Kafka, about to start his pull ups: Has anyone seen my shirt? I thought I left it here.
Hoshina, kicking the trash can he threw Kafka’s shirt in to the side along with the rest of his shirts he scavenged from his drawers: Nope. Have seen anything. Must be losing it old man. So get to it until I see sweat dripping down.
Kn8 ships and how clean their houses would be if they lived together:
Kafhoshi: Almost clean. Full sink but the trash is taken out. When they host, the place is spotless (Soshiro comes from an important family and was raised with good hosting manners). If they have a patio, it's a little messy (Kafka keeps an ashtray there and only smokes outside, if at all). Soshiro has a cluttered storage room for swords. He refuses to downsize his collection.
Kafmina: Messy, but it's largely because of the 600+ lbs cat they have in the living room. Bakko needs a lot of maintainence and though he does have his own enclosure in the backyard, he prefers the couch. It also doesn't help that the kitchen counters are covered with takeout from Kafka and random cat-related knick knacks Mina buys. Expect cat fur in the strangest of places.
Hoshimina: Clean! Soshiro said no tiger in the living room :( The cat knick knacks are lined up on display shelves adjacent to the swords on the wall. Their decor sparks joy and is pleasing to the eye.
Hoshiminakaf: Not fully clean but they're trying. One chore falls behind schedule and suddenly it's a forest in there. They leave notes for eachother around the house because it's silly. Mina got them a chore wheel to spin (they didn't really need it but it's cute). It's a very homely vibe.
Narukaf: Don't make me laugh, that shit is filthy. But it's interesting! Maximalist design. Honestly, it's hard to tell whether it's artsy or juvenile. Gives college dorm vibes. Gen will hire cleaning help if it ever gets legitimately hazardous to live there.
Narukono: Disorganized but not unhygienic? Work files mixed with anime prints. Gundam figures used as a paperweight for classified documents. Calculator on the bathroom sink. It's clean-ish but good luck finding anything. Konomi has lost a few pairs of glasses.
Naruhoshi: Starts clean then gets messy then clean again. Rinse repeat. The cleanliness ebbs and flows like a river. Gen has a game room and Soshiro has a personal library. They have an agreement not clean each other's areas (Soshiro accidentally vaccumed up an anime figure and that was the last time he was allowed to clean the game room).
Okohoshi: Clean! They have seperate work rooms/offices at the house and those can potentially get messy (empty coffee cups, books on the floor, etc) but otherwise they've got a genuinely clean living space. Very standard decor, nothing wild.
Ihareno: Clean (everyone say thank you to Reno). Emo/punk meets gym bro vibes. The paper weights are actual weights. Manga collections and tokusatsu figures on shelves. Rock album vinyls line the walls. Everything's in order but one time they forgot about a slice of cheese in the back of the mini fridge and it grew fur. It was terrifying.
[Jesus H Christ this spiraled out of me from nowhere.]
Prized Champion: A Roman Gladiator AU.
Content Warnings: Graphic violence, on screen death, implied/off-screen attempted rape, possible mildly toxic polyship dynamics.
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The Colosseum. A layered crown of sweat soaked stone caging in the raucous cheers of a riled crowd. Its rings of seats stretched to the sky as if to call upon praise from the sun and to share an ounce of its divine glory onto the spectacles the stadium has put on display. The roar of the mob spills over the top and through its grand arches, out onto the busy, merchant dappled streets below. The sounds of battle warring within could barely be heard from the outside, but from the pulvinar- oh, how the cries of playful rage drifted up to the Emperor's seat.
And today, the Emperor wasn't alone in his enjoyment. Emperor Hoshina would often enjoy the bloody festivities with his beloved wife, Mina, but today they were accompanied with an extra member hailing from one of the greater military households, Narumi Gen. Narumi was of relation to Mina as they were siblings, who as time grew longer their sightings of each other grew farther. Mina was raised to be the fairest of maidens fit for servitude to some great house, although it was close to a true surprise that she had managed to capture the eye of their current ruler. Narumi was raised a devout warrior, a lifestyle that suited him well once he rose out of the ranks of a common foot soldier.
This week was dedicated to Jupiter, and as expected it was to be a week filled with glorious games. A week Narumi was not going to miss, considering he had to be left out of several others since the start of his campaign to expand to the west. Even when they were raised in the same household, they did their best to tolerate each other, but a part of Mina did hope that their distance and his forced exposure to a more rigid way of life would have made their prolonged meeting more... amicable to say the least. But as she made repeated glances over to his overly relaxed frame and his incredibly bored expression despite the amenities available and the current circumstances, she had a feeling this week will just feel like a regression back to childhood for her. A fact to be confirmed once she heard his disinterested sigh over the laughing jeers of the stadium goers around them.
"Please tell me your husband is going to kill this one off at the end." Narumi bemoaned around a messy sounding bite of an apple.
"Narumi, please. You're not even watching the fight" Mina sighed defeatedly as she flopped around in her lectus seated back away from the edge of the balcony.
"You're not either." Her brother countered mockingly, spitting chunks of half-chewed apple in her direction.
The two of them were sitting in the Emperor's section, a walled off area dedication to royal overindulgence. From the balcony wall, the ruler and his special guests had access to the best seats in the colosseum. Right at the centerline of the stage and just over a story from the floor, it was as close to the action a royal could get. The coveted box seats even jutted out just a little further than the rest of the seats on their row, just to establish even harder just how exclusive the choice seating was. Not that it needed to be rubbed in all the harder by the expensive purple tapestries showcasing Emperor Hoshina's house crest flying on either side of the housing. Located within was a buffet of fresh fruit and desserts, numerous pitchers of wine and water, and several handmaidens waiting on their every whim.
Their Emperor stood right next to the balcony wall, having appeared to be unmoved by the events unfolding before him. He had not sat down or moved from the wall since the start of the fight some time ago, but his posture nor his expression made any change from indifference. Before him was one of the multitude of gloriously bloody fights scheduled to take place today. It was three trained gladiators of various skills and size being pitted against one rather large contender. Despite the far-flung strings of clotted blood cooling in the spots of shaded sand, the fight was taking on a rather comical approach. While it was an unfairly stacked fight, the odd man out was doing a rather fine job of not appearing to take too much damage.
Kafka Hibino, a gladiator not well known by face, but through his actions in the ring. While not one of the most heavily requested of fighters by popular choice, it was undeniable that he could fill in earlier seats with his somewhat comical way of fighting. A helmeted man who was quick to boast his evasive abilities, was rather hopeless with any sort of real weaponry. Swords fell out of hands, spears slipped as if covered in oil, even a net was quicker to catch its owner than it was to catch others. He would always end up injured in the oddest fashion, but it was the sprays of blood that added to his unique comedy. It was not known to the public as to why Kafka was always scheduled to fight at least once a day during festivals, most just chalked it up to someone higher up pitying him.
With as loud as Narumi was complaining about his presence, no one would be suspecting it was someone in the royal seats themselves who adored the man.
"He's an incompetent fool who brings no honor to the games." Narumi growled as he flung his used apple core as far as he could from his seat. Right over the balcony wall and off to the side the ring. While he couldn't see it from where he was sitting, telling by the joyous laughter he suspected the Emperor's favorite must have noticed it and somehow purposely used it to his disadvantage.
"And after all this time I had you pegged as someone who would take pleasure in someone else's misery." Mina teased flatly as he waved down a servant for their plate of dates.
"It's not really misery if we're both enjoying it, is it?" The Commander sniped back, "He may have his helmet on, but I can see clear as the ocean that sick bastard is getting a kick out of this."
"Taking pride in brightening people's day? How ill of him." Mina scrunched her nose up at him before returning her focus on her husband.
Inside the ring, the fight was reaching toward its climax. Kafka and one of the contenders he was fighting against had somehow managed to "defeat" the other two fighters in the ring, but as it happens the energy between them had changed. Now it was Kafka against this rookie fighter, a recently to be rumored prodigy skilled in dual wielding falx. He was young and stark blond, with half of the build typically seen of gladiators, and despite it all he held his own against three men nearly twice his size. The stadium goers had started to nickname him "David" despite that not being even remotely close to his real name. Kafka had lost the helmet when his "ally" had betrayed their hastened friendship in order to continue the fight and was left looking tired, hunched over, and cradling a profusely bleeding wound to his left side.
"Et tu, Reno? And here I thought we had forgiven each other?" Kafka called out as loud as he could so all of the people around could bear witness to the betrayal.
"All in the name of glory to Grand Roma. Sir." Reno cried out in return as they continued to circle each other, "And her glory demands to be awash in blood!" With a finalizing shout, Reno charged forward with an upper slash with the right hand, only to be quickly followed with a downward slash with the left
Kafka did his best to dance around the prodigy's flurry of blows, only taking on as little damage as he could just to give the appearance of raised stakes. He tumbled over to one of the "fallen" Gladiator's unused nets and swung it wide behind him, only serving to make Reno backstep out of its way. While distracted, Kafka picked up the matching trident and made a few threatening jabs back at his opponent. Reno expertly blocked several strikes from the trident with his own set of impressive moves, but he would not hold the upper hand for long. With a subtle twist of the trident, Kafka had succeeded in entangling both of Reno's swords. Reno, with his quick thinking, could only manage to rescue one of his curved swords from the ensnared mass of metal, but the other was left tossed to the side as Kafka pulled away.
Unfortunately for Kafka, the trident also flew away from his grip as he pulled away. The younger gladiator took the chance and bolted forward again and made wild swings with his last blade, causing it to dramatically catch the sun's rays and make it appear to be glowing with holy light. Kafka pretended to trip at just the right moment and scrambled towards the location of the other blade, ripping a reel of laughter from the audience. Sword in hand, Kafka traded blows with the swordsman while on his back, doing his best to buy himself time to disengage. A handful of echoing clashes later, Kafka weaseled his large frame out from under his enemy's assault.
His ungraceful escape wasn't meant to last forever, because as soon as he turned around, he felt the searing sting of a sharp blade cut across the meat of his back. While it didn't cut deep, it was certainly enough to get his attention. Kafka turned around quickly, just in time to block another blow intended for him. Their blades caught on each other, causing their scraping song to ring out to the riled masses surrounding them.
"The younger generation should know when to yield under the strength of a stronger opponent!" Kafka shouted out as he leaned his upper body weight over Reno, making the shorter man buckle under him just the slightest.
"When you find one stronger than me, feel free to send them up from hell!" Reno, defiant to the end, held on to his quickly wasting strength as long as he could, waiting until Kafka leaned so far over him it looked like he was going to crush the prodigy.
At the last second, just as it was about to look like Reno's legs were to buckle out from under him, he tilted his whole body and elbowed Kafka right into the wounded side. Kafka made the most agonized of cries and rolled away from the attack.
Back at the pulvinar, Narumi had finally had enough of sitting around and had decided to at least watch the supposed downfall of the world's worst gladiator.
"What is it about him that you like so much?" Narumi asked his brother-in-law as the fight took a long dramatic pause.
At first, it seemed like Hoshina didn't hear him, but after a weighty moment he finally answered with "He makes me laugh."
"You don't seem to be laughing now." The Commander retorted, "Shall I just assume that your laugh echoes around in that empty heart of yours until it dissipates into nothingness?"
Hoshina didn't answer in any verbal fashion and only graced his guest with a sidelong glance, the look itself speaking volumes with a subtle crook of his lips. As the fight drew to it's inevitable close, Narumi looked on as Kafka was dragged before the Emperor by his hair and took a contemplative sip of his wine.
"He's the worst gladiator I've ever seen, and yet you make him fight for you every day. If this is how you show affection, it's only in the most twisted sense of the word."
"Dearest, something tells me your brother can't see what's practically right in front of his face." Hoshina slyly commented as the stadium waited with bated breath for his official answer on the fight's conclusion.
Narumi tossed a bewildered look, shrugging and shaking his shoulders as he looked back towards his sister who hadn't left her languid pose. Mina bit back a knowing giggle as she pulled a date pit from her mouth and placed it on the table next to her.
"He hasn't been around us long, so do give him a pass on not picking up on this fact, My Love." She called out as her hand came together under her chin to frame her face.
"And that would be?" Narumi's tone dragged on with irritation, not being fond of this verbal game of hiding hints.
Mina plucked on the edges of her toga, pulling up the hem of it so its color could catch the light and draw attention to its odd choice of hue.
"He prefers all of his most prized possessions to be drenched in red." Her tongue rolled around the emphasis as to not let the point be muddled no longer.
As the crowd around the colosseum erupted into violent applause once witnessing the answer their Emperor gave to the victors, a cold thought dawned on Narumi's mind. He was not one to shy away from violence, couldn't be the type in his profession of choice, but as he turned to look back at the ring, he saw the fight with a fresh sense of understanding. Kafka, with his beads of sweat glittering like dew, shallow gashes dripping blood as red as gems, and his broad chest flexing like a labored beast. He was on his knees and held back by the other gladiator's grip on his hair. With his hands behind his head, he would have looked like a criminal caught and trapped... if it wasn't for that sick grin splitting across his face. A cheeky slip of the tongue dipped out and smeared a drop of blood that was trailing across the top of Kafka's lip, an action that spoke of defiance but didn't carry to his eyes. No, his eyes reflected the look of submission, and was met with Hoshina's look of quiet conquest. A look that appeared to be far too comfortable on the Emperor's face for Narumi's liking.
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There was a distinct change in the air a few days later after the start of the games. A dark static haze seemed to sleep into the warm grey clouds that dotted the skies above. There was nothing odd or preordained about today, nothing in the air or news that would bring about such a heavy weight about one's shoulders. Still, the royal couple couldn't shake this incoming sense of dread. What's worse is that the beginning of their day felt the same as any other. True, they had spent most of their day wondering where the hell Mina's troublesome brother had wandered off too, but they kept up their needed, unbothered appearance despite his absence.
With the start of their day staying uneventful, the sun rushed past and shone its light onto the towering walls of the colosseum once more. Hoshina stayed sitting for most of the games, directing his answers through his advisor and choosing to grind his teeth on the edge of his goblet, the only sigh he would let himself utilize to express this unnerving feeling of his. Mina on the other hand could bring herself to sit still for once. She quite liked the royal seats inside the stadium most days, a place to be entertained and stay out of the sun. The view wasn't all that appalling on the eyes either, watching two or more grown men roughhousing wildly for everyone's attention while the sand clung to their bodies glowing with a healthy sheen of sweat. But today there was only one man she wanted to see, outside of her husband that is, and he hadn't shown up in the list of fights so far and it was starting to weigh on her mind.
"Our Kafka is expected to show up in the ring today, correct?" She asked as he watched another brutal looking fight draw itself to a close.
"I sent word for an answer." Hoshina growled out between his teeth on the cup's rim, "Apparently he's forced a change in schedule."
"Odd. He doesn't usually wield his authority over stadium matters so definitively." Mina crooned with a hint of worry.
Hoshina only groaned openly in response, taking a break from chewing a hole into the cup long enough to take a sip from it. Somewhere behind them, a servant announced the arrival of Mina's brother entering their reserved seating.
"And where have you been? It's been difficult to get any idea as to where you've wandered off to." Mina spoke with dripping, but misplaced distain.
"Wow, and who poisoned your cup with malice this morning?" Narumi spoke with a deadpan tone, "I just felt like missing out on a few of the earlier games is all. Everyone knows that the more entertaining fights take place later in the evening."
"Sorry. I'm... It's just..." Mina looked somewhat genuine in her apology as she stumbled through the rest of her sentence, an expression Narumi wasn't used to seeing on her, "There's just something that feels... wrong. About today. Neither me nor Dearest can quite place a finger on it."
"Neither you nor Dearest, huh?" Narumi parroted with mild disinterest as he cheeked the tip of his tongue, "Is this before or after you've watched your Favorite Fighter beat himself senseless with his own mishandling of weapons?" He rolled his eyes. being dismissive as ever.
"That's the problem. He hasn't shown up yet." Hoshina mentioned as he finally rose from his seat to join his wife at the balcony wall.
"Damn, really? I was hoping to have missed his fight by now." Narumi grumbled as he waved down a handmaid for a glass of wine.
Almost as if speaking about him drew up his appearance, the announcer in the center of the ring called out through his megaphone out to the audience, letting them know that the next fight up was to be a particularly gory one.
"Interesting. I wasn't aware there was to be an execution on the roster for today." Hoshina muttered as he watched the announcer walk away to let the competitors have the floor.
"You don't think...?" Mina whispered into her husband's ear, causing him to face her with his stony face cracked with concern.
As the three of them watched the gladiators walk out to the center stage, they all developed different expressions in response to who was let out of their cages. Hoshina's expression looked unchanged from a distance, but his wife could clearly see some sense of pity forming in those glassy eyes of his. For who, she did not know. Mina herself was feeling particularly dreadful as she witnessed who was walking out onto the sands of the colosseum. All that morning's alarming premonitions coming to fruition once she recognized who was out there. Narumi however, was quickly becoming overjoyed.
"Oh, hey! That's my guy!" Narumi chuckled once he saw his freshly acquired gladiator making the round and riling up the packed seats in the stadium, "And is that...? No way! It's him!"
Narumi's grin split his face even wider once he saw Kafka was in the arena, "I can't believe it! Your prized gladiator is in a fight! A real fight! To the death even! Oh, I can't believe it!" He quickly shifted his view from the two below him to the two next to him, oblivious to the energy in the room, "I didn't think your husband had the guts! Finally, finally! I'm going to see some real action!"
"Remind me again, what's your prized champion's win streak?" Hoshina gritted out, opting to say that instead of anything more inflamitory.
"Oh, he doesn't have one yet." Narumi was quick to correct, "This will technically be his first, in-house fight. Oooh! And a death match at that! This ought to be fun!"
"And where did you say you picked him up at?" Mina continued her husband's interrogation, dreading what Kafka might be putting himself up against.
"Escaping some prison in some island off the coast." Narumi mentioned smugly from behind his glass of wine, "Some bounty hunters caught him and were escorting him back as I just so happens to pass by. He looks rather impressive, don't you think? He's some northern mutt of some sort, I honestly couldn't care more about it, but he certainly looks striking out in the ring, right?" His enthusiastic explanation was met with a pair of rather cold shoulders as they all looked down at the fighters centered in the ring.
Even at their distance, the lovers could tell something was off about their beloved champion. While the other man showed a clear understanding of gladiator showmanship, Kafka displayed none of his usual opening bravado. He circled a slow, wide ring around the other man, stalking him like a lion would observe his kill. He was even dressed differently than his usual garb when he fought. He wore no helmet and no armor. Nothing covering his limbs or chest like before, staying simply dressed with only his battle kilt to his name. Kafka wasn't even wearing shoes, letting the scorching sand burn his feet, letting the pain blaze through his senses and awakening something deeper within him.
Even the choice of weapons where different. While the other guy had several weapons lined up on racks placed several feet apart from him and each other, Kafka appeared to come out already armed. On his hands were a set of spiked cestus, little more than brass spikes bolted to a hardened leather plate strapped to his fists. They didn't even provide protection past his wrists. The weapons strapped to his calves was an even more odd sight. Bands upon bands of meticulously wrapped leather cord circled his lower legs, holding in place a humble farmer's sickle that had been bent backwards to have the bladed edge pointed outward.
Mina and Hoshina recognized the setup from before. Even with the space between them, they knew what those tools of death looked like from when they got to see them up close. The leather on the cestus was covered in deep gashes with several of the spikes having been dulled or broken off from overuse. They did nothing to distract from the powerful paws they covered underneath. Those simple farming tools strapped to his legs once had their days in the happy sun, cutting down stalks of wheat in the fields, but now were covered in patches of old rust and older blood. Like the spurs of a fighting rooster, they had dealt more violence than what they were meant to see. Their Sweet Gryphon, they passed between themselves but never to him. Never to him. Kafka struggled enough with receiving their affection, so they lived in fear of thinking that a simple little pet name would be the knife that cuts him away from them.
The announcer blew a horn to start the fight, a sound that made Mina jump from its almost finalizing presence. The larger, long blond haired man passed his hand lightly over the racks of weapons, eyeing each one down with silent fervor before looked back to Kafka.
"You know... with as demanding as you were earlier to have this fight, I'd have expected you to look more prepared." The foreign fighter called out loud enough to be picked up by the stadium as he picked up a weighty spear, twirling it into the air for show, "And yet you come out here... expecting your worn out scraps of leather to stave you from my fury."
Kafka spoke nothing, just continued to circle the newcomer with a silent, but roaring fury not seen in a few years. It was noticeable enough to even silence the crowd around them, the older ones within remembering what happened the last time the jester of the court fell this silent. The blond fighter gave a prideful laugh before charging Kafka head on. The Norseman whipped the spear around him, expecting contact on every blow but came up empty. Kafka stayed close as he weaved around the barrage, missing them all by hair's width. Before he broke away from the attack, Kafka made sure to land a blow right to the ribs, digging the remains of the spikes up, under, and through the bottom set of ribs. It felt like they were getting hooked out of the other's skin, but only caused a nasty scrape of flesh to be removed.
The man stumbled away, not expecting this level of pain. A hand came up to the injury and came away with a light smattering of blood. Surprised, but not shaken, the man twirled his spear once more before attempting to charge again. Kafka met him halfway through the charge and ducked behind again, landing flat blows this time as he rounded his target. The new gladiator attempted to strike without turning by flipping the spear to stab behind him. Not only did Kafka block the blow, he grabbed the offending arm, twisted it over the man's shoulder, and proceeded to leverage his weight into throwing the man over him till he was face down in the sand. It infuriated him further when Kafka didn't even take any strikes of opportunity and just walked away in silence.
As the fighter spat the blood that was pooling in his mouth from where he accidentally bit his tongue as he landed, the noticeable clatter of a sword falling onto the sand in front of him made it clear that his weapon of choice had been replaced for him. Meeting each other in the eyes, the Nord picked up the sword, but didn't charge just yet as he sensed that this fight wasn't about to go as planned. From the crowd around them, there was a smattering of jeers and rude calls for more action and blood, but for the most part the stadium was silent. Almost as if the whole world in that moment was holding its breath, not wanting anything to interrupt them seeing what could happen next. One voice from the crowd was clearly out of the loop as he seemed to scream his displeasure out more than the rest. Mina tried her best to not show that she was against watching Kafka fight, but would still find her face buried into the forearm of her husband as she tried to tune out her brother's vocal disappointment.
Inside the ring, the other fighter had picked up a Roman shield to match the sword given to him. He held both of them out to his sides, a display of overwhelming confidence to others but a silent sneer of permission towards his opponent, asking them if their choice was agreeable. Kafka still said nothing, his face as unchanging as the walls around them as he moved into a more defensive position with his fists closer to his face and his body tilted to the side. He bounced on his toes over the burning sand as he waved his fist in a "come get me" motion, eliciting a primal roar from the newcomer. He charged forward again, moving the shield in front in hopes to block any punch Kafka would throw. Instead of moving out of the way, Kafka met the shield with a shoulder check, keeping his fists in front of him as the sword came around the front to stab at him.
As Kafka felt the shield pull back towards the opponent's body, he rolled into the motion and grabbed the far edge of the shield. Holding onto it helped him turn tightly behind the man's guard and led him to land his sharply shaped elbow right as the base of the blond man's neck. Disoriented from the blow, the gladiator felt himself stumble forward and didn't get the chance to realize how open he was left as he felt another blow to his arm. This wasn't like any of Kafka's punches that he had thrown so far, this one burned in a straight line across the top of the joint where the meat of the arm met the shoulder. Kafka had thrown his leg up high and brought the blade that ran along his calf right onto the shoulder that held the shield, cutting right through the important tendons found there as the leg pulled away. The Nord managed to not drop his sword from the pain and stumbled even further away to check the wound and to not drop his eyes off of his enemy.
The knuckles on his fist pulled away red as he felt the warm blood gush from the brutal slash, running in red rivers down his arm, chest, and back. He dropped the shield, the weight it added only making the pain worse as he understood how his whole arm had been rendered completely useless.
"Something tells me, and I could be wrong here." The other fighter's joke rolled out like wagon wheels over gravel as he spat out more blood, "That I've done something to piss you off."
"The assumption could be made." Kafka answered back, talking to him for the first time since the Nord arrived to the colosseum.
His posture hadn't relaxed even with the distance between them, never pulling his fists away from his face nor unclenching his stance as a whole. Kafka had always appeared relaxed in the ring, even as blades pierced and tore at his skin he would still drop his body's guard for one reason or another. But ever since the horn had been called to start their battle, Kafka hadn't let up in any way, shape, or form. Even as they circled each other again, even when the Nord made some passing sweeps of his sword to chase away any potential advances on Kafka's part, Kafka kept his frame tighter than a drawn bow. He had the stance of a predator, stalking another predator it had deemed unworthy of becoming nothing more than prey. Not a threat to be taken lightly, but an unfortunate victim that was soon to be made an example of. A showcase of why Kafka preferred to stay as the "Funny" one.
"You know what? I think I know what this is about." The Norseman heaved as the pain from the previous blow spread to the rest of his chest, "This is about that pitcher girl I was hound'n after, huh?"
Kafka said nothing, but his fighter's frame betrayed his thoughts as all of his glimmering muscles trembled from a newer sense of tension. The other gladiator smirked dirtily as he confirmed, blood staining his teeth pink in the glare of the bright sun.
"What is she to you? A daughter? A friend?" The other man taunted with labored breathing as he rolled his one functioning shoulder, "One thing's for sure, you're sweet on her. If I had known that you wanted a taste, I would have saved you a round if you'd ask-" The man never got to finish his sentence. And after this fight, he never would start another.
Kafka had crossed the fiery expanse of sand faster than anyone could blink, which was good considering that if anyone did right then they would have missed out on the rest of the fight. The speed at which Kafka threw his punches would have made the god Mercury pale at the sight. The Norseman didn't even have time to swing his sword in those first few blows having been completely stunned by not only the speed at which Kafka closes the gap, but with the accompanying fury of strikes immediately afterwards. It almost looked like he was just standing there and taking his punishment with no attempt at retaliation. In truth, in that moment the man couldn't bring himself to even form a way in which he could through the pain now lighting his skin aflame.
The spikes of the cestus ripped open small tears that oozed more life-giving blood. Each blow knocked more wind out of the man's lungs than thought possible to contain. He felt the muscles in his chest practically becoming tenderized like thin steak as he felt his gaze being transfixed by Kafka's. If a gorgon's glare is what turns a man to stone from fear, then Kafka's was the closest to feeling the fiery gates of oppressive damnation itself bearing down on one's soul. Somehow, the other gladiator found some residual strength within himself to break away if just for a moment long enough to swing his sword in defense, but with as much rage that roared through Kafka's blood in that same moment, there wasn't anything the man could do to save himself at that point.
As the sword tried to come into play, Kafka not only deflected the blow but ripped the sword out from the other's hands all together. And for such a crime that was thinking he could be saved, his other arm was snapped backward at the elbow. In a desperate flail, the man tried to throw a kick, but was only met with the sharp and jagged pain of those rusted leg blades cutting into the meat of his supporting leg. As the graceless opponent fell to the hot sands of the arena, Kafka stood over him, taking in the fool's cowering stance. It seemed to have finally dawned on the man that he wasn't going to see the light of another day and did what only other thing a bastard in his situation could do- pray.
"I don't know what afterlife you barbarians submit too," The man wheezed as he did his best to scoot away, buying himself some time for his last words, "But where I'm from, death in battle is the most rewarded." He did his best to smile defiantly through the pain, but the pain shooting in from both of his arms caused it to be layered over the pain in his chest and threw him into a coughing fit for a brief moment.
"Something tells me it's too late to ask for a quick death. That's fine" He hissed out as he tried to sit up, "You've already done me a great honor... whether you like it or not."
Kafka only stood there and stared, his shadow casting over his quietly broiling glare and onto the fatally wounded man. He could just walk away right now and let the severity of his injuries pull the bastard into that never ending sleep. That didn't feel like nearly enough punishment for Kafka, but there was only so much time allowed in the ring to dole out retribution onto the deserving. His head only moved just enough to look his emperor in the eye. Hoshina had been watching the whole time, his eyes never straying far from the onslaught being created in his name. Well, that's what the public saw on the outside. On the inside, Hoshina knew that this battle wasn't for him, he wasn't even in consideration when Kafka made the decision to drag his unsuspecting victim out into the sick light of brutalistic justice. On the outside, they were just Ruler and Subject, King and Servant, Emperor and Gladiator. On the outside, Hoshina was supposed to be the one who made all the rules. On the inside, he knew what Kafka was asking of him in the silence between them.
The crowd, who had been cheering their lungs out with every punch making their mark with no recess, were now stunned into anticipated silence. Only the squawking birds overhead and the collective heart beats of over eighty thousand spectators rattled the anxious quiet as they waited for their Emperor to make a decision. There was only one decision to make in Hoshina's eyes- he raised his fist to the sky and pointed his thumb down. The colosseum erupted into feral screams- calling, shouting, preying for blood. The Norseman closed his eyes and went limp, awaiting for whatever form his inevitable end would take. He was taken by complete surprise anyway when he felt the expanse of Kafka's hand branch itself over his whole face.
The pressure from the victor's fingertips grew into blinding, white hot pinpricks of pain on the side's of the other man's face. As he felt himself getting lifted into the air slowly by the painful grip, his own hands scrambled for purchase on Kafka's wrists in a hopeless attempt to ease the pain now leveraged on his temples. The pressure and the pain only grew stronger as he felt himself brought to a hung position where his knees just barely dangled over the ground. While most of his face was covered, the Norseman could still see out of one eye, that same eye that met Kafka's impassioned glare filled with vitriol with his own look of inescapable fear. With just a second longer than humanly possible, Kafka then suddenly dropped to one knee and proceeded to bash the man's skull into the ground.
Over and over and over again, the soft, hot sand under them was not enough to cushion the blows being dealt by the raging gladiator. The blood from the back of the head soaked into the sand as it continued to be caved in from the force. The grip Kafka had on the head did let up and even grew stronger with the size of the blood pool growing across the ground. The strength of the grip had even managed to pop out the one eye that could escape between Kafka's wizend fingers. A horn was blown at some point to signify the end of the fight, but Kafka could hear it over the screams of his own blood rushing in his ears. A couple of other gladiators had escaped their holding n the outside of the stage and did their best to pry an enraged Kafka off of the clearly dead man. Kafka reflexively fought against their hold on him, but as he was pulled further and further away from the body his senses came back to him.
He pulled away from them for a brief moment once they thought his rage had been subsided and dove back for the body. While they thought their friend's rage had reignited, Kafka only went back to rip the popped eyeball off of the corpse and left in a much more calm manner than what would expect. Over in the pulvinar, an indignant, squeaky voice raged at the unfortunate circumstance that was his payed for prized fighter's first time in the ring ending in his rather spectacular death. Hoshina turned to his worried wife and whispered an order to her to be passed on to the servants. He stayed behind purely for his image, wanting to make it look like he didn't want to run down the colosseum stairs and check in on his own prized fighter.
While the next fight was being set up, Kafka was behind the inner walls of the colosseum, ambling his way through in a daze. It had been a while since he had exerted himself to such a degree, and a much longer time from when he had taken a life. A quiet, breathy chant echoed through his buzzing head, trying to tell him it was necessary, that he had to go, that this is what he was here to do. The stench of the animals and other men, the texture of the grainy walls roughing up his palms as he stumbled along them for support, the sense of vertigo stemming from the immediate switch-up from the oppressive heat outside dropping to the cooler temperature of the underground tunnels, all of it made for a more grounding presence than the voice of pity and apathy that rattled around in his head. The other gladiators could barely meet his shaken gaze, if they even looked his way at all. It wasn't out of disgust or fear, but the reason behind the pity and apathy that swam in his head.
Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, a ripple of pure white cloth and the sound of water sloshing against the sides of a vase. A girl that looked so deceptively young, but already carried herself with the weight of the world slowly made her way over in his direction. Her eyes were focused on the ground and her hands held on diligently to the clay pitcher in her thin arms. The toga was large enough to swallow her whole, but Kafka could remember the darkly blooming bruises crawling up her arms just fine. His voice rasped as it left his mouth, but it was loud enough to catch her attention. He waved her over to a small empty alcove so they could get out of the way of the other passer-bys in the tunnel they were in. He silently held out his hand, asking for the pitcher with no words and waited for her to hand it over on her own time. He took several large gulps and dumped the rest of the water over his head, drenching himself in an effort to clear his burning head. The girl quietly took the pitcher back and watched the rivulets of water run down his already gleaming chest, not really thinking anything other than awaiting other orders.
Kafka watched her back, trying to see if there way anything about the way she looked or carried herself that would betray what she was thinking. If there was anything troubling her mind that he could intervene in for her sake. When he saw nothing when she looked at him with blank expectation, he decided to reveal what was in his fist. A look of fear mixed with recognition flashed through her soft eyes before she steeled herself by looking into Kafka's.
"That... wasn't necessary." The girl spoke in tones barely above a whisper, "No one's supposed to care too much of a servant girl." She did her best not to look too long at the eyeball dangling from his fingers, but it was hard to ignore completely.
"I only do... what's necessary. Everyone is worth what is necessary." Kafka explained firmly, making sure she was looking him in the eye as he dropped the one in his hand into the wide slats of the metal sewer grate beneath them.
Neither of them said anything else as Kafka stepped away first, leaving the nameless servant girl to rest her shaking frame against the cool stone wall. He would have stayed around longer, but knew he would be summoned soon to the palace considering what just happened. Kafka grabbed a sheet of cloth to cover himself with as he continued up and out of the colosseum underground halls, landing onto the bustling city streets surrounding the place. The complex noises of the lively city life quickly filled the empty spaces in his head as he made his way down the road toward the place he hesitated to call a second home. He did still take his time on his wandering path there, stopping at various booths for food and cooing over fascinating trinkets or works of art. All of it to distract himself and make him feel normal for all of five minutes before it was all inevitably shattered again.
¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
He eventually made it to the servant's entrance of the palace. An entryway that still startled him with reminding him how familiar Kafka was with the layout and location. All the way through the palace walls, visions of another life cut into the back of his mind as he looked up on the decorative walls of such a noble house. A life filled with wheat fields and sunny days haunted his vision as he looked at the elaborate mosaic murals on the wall. The laughter of a family, a different one than the kind he hears littering the halls of the colosseum gave the illusion of their presence nearby. A lie he hadn't given into for a long, long while. Those days were so far behind him that holding onto them would leave no room in his hands to hold on to the present.
He had finally made his way into he royal bedchambers, shockingly enough without having seen anyone on the way there. Kafka knew he would be there before the noble couple would show up from their trip back from the games, but he usually saw at least one handmaiden or other on his way here. The day had given him a small miracle it seems as he was in no shape to hide. He took a rag off of a table near the doorway so he could dust off his still bare feet before he stepped on any rugs. The two of them hated when he tracked in dirt, but didn't seem to mind it when he came covered in blood- an odd hypocrisy Kafka came to accept.
The bedroom itself was as odd as the couple that inhabited it. It was a little more than a walled in porch with it fenced in on three sides, but the back was opened out onto a veranda that overlooked an olive farm on the grounds. The bed was parallel to the outside opening as if anyone from the field could look in and see who was still sleeping the day away. Off to the left was a separated room that was no more closed off than the other side of the room it bordered. From where he stood, he could see the oversized stone tub and the wafts of steam that drifted up from its hidden surface. As much as his sore muscles yearned for the hot water in the other room, he had one more thing he wanted to take care of.
Right before the long footstool before the bed on the side he was facing, Kafka knelt to the ground. He took care to reach behind him and undo some of the wraps that held the blades against his calves so they could be removed, preventing him from impaling his own ass on them. Sitting fully on his legs now, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He slowly lowered his upper half to the floor, hands under his head in a deep, respectful prayer. His mind cleared from the events of today, just long enough for him to form the words in his mind that would ring out every time he performed this little ritual of his.
It wasn't a long prayer. Short and sufficient and to the point. Kafka knew where he stood in life, he always had. It helped that it seemed that life would remind him on occasion with its various trials and tribulations specifically built to test him. To remind him that as much as he wants to run from it, his actions and the actions of others will always lead him right back here. And despite it all, he had to be grateful. Grateful that, despite the blood on his hands, he still had people around him who would love him unconditionally. Even if it felt like, under the surface of that love, it came at a price he didn't feel like paying.
With a deep breath outward, he rose his head up from the floor, eyes still close and catching himself enjoying the breeze that ran wild down the hills from outside. From behind him, Kafka felt the intrusion of another presence. They were hardly separated from each other most days, even when he wasn't around, so at this point it felt like the two of them were one person to Kafka. He tossed a glance behind him to see Mina and Hoshina standing in the doorway behind him, watching him complete his little habit in silence. Emperor and Empress, giving respect to a man that should have been more of a stranger to them. And yet... here they all were.
"You remembered to clean yourself up before tracking the remains of the road all over the rug." Emperor Hoshina spoke up first, an amused smile breaking across his face for what might be the first time that day.
"Good boy." He finished as he peeled himself off of the frame and came closer to Kafka, ruffling the shortened hair on his head like how one would treat a beloved dog.
"Hoshina, you know better than to tease him like that." Mina scolded with only mild authority.
"I can't help it!" Hoshina fired back with a light laugh, "He looks so cute when he's on his knees like this." He pulled away from Kafka and moved towards the bath in the other room, "MInd getting him ready darling? I'm going to shoo away any potential nosy nymphs that could be lingering."
The two that were left watched their shared lover walk away before looking at each other. Kafka held his wrists up to the side of him. silently pleading with his eyes for help with his cestus. Mina gave a soft smile as she strode over, her red toga wafting around her practiced movements. Settling on her knees next to him, she made slow work over releasing his hands from their battered leather cages. Once released and placed on the floor next to the blades, she brought those hands to her lips. Those same hands that took a life earlier that day and had taken several before, given a dose of care not many would give to a man like him. She then placed a rather chaste kiss on his cooled forehead and rose to her feet, offering her hand to help Kafka up from his.
She led him into the other room, just in time to find their lover already stripped bare and walking towards the curtains on the other side of the room, drawing them close for an added illusion of privacy. With the fabric being so light that the slightest summer breeze nearly blew them back open, the illusion was a thin, barely living concept than anything actually protective. The Emperor babbled on about being so brilliant to have sent off most of the servants away for the day to have an elongated period of privacy, but no one was really listening. Kafka helped Mina strip down and handed the garment off to Hoshina to be whisked away to an awaiting empty table. Before She could help him in return, Kafka had swept her off her feet, making her squeal in surprise as he lowered her into the steaming hot bath water.
He tried to get undressed by himself, but as usual Hoshina drifted in behind him and caught the large gladiator by surprise, pantsing him unexplainably quickly and snatching his battle skirt away as easily as a hawk snatched prey. Hoshina had a coy smile to match Kafka's irritated sneer as the Emperor continued to retell what his day looked like before coming to the games as Kafka just busied himself with properly scrubbing off any bits of the colosseum that still clung to his skin. By the time he finished, the royal couple were already stewing in the bath, engaged in causal, comfortable conversation while casting inconspicuous but increasingly expectant glances in Kafka's direction.
Once he finished making himself more presentable, Kafka finally joined the other two in the hot bath. Both of the royal couple held out a hand for him to hold onto as he lowered one leg into the rippling water, hissing at the sensation as it sunk beneath the surface. Slowly moving his way deeper and deeper into the tub, Kafka eventually settled into place in his spot that had been carved out from him by the other two, which is to say right in the middle of them. Once his back and ass had hit the side wall of the tub, he wasted no time in dunking himself beneath the warm water, keeping himself suspended under it for a long period of time. The other two watched him from above, keeping a silent lookout for him as he rested peacefully. Mina did have to swat her husband's hand away as he made an attempt to disturb Kafka's brief slumber.
Kafka came back up with a low groan as he pushed his sopping hair off his forehead, "So, hows that feeling of impending doom? Still hanging around at all?" He asked casually as he wrapped both of his large arms around each of their shoulders.
"Oh good, you were listening." Hoshina joked as he snuggled in deeper into the embrace, "Seems to have flown away, now that you're here."
"This has been a rough day... for all of us it seems." Mina added on as she wrapped an arm around Kafka's stomach like a weak side hug.
"Well, we're together now." Kafka sighed as he relaxed against the wall of the tub, "And that's all that matters."
They let the quiet from the outskirts of town settle into the room. It was far different from what quiet sounded like in the center of town. In the middle of town, there was still a rumble of noise that blanketed the streets like a fog. There would always be groups of people milling about, some of them hawking their wares, though probably not as loudly as the day drew to an end. The farther you got away from town, the more the noise that permeated the background of one's mind turned more into the subtle cry in insects relishing in the darkening of the sky. It could be just as loud as the city some nights as the droves of bugs came together to form the beginnings of a nightly symphony. If one listened closely, you could pinpoint the sound of a cart's wooden wheels making their way over the cobblestones far from the manor. It was an easy sort of quiet, the type that Kafka preferred over the more busy sounds of the inner city that the colosseum was located in.
But like anything else that Kafka enjoyed or found nice, he wasn't able to hold onto it for long.
"Kafka..." Mina spoke up after a while, whether from finding herself bored of the silence or from having a pressing matter on the mind. Kafka hummed back in acknowledgement but didn't raise his head to make himself seem more interested.
"You would tell us if... if it became too much for you, right?" She finally asked, raising her gaze to look at him more closely.
"What would become too much for him? His whole job is to be able to take a beating." Hoshina quickly and tiredly dismissed, also not moving himself from his near-sleeping position to look more active in the conversation.
"Oh come on, can we at least try to talk about what happened today? We don't normally let a death be introduced so early into the schedule of the games." Mina removed herself from her side of Kafka's warm embrace so she could address the both of them properly, "I get that in matters of the ring, we leave it to the ones who know that life the best, but I have to say it does scare us when you adjust it so... on the fly like that."
"Yeah, I haven't apologized for that, have I?" Kafka slowly grumbled out, hoping to subtly change the topic without much effort.
"Don't bother, from the way that bastard spoke in the ring I sure he deserved it." Hoshina matched Kafka's leisurely way of answering, the two of them looking like a pair of cherries with as warm and red their skin had gotten from the warm water.
"That's exactly why I'm bringing this up!" Mina protested by splashing the water over the two of them, forcing them to wake up and look at her. She sighed as she took Kafka's hand and leaned back in the tub, massaging each finger with delicate love.
"You're supposed to be our silly fighter with the heart of gold. It pains me to see you drop that mask of yours for one that I don't think fits you as well." She watched on with an air of melancholy as Kafka pulled his hand away, the two of them looking at the appendage with the same thoughts in mind, whether they knew or not.
"I just think that we could give you a better life. Somewhere away from the violence. We could take care of you properly, Kafka." A soft hand came up to his face, making him face her worried eyes.
"Oh, Mina." Hoshina sighed as he leaned over more so he could be closer to her while not leaving the comfort of Kafka's soft body, "Mina, Mina, MinaMinaMina... You know what his answer is, you ask this every time he takes a life."
"And every time I feel like he could be given better!" Mina countered, "Where does it say we can't have someone roaming the grounds whose soul purpose is to be there for us! A pretty face to look at and a smooth voice to whisper in our ears when the day becomes too much. God knows he's been through enough to earn it!"
"He's right Mina, and you know it." Kafka soothed as he spoke softly, nuzzling the top of her head before placing a quick kiss. He leaned back against the tub and pulled his hand back out of the water to look at it again,
"I'm not just in this life because I was sold into it. I stay because of them. For them.I stay for the friend that I've made, the people that need help, and for anyone else who can't stand up for themselves." Kafka flexed the fingers in his hand, tensing the muscles in such a way that made the bones in his knuckles crack themselves back in place.
"And to make sure that damned, broken, bastards like him know their place in the world under the colosseum." A line spoken with an amount of barely repressed rage that it even sent a chill down both of his lover's backs.
The royal couple looked at each other with a range of emotions, all of which silently stating between them that this would be a topic to cover another time. Kafka looked at the silent words between them and could only bring himself to chuckle at them.
He piled his arms around their shoulders again, one hand squeezing around Mina's neck and the other scratching at Hoshina's scalp, "Like I said, don't worry about me too much. Today will serve as a fresh warning to anyone that tries to forgets the law of the world I help upkeep down there."
It was a long, funny story as to how Kafka ended up being at the beck and romantic call of the world's most powerful couple in the current days of Roman history. A story that never left the back of his mind every time he was left alone with them. It never failed to remind him that his place in their relationship was a fluke to begin with. It wasn't as if he didn't appreciate their love for him.
Fortitude Privilege {Staring Yu/Na and Base Inspector} (A short story)
After everything had settled down, they let Kafka do what-the-fuck-ever. That also includes snuggling on his boyfriend at anytime during work hours.
Vice Captain Hoshina was the first to leave the training room when Iharu passed by with a new recruit. He was showing her around the expansive base when he was presented with an opportunity to have a down to earth meet-and-greet with the base's second in command.
"Hey! Vice Cap! Good timing. Yunna, this is our Vice Captain Hoshina. Vice-Cap, this is Yunna. She's a transfer from Division Seven." Iharu took the lead on the introductions while the two of them were exchanging salutes. They all began trading questions with each other, busy distracting themselves with platitudes to not notice another person turning a corner and coming up behind Hoshina. A tall, burly, and clearly tired individual shambled up behind the vice captain and slumped over his shoulder unceremoniously, almost knocking him over.
"Oof, Kafka! Is everything okay?" Hoshina said calmly at the intruder. The man he called Kafka just wrapped his arms lopsidedly around Hoshina's left shoulder as he dug his face into the crook of his neck on the right.
" 'M fine. Drained" He mumbled incoherently, sacrificing vowels in his state of exhaustion. He nuzzled his nose affectionately in the curve of Hoshina's neck and took a noticeable whiff. "New cologne's nice."
Yunna, the new recruit, became visibly flushed as she continued to stare on. Iharu was already completely desensitized to this and just continued his conversation with the Vice Captain. Noticing the state of shock on the newcomer, Iharu took a second to explain what was happening.
"This is Kafka Hibino. He's the Captain's and Vice Captain's boyfriend. Everyone has learned to just let him get away with this bullshit." Iharu smiled cheekily at Yunna after he had finished.
"What am I supposed to do when he's like this? Tell him 'No'?" Hoshina said as he crossed his arms. He felt the rumbling of deep throated laughter coming from the man on his shoulder.
"Conveniently leaving out the fact that I'm also a kaiju." Kafka said as he lifted his head a little just to speak clearly. Yunna made a small squeak of surprise as the revelation made all the pieces click into place.
Down the hallway behind Iharu, everyone could hear another person aggressively shouting as they came down their direction.
"Aw, shit." Hoshina whispered under his breath.
"Who's that?" Iharu questioned as he turned around to look.
"Base Inspector. Probably looking for me to bitch about something inane." Hoshina continued. Iharu took that as a sign to whisk the new person off to a different location, sensing a need to disappear before he got themselves caught in possible corporate crossfire. Hoshina prepped his best Resting Bitch Face as the lanky inspector approached viciously.
"Afternoon, Inspector." Hoshina said in a deadpan manner. He took a longer look at the man coming toward him and noticed he recognized none of the man's features.
'Hmm. I wonder if he's new?' Hoshina thought. His hopes were raised a little, thinking that this possibly new base inspector wouldn't have the same stick up his ass like the last two did.
"Vice Captain Hoshina. Just the person I was looking for." The inspector called out. He opened his mouth to begin what was most certainly about to be a mindless rant concerning some slighted offence over some breach in paperwork or protocol, but quickly shut it when he noticed Kafka making no move to acknowledge his presence.
"Well, I was going to bring up your continued disregard to execute less leniency toward how officers structure their reports, but now it seems I should take over instilling basic officer conduct as well." The Base Inspector straightened his square framed glasses and leveled the most demeaning glare at the tired, hairy, lump that had made its place on Hoshina's shoulder.
"Oh, lay off. He said he's tired." Hoshina countered. He was beginning to wonder if a mightier-than-thou attitude was a requirement to being an inspector.
"Lethargy is no excuse for blatant indifference to higher authority." The stringy looking man sniffed haughtily. A threatening, rolling, and loud inhuman growl emanated from Kafka, still not looking up from his place at Hoshina's side. Hoshina chuckled as he ruffled his hair while he talked to him.
"Mind being a dear and head up to Mina's office for a bit? The only adult in the room needs to discipline this child, apparently." Hoshina spoke in hushed tones, sounding incredibly loving into Kafka's ear. Only a more disappointed growling whimper was heard in response.
"You could beg for more cuddles if she's in there." Hoshina sang quietly as he nosed Kafka's hair. The slacked-spined man lifted his head to stare disapprovingly at the unwanted interloper before planting a smooch to his Vice Captain's cheek and walked away, radiating an irritated aura all the way down the hall. The two that were left followed his path and waited for him to turn around a corner before continuing the discussion.
"You do know that having a relationship between a higher authority figure and an officer is prohibited, correct?" The inspector said as he turned back to face Hoshina.
"You know that man has a fortitude rating, correct?" Hoshina snarked.
"Don't you mean an aptitude rating?" The inspector returned wearily.
"No, fortitude." Hoshina reiterated firmly as he stepped closer into the inspector's personal space, " Ya'know, because he's a kaiju and all." The inspector tried not to express it, but he seemed taken aback. first from the clear hostility, then from realizing what Hoshina meant.
The inspector's lips flapped open and closed for a moment before letting slip a small, simple "oh."
"Were you not made aware that we had such a person within our ranks?" Hoshina asked poignantly.
"I was made very aware of such personnel." The inspector said as he adjusted his glasses again, "What I wasn't made aware of was how much leniency he seems to be permitted to have because of such an obscenely paltry standing." The inspector spoke with baseless higher authority, attempting to recover from finding himself on the back step. Hoshina could feel his lips being stretched thin over his teeth as he felt the need to use them to rip the throat out of this obstinate and unwarranted trespasser.
"Then you should have also been made aware of how that man had not only saved the lives of millions, but also saved the planet six times over consecutively." While being shorter than the inspector, Hoshina did a fine job of making it seem like he was towering over the other man.
" As... notable... as those achievements are, it shouldn't take away the fact that a relationship between an officer and a Vice Captain is unconducive to to the workplace since it could be used to unjustly gather sway in one's ranking." The base inspector held his position in the conversation, but was forced to slink down in height as he cowered under Hoshina's invasive presence.
"Ohh, trust me. The higher ups have made it very clear that he's already achieved the highest ranking they'll allow him, and that's being an exploitable weapon." Wrath tinged the edges of his words as he managed to climb higher over the base inspector.
"There is nothing in this world that he hasn't earned by not working his ass off for. So excuse me for thinking that the least he's owed is the right to express some fuckin' PDA." Hoshina could feel the tips of his lips curl into an unfriendly smile with an uncanny amount of teeth showing.
"If you really want to drag rank over this and piss off a man who's capable of leveling all of Western Japan for no decent reason, be my guest. If you have nothing drastically important to talk about, like something that's impeding the health and wellness of my officers, then I bid you farewell and hope your day is as wonderful as you are." Hoshina reclined back onto his heels and crisply marched away from the inspector, who still wasn't recovered from the invasion of personal space and was stuck being slant backwards, even as Hoshina moved out of eyesight.
Minutes later, Hoshina had found himself in Mina's office. Hoping to join in on Kafka's sudden bout of needed physical closure, he slipped past the threshold and quietly dumped his gym bag next to the door. Taking up most of the center of the room in front of the desk, was Mina, sandwiched between Bakko and Kafka. Reclined against the tiger formed monster, Mina looked silently overjoyed to have an asleep Kafka nestled between her legs as he rested his head on her stomach. Laying tilted on his side, the left portion of his face was buried in Mina's clothes while his arms had dug a hold around her midsection, framing his head. A low vibration hung in the air, getting louder as Hoshina snuck over.
"Need me to pry him off?" Hoshina lovingly muttered into Mina's forehead as he planted a small smooch as well.
"Later. Now, I need you to grab my phone!" Mina tried to contain her excitement as quietly as she could while gently brushing her free hand through Kafka's hair, the other being trapped under his heavy shoulder.
"Yes, he looks adorable, doesn't he?" Hoshina playfully rolled his eyes as he made moves to stand up.
"Well, yes, but you can't tell me you can't hear this?" Mina's smile was wide as she looked up at Hoshina. He took a second to listen as he processed the low rumble in the room.
"Is... is that not Bakko purring?" Hoshina questioned.
"No, he's awake!" Mina harshly whispered in joy as she jabbed her finger behind her, "This is all him!" She pointed her finger again at Kafka, emphasizing her revelation.
Hoshina made a quiet, deep throated cackle as he comically tiptoed around her desk to grab the phone and pull up the camera. He managed to settle onto the floor and shimmy his way under Mina's free arm as he held the camera close to Kafka's face. They got at least a good minute of audio, starring his purrs before Hoshina decided to end it there, not wanting to push their luck.
"It's a shame he can't purr all the time. Instead of the sleep talking, I mean." Mina commented as Hoshina made himself more comfortable in their embrace on the floor.
"We wouldn't be able to get out of bed in the morning if he did." Hoshina muttered sleepily as he finally stopped shifting when he found a good spot to settle into. Mina brushed his hair for a second while she returned the forehead kiss from earlier before relaxing into the warm and heavy pile she had unintentionally made for herself.
@iceclew
I hate to ask this from ya, but... Have you seen this yet? If you didn't have an opinion one way or another, that's fine. Just wanted to ask.
I think if Gen found out about Hoshiminakaf he'd snitch. Not because he actually cares about dating rules in the force but because he's so fucking happy he has dirt on the Third.
