this.”
He collapsed.
–
After that night, what else could Sekizan do but become a magical boy himself? Seeing someone give their all like that made him want to give his all, too. He swore the oath, and pledged himself to fight the darkness as a magical boy.
His costume-- white shirt and short-shorts, magenta vest and bow around his left thigh-- was embarrassing, but Hachioji laughed and said he looked good, and that most magical boy outfits were ridiculous anyway. He liked his weapon, though-- a matching set of gold brass-knuckles. It was close-combat, and there was little else more satisfying than driving his fist into a writhing patch of darkness and watching it explode.
They met other magical boys, and fought beside them, but mostly they fought with each other, watching each other's backs. They studied together sometimes, too, and got food together. The feeling of friendship from before solidified into something warm and familiar. He knew he could depend on Hachioji, and that Hachioji depended on him, too. There was trust, and respect, and the way Hachioji would sometimes wink at him as he left.
–
After a particularly hard fight, Hachioji and he laughing breathlessly with relief, it felt only natural for Sekizan to lean down and kiss him, the two of them suspended in the starry night sky.
FILL: Team Grandstand, G
Fandom: All Out
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: none
Word Count: 1280
i took the 'magical girl' theme and ran with it as fast as i could
***
Sekizan was walking home one night when he noticed a figure lying on the side of the road.
“Are you all right?” he called, stepping closer. It was dark, but he could see that it was a boy, maybe his age. A strangely dressed boy.
“Just fine,” the boy replied, propping himself up on his elbows with a groan. “Just taking a rest.”
“On the ground?” Sekizan frowned. The boy smiled at him.
“It's very comfortable; you should try it sometime.” The boy tried push himself up further, but Sekizan could see him wincing. Was he injured?
“Here,” Sekizan held out a hand. The boy took it with another smile, and Sekizan pulled him up.
Now that the boy was upright, Sekizan could see just how strangely he was dressed. He was wearing a sharply cut tailcoat, and tiny white shorts. Ribbons hung down behind him to the backs of his knees.
Cosplay?
“Thank you...” the boy trailed off meaningfully. Sekizan almost answered-- it would be the polite thing to do-- but stopped himself. He didn't know this boy.
“I don't give my name to strangers,” he said.
“Very smart,” the boy replied. “I'm Hachioji Mutsumi.” He looked up suddenly, all traces of good humor gone from his face. “Damn,” he muttered softly. “I hoped I had more time.” He gave one last smile to Sekizan and snapped his fingers. A giant mallet appeared in his hand from nowhere, trailing more ribbons. “Thank you again,” he said, and winked. Then, he jumped into the air, far higher than any ordinary person could.
Sekizan watched in surprise as the boy--Hachioji-- swung the mallet at a patch of darkness, which connected with a crack and burst of sparks.
Weird. Sekizan decided to ignore it.
–
Sekizan sat on a bench in the park, enjoying a sweet bun.
“Tell me,” a voice said behind him, “have you ever thought about becoming a magical boy?”
Sekizan whipped his head around, and there stood--
“Hachioji,” the boy said. “Remember?” Sekizan might not have recognized him in normal clothes, but that smile and overfamiliar tone were unmistakable.
Sekizan nodded and tried to think of a way he could escape the conversation. He took an overlarge bite of his bun. When he finished, he'd leave. Until then, he'd keep his mouth too full to talk. With any luck, this Hachioji would get bored and leave him alone.
“So, have you?” Hachioji asked. At Sekizan's blank stare he sighed. “Have you ever thought about becoming a magical boy? Fighting against evil in the name of truth and beauty and love?”
Sekizan had not. The thought had never even crossed his mind.
“You should!” Hachioji gushed. “It's really fun, and it feels good, and I think you would be great at it. With hair like yours,” he continued, gesturing at Sekizan's hair, “it would be a waste if you didn't.”
Sekizan frowned and chewed furiously. What about his hair?
“More of the strong, silent type, are you?” Hachioji went on, apparently unbothered by Sekizan's silence. “That's cool. It makes you seem mysterious; there's always room for a mystery boy. Being a magical boy is the best, really.” He smiled expectantly down at Sekizan.
“Why don't you ask someone else,” Sekizan said as soon as his mouth was empty. “If being a magical boy is so great, I'm sure there are a lot of people you can bother.”
“Ah, that's exactly the sort of thinking you need to become a magical boy!” Hachioji beamed. Sekizan wasn't entirely sure, but he felt a little like he was being made fun of.
“Have a good afternoon,” he said, and began to leave.
“Hey,” Hachioji said, when he was several steps away. Sekizan turned, to see the serious look he'd only caught a glimpse of the other night. “You saw the darkness, didn't you?”
Sekizan hesitated, remembering the patch of dark that was unlike the rest of the night, and the sound the mallet had made on impact.
“I don't know what I saw,” he replied, and left.
–
After that, Hachioji found him every few days to bother him. He'd weaseled Sekizan's name out of him in a moment of weakness, and used it at every opportunity. It would have been irritating, if all Hachioji did was talk about magical boys, but he was apparently a normal high school student as well, and they found other topics of conversation in between Hachioji's ridiculousness.
It was...sort of nice. Like they were friends.
Then Sekizan didn't see Hachioji for a week. It was a little worrying. Was he ok? Was he sick? Did he leave, or decide that he didn't want to talk to Sekizan after all?
Sekizan didn't want to worry, but he'd always been more tender-hearted than he let on, and, well, the first time they met, Hachioji was injured.
That night he found himself walking down the same street he'd met Hachioji on. He scanned the ground for a familiar shape.
There was a crack and a shower of sparks above him, followed by a pained grunt. Sekizan looked up.
Hachioji was surrounded by darkness. He swung his mallet into a patch, which exploded into bursts of light, but another piece slammed between his shoulders, hard. He flew forward several feet, then seemed to gather himself. He whirled mid-air, arms straight and mallet arcing around viciously. He hit the darkness back, once, twice, a third time, and it burst into sparks. He paused. Sekizan couldn't see his face, but he imagined Hachioji was tired.
But there was still more darkness to fight.
Sekizan wasn't sure how long he watched Hachioji fight, only that he watched until the end. He wanted to say something, to cheer or call out Hachioji's name or to warn him, but he didn't want to distract him. And there was a certain kind of beauty, of life, in the way that Hachioji persisted, swinging into the darkness time and time again.
Finally, the last patch of darkness was defeated. Hachioji floated down slowly.
“Are you all right?” Sekizan asked. Hachioji looked at him, startled, then smiled tiredly.
“Sekizan, hi,” he said. “I'm glad you're here. I don't think I can get home like this.”
He collapsed.
–
After that night, what else could Sekizan do but become a magical boy himself? Seeing someone give their all like that made him want to give his all, too. He swore the oath, and pledged himself to fight the darkness as a magical boy.
His costume-- white shirt and short-shorts, magenta vest and bow around his left thigh-- was embarrassing, but Hachioji laughed and said he looked good, and that most magical boy outfits were ridiculous anyway. He liked his weapon, though-- a matching set of gold brass-knuckles. It was close-combat, and there was little else more satisfying than driving his fist into a writhing patch of darkness and watching it explode.
They met other magical boys, and fought beside them, but mostly they fought with each other, watching each other's backs. They studied together sometimes, too, and got food together. The feeling of friendship from before solidified into something warm and familiar. He knew he could depend on Hachioji, and that Hachioji depended on him, too. There was trust, and respect, and the way Hachioji would sometimes wink at him as he left.
–
After a particularly hard fight, Hachioji and he laughing breathlessly with relief, it felt only natural for Sekizan to lean down and kiss him, the two of them suspended in the starry night sky.