Wrong Place, Wrong Time
Mar. 23rd, 2020 08:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nyanderenekoWord Count: 1,876
Summary: Caught in the midst of a battle he really wants nothing to do with, Fushimi finds himself faced with the decision to cling to his selfishness or extend a helping hand to an unusual and defenseless stranger in need.
Author’s Note: Happy 2 year anniversary to me!! :D In case it wasn’t obvious, today is the 2 year anniversary of me selfshipping consistently with both Saruhiko and Ren! It’s been…quite a whirlwind, and I’ve been especially struggling with a lot of things as of late, but I decided it couldn’t hurt to at least try to get back into the swing of things. And what better way is there to start than by working on anniversary pieces! This is a little different than my usual fair because it’s from Saruhiko’s POV, and details the real first time Saruhiko and Nova encountered each other, way back before either of them were in the familiar setting I much prefer now lol. Despite being rusty I think this actually turned out alright, although I feel I could have done more, but I didn’t want these to be late. Oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ thank you for reading!
This is where all the trouble started, and hopefully where it was all going to end. The air crackled with chaos and adrenaline and panic, powers erupting and escalating the frenzy as flailing forms struggled and clashed haphazardly. The calm before the storm had long since past, the paltry defense established by the officers that’d been waiting for them weakening by the second under the fury of their fiery siege. These people were nothing more than lackeys, poor aimless Clansmen that had no King to fight for and no real cause to uphold.
But Fushimi didn’t care about that; to be completely honest, he didn’t really care about any of this. Which side triumphed and which side lost, the consequences that would inevitably arise from the aftermath. The only thing urging him on was his stubborn, stupid dedication to his quick tempered friend and the small voice in the back of his head that wouldn’t quit pestering him. The vexing reminder that, to a certain extent, he’d played an unfortunate role in furthering the development of this arguably predictable drama.
The ugly truth hidden within the walls of this previously unassuming building they’d all gathered around had finally been brought to light. The perpetrators that’d been orchestrating countless horrors behind the scenes were going to pay, no matter the cost. The Red King was going to make sure of that. His silent, overbearing rage was enough to make even the strongest will flinch under its pressure. It permeated the area like a plague.
His Clansmen followed him blindly, charging into the heart of any threat that stood in their path with blazing, all consuming flames. That was just part of their nature, an innate and unwavering demonstration of their loyalty and pride. Fushimi didn’t feel anything along those lines coursing through his veins or rallying his spirit. All he could feel was frustration, fatigue, and a splitting pain in his head that only seemed to intensify the longer he was forced to endure the torture of this foolish scuffle.
Everything reminded him of just how much he didn’t belong. Everything reminded him of just how much he didn’t want to be here, how much he wanted things to go back to the way they were before he’d gotten roped into all this Clan nonsense. Before he’d been relegated to second place, if such a position even existed anymore. He knew there was no turning back…he could only press on, wading through the countless waves of disappointment and irritation that always seemed to crash over him before he even had a chance to catch his breath. His head throbbed and he struggled to focus on the task at hand, watching Yata’s back as the young man recklessly sparred with a pair of twins that’d been saddled with the responsibility of defending the front lines.
Annoying, upsetting, infuriating…but more than anything, he was just tired. Tired of everything, sick of pretending, he just wanted to disappear. But he couldn’t do that, and it was useless to waste his energy thinking about it now. His opponents were fast and formidable, acting more like a single unit than two autonomous individuals. With Yata fighting back of his own accord, taking Fushimi’s cover for granted, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down and risk giving their adversaries an opening. More than anything else, he didn’t think he could handle the crushing weight of a personal defeat in his current state of mind.
The battle was heating up, and not just as a result of the fire that was being thrown around in seemingly every direction. The stakes continued to rise as the defensive line came to terms with the validity of the threat their encroaching foes posed. Of course, they weren’t the type to give up that easily; the training they’d endured made sure of that. But as time drug on and his motivation continued to wane, Fushimi realized there were even more parties present than he’d initially noticed.
Every now and then he caught a glimpse of the illegal testing facilitiy’s stray captives making a break for it when an opening presented itself. Taking advantage of the commotion to get the first taste of freedom they’d had in what was probably ages…he couldn’t blame them. In fact, some small part of him was relieved to know that everything was falling apart from the inside out for the selfish lowlifes that’d been exploiting these helpless hostages for their own personal gain.
It wasn’t long before the Blues also took note of the situation’s advancing deterioration, and with their finite numbers there was little they could do to cover their bases as their troops were spread as thin as they could afford. With their tattered reputation at stake, though, they weren’t about to let anything deter their desperate assault, short of physical restraint or a superior’s strict command. Couldn’t they see this was a losing battle, that there wasn’t anything worthwhile for them to fight for? With a strong, determined, provoked King at the center of it all, their fate was sealed before the fighting had even begun. The least they could do was let the frantic, terrified captives make their escape without interference. But based on the orders they were shouting, it seemed that wasn’t an option they were willing to consider.
It had always fallen under the Blue Clan’s jurisdiction to catalogue and monitor the numerous Strains that infested the city, and perhaps letting such damning evidence of their failures slip through their grasp a second time was too distressing for them to accept without a fight. Fushimi wouldn’t have paid it any mind, didn’t want to pay it any mind…if only he hadn’t caught sight of one of many unfortunate scenes playing out a few mere arm length’s from where his skirmish was focused. A young Strain girl that was nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd swarming around her, aside from her ostentatious animalistic traits, was being cornered by a particularly tenacious crop of disgruntled officers. It appeared that the individuals she’d been fleeing with had abandoned her without a second thought, and the startled look of disbelief and terror on her face tore at his heart in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge or admit.
Why did this have to be happening to him now? Why did he have to grow a conscience significant enough to encourage him to come up with a plan that would ensure this insignificant stranger’s safety and wellbeing? He didn’t have the mental capacity to figure it out at the moment, or a strong enough impulse or incentive to bother trying to interrogate his thoughts. They were a swirling cyclone of confusion and emotion and misery, unstable to the point that there probably wasn’t that much to sift through in the first place.
“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue and grunting as he countered another blow from his obstinate opponents.
If he didn’t time this right he wasn’t just going to mess things up for the girl, but also end up drawing more attention to himself and probably make a critical mistake in fulfilling his role as Yata’s backup. Ugh, his headache was really getting to him, the knives glowing scarlet in his hands were almost hot enough to burn into his own skin. He didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have enough of himself left over to bother giving it to anyone else…he barely had enough for himself. But his mind was made up, and as he struggled to concentrate on what seemed like a million places all at once, he made his move.
With as much balance and precision as he could muster in the heat of the moment, Fushimi threw a handful of the knives imbued with his Aura in the girl’s direction. Thankfully they lodged themselves in the ground as he’d anticipated, and in the next moment a wall of red flames cut through the air, forming a barrier between the girl and her assailants. She yelped and scrambled back against the wall where she was already cornered, eyes darting around in a desperate attempt to determine just where these flames had come from, and why they’d struck when they did. The Blue Clansmen encircling her staggered back in surprise as the Red Aura licked at their hair and clothes, distorting the air with its searing heat.
“What are you waiting for? Get out of here!”
The girl’s ears swiveled in the direction of his voice before anything else could register. She turned to face him, her eyes still glittering with the instinctive, visceral fear of a trapped animal. A defenseless deer staring straight into the headlights of its demise, paralyzed in panic and unable to recognize that the superior option was to run, not freeze. He really, really didn’t have time for this. Intercepting a few fresh blows from his real opponents, the exasperation that surged through him intensified the Aura he’d conjured as his furious, icy gaze met hers.
He had to pull this off in the span of a heartbeat, one shallow breath, or risk ruining everything he was resentfully balancing on his shoulders. He dodged a few more blows and shoved the officers out of the way as he stopped to kneel in front of her, grabbing her arms and shaking her violently. She was still too stunned to try to get away from him, but his unexpected jostling was more effective than he realized, seemingly knocking all the pieces necessary to get her brain back on track out of their fear frozen molds.
“I said run! Get the hell out of here!”
As if his shouts of fury had flipped a switch in her mind, the young woman regained control of her limbs and darted away as fast as they would carry her. It didn’t matter where she went as long as she successfully escaped, putting enough distance between herself and her pursuers that they would have no way to track or trap her again. Fushimi clicked his tongue again and exhaled an indignant sigh, venting what remained of his boiling rage on the trivial enemies he was far past feeling pity for.
In the hours following his seemingly insignificant exchange with that hapless stranger, the conflict of the illegal Strain testing facility posing as a research center came to a predictable and fitting end. The culprit that was behind it all was dealt with appropriately, the Red Clan had reinforced the influence of their power and reputation through this conspicuous rescue mission, and as far as he knew the fates of the remaining Strains were managed accordingly as well. Not that he cared all that much…if at all. It was done, finally, it was over and he was ready to put it all behind him and never look back. Exhausted, drained, and overwhelmed by the self inflicted pressure in his head, there was nothing Fushimi wanted more than to forget that this cursed day had ever happened.
Of course, the one trivial exchange he was insistent on overlooking had already set off a chain of events that was going to shape the scope of his future in ways he couldn’t possibly fathom or understand.
Summary: Caught in the midst of a battle he really wants nothing to do with, Fushimi finds himself faced with the decision to cling to his selfishness or extend a helping hand to an unusual and defenseless stranger in need.
Author’s Note: Happy 2 year anniversary to me!! :D In case it wasn’t obvious, today is the 2 year anniversary of me selfshipping consistently with both Saruhiko and Ren! It’s been…quite a whirlwind, and I’ve been especially struggling with a lot of things as of late, but I decided it couldn’t hurt to at least try to get back into the swing of things. And what better way is there to start than by working on anniversary pieces! This is a little different than my usual fair because it’s from Saruhiko’s POV, and details the real first time Saruhiko and Nova encountered each other, way back before either of them were in the familiar setting I much prefer now lol. Despite being rusty I think this actually turned out alright, although I feel I could have done more, but I didn’t want these to be late. Oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ thank you for reading!
__________
This is where all the trouble started, and hopefully where it was all going to end. The air crackled with chaos and adrenaline and panic, powers erupting and escalating the frenzy as flailing forms struggled and clashed haphazardly. The calm before the storm had long since past, the paltry defense established by the officers that’d been waiting for them weakening by the second under the fury of their fiery siege. These people were nothing more than lackeys, poor aimless Clansmen that had no King to fight for and no real cause to uphold.
But Fushimi didn’t care about that; to be completely honest, he didn’t really care about any of this. Which side triumphed and which side lost, the consequences that would inevitably arise from the aftermath. The only thing urging him on was his stubborn, stupid dedication to his quick tempered friend and the small voice in the back of his head that wouldn’t quit pestering him. The vexing reminder that, to a certain extent, he’d played an unfortunate role in furthering the development of this arguably predictable drama.
The ugly truth hidden within the walls of this previously unassuming building they’d all gathered around had finally been brought to light. The perpetrators that’d been orchestrating countless horrors behind the scenes were going to pay, no matter the cost. The Red King was going to make sure of that. His silent, overbearing rage was enough to make even the strongest will flinch under its pressure. It permeated the area like a plague.
His Clansmen followed him blindly, charging into the heart of any threat that stood in their path with blazing, all consuming flames. That was just part of their nature, an innate and unwavering demonstration of their loyalty and pride. Fushimi didn’t feel anything along those lines coursing through his veins or rallying his spirit. All he could feel was frustration, fatigue, and a splitting pain in his head that only seemed to intensify the longer he was forced to endure the torture of this foolish scuffle.
Everything reminded him of just how much he didn’t belong. Everything reminded him of just how much he didn’t want to be here, how much he wanted things to go back to the way they were before he’d gotten roped into all this Clan nonsense. Before he’d been relegated to second place, if such a position even existed anymore. He knew there was no turning back…he could only press on, wading through the countless waves of disappointment and irritation that always seemed to crash over him before he even had a chance to catch his breath. His head throbbed and he struggled to focus on the task at hand, watching Yata’s back as the young man recklessly sparred with a pair of twins that’d been saddled with the responsibility of defending the front lines.
Annoying, upsetting, infuriating…but more than anything, he was just tired. Tired of everything, sick of pretending, he just wanted to disappear. But he couldn’t do that, and it was useless to waste his energy thinking about it now. His opponents were fast and formidable, acting more like a single unit than two autonomous individuals. With Yata fighting back of his own accord, taking Fushimi’s cover for granted, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down and risk giving their adversaries an opening. More than anything else, he didn’t think he could handle the crushing weight of a personal defeat in his current state of mind.
The battle was heating up, and not just as a result of the fire that was being thrown around in seemingly every direction. The stakes continued to rise as the defensive line came to terms with the validity of the threat their encroaching foes posed. Of course, they weren’t the type to give up that easily; the training they’d endured made sure of that. But as time drug on and his motivation continued to wane, Fushimi realized there were even more parties present than he’d initially noticed.
Every now and then he caught a glimpse of the illegal testing facilitiy’s stray captives making a break for it when an opening presented itself. Taking advantage of the commotion to get the first taste of freedom they’d had in what was probably ages…he couldn’t blame them. In fact, some small part of him was relieved to know that everything was falling apart from the inside out for the selfish lowlifes that’d been exploiting these helpless hostages for their own personal gain.
It wasn’t long before the Blues also took note of the situation’s advancing deterioration, and with their finite numbers there was little they could do to cover their bases as their troops were spread as thin as they could afford. With their tattered reputation at stake, though, they weren’t about to let anything deter their desperate assault, short of physical restraint or a superior’s strict command. Couldn’t they see this was a losing battle, that there wasn’t anything worthwhile for them to fight for? With a strong, determined, provoked King at the center of it all, their fate was sealed before the fighting had even begun. The least they could do was let the frantic, terrified captives make their escape without interference. But based on the orders they were shouting, it seemed that wasn’t an option they were willing to consider.
It had always fallen under the Blue Clan’s jurisdiction to catalogue and monitor the numerous Strains that infested the city, and perhaps letting such damning evidence of their failures slip through their grasp a second time was too distressing for them to accept without a fight. Fushimi wouldn’t have paid it any mind, didn’t want to pay it any mind…if only he hadn’t caught sight of one of many unfortunate scenes playing out a few mere arm length’s from where his skirmish was focused. A young Strain girl that was nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd swarming around her, aside from her ostentatious animalistic traits, was being cornered by a particularly tenacious crop of disgruntled officers. It appeared that the individuals she’d been fleeing with had abandoned her without a second thought, and the startled look of disbelief and terror on her face tore at his heart in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge or admit.
Why did this have to be happening to him now? Why did he have to grow a conscience significant enough to encourage him to come up with a plan that would ensure this insignificant stranger’s safety and wellbeing? He didn’t have the mental capacity to figure it out at the moment, or a strong enough impulse or incentive to bother trying to interrogate his thoughts. They were a swirling cyclone of confusion and emotion and misery, unstable to the point that there probably wasn’t that much to sift through in the first place.
“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue and grunting as he countered another blow from his obstinate opponents.
If he didn’t time this right he wasn’t just going to mess things up for the girl, but also end up drawing more attention to himself and probably make a critical mistake in fulfilling his role as Yata’s backup. Ugh, his headache was really getting to him, the knives glowing scarlet in his hands were almost hot enough to burn into his own skin. He didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have enough of himself left over to bother giving it to anyone else…he barely had enough for himself. But his mind was made up, and as he struggled to concentrate on what seemed like a million places all at once, he made his move.
With as much balance and precision as he could muster in the heat of the moment, Fushimi threw a handful of the knives imbued with his Aura in the girl’s direction. Thankfully they lodged themselves in the ground as he’d anticipated, and in the next moment a wall of red flames cut through the air, forming a barrier between the girl and her assailants. She yelped and scrambled back against the wall where she was already cornered, eyes darting around in a desperate attempt to determine just where these flames had come from, and why they’d struck when they did. The Blue Clansmen encircling her staggered back in surprise as the Red Aura licked at their hair and clothes, distorting the air with its searing heat.
“What are you waiting for? Get out of here!”
The girl’s ears swiveled in the direction of his voice before anything else could register. She turned to face him, her eyes still glittering with the instinctive, visceral fear of a trapped animal. A defenseless deer staring straight into the headlights of its demise, paralyzed in panic and unable to recognize that the superior option was to run, not freeze. He really, really didn’t have time for this. Intercepting a few fresh blows from his real opponents, the exasperation that surged through him intensified the Aura he’d conjured as his furious, icy gaze met hers.
He had to pull this off in the span of a heartbeat, one shallow breath, or risk ruining everything he was resentfully balancing on his shoulders. He dodged a few more blows and shoved the officers out of the way as he stopped to kneel in front of her, grabbing her arms and shaking her violently. She was still too stunned to try to get away from him, but his unexpected jostling was more effective than he realized, seemingly knocking all the pieces necessary to get her brain back on track out of their fear frozen molds.
“I said run! Get the hell out of here!”
As if his shouts of fury had flipped a switch in her mind, the young woman regained control of her limbs and darted away as fast as they would carry her. It didn’t matter where she went as long as she successfully escaped, putting enough distance between herself and her pursuers that they would have no way to track or trap her again. Fushimi clicked his tongue again and exhaled an indignant sigh, venting what remained of his boiling rage on the trivial enemies he was far past feeling pity for.
In the hours following his seemingly insignificant exchange with that hapless stranger, the conflict of the illegal Strain testing facility posing as a research center came to a predictable and fitting end. The culprit that was behind it all was dealt with appropriately, the Red Clan had reinforced the influence of their power and reputation through this conspicuous rescue mission, and as far as he knew the fates of the remaining Strains were managed accordingly as well. Not that he cared all that much…if at all. It was done, finally, it was over and he was ready to put it all behind him and never look back. Exhausted, drained, and overwhelmed by the self inflicted pressure in his head, there was nothing Fushimi wanted more than to forget that this cursed day had ever happened.
Of course, the one trivial exchange he was insistent on overlooking had already set off a chain of events that was going to shape the scope of his future in ways he couldn’t possibly fathom or understand.
(no subject)
Date: 2020-05-30 02:19 am (UTC)Happy 2yr anniversary!!! I probably said it before but I'm gonna say it again >:3