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Heroes Challenge: "Learning The Ropes"
Title: Learning The Ropes
Author: Rackham Rose
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Type: Shounen-ai
Challenge: Heroes
Rating: PG-13 for language
Time: 50 minutes
Disclaimer: If I owned this series, Tatsumi would still have his Bookworld ponytail. *_*
Notes: Spoilers for the end of the anime (and the corresponding manga arc, Kickass Kyoto Hen).
Also, the "can and screwdriver" metaphor came from ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
shoiryu, who is the proverbial bomb.
*`-,--
It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
You were supposed to seek your revenge on your own, or alongside a partner who was steady and quiet and taught you what you needed. You were supposed to watch that bastard die soaked in his own fear and blood, and then retreat to whatever reward you'd been vaguely promised in the moment after your dying breath.
It was supposed to be simple.
You thought, at first, that you knew where you stood. There was your boss, and your sort-of boss, both stern and one with a hair-trigger temper. You liked the secretary a little, liked the fact that he didn't take any shit. And then you saw him yelling and brushed against the irrational rage when he handed you a cup of coffee, and it spooked you, and you felt kind of embarrassed for being scared of one of your co-workers.
And then there was your partner.
God, you hated him at first. You had to wonder how the hell he even got his shoelaces tied, because he sure as shit didn't seem smart enough to keep anything straight. If you'd had the chance, if you hadn't been just that little bit wary of Tatsumi-san, you would have begged for a transfer in those first few days; you would have bitched and yelled and pleaded until you got it.
And then he caught you off-guard.
He put together an entire case, more or less, in the space of an hour--figured out where its hinges were and exactly how it was turning, and you had to admit that, yeah, when you thought about it, there was no other way it could have happened that made sense. He showed you this casual brilliance you'd never thought you'd see in someone outside of a mystery novel.
And he touched you.
Even after he knew about what a freak you were, even when you'd gathered up all the little power you had and hurled it at him, he touched you. Hugged you, petted your hair, squeezed your hand. He stood close to you and let you feel his breathing, like a tame animal asking for approval.
And you stopped and reconsidered.
He wasn't dumb. You knew better after a while. He put everything he had into what he was doing, and though it was like opening a can with a screwdriver he got the job done every time. He didn't have to jump in front of that arrow to protect you, but he did it anyway. He didn't have to bust in with Byakko at his side and guns (well, not literally) blazing to save the day, but he did it anyway.
You started to wish you were like that.
You'd lived through a lot, when you were alive, and you hadn't thought of your existence as a brave one. Yes, you fought to keep your life as the scars on your body bled it away; yes, you demanded that the Bureau take you on until you'd tracked down your murderer and personally fed him his own heart. Tsuzuki knew that he faced danger almost every day, and he went right in and made things okay no matter how much pain he'd have to soak to get it done.
And no matter how much he was hurting, he'd still smile at you and tell you it was okay, and mean it.
You had no idea how he could live like that.
You forgot exactly when you started to watch him so carefully, when you started trying to act with that confidence and pretend you actually had it. It was hard, and eventually it hit you that he didn't actually know how sure of himself he was. He didn't have faith in himself, per se--he just did things, without thinking.
You never expected that it might have hurt him in the past.
So you panicked when he got drunk, even though you gathered up all the steel and ice in you and made yourself rigid. God, what an idiot. God, how stupid.
He curled against you and asked you if he was human.
He touched you without fear, and he wanted you to be his strength for a moment. No one had ever wanted that of you.
No one had ever given you the chance to be needed.
And later, when it got worse, the thought crystallised. He'd looked at you with dull eyes, dead eyes, and your heart came roaring awake. Ice didn't matter. Steel didn't matter. Confidence didn't fucking matter.
Live, because I need somebody to show me how to do this, you wanted to scream. Live, because I haven't figured out how you put your evidence together on the spot yet. Live, because I have no idea where the men's rooms on the third floor are yet, or how to summon a shikigami, or how to walk down the street like it's the first sunny day in a thousand years.
You said, "Live, because I don't belong anywhere except with you."
And you saw him come to life again, his eyes sparking and then welling up with tears and longing and gratitude, and that was one more thing to admire about him.
He bounced back.
He taught you how to do the same.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, but you can't do a damn thing except love him now.
You don't think you mind, really.
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temps_mort,
