[ As the spring breeze scatters petals across the park, the cold shock of Takasugi's profile strikes Rinne like lightning. Rinne isn't usually drawn to melodies like this—not by fond memory or foreign mystique. But when Takasugi plays his shamisen, it's as if he's pouring his very soul into the strings, creating a sound that is potent and perfectly his. That's what draws Rinne in once again—Takasugi's vibrant, unshakeable spirit.
Having the chance to watch such a historical performance up close is so exciting, Rinne thinks he might just have to bite Takasugi for another—
He shakes the thought off his mind. What's wrong with him today? Is his hunger so bad that he can't concentrate? He has to focus. He had a boss to impress, and Niki's done more for him while running on less.
Rinne joins in with his guitar, following the rhythm as he gives it body and color with his own sound. He doesn't know how he looks with an acoustic guitar now, not when his new persona barely calls for it. If anything, playing for a crowd is something he's used to. Just focus on the strings, Rinne tells himself, and be grateful that song is the only thing you can draw from them.
When the song ends, Rinne looks up at him almost expectantly. Was he good? No, was he fun? He hates it when he's like this, eyes softening like he's a puppy. Complimenting Takasugi plainly would drive him into a corner, and Rinne doesn’t want to get empty praise after begging for it. He should crack a joke instead. Play dumb, play it cool, anything to put them in a situation where they don't have to talk about it. ]
Yo, you sure you don't wanna swap seats? Ain't no way you wanna mess up your fit this early.
Worried for me? That's kind of cute. But it's nothing a visit to a professional dry cleaner won't fix, and it's a boss's job to have their subordinates back, don't you think? I'll come out cooler for it.
( his heart might've been dry this morning, but now it sings amidst the sound of their separate melodies gradually coming to harmony, like a bird in the trees.
takasugi can't remember the last time he felt this enthusiastic about music. he's typically playing alone, even among a crowd—for his comrades who sought solace as they discussed their plans well into the night, and for the soldiers that walked past him to their deaths, until eventually, he ended up with hardly anyone left to listen beyond his mistress and the insects that thought they could seek comfort in that miserable sickbed of his.
but rinne chases every note, glancing so pitifully at him, that takasugi can't help but feel excited. a younger man, who's too "curious for his own good", or whatever he'd said. he'll have to give him a head-pat or two, or... or do something more normal for him, after this. like take him out drinking, with the empty hole in his pocket. maybe finally ask why he bothered with that stupid drunken act of his, and—
as the small crowd approaches closer, takasugi flashes rinne a playful grin, plucking a little more erratically in an attempt to show off.
a grin that vanishes mid-twang as a rock sails past them, accompanied by a decry from somewhere in the back: "show a little more respect and keep the noise levels down in our beautiful park!". )
[The music starts again. Once more, Rinne chases him. He's quick to adapt to any song Takasugi throws at him, knowing when to match his pace, which progressions to play. He keeps his hands steady on the rhythm Takasugi lays down for him, but secretly, they itch to play something that will change their set entirely. He can't shake what Takasugi told him, see? Supporting his subjects is what a monarch is supposed to do. Takasugi does come out cooler for it. But Rinne's never had the support of someone older, and he can't decide if he should leave it or lean in. His gaze flickers towards the man, half-expecting a frown of critique, a smirk at his compliance, or worse, indifference.
But Takasugi isn't analyzing. He’s improvising. A quick tug lifts the corner of Takasugi's mouth—a smile.
Rinne snorts. What a show-off! But the brazen melody reawakens something within Rinne. Not permission—he doesn't give a damn about permission—but encouragement, he thinks. Takasugi is enjoying this, and Rinne can't help but smile back.
Then it happens.
Noise, they said?
It's been weeks since that concert. It was easier when the first stone cast was his own. It was a water bottle he'd positioned at just the right angle to fall on him when the time came. After that, the hate came pouring. He could accept that. All it did was confirm a truth he already knew. He was a deviant, a monster. Someone society could never take into the fold.
But when someone takes Takasugi's smile and tells him the same, Rinne's blue eyes flash red. The fire within him starts to burn.]
Gyahahaha! Look, Prez. We got haters already!
[Then, to the crowd:] Can't you just be happy we ain't fuckin' in the fields? Ya sick freaks! I don't care who died and made ya king of the park. We'll do as we damn please!
[Rinne flashes his middle finger at their audience. He expects shock, but what he doesn't anticipate is the fear. Their faces contort into horror as his hands transform into monstrous claws and show everyone the beast that has begun to take hold.]
takasugi catches a whiff of it on the breeze before seeing it in their faces, a strange shudder of realization passing through his body—another sign that he's changing.
but he's not too concerned about their complaints when it comes to the noise, even if it's annoying. he's confident they'll adapt to it, and maybe even come to appreciate it, where it's not as if he'd been ignorant to the judgmental looks from some of the lower class who viewed them as a misuse of resources. with a little time and patience, something that's never been his strong suit, they'll see the light and come around. by then, they'll have their routine down, and maybe even jotted down some lyrics that suit rinne's bold tones. a folk song, maybe. did he learn those up north, under those strict parents of his?
however bad things get, what's important is to make something interesting out of it. )
Whining comes naturally to those who feel powerless in front of change. That's all.
( it's his turn to be a smart-ass, the sharp twang of each pluck on his shamisen gradually coming to stall.
he looks up, wanting to see the disrespectful smirk on rinne's face to match the voice, and finally realizes what a part of the crowd has been staring and pointing at. like a creature let loose in the woods, he's starting to shift. but before takasugi can make a move to rise to his feet, or step in front of him—
he notices another tossed arm, another rock headed their way.
this one, aimed right at rinne and his defiance. )
( the rock sailing through the air, wrapped in paper.
the calm in takasugi dissipating as entirely unrelated incidents flash through his mind.
or, unrelated as far as his memory may want him to believe, the final moments of his friends and his mentor playing out in his mind during the quiet moments of his prison cell ages ago. all those incidents he was powerless to prevent, marked by grief and anger. and maybe it's selfish of him to think of them right now and use that grief to fuel him, but the thought of rinne maybe taking a fatal blow right now while they were sitting in a place of peace and supposed contentment, to imagine blood cracking on his face in lines like bark almost makes him go pale.
but right now, he can do something.
he can quickly push up from his knees, faster than an average human, and swing his shamisen in a wide arc like a baseball bat to strike that rock with a loud CLANG.
it whips through branches and into the great beyond, his face contorting despite a grin as if he's trying to keep from biting down too hard on the unexpectedly sharp teeth rowing his mouth. deep breaths, takasugi. a couple in the crowd who'd been enjoying the act are seeking out the perpetrator, while others whisper "can you be charged for acts against an augmented like that?" to each other. )
Anyone else wanna give that a shot? We're got plenty of energy for more up here. Don't be shy.
[ Rinne's heartbeat drowns out the din of the crowd. The hand before him is grotesque and unfamiliar. This isn't what he fought Elan with. At the time, he had strong legs and lace wings. As with the insects he and Hiiro would spoil every summer, everything that filled his senses until now had been sticky and sweet. These aren't hands for plucking fruit. They twitch at the scent of fear as they seek for something to tear into.
The Amagis claimed to be descendants of gods or... whatever farce his ancestors fed their people long ago. He never believed a word of it, but when the crowd recoils, memories he'd long buried since come back to the surface: villagers scurrying past him, elders murmuring when they think he can't hear, and his brother looking at him with what he can only recognize as pity. No one dared to stay by his side. All they saw was a god to be worshipped or a beast to be feared. The stone cast at him scares him to death, but it only seems right.
Right. What's right was the only thing that ever really mattered.
Then, the sound of metal swinging at something hard. A home run? Rinne looks up and finds his protector right in front of him. ]
Prez...?
[ Not only that, but the crowd... is bothered? On their behalf? The sentiment is so foreign that he almost wants to pinch himself to make sure! But if there were even a couple of people enjoying the show—
No, if even just Takasugi was enjoying the show, then shouldn't that be enough for Rinne to keep playing? ]
[ The strum of his guitar cuts through the air, signaling the end of this short intermission and the start of their next song. In between, the Shift. His claws scrape awkwardly across the fretboard, making each chord a struggle. The throbbing pain of his sprouting fox ears is going to kill him if he doesn't scream. But dammit, the show must go on! ]
Drop it, Prez. I know I'm your damsel in distress, but quit swingin' your shamisen around. [ He flashes him a quick, cocky grin. ] Let's show this crowd what they've been missing!
[ On his acoustic guitar, Rinne starts playing a song that is probably only funny to Takasugi, especially as he starts to rap.............. ]
they slash through takasugi's moment of inner panic like an act of faith, his crooked expression coming to calm when their little act refuses to grind to a halt.
when he realizes, in that moment, how truly reliable this new companion of his is.
damsel in distress... that's a good one. red fur is sprouting up all over his chest in distracting, itchy patches, but all takasugi can do is blink in a rare moment of awe. he lowers his arm, and the shamisen with it, stepping nimbly out of the way as rinne keeps up the momentum while seemingly shrugging off what just happened. while slowly embracing the fear of this oncoming shift, a one that looks strikingly similar to takasugi's.
"an asian rendezvous with a shanghai honey". are those lyrics on purpose, considering that annoying delegation he had to attend once upon a time? how cheeky.
his shamisen is fine, of course. sure, it's a little scuffed, but it’s not your typical instrument with all the modifications he's done.
nothing's stopped, and rinne is doing fine ( mostly ), so what else can he do but take his seat again and improvise a rhythm alongside those guitar string plucks? let the fleeting nature of this sun-kissed day take them away. let each strike of the bachi on strings hit the remaining skeptics in the crowd at full force, even as his claws grow painfully long. )
[ The impromptu show goes off without a hitch. Some pass them by, thinking their song a nuisance, if not nothing special, while others pause for a moment or two, if only to witness the novelty of an Augmented's avantgarde performance. By the end, a small crowd offers applause, some polite, some enthusiastic, and a couple even leaves trinkets in Rinne's guitar case. It's no DreamFes victory, but being an idol was never about that.
Rinne's nose lingers on the scent of their audience long after they're gone, his gaze trained in their direction as he digs his claws into the bench and digests what had just happened. ]
That was the first applause I've gotten in a while...
[ It's so much better than performing alone. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like without Takasugi's support. But that's not what a seasoned idol should say during times like these, is it? A quirk of his lip gives way to a brighter grin as he turns to his business partner. ]
Heheh, what'd I tell ya? I'm... a professional—
[ Something in the air is sticky and sweet the way a deer is as he skins it. His nostrils flare, and he turns away before he leans in and does anything that might damn them both. Blood, sweat — they were easier to ignore when music took over him. But now...
Someone in the crowd called them twin foxes. Is that what he was? He's seen foxes in forests and how they laughed as they frolicked with their own kind. This urge within him felt far more shameless than that.
He shoves his guitar back in its case and locks it quickly. ]
( the last time takasugi starting shifting, it was driven by his overwhelming excitement, and not just alarm.
here, he hasn't fully embraced it yet; it's just his hands and chest, and those ears that are starting to fold a bit on top of his head without him realizing it, but— )
You don't want to celebrate our victory? Though I guess we didn't exactly cash in, and my pockets aren't as lined as yours, for obvious reasons.
( he says it with an audible pout, almost on purpose. they didn't play to total exhaustion, and it's fine to stop. it was a solid win with a few bumps along the way, and who wouldn’t want to wipe off all this sweat and focus on getting their body back to normal after all that stress? plus, judging from their hilariously similar changes and the way every part of this park is playing on his senses, it must be the same for rinne, too.
but.
it feels like a toy is being snatched away, just like that. he wipes the back of a fur-covered hand across his forehand, taking the time to stand upright, and then tries to do the same for a cheek of rinne's that's been turned away from him. )
Edited (correction... it's a park) 2025-04-10 16:54 (UTC)
[ His ears perk up. His fair skin flushes quickly with heat. No one but Niki's ever touched his cheek like that. When you're raised to lead, it just doesn't happen. But the fear of being vulnerable loses to the comfort that comes with Takasugi's soft fur, especially as he's made to face him.
Oh, god. The scent is bad enough, but seeing his face just makes Rinne want to tear into him more. He pushes Takasugi's hand away to pick up his guitar. ]
I'm already drunk.
[ Rinne doesn't bother with his usual volume or obnoxiousness. For some reason, his body has determined there's no longer a need for that. ]
I didn't like the shamisen, anyway. You're too good-looking, so don't stand next to me. I can do it alone next time, so just worry about the money.
[ The rapid-fire excuses come one after another. Anything to keep Takasugi safe before he can get out of here. ]
he draws back the swatted hand, holding it up to his face, not a one of those statements enough to make takasugi flinch. if anything, the red on rinne's face and the little white lies are making him a bit easier to read. he's got to be overwhelmed, or deeply touched by what little reception they received, especially considering that comment he made quietly as they let the audience's waning energy wash over them.
right. he doesn't flinch at all, until a scent that isn't his makes his skin prickle.
it must've transferred when takasugi rubbed the back of his palm against him, this scent. as the pleasure of it warms his blood, he pauses awkwardly to take it in. to which, it... really does smell good, this particular musk of rinne's. not that he'll comment on it any. he can hold it in, even as a heat spreads down his belly and he feels a sudden strange urge to shove rinne over into the grass. at least, for now. )
Giving the cold shoulder to your first fan? Hey, it's totally fine to admit you had a good time. No need to feel embarrassed about it. Thinking on it, I really should've lugged Mini Arahabaki out here to record us. Lack of foresight on my part. Though, judging by the audience reaction, they might've taken matters into their own hands. Who knows. We might hear some gossip later about how a couple innocent citizens were accosted by a couple fox-men.
( negging rinne is a good distraction, as he refastens the scraped shamisen. and because he can't resist, heady with the smell of everything blooming and of all that sweat: )
You sure love to comment on how gorgeous I am all the time, don't you?
[Shut up. Rinne has his back turned towards Takasugi, so why is he still talking? He recognizes this all too well: when he wants someone to stay, Rinne can't stop rambling either. It's true, Rinne is moved that they got attention at all. He can't be any more grateful. But god, now is really not the time...
Rinne hastily wipes the drooling corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He swallows thickly.]
So? I call it like I see it. Don't get too excited. People tell you that all the time, don't they?
It's my job as an idol to sell my image. What I say, what I wear—every choice I make is deliberate. Maybe it ain't the whole truth, but at least it's what I wanna do. Yet all of that comes to you like it's second nature... 'Course I'm gonna say you're cool.
[Takasugi using his shamisen to protect him was really cool.]
( oops. now's really not the time to push on those red flags, huh.
and though rinne doesn't notice it, with his back turned, the corners of takasugi's mouth set in a firm line.
second nature? he'd still be your average nobody without that school and that mentor, trapped in his domain with nothing but the golden cage of a comfortable life and everyone trying to spoil him further. he wasn't like sakamoto-kun, who seemed to soar effortlessly through the skies even past his death. his wings had been clipped twice now, and he won’t get another chance unless he puts in the effort here. )
Sure. Being an idol is about lying to your audience, then. I can get that. Even the most renowned tayu put their heart into every stroke of their calligraphy, no matter how silly or dull the message may be.
( he tap, taps a claw against the strap holding up his instrument. pensive. )
But that doesn’t mean your sound can't be authentic. Why limit yourself with all those frustrating restrictions in another world?
( when you've only got one life to live, even.
well... whatever. he smooths an ear out as he turns to leave, giving rinne's back a little wave. he'd rather come down from the awkward changes to his body alone, and spend time taking note of certain things that didn't happen last time for later. )
[The thing no one taught Rinne about being sad is that you get so deep inside your head and wallow in that pool of self-pity that you forget the other parts of you.
You're not the flawless heir to your father's legacy. You're not the unruly rebel who ran away from home. You're not even the idol who fought tooth and nail to earn every last scrap of love in those overflowing boxes of fan mail.
You're just a boy. Lost. And you stay lost as long as you let the water close over your head.
But then... a hand grabs yours. Pulls you up. You break the surface and suddenly, you remember: the fire in your chest, the dream in your hands, the self you were building before the weight dragged you under.
Rinne had always wanted to become an idol he could love.
When Takasugi asks him the same question he asks the crowd—the one that always sends a ripple through the stage lights—a spring breeze cuts through the still waters, electric and alive.
Rinne doesn't look back. He doesn't want to make hunger this worse. Instead, his fingertips trace and linger where Takasugi's hand had been, recalling the brief comfort it gave him before restraint compelled him to pull away.]
It was fun...?
[He balls that same hand into a fist. He's gotta get out of here. Back in his hometown, calling someone delicious is a compliment. This time, he's afraid he might mean it in every way.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Having the chance to watch such a historical performance up close is so exciting, Rinne thinks he might just have to bite Takasugi for another—
He shakes the thought off his mind. What's wrong with him today? Is his hunger so bad that he can't concentrate? He has to focus. He had a boss to impress, and Niki's done more for him while running on less.
Rinne joins in with his guitar, following the rhythm as he gives it body and color with his own sound. He doesn't know how he looks with an acoustic guitar now, not when his new persona barely calls for it. If anything, playing for a crowd is something he's used to. Just focus on the strings, Rinne tells himself, and be grateful that song is the only thing you can draw from them.
When the song ends, Rinne looks up at him almost expectantly. Was he good? No, was he fun? He hates it when he's like this, eyes softening like he's a puppy. Complimenting Takasugi plainly would drive him into a corner, and Rinne doesn’t want to get empty praise after begging for it. He should crack a joke instead. Play dumb, play it cool, anything to put them in a situation where they don't have to talk about it. ]
Yo, you sure you don't wanna swap seats? Ain't no way you wanna mess up your fit this early.
no subject
( his heart might've been dry this morning, but now it sings amidst the sound of their separate melodies gradually coming to harmony, like a bird in the trees.
takasugi can't remember the last time he felt this enthusiastic about music. he's typically playing alone, even among a crowd—for his comrades who sought solace as they discussed their plans well into the night, and for the soldiers that walked past him to their deaths, until eventually, he ended up with hardly anyone left to listen beyond his mistress and the insects that thought they could seek comfort in that miserable sickbed of his.
but rinne chases every note, glancing so pitifully at him, that takasugi can't help but feel excited. a younger man, who's too "curious for his own good", or whatever he'd said. he'll have to give him a head-pat or two, or... or do something more normal for him, after this. like take him out drinking, with the empty hole in his pocket. maybe finally ask why he bothered with that stupid drunken act of his, and—
as the small crowd approaches closer, takasugi flashes rinne a playful grin, plucking a little more erratically in an attempt to show off.
a grin that vanishes mid-twang as a rock sails past them, accompanied by a decry from somewhere in the back: "show a little more respect and keep the noise levels down in our beautiful park!". )
no subject
But Takasugi isn't analyzing. He’s improvising. A quick tug lifts the corner of Takasugi's mouth—a smile.
Rinne snorts. What a show-off! But the brazen melody reawakens something within Rinne. Not permission—he doesn't give a damn about permission—but encouragement, he thinks. Takasugi is enjoying this, and Rinne can't help but smile back.
Then it happens.
Noise, they said?
It's been weeks since that concert. It was easier when the first stone cast was his own. It was a water bottle he'd positioned at just the right angle to fall on him when the time came. After that, the hate came pouring. He could accept that. All it did was confirm a truth he already knew. He was a deviant, a monster. Someone society could never take into the fold.
But when someone takes Takasugi's smile and tells him the same, Rinne's blue eyes flash red. The fire within him starts to burn.]
Gyahahaha! Look, Prez. We got haters already!
[Then, to the crowd:] Can't you just be happy we ain't fuckin' in the fields? Ya sick freaks! I don't care who died and made ya king of the park. We'll do as we damn please!
[Rinne flashes his middle finger at their audience. He expects shock, but what he doesn't anticipate is the fear. Their faces contort into horror as his hands transform into monstrous claws and show everyone the beast that has begun to take hold.]
( 1 / 2 )
takasugi catches a whiff of it on the breeze before seeing it in their faces, a strange shudder of realization passing through his body—another sign that he's changing.
but he's not too concerned about their complaints when it comes to the noise, even if it's annoying. he's confident they'll adapt to it, and maybe even come to appreciate it, where it's not as if he'd been ignorant to the judgmental looks from some of the lower class who viewed them as a misuse of resources. with a little time and patience, something that's never been his strong suit, they'll see the light and come around. by then, they'll have their routine down, and maybe even jotted down some lyrics that suit rinne's bold tones. a folk song, maybe. did he learn those up north, under those strict parents of his?
however bad things get, what's important is to make something interesting out of it. )
Whining comes naturally to those who feel powerless in front of change. That's all.
( it's his turn to be a smart-ass, the sharp twang of each pluck on his shamisen gradually coming to stall.
he looks up, wanting to see the disrespectful smirk on rinne's face to match the voice, and finally realizes what a part of the crowd has been staring and pointing at. like a creature let loose in the woods, he's starting to shift. but before takasugi can make a move to rise to his feet, or step in front of him—
he notices another tossed arm, another rock headed their way.
this one, aimed right at rinne and his defiance. )
( 2 / 2 )
the calm in takasugi dissipating as entirely unrelated incidents flash through his mind.
or, unrelated as far as his memory may want him to believe, the final moments of his friends and his mentor playing out in his mind during the quiet moments of his prison cell ages ago. all those incidents he was powerless to prevent, marked by grief and anger. and maybe it's selfish of him to think of them right now and use that grief to fuel him, but the thought of rinne maybe taking a fatal blow right now while they were sitting in a place of peace and supposed contentment, to imagine blood cracking on his face in lines like bark almost makes him go pale.
but right now, he can do something.
he can quickly push up from his knees, faster than an average human, and swing his shamisen in a wide arc like a baseball bat to strike that rock with a loud CLANG.
it whips through branches and into the great beyond, his face contorting despite a grin as if he's trying to keep from biting down too hard on the unexpectedly sharp teeth rowing his mouth. deep breaths, takasugi. a couple in the crowd who'd been enjoying the act are seeking out the perpetrator, while others whisper "can you be charged for acts against an augmented like that?" to each other. )
Anyone else wanna give that a shot? We're got plenty of energy for more up here. Don't be shy.
1/2
The Amagis claimed to be descendants of gods or... whatever farce his ancestors fed their people long ago. He never believed a word of it, but when the crowd recoils, memories he'd long buried since come back to the surface: villagers scurrying past him, elders murmuring when they think he can't hear, and his brother looking at him with what he can only recognize as pity. No one dared to stay by his side. All they saw was a god to be worshipped or a beast to be feared. The stone cast at him scares him to death, but it only seems right.
Right. What's right was the only thing that ever really mattered.
Then, the sound of metal swinging at something hard. A home run? Rinne looks up and finds his protector right in front of him. ]
Prez...?
[ Not only that, but the crowd... is bothered? On their behalf? The sentiment is so foreign that he almost wants to pinch himself to make sure! But if there were even a couple of people enjoying the show—
No, if even just Takasugi was enjoying the show, then shouldn't that be enough for Rinne to keep playing? ]
2/2
Drop it, Prez. I know I'm your damsel in distress, but quit swingin' your shamisen around. [ He flashes him a quick, cocky grin. ] Let's show this crowd what they've been missing!
[ On his acoustic guitar, Rinne starts playing a song that is probably only funny to Takasugi, especially as he starts to rap.............. ]
no subject
they slash through takasugi's moment of inner panic like an act of faith, his crooked expression coming to calm when their little act refuses to grind to a halt.
when he realizes, in that moment, how truly reliable this new companion of his is.
damsel in distress... that's a good one. red fur is sprouting up all over his chest in distracting, itchy patches, but all takasugi can do is blink in a rare moment of awe. he lowers his arm, and the shamisen with it, stepping nimbly out of the way as rinne keeps up the momentum while seemingly shrugging off what just happened. while slowly embracing the fear of this oncoming shift, a one that looks strikingly similar to takasugi's.
"an asian rendezvous with a shanghai honey". are those lyrics on purpose, considering that annoying delegation he had to attend once upon a time? how cheeky.
his shamisen is fine, of course. sure, it's a little scuffed, but it’s not your typical instrument with all the modifications he's done.
nothing's stopped, and rinne is doing fine ( mostly ), so what else can he do but take his seat again and improvise a rhythm alongside those guitar string plucks? let the fleeting nature of this sun-kissed day take them away. let each strike of the bachi on strings hit the remaining skeptics in the crowd at full force, even as his claws grow painfully long. )
no subject
Rinne's nose lingers on the scent of their audience long after they're gone, his gaze trained in their direction as he digs his claws into the bench and digests what had just happened. ]
That was the first applause I've gotten in a while...
[ It's so much better than performing alone. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like without Takasugi's support. But that's not what a seasoned idol should say during times like these, is it? A quirk of his lip gives way to a brighter grin as he turns to his business partner. ]
Heheh, what'd I tell ya? I'm... a professional—
[ Something in the air is sticky and sweet the way a deer is as he skins it. His nostrils flare, and he turns away before he leans in and does anything that might damn them both. Blood, sweat — they were easier to ignore when music took over him. But now...
Someone in the crowd called them twin foxes. Is that what he was? He's seen foxes in forests and how they laughed as they frolicked with their own kind. This urge within him felt far more shameless than that.
He shoves his guitar back in its case and locks it quickly. ]
Thanks, Prez. I gotta go.
no subject
( the last time takasugi starting shifting, it was driven by his overwhelming excitement, and not just alarm.
here, he hasn't fully embraced it yet; it's just his hands and chest, and those ears that are starting to fold a bit on top of his head without him realizing it, but— )
You don't want to celebrate our victory? Though I guess we didn't exactly cash in, and my pockets aren't as lined as yours, for obvious reasons.
( he says it with an audible pout, almost on purpose. they didn't play to total exhaustion, and it's fine to stop. it was a solid win with a few bumps along the way, and who wouldn’t want to wipe off all this sweat and focus on getting their body back to normal after all that stress? plus, judging from their hilariously similar changes and the way every part of this park is playing on his senses, it must be the same for rinne, too.
but.
it feels like a toy is being snatched away, just like that. he wipes the back of a fur-covered hand across his forehand, taking the time to stand upright, and then tries to do the same for a cheek of rinne's that's been turned away from him. )
no subject
Oh, god. The scent is bad enough, but seeing his face just makes Rinne want to tear into him more. He pushes Takasugi's hand away to pick up his guitar. ]
I'm already drunk.
[ Rinne doesn't bother with his usual volume or obnoxiousness. For some reason, his body has determined there's no longer a need for that. ]
I didn't like the shamisen, anyway. You're too good-looking, so don't stand next to me. I can do it alone next time, so just worry about the money.
[ The rapid-fire excuses come one after another. Anything to keep Takasugi safe before he can get out of here. ]
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he draws back the swatted hand, holding it up to his face, not a one of those statements enough to make takasugi flinch. if anything, the red on rinne's face and the little white lies are making him a bit easier to read. he's got to be overwhelmed, or deeply touched by what little reception they received, especially considering that comment he made quietly as they let the audience's waning energy wash over them.
right. he doesn't flinch at all, until a scent that isn't his makes his skin prickle.
it must've transferred when takasugi rubbed the back of his palm against him, this scent. as the pleasure of it warms his blood, he pauses awkwardly to take it in. to which, it... really does smell good, this particular musk of rinne's. not that he'll comment on it any. he can hold it in, even as a heat spreads down his belly and he feels a sudden strange urge to shove rinne over into the grass. at least, for now. )
Giving the cold shoulder to your first fan? Hey, it's totally fine to admit you had a good time. No need to feel embarrassed about it. Thinking on it, I really should've lugged Mini Arahabaki out here to record us. Lack of foresight on my part. Though, judging by the audience reaction, they might've taken matters into their own hands. Who knows. We might hear some gossip later about how a couple innocent citizens were accosted by a couple fox-men.
( negging rinne is a good distraction, as he refastens the scraped shamisen. and because he can't resist, heady with the smell of everything blooming and of all that sweat: )
You sure love to comment on how gorgeous I am all the time, don't you?
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Rinne hastily wipes the drooling corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He swallows thickly.]
So? I call it like I see it. Don't get too excited. People tell you that all the time, don't they?
It's my job as an idol to sell my image. What I say, what I wear—every choice I make is deliberate. Maybe it ain't the whole truth, but at least it's what I wanna do. Yet all of that comes to you like it's second nature... 'Course I'm gonna say you're cool.
[Takasugi using his shamisen to protect him was really cool.]
( 1 / 2 )
and though rinne doesn't notice it, with his back turned, the corners of takasugi's mouth set in a firm line.
second nature? he'd still be your average nobody without that school and that mentor, trapped in his domain with nothing but the golden cage of a comfortable life and everyone trying to spoil him further. he wasn't like sakamoto-kun, who seemed to soar effortlessly through the skies even past his death. his wings had been clipped twice now, and he won’t get another chance unless he puts in the effort here. )
Sure. Being an idol is about lying to your audience, then. I can get that. Even the most renowned tayu put their heart into every stroke of their calligraphy, no matter how silly or dull the message may be.
( he tap, taps a claw against the strap holding up his instrument. pensive. )
( 2 / 2 )
( when you've only got one life to live, even.
well... whatever. he smooths an ear out as he turns to leave, giving rinne's back a little wave. he'd rather come down from the awkward changes to his body alone, and spend time taking note of certain things that didn't happen last time for later. )
It was fun, Amagi-kun. I'll be in touch.
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You're not the flawless heir to your father's legacy. You're not the unruly rebel who ran away from home. You're not even the idol who fought tooth and nail to earn every last scrap of love in those overflowing boxes of fan mail.
You're just a boy. Lost. And you stay lost as long as you let the water close over your head.
But then... a hand grabs yours. Pulls you up. You break the surface and suddenly, you remember: the fire in your chest, the dream in your hands, the self you were building before the weight dragged you under.
Rinne had always wanted to become an idol he could love.
When Takasugi asks him the same question he asks the crowd—the one that always sends a ripple through the stage lights—a spring breeze cuts through the still waters, electric and alive.
Rinne doesn't look back. He doesn't want to make hunger this worse. Instead, his fingertips trace and linger where Takasugi's hand had been, recalling the brief comfort it gave him before restraint compelled him to pull away.]
It was fun...?
[He balls that same hand into a fist. He's gotta get out of here. Back in his hometown, calling someone delicious is a compliment. This time, he's afraid he might mean it in every way.]