can't spell fun without "F U" || fushimi & yata
Yata had actually been looking forward to the carnival. He wouldn't call himself a particularly stressed out person, but he definitely did have a lot to do. As a caporegime, he wasn't supposed to just slack on his responsibilities, and despite his often hyperactive disposition, he took his job seriously. Things got done. He trained, acted out his missions, oversaw his soldiers...
Well, alright, perhaps he was a little wound up.
So when he'd wander onto the carnival grounds, a cheeky grin lit his features, hazel hues darting about to take in the scenery. As much as he detested the thought of sharing the space with the Blues, he could feel confident in the believe that the most hated one wouldn't be around. That kill joy hates shit like this. He wouldn't leave his room for a damn second. Snickering to himself, the ginger started off milling about the festivities.
Rides, games, food... He wasn't quite sure where to start, but he had a feeling his time would be better spent alongside one of his fellow Reds. So he instead turned his attention to the people wandering around, looking for familiar faces to rush over to. He doubted the underboss he looked up to was around, which was a bummer, but...
So he set out looking for a fellow caporegime when suddenly his gaze fell on a head of navy hair. Startled and instantly hostile, his eyes widened in surprise and aggravation. No. What? Why are you here? Go back to your stupid base. You don't like this stuff...
"Just my fucking luck," he seethed under his breath, shoulders hunching forward defensively.
That bastard Saruhiko just had to be here.