ext_201926 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_lounge2008-10-31 11:10 pm
thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_lounge2008-10-31 11:10 pm
Entry tags:
Oktoberfest '08 Entry: "Chat Made Me Do It" by Re
Title: Chat Made Me Do It
Author: Re (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
itsabere)
Beta: Duski (kind of? ♥)
Word Count: 2,111
Rating: Pretty sure it's G.
Characters: Yuffie Kisaragi, Kuroba Kaito, mentions of Sagara Sanosuke, Himura Kenshin, Okita Souji, Hattori Heiji (and Kudo Shinichi), and Martin Landel.
Pairing(s): Yuffie/Sano is heavily implied?
Summary 1: He solemnly swears he is up to no good.
Summary 2: Yuffie is stupid in that special, special way.
Summary 3: Picking up the pieces.
Notes: I apologise for mutilating characters, being vague, making no sense, and... yeah. |D; Also, the title? Chat made me do it. :|
The Big Idea
One day, Kaito got an idea.
He was pretty sure that it was a good idea. He was, after all, incredibly intelligent. Devious in nature. Cunning to a fault.
Nurturing the idea into fruition took a little time, of course. He had to gather supplies, had to make the necessary… arrangements, for when the time came. It wouldn’t do to have Hattori breathing down his neck, after all; as much as Kaito liked the Osakan, the guy did not need to know any more about his special talents than he already did.
Keeping Kudo out of the way would be a given necessity; he was much as a brat when fully-sized as he was when he was knee-high (actually, he was more of a brat. Kaito still hadn’t forgiven him for the incident with the boxer shorts). Trust a detective to lack tact when it came to crazy accusations about an innocent magician secretly being Kaitou Kid...
The only real problem was that he couldn’t do it alone; it would take too much time. Time he didn’t couldn’t waste, time he didn’t have. Collecting the supplies would be a lengthy process. The actual execution of the plan itself… well, that all depended upon whether or not he got caught, didn’t it? He didn’t have Jii here to assist him, didn’t have Akako to lend a hand unasked for…
In the end, the decision wasn’t all that difficult.
And lucky for him, he knew exactly who to go to.
---
“You have got to be kidding me.” Yuffie said, propping her chin casually on the back of her hand.
It was lunch-time in Landel’s Institute, and the cafeteria was, as always, full and buzzing with conversation. It provided the perfect cover for a somewhat private chat.
Kaito grinned. He’d expected this reaction; his plan was on the risky side. Actually, a little voice in the back of his mind (it sounded disturbingly like Aoko) told him that it was a downright stupid idea, and maybe that little voice was right. But a maybe wasn’t a certainty, and he thoroughly believed in making the impossible very possible indeed. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“We could turn this whole conversation into a really bad pun,” was the immediate and flippant reply. To his relief, she returned his grin with a brief one of her own. A moment passed while she chewed his plan over, and he let her, taking the opportunity to a few of the fries in front of him.
“Kaito, are you sure about this?” The ninja asked, eventually, “Like, really sure?”
He knew that she’d been interested from the start. If it had been her who’d come up with a plan on this scale, she wouldn’t have hesitated even for a heart-beat to put it into action… it was so tempting to make a joke and a tease about her concern, but he held it in. For now.
Instead, he leaned forward, folding his arms loosely on the table. “I’m sure.”
“Are you sure you’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” Kaito shot his companion a grin. “Just trust me, okay? Nothing can go wrong.”
----
8 Days Later, after the execution of The Plan (Doyleton)
----
Nobody should ever be allowed to say ‘nothing can go wrong’. It should be banned, punishable by… By something really horrible and nasty, like being locked in a moving car-- a moving car that was heading for a really, really tall cliff. With rocks at the bottom.
Exploding rocks.
“Nothing can go wrong.”
Geez, that was the biggest lie she’d ever heard!
“This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?” Yuffie asked, quite calmly. What she’d meant to say was more along the lines of ‘holy mother of Leviathan this is totally crazy let me out now’.
Let me off would probably be more appropriate, though. They were, after all, stuck on a roof.
“Nope.” Kaito replied, also quite calmly. His eyes were suspiciously bright. “But at least the goats look happy.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beating Around The Bush
I.
During her time spent at Landel’s Institute, Yuffie had become quite well-versed with that little thing known, quite commonly, as denial.
Oh, sure, she lived up to the reality of the place. She knew the routine, fought the monsters, made fun of it and took it seriously in equal measure... The Crossdressing Club definitely helped with that. Nothing said stress relief quite like stuffing unsuspecting victims into frilly pink skirts, after all. And if they found themselves missing a few valuables once they‘d escaped… well, that’d teach them to be a bit more careful, right?
She even accepted the disappearances and reappearances of her Gaian comrades! With ill-grace and sulking, but it was still acceptance. The only people from Gaia who never seemed to go away were the Turks, and that was more a curse than a blessing. Reno was surprisingly okay to work with, but one of these days, she was going to sand Rude’s head down to a fine point.
Landel would not win, Yuffie was determined. She’d get her revenge, and she’d get her life back; she would have her slice of cake, and come hell, high water, or death by ballpoint pen, she would eat it.
Really, she lived the way she always had done- facing each new challenge head on, whether the challenge turn out to be a hella hideous zombie-monster of doom or a bus-ride into Doyleton. Her pride wouldn’t let allow her to do anything less, and if there was one thing she swore she’d never lose, it was that; her pride.
But there was one particular challenge that always seemed to stump her. Just one. One thing, in the entirety of everything, that she couldn’t figure her way around. She didn’t know what to do with it.
And that challenge’s name was Sagara Sanosuke.
II.
At first, Yuffie had tried to convinced herself that everything was an accident.
Yeah, it was just an accident. Sagara didn’t mean to keep falling on or grabbing her chest. He was just a pervert, that was all; he just had a magnetic attraction for things that he should keep his goddamn hands (and face!) away from. She could understand that, kind of. She had sticky fingers herself, especially when materia was involved.
But boobs and materia were too completely different things. And it just kept happening!
III.
It took a few days, but Yuffie finally came to the conclusion that it wasn’t an accident.
Even after she’d poked him in the eye. Even after she’d beaten him around the head with a plateful of cod (she’d gotten sedated for being blatantly violent in the cafeteria, but it had been so worth it). Even after she’d gotten so creative with her retaliations that Kenshin had felt the need to step in…
The incidents continued to pile up, and Yuffie came to expect them at least once a day. If nothing had happened by the middle of Nightshift, either something was wrong (with the universe), or she hadn’t seen Sagara.
IV.
After a while, she started to almost enjoy the opportunity it gave her to let off some steam. Sagara was convinced of his innocence (he was stupid like that), and always gave as good as he got when she exacted her revenge.
One of the most memorable incidents had been during her second day-trip to Doyleton, in one of the parks. As usual, the whole thing had started with some friendly bickering, with the goofing off, the good-humoured melodramatics and the theatrics. All had been going well, until Yuffie had tripped. Sagara had taken the opportunity to try catching her. Yeah. Catching.
In hindsight, they’d been so lucky not to have been caught by the nurses. She didn’t have a clue how they’d managed to not get themselves caught, given how epic the resulting brawl had been; it had lasted for at least half an hour, and had descended into stick-fighting more than once.
The only thing she knew was that when it was over, they’d found Okita Souji sitting in a tree nearby with his pet detective, giving a running commentary.
V.
Deep down, Yuffie knew that Sagara liked her. She just did a great job of convincing herself that it wasn’t true. Deep down, she knew that she liked him back. She did a great job of ignoring that, too.
She’d never been the kind of girl to tie herself down. Even Wutai couldn’t lessen her desire for independence, for freedom. This was her excuse, whenever she allowed to think about actually admitting something; she couldn’t say yes, because then it would be serious.
As the days wore on, it became harder and harder to keep pretending. Things were getting serious whether she liked it or not.
And on the night that she got taken away for special counseling, the pretense was shattered for good.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Home
I.
The final battle between the patients and Martin Landel was brutal.
It wasn’t that Landel was in possession of some devastatingly powerful physical weapon, one which held the ability to blow all things to kingdom come; no, all he had was the whole of the Institute. And a really cool looking gun, but that was totally besides the point.
He knew he had the advantage. He had the power of science at his fingertips, and a horde of nurses and burly orderlies to back him up. The game was on when the first of those nurses and burly orderlies got stabbed in the throat by Okita I-Love-Pens Souji, and after that all hell broke loose.
Guess which team was horribly outnumbered? (Ding ding ding! We have a winner!)
Nobody knew where Landel had gotten all the man-power at five-minute’s notice; nobody cared, either. They just fought and they fought to win. All of them, from the kids to the old coots to those who didn’t know a sword from a chair leg. Whether or not they actually killed was up to them; some focused on tearing the building to pieces, or finding whatever information they could in amongst the carnage. Some did both. Some just tried to run, but that worked about as well as a car with pogo-sticks instead of wheels.
As time went on, the game began to change. Real leaders, with brains and charisma and often a pretty damn noticeable lack of tact - I don’t care if you hate vehicles, you get in there and you flatten as many of those bastards as you can, understood? - began to appear, and the chaos flourished into something with a chance of success.
The ebb and flow of battle continued merrily along (or not so merrily, depending on who you were and what views you held concerning gratuitous decapitation- the History Club got one hell of a reputation), from morning, through lunch, to afternoon and beyond. What had started as an innocent (yeah right) breakfast-time riot slash food fight was exceeding everybody’s expectations.
And then the sun began to set.
II.
She was a sunshine kind of girl.
Living for the moment, beating as much out of every second as she could; never letting anything bring her down for too long, ‘cause wasted time is wasted time, and there are better things to be doing.
Things like picking pockets just for fun, or challenging a samurai to a battle with slippers as the only legal weapons (he totally lost, he did, even if he had hit her at just the right angle that she’d stopped breathing for almost a minute).
She did all those things and more, because she didn’t want to stop moving. She didn’t want to stop and stare as the sun set; everything had to count for something, and besides, she knew what happened if you got trapped in a wellspring of emo, unable or unwilling to move on and get things done.
You died.
III.
She had a home again, now
Home was whatever she made it to be, really; it had always been that way. Home had been that tree over there, or it had been the tent in the clearing. It had been with a rag-tag group of misfits-terrorists-heroes-friends. It had been with the kids who thought that shuriken was another word for lollipop. It had been the little house with all the cats, all the traps, and a chest that nobody else could get into.
Home had never been that place. It had been the furthest thing from home; it’d stolen home away from her.
Home was with a little group, mismatched and displaced and struggling, but surviving. It had no fixed position; they were always moving, always looking for a way to fix what had been ripped away. It was missing so much, she was missing so much… but at least it was a start.
Author: Re (
itsabere)Beta: Duski (kind of? ♥)
Word Count: 2,111
Rating: Pretty sure it's G.
Characters: Yuffie Kisaragi, Kuroba Kaito, mentions of Sagara Sanosuke, Himura Kenshin, Okita Souji, Hattori Heiji (and Kudo Shinichi), and Martin Landel.
Pairing(s): Yuffie/Sano is heavily implied?
Summary 1: He solemnly swears he is up to no good.
Summary 2: Yuffie is stupid in that special, special way.
Summary 3: Picking up the pieces.
Notes: I apologise for mutilating characters, being vague, making no sense, and... yeah. |D; Also, the title? Chat made me do it. :|
The Big Idea
One day, Kaito got an idea.
He was pretty sure that it was a good idea. He was, after all, incredibly intelligent. Devious in nature. Cunning to a fault.
Nurturing the idea into fruition took a little time, of course. He had to gather supplies, had to make the necessary… arrangements, for when the time came. It wouldn’t do to have Hattori breathing down his neck, after all; as much as Kaito liked the Osakan, the guy did not need to know any more about his special talents than he already did.
Keeping Kudo out of the way would be a given necessity; he was much as a brat when fully-sized as he was when he was knee-high (actually, he was more of a brat. Kaito still hadn’t forgiven him for the incident with the boxer shorts). Trust a detective to lack tact when it came to crazy accusations about an innocent magician secretly being Kaitou Kid...
The only real problem was that he couldn’t do it alone; it would take too much time. Time he didn’t couldn’t waste, time he didn’t have. Collecting the supplies would be a lengthy process. The actual execution of the plan itself… well, that all depended upon whether or not he got caught, didn’t it? He didn’t have Jii here to assist him, didn’t have Akako to lend a hand unasked for…
In the end, the decision wasn’t all that difficult.
And lucky for him, he knew exactly who to go to.
---
“You have got to be kidding me.” Yuffie said, propping her chin casually on the back of her hand.
It was lunch-time in Landel’s Institute, and the cafeteria was, as always, full and buzzing with conversation. It provided the perfect cover for a somewhat private chat.
Kaito grinned. He’d expected this reaction; his plan was on the risky side. Actually, a little voice in the back of his mind (it sounded disturbingly like Aoko) told him that it was a downright stupid idea, and maybe that little voice was right. But a maybe wasn’t a certainty, and he thoroughly believed in making the impossible very possible indeed. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“We could turn this whole conversation into a really bad pun,” was the immediate and flippant reply. To his relief, she returned his grin with a brief one of her own. A moment passed while she chewed his plan over, and he let her, taking the opportunity to a few of the fries in front of him.
“Kaito, are you sure about this?” The ninja asked, eventually, “Like, really sure?”
He knew that she’d been interested from the start. If it had been her who’d come up with a plan on this scale, she wouldn’t have hesitated even for a heart-beat to put it into action… it was so tempting to make a joke and a tease about her concern, but he held it in. For now.
Instead, he leaned forward, folding his arms loosely on the table. “I’m sure.”
“Are you sure you’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” Kaito shot his companion a grin. “Just trust me, okay? Nothing can go wrong.”
----
8 Days Later, after the execution of The Plan (Doyleton)
----
Nobody should ever be allowed to say ‘nothing can go wrong’. It should be banned, punishable by… By something really horrible and nasty, like being locked in a moving car-- a moving car that was heading for a really, really tall cliff. With rocks at the bottom.
Exploding rocks.
“Nothing can go wrong.”
Geez, that was the biggest lie she’d ever heard!
“This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?” Yuffie asked, quite calmly. What she’d meant to say was more along the lines of ‘holy mother of Leviathan this is totally crazy let me out now’.
Let me off would probably be more appropriate, though. They were, after all, stuck on a roof.
“Nope.” Kaito replied, also quite calmly. His eyes were suspiciously bright. “But at least the goats look happy.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beating Around The Bush
I.
During her time spent at Landel’s Institute, Yuffie had become quite well-versed with that little thing known, quite commonly, as denial.
Oh, sure, she lived up to the reality of the place. She knew the routine, fought the monsters, made fun of it and took it seriously in equal measure... The Crossdressing Club definitely helped with that. Nothing said stress relief quite like stuffing unsuspecting victims into frilly pink skirts, after all. And if they found themselves missing a few valuables once they‘d escaped… well, that’d teach them to be a bit more careful, right?
She even accepted the disappearances and reappearances of her Gaian comrades! With ill-grace and sulking, but it was still acceptance. The only people from Gaia who never seemed to go away were the Turks, and that was more a curse than a blessing. Reno was surprisingly okay to work with, but one of these days, she was going to sand Rude’s head down to a fine point.
Landel would not win, Yuffie was determined. She’d get her revenge, and she’d get her life back; she would have her slice of cake, and come hell, high water, or death by ballpoint pen, she would eat it.
Really, she lived the way she always had done- facing each new challenge head on, whether the challenge turn out to be a hella hideous zombie-monster of doom or a bus-ride into Doyleton. Her pride wouldn’t let allow her to do anything less, and if there was one thing she swore she’d never lose, it was that; her pride.
But there was one particular challenge that always seemed to stump her. Just one. One thing, in the entirety of everything, that she couldn’t figure her way around. She didn’t know what to do with it.
And that challenge’s name was Sagara Sanosuke.
II.
At first, Yuffie had tried to convinced herself that everything was an accident.
Yeah, it was just an accident. Sagara didn’t mean to keep falling on or grabbing her chest. He was just a pervert, that was all; he just had a magnetic attraction for things that he should keep his goddamn hands (and face!) away from. She could understand that, kind of. She had sticky fingers herself, especially when materia was involved.
But boobs and materia were too completely different things. And it just kept happening!
III.
It took a few days, but Yuffie finally came to the conclusion that it wasn’t an accident.
Even after she’d poked him in the eye. Even after she’d beaten him around the head with a plateful of cod (she’d gotten sedated for being blatantly violent in the cafeteria, but it had been so worth it). Even after she’d gotten so creative with her retaliations that Kenshin had felt the need to step in…
The incidents continued to pile up, and Yuffie came to expect them at least once a day. If nothing had happened by the middle of Nightshift, either something was wrong (with the universe), or she hadn’t seen Sagara.
IV.
After a while, she started to almost enjoy the opportunity it gave her to let off some steam. Sagara was convinced of his innocence (he was stupid like that), and always gave as good as he got when she exacted her revenge.
One of the most memorable incidents had been during her second day-trip to Doyleton, in one of the parks. As usual, the whole thing had started with some friendly bickering, with the goofing off, the good-humoured melodramatics and the theatrics. All had been going well, until Yuffie had tripped. Sagara had taken the opportunity to try catching her. Yeah. Catching.
In hindsight, they’d been so lucky not to have been caught by the nurses. She didn’t have a clue how they’d managed to not get themselves caught, given how epic the resulting brawl had been; it had lasted for at least half an hour, and had descended into stick-fighting more than once.
The only thing she knew was that when it was over, they’d found Okita Souji sitting in a tree nearby with his pet detective, giving a running commentary.
V.
Deep down, Yuffie knew that Sagara liked her. She just did a great job of convincing herself that it wasn’t true. Deep down, she knew that she liked him back. She did a great job of ignoring that, too.
She’d never been the kind of girl to tie herself down. Even Wutai couldn’t lessen her desire for independence, for freedom. This was her excuse, whenever she allowed to think about actually admitting something; she couldn’t say yes, because then it would be serious.
As the days wore on, it became harder and harder to keep pretending. Things were getting serious whether she liked it or not.
And on the night that she got taken away for special counseling, the pretense was shattered for good.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Home
I.
The final battle between the patients and Martin Landel was brutal.
It wasn’t that Landel was in possession of some devastatingly powerful physical weapon, one which held the ability to blow all things to kingdom come; no, all he had was the whole of the Institute. And a really cool looking gun, but that was totally besides the point.
He knew he had the advantage. He had the power of science at his fingertips, and a horde of nurses and burly orderlies to back him up. The game was on when the first of those nurses and burly orderlies got stabbed in the throat by Okita I-Love-Pens Souji, and after that all hell broke loose.
Guess which team was horribly outnumbered? (Ding ding ding! We have a winner!)
Nobody knew where Landel had gotten all the man-power at five-minute’s notice; nobody cared, either. They just fought and they fought to win. All of them, from the kids to the old coots to those who didn’t know a sword from a chair leg. Whether or not they actually killed was up to them; some focused on tearing the building to pieces, or finding whatever information they could in amongst the carnage. Some did both. Some just tried to run, but that worked about as well as a car with pogo-sticks instead of wheels.
As time went on, the game began to change. Real leaders, with brains and charisma and often a pretty damn noticeable lack of tact - I don’t care if you hate vehicles, you get in there and you flatten as many of those bastards as you can, understood? - began to appear, and the chaos flourished into something with a chance of success.
The ebb and flow of battle continued merrily along (or not so merrily, depending on who you were and what views you held concerning gratuitous decapitation- the History Club got one hell of a reputation), from morning, through lunch, to afternoon and beyond. What had started as an innocent (yeah right) breakfast-time riot slash food fight was exceeding everybody’s expectations.
And then the sun began to set.
II.
She was a sunshine kind of girl.
Living for the moment, beating as much out of every second as she could; never letting anything bring her down for too long, ‘cause wasted time is wasted time, and there are better things to be doing.
Things like picking pockets just for fun, or challenging a samurai to a battle with slippers as the only legal weapons (he totally lost, he did, even if he had hit her at just the right angle that she’d stopped breathing for almost a minute).
She did all those things and more, because she didn’t want to stop moving. She didn’t want to stop and stare as the sun set; everything had to count for something, and besides, she knew what happened if you got trapped in a wellspring of emo, unable or unwilling to move on and get things done.
You died.
III.
She had a home again, now
Home was whatever she made it to be, really; it had always been that way. Home had been that tree over there, or it had been the tent in the clearing. It had been with a rag-tag group of misfits-terrorists-heroes-friends. It had been with the kids who thought that shuriken was another word for lollipop. It had been the little house with all the cats, all the traps, and a chest that nobody else could get into.
Home had never been that place. It had been the furthest thing from home; it’d stolen home away from her.
Home was with a little group, mismatched and displaced and struggling, but surviving. It had no fixed position; they were always moving, always looking for a way to fix what had been ripped away. It was missing so much, she was missing so much… but at least it was a start.