I usually don't post self-indulgent fics. So I was wondering if anyone would be interested to read an ongoing story I've been writing of my & a friend's OC being included in Kanoh Agito's backstory starting from his survival in the Russian-Mongolian border before he got taken in by The Other Niko.
It's pretty gruesome so I'm hesitant to share.
Fun Fact: Looking through Kaede's Wiki, I found that she knows multiple languages! We love our intelligent, beautiful Queen.
Between The Lines
The fluorescent lights of Yamashita Trading Co. hummed with the intensity of a dying star, and Akiyama Kaede was its exhausted satellite.
She adjusted her glasses with the knuckle of her middle finger—a habit she’d developed to avoid smudging the lenses with her fingerprints—and stared at the spreadsheet blurring before her. Three languages flickered across her monitor: Japanese logistics, English contractor clauses, and German liability waivers for the Kengan Annihilation Tournament preliminaries. Her blazer, buttoned precisely to the collarbone, felt like armor against the chaos. Her blonde ponytail, swept severe and professional with that errant chin-length strand tucked behind her ear, swung as she pivoted in her chair to grab another folder.
"Thirty-seven fighters to lodge, medical records to verify, and Yamashita-san wants the revised itinerary by dawn," she muttered to herself, French and Spanish curse words mingling under her breath like a private storm. She didn’t notice the door open.
She did notice the smell. Sweat. Iron. Something wild that didn’t belong in an office.
"Akiyama Kaede."
The voice was gravel against silk. Kaede jumped, clutching her blazer closed over her white shirt, her brown eyes wide behind the red frames.
Tokita Ohma leaned in the doorway, his mop of dark, seaweed-messy hair casting shadows over his narrow, relaxed gaze. He wore the same black-and-grey t-shirt and blue jeans he’d worn for three days, sneakers scuffed at the toes. He looked big in the small office space, tan skin glowing under the harsh lights, athletic build coiled with an energy that made the room feel too small.
"Ohma-san," Kaede managed, switching to her professional mask—the one that seemed cold to others but was really just a shield against her own social awkwardness. "If you’re here to demand another match, I’ve already told you. The representative fighter roster is closed. Please submit a formal request in writing."
Ohma blinked. His illiteracy wasn’t a secret to her anymore, not after months of watching him struggle with contracts, watching him call everyone by their full names in that strange, heavy katakana way he’d learned from the Inside.
"Not here for that," he grunted, pushing off the doorframe. He moved closer, and Kaede found herself pressing back into her ergonomic chair, aware suddenly of her height—or lack thereof—and the way her blazer pulled when she breathed too deep. Don’t think about the weight, she commanded herself, feeling the heat of irritation prickle her neck when she remembered the office gossip about her last week. Professional. Be professional.
"Then what?" she asked, her voice clipped, polite, distant.
Ohma stared at her. Really stared. His battle-hungry brain—the one that calculated kill zones and pressure points and victory angles in milliseconds--scrambled. There was no fight here. No opponent. Just Kaede. The smell of her perfume, something sharp and clean like lemon and paper. The click of her pen. The way her glasses slid down her nose when she was concentrating, revealing the frustration in her eyes.
He didn’t know why he kept coming back. Why he’d beaten three men unconscious yesterday in the preliminaries but had spent the aftermath wondering if she’d eaten lunch. Why seeing her now made his chest feel like he’d taken a palm strike to the sternum.
"You're... tired," he said finally. It wasn’t a question.
Kaede blinked. The observation was so blunt, so lacking in office etiquette, that it disarmed her. "I’m... managing the tournament logistics. It’s eventful." She gestured vaguely at the stacks of paper. "Too eventful for... distractions."
She meant crushes. She meant the way the other secretaries giggled about fighter physiques. She meant the vulnerability of wanting someone when her job demanded perfection.
Ohma’s calloused hand reached out. Kaede froze. He plucked a stray paperclip from her blazer lapel--she hadn’t even noticed it stuck there--and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.
"You're crooked," he said.
"Excuse me?" Her voice rose, defensive, ready to chastise him for mentioning her appearance, her age, her--
"Your hair," he clarified, nodding at the chin-length strand that had escaped her ponytail, falling across her right cheek. "It's... crooked. And you got this... thing."
He dropped the paperclip onto her keyboard.
Kaede stared at him. Her heart performed a traitorous gymnastics routine against her ribs. "Thank you," she whispered, the German and Spanish and French all evaporating from her tongue, leaving only Japanese. Only honesty.
Ohma nodded, scowling. He hated this. This feeling. It wasn’t the clarity of battle. It was murky. It made him want to protect her--which he’d already done once in the preliminaries when debris had fallen, his body moving before his brain to shield her--but also made him want to stay. To learn how those blonde locks felt against his skin. To know why she buttoned that coral blazer so high.
He didn't understand it. He just knew he’d fight anyone who made her look that exhausted again.
-
Weeks blurred. The tournament raged. Kaede fainted when she saw him alive after a match she thought had killed him--the world going black, her chest heaving as she collapsed against Yamashita’s desk, only to wake to Ohma’s scarred hands holding her shoulders, his wavy hair brushing her cheek as he leaned too close, asking if she was broken.
She’d pushed him away. Professional. Distance.
But he kept calling her full name. Akiyama Kaede. Like a prayer he didn’t know he was making.
-
The night air in the tournament district tasted like rain and asphalt. Kaede finally stepped out of the office at 2 AM, her blazer unbuttoned for the first time in fourteen hours, her glasses fogged from the humidity. She wanted to cry from exhaustion, but her pride wouldn’t let her.
"Akiyama Kaede."
She didn’t jump this time. She turned.
Ohma sat on the concrete steps outside. He’d been waiting. Three hours. He didn’t have a watch. He’d just... waited.
"You’re here," she said, her voice small.
"You're here," he countered, standing. He leaned over her, just over half a foot taller but he didn’t use it to intimidate. Not with her. Never with her.
The streetlamp flickered. Died.
They stood in the sudden dimness, shadows swallowing the details of his scars, her glasses, the corporate polish and the street-fight dirt. Just shapes. Just breath.
"I don't..." Ohma started, his rough voice faltering. He who belittled champions and provoked monsters. He who feared only one woman’s mating instincts but feared this--this--more than death. "I don't know what this is. In the Inside, we didn't... I didn't- I don't know words for..."
He gestured between them, frustrated, his narrow gaze finally breaking open to show the confusion, the want, the violent tenderness he’d been storing up every time he watched her adjust her glasses or curse in four languages.
Kaede’s professional demeanor cracked. The socially awkward girl beneath--the one terrified of being too old, too heavy, too awkward--stepped forward.
"Ohma," she whispered. Not Tokita Ohma. Just Ohma. "You don't need words."
The dark hid her blush. It hid his trembling hands.
They moved at the same time. Her coral blazer brushed his black tie-dye t-shirt. His seaweed hair tickled her forehead. He smelled like battle and pine. She smelled like ink and lemons.
His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing the hinge of her glasses. She didn’t chastise him. She didn’t faint.
"Akiyama Kaede," he breathed, and it sounded like surrender.
"Kaede," she corrected, her hands finding his chest, feeling the athletic build, the heartbeat that raced like a war drum. "Just Kaede."
Their lips met in the dim night, slow and burning and finally understood.
I love your Kengan Keychain! Are you going to make more?
We'll see if people want them! If Ohma & Lihito sell out (they're going to be very limited. 8 of each) I'll make more characters!
I actually have 2 keychains already made, but I wasn't happy with my art, how the sparkles looked, or the color of the keyrings.
Example 1: Suziezilla.
Example 2: Kanoh's first indulgent breakfast with Takayama.
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I think the non-glitter sides look better, but they're of good quality with reinforced resin domes.
If anyone is interested in buying these regardless, let me know! They'll be £15 through PayPal(preferred) or Kofi (not including shipping since I have to see how it works per country. I'm not a business, just a lame lil' artist that doesn't know much yet).
There are many of the Susie, but only 2 left of the Kengan keychains.
I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard
Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.
Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.
Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.
Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.
SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.
SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.
Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.
Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.
Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.
Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.
Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.
