Merry Christmas & a happy New Year to you! I hope you enjoy this bit of fluff of the boys. Also, a big thank you for the freedom in your prompt! Have an awesome remainder of your festive season <33
Hello, there! I am so, so sorry for the extremely long delay on this fic! I hope that you enjoy it! I’ve got a few more parts that come after this bit, but for the time being, I hope you enjoy the fluff that’s peppered throughout! I hope that 2023 has started off well for you! Enjoy!
- - -
“Goddammit,” Safu muttered under her breath as a large caravan swung into the lane, cutting her off.
Nezumi’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t laugh. Safu rarely swore, but traffic brought it out in droves. It was late afternoon, so No.6 was in gridlock. The large highway twisted through the heart of the city itself, and the GPS leading them to Kronos’s Beast Fighting arena had led them onto a beltway that threw them neck-deep into crawling traffic.
Biting back another curse, Safu expertly navigated the rig into the sea of cargo trucks, rapping her fingers over a series of buttons that darkened the windshield against the blinding glare of the late afternoon sunshine. Rigs were common in the Beast Fighting community—necessary, in fact, for lugging around the life-support pods that held said Beasts—but the rest of the world primarily used thirty-wheelers for shipping and consumer transport.
Nezumi disliked cities, mostly due to the constant noise. Horns blared in rage against the inevitable traffic of rush hour, and the massive trucks surrounding their rig vibrated into a low thrumming that echoed through each synapse in Nezumi’s body.
They’d tried to leave district No.4 in the early hours of the morning to avoid this very thing, but an unexpected accident—a massive rig carrying a shipment to a local grocery store had rolled onto its side, effectively blocking all six lanes of traffic and halting their progress for at least three hours. That, in turn, made them get into No.6 at the peak of rush hour traffic, and even Safu’s confident, aggressive driving hadn’t allowed them to gain any exceptional progress.
Nezumi reclined against the passenger seat window, boots propped on the dashboard. The rig’s massive cab gave them an expanded view of the road ahead of them. More than that, it allowed the three of them—Safu, Shion, and Nezumi—to fit comfortably inside for long durations of time. The thirty-wheeler rig Rikiga had purchased for them might have been aging and less impressive than some of the rigs they’d seen in the Beast Fighting community, but it sure beat the cramped confinements of the eighteen-wheeler they’d used at the start of it all.
In the large middle seat, nestled comfortably between Nezumi and Safu, Shion dozed. He’d nodded off before they’d entered the rush hour traffic, which Nezumi figured was for the best. Shion disliked the way Safu got when traffic was tight; it wasn’t road rage, per se, but her quiet rage left even the strongest of men terrified.
After another hour of riding through grueling traffic, Safu angled the wheel to the right and guided the rig out of the sea of metal caravans and onto an on-ramp that led to a large dome situated just off the highway. Nezumi withdrew his feet from the dashboard and stretched his spine. They’d arrived.
Tourists awaiting the start of the evening’s Beast Fights milled about in the parking lot, gawking at the painted trailers that pulled in. The other caravan assigned to their team led the rig off the road and on a dirt path toward the back of the massive arena. A large metal gate slammed shut behind them, cutting off the tourists and their prying eyes. There was no VIP behind-the-scenes bullshit when it came to Beast Fights.
Safu pulled into the large parking space intended for their rig and locked the wheels. The whole truck shut down with a large hiss as she killed the engine; Nezumi climbed out of the cab, Shion quickly waking at the shift in activity and scrambling to unbuckle and follow.
The side of the rig was nothing fancy—dark blue with silver accents, graffiti delicately and deliberately decorating the hub. The reflective metal lining the top and bottom of the double decker trailer displayed Nezumi’s reflection well enough. He’d dragged his long, dark hair into a high ponytail to combat the late summer heat; he’d let Shion pick out his outfit for the day, and Shion, knowing Nezumi’s style well enough after all their time together, had picked out a black long-sleeved tee shirt and khaki cargo pants, the hems fraying. He’d jammed his feet into a ragged pair of combat boots, and his silver eyes were still rimmed with dark circles leftover from the makeup he hadn’t quite managed to fully scrub off from their Beast Fight the night prior.
They’d finished their battle around eleven, and then Safu had permitted them an hour to celebrate their victory at the arena’s shoddy little pub. She’d spent only a hundred credits of their winnings on drinks—a strawberry and coconut Italian soda for Safu, since she was driving, and a 375 ml bottle of plum wine for Nezumi and Shion to split.
Nezumi had managed to swallow a glass and a half before Shion had crawled into his lap, face flushed and grinning from ear to ear. Shion didn’t drink often; as a result, when he did, it hit him hard. It’d been a hassle to drag him to their loft, and even more of a struggle to convince him to go to sleep, but Nezumi would be lying if he said he didn’t find Shion’s drunken happiness a little bit endearing.
Shion came over to stand beside Nezumi, raising a hand to block out the setting sun. His fluff-cloud of silver hair stood up at the ends due to the lingering humidity of summer’s end. Despite the heat, he insisted on wearing a button-down and slacks, though he rolled the hems up into a mock pair of capris.
“How are you feeling?” Shion asked.
His voice was casual and light, but Safu stopped talking to the parking attendant and eavesdropped on the conversation. They’d traveled a long way to reach No.6, but if Nezumi felt off about the area, they would pack up and abandon ship. That was one thing Shion and Safu never questioned. No matter what consequences came of it, no matter how much Rikiga bitched and scolded them, if Nezumi told them he didn’t feel right about a location or an upcoming fight, they’d pack up the truck and continue on their way.
“Good,” Nezumi replied, and he could see Safu’s shoulders drop with relief. Though he knew she’d support his decision if he’d chosen to leave, he also knew that finances would become a concern.
Nezumi only had one area he refused to fight in again. A venue in No.1, where Beasts were hobbies to spoiled rich kids with way too much time on their hands and access to top-notch resources. Elyurias had been shredded in the duel, almost destroyed, but in the end, they’d been victorious. Despite their victory, Nezumi avoided venues in No.1. It’d taken a decent amount of money to patch up Elyurias, and Shion had clung to Nezumi and whimpered the whole night afterward. Nezumi had held him back, pressing kisses to his hairline and promising him that they’d leave No.1 first in the morning and never return. In eight long months of Beast Fights, he’d made good on that promise.
“If you’re sure,” Shion replied, dipping his head forward and nuzzling Nezumi’s shoulder.
Nezumi bumped his nose against the crown of Shion’s head and hid a smile; Shion was always affectionate before the start of a Beast Fight.
Safu bid the parking attendant farewell and wandered over to Nezumi and Shion. She’d dressed in a comfortable purple sweater and a plain black skirt, flaunting a pair of leggings despite the heat. She’d recently cut her hair; it fell in choppy spikes around her chin, framing her delicate features.
“The odds are six to one, currently in our favor,” she announced. “Rikiga’s loaned us five-thousand credits to put down.” She gave Nezumi a mischievous glance. “Think you can handle that?”
“Only five-thousand this time?” Nezumi scoffed. “Old man’s losing faith in me, or what?”
“Playing it safe,” Shion translated, patting Nezumi’s shoulder. Though Shion didn’t handle the financial aspect of Beast Fighting, he understood the risks of tossing around too much money.
It wasn’t Nezumi Rikiga had no faith in; it was his opponents and their insatiable greed that concerned him. After all, they’d learned first-hand how far some folks would go just to be the best.
Nezumi rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll have it finished in five minutes.”
Safu clapped her hands together. “Excellent!” She buzzed with energy, a live-wire so powerful that some outsiders sometimes thought she was the one controlling Elyurias. She certainly had the right attitude for it; Safu could be demure and professional one moment, then fiery and vicious the next. She’d make a fabulous Beast if she ever had the drive. But Nezumi had known her long enough to know that getting in the pits wasn’t high on Safu’s list of desired experiences.
In the background, three of the roadies unloaded Elyurias’s life-support pod out of its containment and nestled it into its far corner at the back of the trailer. Shion didn’t move, but he watched with clenched hands as the opaque cylinder was steadily lowered onto the ground and shoved backward.
Nezumi couldn’t help it; he stifled a laugh. Shion always worried about Elyurias. He’d done nearly all the work on the Beast’s body—Safu had assisted with the circulatory system, but the nervous system, bone structure, muscles, and everything in between was all Shion’s craftsmanship—so he knew how tough Elyurias was. Nezumi bumped his head against Shion to let him know everything was fine.
Despite everything, Nezumi had to admit he was curious about Kronos. Rashi, the proprietor of the Kronos arena, had a reputation for theatrics when it came to Beast Fights. Allegedly, the Kronos arena had once been an abandoned warehouse belonging to a company that specialized in computers. Rashi had purchased the building, seeing the rising money in Beast Fights. Inside the building, the Beast pit sat right in the center, eighty feet wide and fifteen feet deep. It was surrounded on all sides by plastic bleachers, cheap and mismatched in color, clearly purchased in a hurry from different bankrupt schoolhouses and sports arenas.
Outside the rig’s muffling insulation, the city sounds of Kronos hummed around Nezumi and sunk deep into his bones. Cities were part of Beast Fights, unfortunately, since many of the arenas large enough to host the booming crowds were only located in cities. Gone were the days of hand-dug pits and miniature Beasts that could be Piloted like remote-controlled cars.
Nezumi had been in it since the beginning, back when building Beasts was strictly hobby and not blood-sport. He didn’t remember how or when it had changed. One day, the little Beast their close-knit trio had patched together—still called Elyurias, just much tinier and much less lethal—had metamorphosed into the war machine they’d become infamous for Piloting.
Shion’s hand covered Nezumi’s, slotting their fingers together. He gave Nezumi’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and Nezumi’s lips twitched into a soft smile. After this fight, they’d planned a short vacation, of sorts. Just the two of them—Shion and Nezumi—spending a few days together in Lost Town, where Shion and Safu had grown up. Safu had agreed to drop them off at Karan’s bakery before lugging the rig three towns over to West Block, where Rikiga and Inukashi would assist in the alterations to Elyurias’s body before their next round of Beast Fights.
Traveling on the road with their crew and Safu, Nezumi had learned all too quickly, made it difficult to have any real alone time with Shion. Sometimes they got lucky and Safu would park the rig overnight after a particularly successful Fight, taking advantage of a rare bar. She didn’t drink often, either, but when she did, Nezumi knew she’d place bets with the rest of the crew. Despite her small stature, Safu could hold her liquor with the best of them, and she’d been roped into more than a few drinking contests with over-zealous fans who assumed they could out-drink her.
When those rare moments presented themselves, Nezumi would bring Shion back to their loft in the rig and tuck into the shadows, smothering Shion’s delighted laughter with deep kisses. Nezumi wasn’t one to wear his emotions of his sleeve, but he couldn’t deny that he was eager for tonight’s fight to end. Nezumi pressed a quick kiss to Shion’s temple. The sooner Nezumi got a moment alone with him, the better.
Two hours before the fight, Rashi stepped into the storage room. Nezumi’s hackles immediately went up; something about him, a spoiled rich boy flaunting his father’s wealth, set his nerves on edge. Rashi didn’t look like he belonged in the world of Beast Fights. He was tall and thin, with cut-close blond hair and a pair of crisp spectacles over a pair of steely green eyes. He wore a pressed black suit with white pinstripes and expensive black wingtips; Nezumi was tempted to spit on them just to see what Rashi would do.
Safu closed the door behind him, cutting off the distant shouting and excitement from the parking lot of the arena. Rashi’s eyes clicked across their faces—Safu’s, Shion’s, then to Nezumi. Cool bemusement danced across his sharp features, and an envelope appeared from one of his sleeves.
“Your appearance fee,” Rashi said. His voice had a strange lilt to it, like he thought it made him sound smarter than he probably was.
He went to hand it to Nezumi, but Safu swooped in and plucked it from him. It disappeared into the pocket of her bright purple sweater. Safu handled the team’s money and expense reports.
Rashi’s delicate blond eyebrow twitched. “You’re not going to count it?”
“Your reputation’s suitable enough,” Safu replied. “I have no reason to assume you’d short us.” She lifted an eyebrow, too. “Unless you’re implying we should have a reason to assume that.”
“No, of course not. And your reputation is certainly suitable enough, as well.”
Nezumi listened to him talk and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like Rashi being here—it put a ripple in their pregame routine. Some teams enjoyed partying with groupies before the Fights. Others dipped into the bars and spent their appearance fees, certain that they’d win it back by Fight’s end. Nezumi, however—Nezumi enjoyed the peace and quiet his team generated. Sometimes he’d unwind by flipping through a book, or he’d listen to Shion and Safu fuss over Elyurias.
“I wondered if I could take a look at Elyurias,” Rashi said, and the name of his Beast on the man’s tongue made Nezumi’s skin crawl. “I’ve heard so many rumors, after all.”
Safu and Shion’s eyes flashed over to Nezumi. Nezumi straightened his spine and gave an indifferent shrug—the sooner he showed Rashi what he wanted, the sooner he’d leave.
“Sure,” he muttered.
He gestured to Shion, a silent reassurance. Shion bustled them over to the gigantic life-support pod that held Elyurias inside. Shion traced his fingers lovingly over the glass, entering the code that shifted the opacity and gave a vivid glimpse into the tank’s contents. Nezumi’s heart skipped, just a little, at the look of endearment that Shion gave the Beast within. He tried not to smile; they were in mixed company, after all.
Nezumi didn’t need to look at Elyurias; he was well acquainted with the Beast’s physical attributes. Elyurias stood at a monstrous three meters tall, primarily bipedal and capable of shifting to four powerful legs. The front legs possessed a set of long claws, each about the length of Nezumi’s index finger. The Beast’s body was covered in black fur, sleek and lupine, and as Rashi continued to look up, Nezumi knew he was eyeing the bony, armored tentacles with sharp blades stretching from the base of Elyurias’s skeletal cranium. There were three of them, segmented like flexible spines and curling in the life-support pod.
The Beast’s head, however, was a thing of art. Shion had spent weeks gathering the pieces, sculpting and shaving down the bones he’d purchased into the perfect shape. The whole body appeared lupine and powerful, but the head possessed a cervidean shape, two large antlers protruding from the top of the skull, bones exposed and horrifying. The eyes were two empty sockets, but Nezumi knew that, when he stepped into the ring, two silver lights would reflect inside them.
Rashi reached out and brushed his fingers against the life-support pod. “Beautiful,” he commented, almost enraptured by the Beast’s appearance.
Shion bristled as Rashi touched the pod, but whatever he wanted to say disappeared when Nezumi gave him a quick glance. He understood Shion’s protective nature when it came to Elyurias—appreciated it, adored it, even—but he also understood that Shion had a hair trigger when it came to anger. He didn’t feel like prying Shion off another person, especially not the proprietor of the arena they’d be dueling in.
And then Rashi looked at Nezumi and said, “You’re going to take a dive tonight.”
A long silence fell around the room.
“What?” Safu asked, her voice icy and sinister. Her build to anger was slower than Shion’s, but no less horrifying. Nezumi could see the shiver that trickled up Rashi’s voice at her tone, but he quickly quelled it. He had an appearance to keep, after all, and bowing to rabble like Beast Fighters was clearly beneath him.
“A dive,” Rashi repeated, shrugging a shoulder. The action looked strange on him. “You’ll be compensated, of course. Three times the winning purse. Thirty-thousand credits.”
Nezumi clicked his tongue. Rashi wasn’t the first person to ask them to throw a fight, but usually there was some form of pomp with it. Typically, fight coordinators piled on the praise, fawning over Nezumi’s victories and regaling him with stories of how his fame had supposedly inspired new Beast fighters to join in the ring, and then they dove into trying to convince him to throw a fight. For Rashi to simply dive right into it—it was refreshing, in a way, if not slightly amusing.
“I think you might be a bit confused, sir,” Safu said, venom dripping off each word. “We’re not a bunch of children you can lead astray with the promise of a big break. We’re professionals. We take what we do seriously.”
“And so do I,” Rashi replied, and Nezumi had to give him at least a bit of credit; he didn’t recoil immediately at the rage dancing across Safu’s face. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture. To keep participating in Beast Fights, you need funds. These sideshow battles have grown exponentially; I wouldn’t be surprised if, in a few years, the whole thing became just another sports program. Official leagues and committees and such. That Beast of yours is certainly admirable”—he gestured to Elyurias, who Shion had stepped protectively in front of, eyes narrowed and flashing scarlet—“but every Beast requires maintenance. How much has your Beast cost you these past few months?”
Nezumi’s jaw tightened.
“With the right level of support,” Rashi continued, “your team could thrive until you’re ready to retire. Even a Beast of Elyurias’s caliber requires a complete system overhaul every few months. This is an expensive business, after all—a successful business, sure, but not if you don’t have the funds.”
“Forgive me, sir, but we’re not that naive.” Safu crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at Rashi without an ounce of fear. “We do research the locations we’re inviting to Fight in. And we’re very thorough. If you know where to look, it’s not difficult to find out that you run the books in Kronos, especially around your arena. Every spectator out there that’s not a die-hard fan of our opponents’ team has laid down an ungodly amount of credits on Elyurias. You, more than likely, ran a few numbers of your own and figured we’d take your offer and purposely lose tonight’s fight. We’d accept your thirty-thousand credits, and you’d get to walk away the true victor.”
“Fifty-thousand credits, then,” Rashi said, narrowing his eyes. “I’d accept the offer, if I were you. You’ve been on quite the impressive winning streak, it’s true. But how much longer can you keep it up?” He turned away from Safu and stared at Nezumi. “You’re the team’s primary Beast—the only Beast, so I’ve been told. Your skill with your creature is quite renowned, but how much confidence do you have in your own abilities? You’re tough, kid—but you’re not invincible.”
“No, I’m not invincible,” Nezumi replied. “But what I do have is an edge the other Beasts lack.”
His gaze flickered to Shion for only a brief moment; it wasn’t brief enough, however, to escape Rashi’s notice. His lips quirked downward in disgust, and whatever minor respect Nezumi might have been able to salvage for the man fluttered out the window. He clenched his jaw, a lump of irritation forming in his throat.
Inside the life-support tank, Elyurias’s claws twitched. The movement was subtle, faint enough that it escaped Rashi’s notice, but Shion’s scarlet eyes flashed.
“Yes, I’ve heard rumors of your… talents.”
Not surprising. Nezumi’s talents with Elyurias had been the topic of great speculation.
It wasn’t impossible that a single Beast had won every fight it’d ever been in, but it was highly unlikely, and the fact that Nezumi’s Beast had gone up against thirty different Beasts and walked away victorious each time was nothing short of miraculous.
“I don’t understand it, though,” Rashi said. “Beast Fights are a bloody affair, but to command such a monster and come out victorious each time…” He cocked his head to the side, sizing Nezumi up. “Are you certain you’re entirely human?”
Shion’s hands tightened into fists; Nezumi caught the movement in his periphery.
He gave Shion a quick, reassuring glance. The tension remained in Shion’s expression, but his shoulders loosened, just a bit. His lips were tight and pain, and Nezumi could see the edge of his teeth as his bit them to keep whatever insults he wanted to hurl at Rashi caged inside.
“Have you ever piloted a Beast, sir?” Safu asked.
Rashi’s sharp green eyes glinted in the dingy trailer light. “I haven’t had the, ah… pleasure, no.”
That didn’t surprise Nezumi in the slightest. Even from first glance, Rashi didn’t strike him as the type to link his mind to a bioware processor and get down and dirty with other Beasts in the ring. He seemed more the type to pay others to do it for him, hedging bets and fixing fights to ensure he walked away with a tasty profit. The thought of it turned Nezumi’s stomach. Wealthy scum like Rashi tainted the sport.
“Then I wouldn’t expect you to understand it,” Safu said, and then, as an after-thought, added, “No offense.”
“No offense taken,” Rashi replied coolly, though his eyes flashed in a way that let Nezumi know it had certainly been taken.
“There’s some level of blood lust to it,” Nezumi said, and Safu cast him a surprised look. “You can’t control a Beast without wanting to create a little carnage. But more than that, it’s that desire to destroy your opponent. Every Beast Fighter out there—everyone who joins a team, bets their credits, connects themselves to a bioware processor and climbs into the pit—understands that voracity.”
“And I suppose that you’re the most vicious of them all, then?” Rashi leveled Nezumi with a cold look. “Your desire to win is greater than every other Beast out there?”
“Yes,” Nezumi replied, and for the first time since Rashi showed his ugly face, he let the irritation swelling inside him poison his words.
Shion’s shoulders tightened, and Nezumi knew his mind had also wandered back to that night almost a year ago.
Nezumi’s body still ached with it, his mind dredging up flashes of the icy rain pelting against his skin, the sluggish feeling of his blood oozing out onto the pavement. His lungs boiled with each ragged breath, and the echo of Shion’s horrified voice slicing through the storm still haunted his nightmares.
But that night had left Nezumi with something irreplaceable—an edge that allowed him to strike down even the strongest of Beasts. No matter how many Beasts he squared off against, no matter how many wounds Elyurias sustained or how close a fight got, Nezumi would always win.
Rashi looked around the group—surveyed the cold expressions on Shion and Safu’s faces, the silent rage on Nezumi’s—and gave a theatrical sigh. “Very well. Have it your way.” He turned on his heel, marching through the door with the practiced ease of someone who was well-accustomed to storming out of rooms in a huff.
“Fucking prick,” Safu spat, once Rashi was out of earshot.
Shion’s arms wrapped around Nezumi and pulled him close. Nezumi folded Shion against him and rubbed a hand down his back. Shion’s body vibrated with anger, and Nezumi knew if he let Shion go, he’d sprint out of the rig and tackle Rashi to the ground. Not a good look for their crew, though Nezumi couldn’t deny he found it amusing how keyed up and protective Shion could get about him.
“Ignore him,” Nezumi murmured against Shion’s hairline. Rashi didn’t matter. He was just another fight coordinator who’d underestimated them. Nothing they hadn’t dealt with before.
Safu gave Nezumi a brief look; Nezumi nodded to her, and with a slight nod in return, Safu marched over to the few members of their crew to begin preparations for the fight.
“I don’t like how he looked at you,” Shion ground out, curling his fingers in Nezumi’s shirt.
Nezumi tightened his grip on Shion. “Whatever. He doesn’t know a damn thing.”
Shion nodded; he pressed a soft kiss to Nezumi’s collar bone, peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. Even that faint touch had Nezumi’s blood singing.
One fight. All he had to do was win this one fight, and then he and Shion would get some much-needed alone time. That in itself was more than enough to motivate Nezumi, even without the rest.
Nezumi drew back, peering down into Shion’s face. His scarlet eyes, glowing in the dim light of the storage room in their rig, reached into the deepest parts of his soul. It’d been hard to let his walls down around anyone, and Shion was no exception—not at first. But once Nezumi had allowed even the slightest crack in his defenses when it came to Shion, it was almost horrifying how easy it’d been to let Shion in.
“Come on,” Nezumi said. “We’ve got a fight to win.”
The aggravation in Shion’s face gave way to admiration and love; Shion’s lips curled into a grin, and Nezumi knew, more instinct than speculation, that there was no way he’d lose the fight tonight. As long as Shion was right here, there wasn’t anything in the world Nezumi couldn’t conquer.
Ciao!! Non sai che piacere essere capitata con un italiano! Quando ho dato un'occhiata al tuo blog, sono subito andata a leggere una delle tue ff e mi è piaciuta un sacco. Sei bravo a scrivere e avevo pensato di regalarti qualcosa di scritto, ma una mattina mi è venuta improvvisamente l'ispirazione per un disegno. Hai richiesto il loro ritrovo in chiave angst, quindi ho ragionato su come ciò potesse accadere... e ho ricordato uno degli attributi più tristi (e allo stesso tempo più teneri) di Shion e Nezumi, cioè che Shion lo trova spesso ferito e bisognoso di cure. Nezumi vive una vita in costante pericolo, quindi mi sembrava logico che gli potesse accadere qualcosa anche dopo aver deciso di andare via per conto suo. E quindi, in questo fumetto, Nezumi torna con la faccia mutilata da cicatrici (ho sofferto a rovinargliela!!) e Shion non sa se prova felicità nel rivederlo vivo oppure angoscia nel rivederlo in quello stato! Spero tanto che la mia idea ti piaccia, e buon Natale!
