First thing first - sorry for not updating. Had a heckload of work to get through first, most notably finishing my thesis (Wheee!), getting through fieldwork and being addicted to Uta no Prince-Sama.
/Head meets desk/. I didn't update in what it seems to be a forever right now /sweatdrops/, even if I do write. But thesis work was a monstrous project - 2 years of work, and 130 pages and don't even start me on editing the darn thing. After I finished the paper monster of epic proportions, I was so wrung out I couldn't churn out one decent sentence, and story was a no-no. I did send an application for a job and I hope to get it, because it was right up my venue, but we'll see. Fields was more or less conserving the veggies, cleaning the fields of the weeds - gawd, you wouldn't believe just how much weed-clutter can gather in one measly garden, but it's true nonetheless - and generally made myself useful here and there.
Uta no Prince-Sama is an anime that grabbed my attention because it was harem-based /yup, shameless/, it had interesting twist and there was music. Although I do admit I likes some elements from manga better than from anime - in fact, the leading lady, Nanami Haruka doesn't seem to progress much through the series, while the boys solve their little troubles via her help. Sure, she does have some of her moments, but still, it could've been better. However, it was worth watching anime, because I got a plethora of new songs to listen to, and the cast's antics were hilarious. Kurusu Syo - the short (don't call him that, or else /reminded of a certain Fullmetal shrimp/) blonde was especially funny, what with his... diminutive - -ahem - stature and his quick temper, not to mention how easily he was baited by Shinomiya Natsuki (the green-eyed bipolar roommate), be that in the past or present. While we are at Natsuki, I gotta admit I love his alter-ego, Satsuki, if only because of the song Orion de SHOUT OUT, because it reflects me just as well. Bipolar people for the win! /evil grin/. Jinguuji Ren (blond-haired, blue-eyed sex - ahem, I mean saxophonist) also has a good song : Sekai no Hate Believe Heart, but Satsuki just grabbed me with his intensity. Ichinose Tokiya, alias HAYATO, called unfeeling perfiectionist, interested me with the Nanairo no COMPASS , and because he's a tsundere to the end of the universe and back /snarks, amused/, His other song, BELIEVE☆MY VOICE, is also wonderful, because it's so sensual. I would have expected that from playboy Ren, but Tokiya was a total surprise. Ittoki Otoya, redheaded puppy of the group was cute, and his beginning song, was also a great one - hard to believe that he could come up with the lyrics for BRAND NEW MELODY just on the fly, but if he was infatuated, I can... somehow. And I like him for ruffling Tokiya's feathers - them being roommates is just a bonus. Hijirikawa Masato, the singing samurai, also enchanted me with his song Knocking on the mind, even if he is so old-fashioned it hurts Otoya's brain and he has some kind of a phobia with embracing a female. In a bid to help him to get prepared for audition, Tokiya had played a woman - kimono and all - and that still didn't help - but gotta admit Tokiya was a superb player in that one, even if I do find his HAYATO alter ego annoying. And then, Cecil Aijima. His song to Haruka was simply enchanting - I liked the melody of Eternity Love, even if it was a bit cheesy at the times. But I love cheesiness, so, this is a plus /sheepish grin/. As for writing, I am seriously contemplating to write a harem story again and this colourful cast of characters could prove a challenge, because they are so different from each other they literally make a rainbow when matched together /snarks/, but while we are at that, I seriously can't see them in homoerotic relationships. They give off too strong vibe of a friendship, and while I admire fanfiction writers that dared to tread in those waters with those characters, I personally can't see myself attempting something like that. Which is strange, because with Bleach, it's everything goes, but here, when the boys are like that.... kind of awkward and likable, with well-developed backgrounds, I sort of don't want to deviate from the main storyline.
As for CI - was frustrated because even if it's a month already, no sound yet. Some buzzing, squeakin' bats in ear, but nothing else. Today I also had a fitting, and the doc said I just have to be patient. I wanted to say screw patience, because i waited long enough, but even I know there are some things that can't be hurried up no matter how you wish them to be. Until then, I will be entertained by new songs and making new stories - gota get some of my old projects kickstarted up again, before the cog wheels in my brain rust too much to get them going.
And while we are at it, there is an excerpt from one of my pet projects, a crossover between KoF and Harry Potter. Yup, went to the dark side. /nods self-importantly/ Happy reading!
“Atchoo!”
A dark – haired, green eyed young man sneezed sniffling slightly.
If anyone is interested in him, this young
man is Harry Potter. As ordinary as they
came, with name and appearance and so on.
In Tokyo, he was just one of the tourists that ambled around the city,
sampling the delicacies and watching the cultural monuments and soaking in the
culture altogether.
Nobody knew that this young man was as far
from ordinary as the sun was from becoming a supernova star. Why, you ask? Because he was a wizard, a savior, a killer…
take your pick. But if you asked him, he
would have told you he was an ordinary person, thank you very much. Luckily, the Voldemort incident was viewed as
a minor case of terrorism in the world scheme, so Harry was not bombarded with
his adoring public or overzealous fans.
Partially also because he slunk away before they could confirm what had
just happened to make Voldemort keel
over, and Harry didn’t care for his
fame so any usurpers of it were more
than welcome to help themselves with it.
Harry just wanted to be a normal guy and travelling all over the world
to forget her.
Yes, Harry Potter was in love.
No, it wasn’t Ginny Weasley, even if she
told everyone that was willing to listen to her it was so.
No, it was her - the one who accompanied him on his hunt for Horcruxes, who stood by him when his other friend, one
Ronald Billius Weasley cowardly
hightailed out when the situation became
too hot for him to handle but alas… his love was unrequited.
Closing his eyes, Harry inhaled the cold
scent of smoke and rain, mixed in with pieces of people’s scents, and the smell
of garbage and dinner. So different,
and yet, so similar to the scent of London….
His heart gave a twinge at the thought.
‘No. No. Just …no. Don’t think about it. Don’t
think… about her.’
His mind railed against his heart, but
heart was a stubborn thing and still housed her, as if she were some kind of a
goddess.
‘But
what was the use of nursing an unrequited love, when you saw her fell in the
arms of your best friend, laughing, crying and relieved it was all over,
and she could begin her new life, with
him, instead of you?’ His mind mocked him, making
him scowl with frustrated anger and pain.
He had gave up everything – his life,
however pitiful it was, he had died, and
yet, his fondest wish, to have
her heart, was not fulfilled. Even now, on the other side of the world, he
wanted her, needed her, even if he knew it was impossible.
He walked among the people, barely looking
at the colorful sights. To him, they could as well be colorless what with him
being depressed over Hermione choosing Ron.
Without her… it was all for nothing.
Harry sighed again. Oh well, such was the life. As long as she was happy…
Besides, he was finally free of the
obligations to the dumbasses, called British Wizarding world, and it won’t do well
if he were still sulking.
Sirius definitely wouldn’t have wanted it.
With that thought in mind, he determinedly strode
to the shop to buy groceries.
What? He may have been depressed as shit,
but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hungry!
Being alive sucked, being in a one-sided
love was a bitch, but life went on, and left him with proverbial lemons and
growling stomach.
He couldn’t do anything with the lemons,
but he could do something about his hunger.
Ten minutes later, he was brushing the
shelves for miso pasta. Since he had come
to Japan, he became addicted to the native cuisine, and taught himself to cook
some dishes to pass the time. Some of
his tries were good, some not and a minor part of them turned downright ugly
and equally as unappetizing, but he persisted.
Mikoto-san, his temporary landlady occasionally taught him a trick or
two, but otherwise, the kind old woman left him to figure out the steps alone.
Humming thoughtfully to himself, he was
browsing the aisles slowly, looking up other ingredients like soba noodles and
brown rice. He was still undecided
whether to prepare ramen or domburi, but… oh well, he had to stock up on food
in any case. It was a casual occasion,
and he didn’t have anything to worry
about – except what he would have for dinner tonight.
And so, he was totally unprepared for being
accosted by big, tall and red – Whoa!
“You.
Finish the song.”
Dumbfounded green eyes looked at his
attacker.
**
It was a pure dumb luck that Iori managed
to find out his… prey. It helped that
the illusive songwriter didn’t change his clothes much, and besides, that
unruly mop of hair of his would be unmistakable everywhere. Sometimes, Iori cursed his memory for
remembering faces and random little details, but in this instance, he was
grateful for it.
And so, he grabbed the slender youth for
his right shoulder and stated his
demand.
“You.
Finish the song.”
Wide green eyes looked his brown ones
confused.
“Eh?” The
young man squeaked out, confused.
“But I didn’t write any - !”
His voice was pleasant, although it’s owner was confused just why
was standing in front of the aisle and allowing that redheaded punk to
manhandle him and address him so very…inappropriately.
In fact,
Iori was downright rude, but he didn’t care. He had a gem in his hands – or he would have,
if the youth in front of him would
consent to write the entire thing out.
“You did.
Three days ago, in café Shiroi Shoto.”
Iori retorted, narrowing his eyes dangerously.
Any lesser man would have caved in, but the
green-eyed youth only glared back. “You
are stalking me because I doodled some nonsense on a paper napkin? Dude, get a life.“ The youth brushed Iori’s hand off of his shoulder. “Besides, if they interest you so much,
finish them yourself. Have luck with
your high school assignment.”
Harry turned away from the redhead,
silently relieved that his neck wasn’t cricked up anymore. In such cases, he cursed his years of
malnutrition – he was still shorter as an average male, although it did help him blend among the people here
better. However, it was stupid, because
everyone assumed he was still a high – schooler or something similar. He had already lost track of how many times a
well-meaning concerned citizen or a police person asked him why he wasn’t
attending the classes. Absentmindedly massaging the back of his neck, he
silently moved forward to grab the dark soy sauce, dismissing the rude stranger as a yesterday news.
Iori twitched. That – that - just dismissed him! Him, the
Riot of Blood! It was unheard of! However, when he saw the male stretching
after the last bottle of dark soy sauce, he seized the chance and snatched it
himself, smirking at the disgruntled exclamation of his songwriter.
“Hey!”
Harry yelped out as the hand, clad in black leather, snatched his
purchase. He whirled around. “This is
mine!” A dark red eyebrow quirked up mockingly. “Snatchers keepers, losers weepers.” The redhead sneered, unpleasantly reminding
Harry of the greasy bat of dungeons and amping up his temper. He was hungry, heartbroken and tired and he
just wanted a good dinner and some quiet peace, and was that too much to ask
for?
“However,” The redhead continued
unrepentantly. “I am willing to return the bottle to you, but…”
Harry’s stomach sunk with dread. He just knew what he would hear next.
“In exchange, you will finish the song.”
Iori finished, dangling the bottle of soy sauce in front of Harry’s nose
tauntingly. However, he didn’t count on
Harry’s reflexes.
Quick as a viper, Harry snatched the bottle
back. “Thanks for passing it to me –
huh?”
Iori may have been surprised at his
target’s reflexes, but he still had a good hold on the neck of the bottle, so there they stood, both of them clutching the slender bottleneck,
and equally as stumped.
“Uh-huh.” Iori recovered first. “You finish the song first, and then I will
give you the bottle.” He smirked smugly as those green eyes narrowed with
outrage.
“Keep your fucking bottle. I will buy the sauce elsewhere.” Harry
snapped out at the persistent redheaded stranger, releasing the bottleneck and
turning around haughtily. The fucking
stranger can keep the fucking bottle and the fucking song for all he cared.
He marched away, his shoulders stiff with
irritation, leaving the annoying man behind.
Iori scowled at the bottle. He had lost his
target in a crowd because he was too dumbfounded to follow him.
**
Any sane person would give up by now.
However,
Iori wasn’t sane by any stretch of definition of this world, and when he
wanted something, he usually got it.
Well, except for defeating Kusanagi, but that was whole other story.
So… he made his way to exit.
He will get the stubborn ass to write out
the whole song, no ifs, ands or buts about it!
**
Meanwhile, Harry was walking toward his apartment,
still fuming about the idiot.
“Write me a song, my ass,” he grumbled out,
incensed, “I am not a fucking Shakespeare to fart out songs of all things! The
idiot…” In his grumbling he reverted to English, and his self – talk got the
attention of some unwelcome… elements.
“Oi, you.”
Someone called to him, making Harry turn.
“What the hell do you want?” He barked out,
peeved, eyeing the group of dangerous looking thugs distastefully.
“We don’t like foreigners. And this passage is under protection of Ekikage
group so…” One of them, a bleached blond drawled, grinning nastily.
Green eyes narrowed. So… bullies already, huh? “Hm…” He grunted non – comittally. Inwardly, he was cursing up a storm. This was just his kind of shitty luck –
being confronted with wannabe Muggle yakuzas who extorted money from
unsuspecting foreigners.
So using the magic was not possible. Japan may be laxer than England in that
regard, but that was only for its citizens.
Foreigners were strictly monitored at all times with a nifty little
charm that was, if the said foreigner was good, removed after two months. Unfortunately for Harry, he was in Japan for
only half a month and he still didn’t qualify as fully enabled wizard. Japanese people didn’t care about the hubbub
of him being The Man-Who-Won, which was one of the reasons to choose the
country, but right now, his decision was biting him in the ass.
Well, it was too late for moaning about the
unfairness of his life. Harry sighed.
The only thing he could do was going straight through this passage – he
wasn’t stupid enough to turn his back on the
Ekikage idiots.
“So… you
will pay for the passage. 2000
yen will suffice.” One of the other thugs grunted out, making his compatriots grinning with greed.
Inwardly, Harry groaned. He didn’t have such amount of money on
himself, and he really didn’t want
to get it out from ATM.
“200 yen and no more.” He stated, making the thugs bristle.
“Are you making fun of us, huh?” The one with a tribal tattoo on his right
cheek snarled at him, dark eyes
narrowing threateningly.
“I am just stating the real price.” Harry
retorted mildly, as he prepared to dash away.
“Soo… you making the fun of us.” Another
one piped up, his face reminding Harry unpleasantly of that damned rat.
And then, Harry’s word exploded with pain
as someone’s fist drove in his still healing side.
Gasping for air, he crumpled on the floor,
fighting to stay conscious.
Right now, he sorely regretted that he
didn’t write that damned song.
**
Iori was no tracking dog, but he was
determined, and tracking the songwriter right now was easier than expected.
Who was he kidding – tracking the bastard
was a pure dumb luck more than half of the time. Bu knowing
the city came in handy, and he banked on the fact that his prey would
want to get trough one of those secured passages. Meaning, he had little time to get to the
scene in time.
His steps hurried, and then, he began
running.
**
The thugs had the time of their lives. This… gaijin was stubborn, just like they
liked them, and until now, they had dislocated his shoulder, broken his arm and
right now, they were in a process
of redecorating his face with a knife.
Three wide, deep slices on his right cheek
were already carved in, and the left cheek had two, with third in process of
being carved in.
However, the stubborn gaijin still didn’t
give in. Even that hulking meat sobbed
and begged them to stop it at the second slice, but this little slip did
nothing of the sort.
Even rubbing in the lemon juice –
“What the hell are you losers doing?” A
sharp voice interrupted them.
The blond thug, apparently a leader, looked
at the red-haired man, annoyed. “Just extractin' a payment. Beat it.”
But the stranger didn’t go away. In
fact, he came closer. In the dull light of a streetlamp, his
dark red hair looked like blood.
Another foreigner.
The blond haired thug sneered. “Oi, boys… time to collect a fee, Whaddya
think?” Hyena-like laughter and snickering around him gave an agreement to his
idea.
Dark brown eyes narrowed. And then, he looked at the thugs’ victim, and
instantly, they widened in an outrage.
“You dare to harm what is mine?” His voice
was quiet, and any sane person would run for hills by now. But any sane person in that case would be
long time participants of King of Fighters tournament, and they were not sane
to begin with. However, they would at
least leave one fuming Riot of Blood
Yagami to Kyo Kusanagi to deal with.
Yagami and Kusanagi were the two who were
in a small handful of the fighters that constantly dominated the KoF
tournament. They had their pitfalls too, but they were far and few between – it
came as far that the permanent fighting crew joked that the tournament should
have been renamed as Yagami-Kusanagi Cup.
Neither of the two mentioned fighters found
that funny, and the culprits – Terry Bogard and
Kyo’s little apprentice, Shingo, although Shingo argued that it should be just a Kusanagi Cup, because Kyo had so far
most of the wins in the tournament
history. Terry then pointed out that
sometimes it was pure dumb luck on Kyo’s side, what with saving the world
business and offhandedly suggested that Yagami would be better which sparked another
debate, much to the amusement of listeners.
However, the idea was shot down, and
tournament’s name remained unchanged, much to Shingo’s disappointment and Kyo’s
relief. Iori didn’t care either way.
But back to the present.
The thugs unknowingly did the dumbest thing
ever – pissing off Yagami Iori. KoF
tournaments were a closed type tournaments, meaning only the best of the best
fighters knew about it, and as for
ordinary martial artists, the mentioned
tournament was like searching for Holy Grail.
You know about it, but if you are not selected nor have access to the
tournament tickets… well, then you are outta luck.
“Ken,
Shiro, deal with the punk.” The blond leader commanded, grinning cruelly
as he offhandedly began carving the third line on his prey’s cheek.
The red haired ‘punk’ tilted his head.
“Want to die, do you?” he purred out, dark brown eyes glinting with red.
The
two thugs charged at the still form of their prey, thinking the lone man to be
an easy job, frozen with fear at their
assault.
But when they were right in front of them,
the prey exploded into action. Their
dull eyes widened as they saw the bloodthirsty grin on their prey’s face, and
then, their worlds exploded with pain.
The punks who looked at the scene grinned in anticipation –
Ken and Shiro specialized in cornering their prey and double combos, and really, the foreigner didn’t have any
chance against the might of Ekikages –
But then, the man exploded into action, his fingers
snapping into their clawed form and the man became whirlwind of blood
and violence, breaking the bones as if
they were made from paper-mache.
“Kudaran!” The man spat out as he slammed Shiro down, making the man scream
with pain as his femur bone was broken.
Ken snarled with wordless rage, but he was already too late as his head
was snapped on the side and he was kicked into the gut with such a force he
literally flew into the wall.
“W – What?” The lead thug stuttered, his
eyes wide. “Who the hell are you?”
Dark brown eyes zeroed onto him with an
intensity that made him shudder.
“Someone who you just pissed off.
Now, die already!”
The redhead stepped forward, lifting his
hand and in a snap, a ball, made from violet flames appeared.
“Oh shit.” The rat-faced thug squeaked,
dark eyes bulging out. “It’s Yagami!”
The thugs stared at their member
dumbly. “Yagami who?” One of them asked,
grunting with confusion.
“I – it’s Yagami!” The Ratface stuttered again, backing away.
“Yagami Iori, the Blood Riot!” His voice became high with desperation as
he tried to find some hole to escape away through.
“Blood
– Oh, shit!” the leader
cursed, his eyes wide with
comprehension, as he stared at the approaching man fearfully.
Red hair – check, violet flames, check,
claw marks on his opponent – check. His
clothes were different from his usual tournament getup, but the flame told it all.
They were screwed.
He gulped, thinking to leave his prey – wait.
He grabbed the man, and placed the sharp, serrated
knife on the man’s throat. “One step
closer, and he will die!” His voice was quivering with fear.
Yagami stopped, narrowing his eyes in
outrage.
The lead thug smirked in victory.
**
Iori was in a condrum. He could beat the thugs, but then his song
writer would end with a nice, deep wound on his neck, or he could surrender and
–
Dull green eyes looked at him, and
surprisingly, they were not filled with panic or anything.
Iori blinked.
They were the eyes of a fighter.
Quick as a snake, the captive stomped on
his captor’s feet, making him curse with pain, but it was enough of a
distraction for Iori to finish the other thugs off with a flame and then
punching the swine who held the man into the face.
“P – Please have mercy!” The lead thug
stuttered as he edged away from the dangerous duo.
“Mercy?”
Iori asked flatly. “I don’t do
mercy on any day that ends on – y. Well,
you had to die sometime. Now is as good a time as any!” He lifted his clawed
hand to deal the finish blow.
“Stop!” The songwriter said, halting
him. “Yagami, or whoever the hell you
are – leave the poor bastards alone.
There is no cure for stupidity, and I really don’t want you to catch on
it.”
Wobbly, the man stood up, grimacing as he
clutched his arm. Yagami felt a twinge of sympathy, but it served the idiot
right. He didn’t want to write out the
song, this was his punishment.
“I will stop if you tell me your name.”
Iori hedged, smirking.
He got a poisonous glare from those green
eyes for his daring.
“Fine.
I am Potter Harry. Happy now?” The youth spat out, making him grin with
amusement.
“Ecstatic.” He deadpanned, and with a quick
punch, the thug leader was out like light.
“So, will you finish the song now?”
Potter Harry stared at him as if he were
mad.
“You want me to do what ?” He asked flatly,
green eyes squinting a little.
Iori thrust to him the small piece of paper
he had been molesting since he had gotten it.
“Finish the song.”
He smirked at his prey’s irritated face.
Yup.
Iori Yagami won again.
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