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Kyou Kara Maou: "Home for Summer"
Warnings: No purpose except cute. Vague not-really but-it's-Kay-after-all S/S. The camo bikini briefs do not make an appearance here -- I still haven't really forgiven Murata for those. Love for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alarielle ♥
.home for summer.
The package arrived just in time for summer vacation.
"Ken! You've got mail!" His sister watched him with raised eyebrow as he raced into the kitchen to snatch it from her hands. "I don't know why you wasted your money on this crap," she said, but he was already halfway out the door.
Murata had been waiting very patiently for this chance. He had spent decades anticipating the day when planning came to fruition; he had spent months dreaming of what it would be like; he had counted every day waiting for summer vacation.
From the moment Shibuya had been brought to Shin Makoku, he had wanted to know when it would be his turn, and the only answer his maddening friend could offer him was, "Soon."
"You're just being cruel," Murata had accused, but the distant voice did not answer, nor did the single word of advice change, until just before final exams, when suddenly "Soon" became "It will not be long now..."
Then he touched the thin strain of maryoku that ran even through Earth and felt it, the changes coming: summer, they said, in summer.
Japan was kinder to him than most civilizations and certainly kinder than Shin Makoku: black hair and eyes were the norm here. It had been generations since he had needed to dye his hair. The methods were different now, but more efficient.
He read the instructions on the carton (I think I see why women usually do this with a friend's help) and spent the next half-hour perched on the counter, cross-legged, playing Tetris on his cell phone with a scrubby towel tossed over his shoulders to protect his t-shirt.
In Shin Makoku he would be able to talk to the Shinou, really talk to him, not this parody of contact that they had so far apart. He would get answers to his questions, have a hand in events again, something he'd itched for during his time on Earth. He would have maryoku again, the rush of confidence, of ability, returning to him all at once and making it easier to breathe. He would be able to watch Shibuya, judge him properly, instead of holding tight to hope and glimpses of potential.
His reflection in the mirror was blond. He had to keep from smirking. It looked indefinably odd, as if someone had done a poor job of recoloring a photograph of himself. Perhaps it would look more natural with the lenses in. Instead he just made his eyes water painfully and still looked like a poor recoloring of himself. He leaned against the sink and laughed until he couldn't breathe.
...what are you doing? asked his friend.
Murata smiled slowly, brushing away the moisture in his eyes. "I'm giving myself a makeover," he said aloud.
Perhaps the ancient king heard him; perhaps he only heard part of it, or perhaps nothing at all. He said, you seem to be having fun.
Wistful? Jealous? Nostalgic? "It's a private joke," the boy murmured, "just between you and I. No one else will get it."
He turned a bit, observing himself from different angles and trying to see if he'd missed any telltale dark spots. He looked like a Japanese boy trying desperately to look Caucasian, but in Shin Makoku the only thing they would notice was that he was not the telltale demon color.
The Great Sage: Available in Original or Original King colors, he thought, and laughed again until the voice in his head gave up on him and his sister pounded at the door, demanding to know if he was going to come out today.
He was going home. Preparations had been made to accomodate his appearance, he was going to be with Shibuya all summer thanks to applying for jobs together so he would be ready when the call came, he had his innocent routine down perfect.
Murata tugged at a strand of blond hair near his eyes. It was a clumsy resemblance, and he couldn't share it until he had returned to Shin Makoku and found an appropriate pool of water to reflect him to the one beyond. But it would all be worth it to make the Shinou laugh at his blond, blue-eyed Sage. If he would just laugh, all the years of distance and pain would melt away, and things would be all right again. They would come home together.
Days left until summer vacation: t-minus two...
alarielle ♥.home for summer.
The package arrived just in time for summer vacation.
"Ken! You've got mail!" His sister watched him with raised eyebrow as he raced into the kitchen to snatch it from her hands. "I don't know why you wasted your money on this crap," she said, but he was already halfway out the door.
Murata had been waiting very patiently for this chance. He had spent decades anticipating the day when planning came to fruition; he had spent months dreaming of what it would be like; he had counted every day waiting for summer vacation.
From the moment Shibuya had been brought to Shin Makoku, he had wanted to know when it would be his turn, and the only answer his maddening friend could offer him was, "Soon."
"You're just being cruel," Murata had accused, but the distant voice did not answer, nor did the single word of advice change, until just before final exams, when suddenly "Soon" became "It will not be long now..."
Then he touched the thin strain of maryoku that ran even through Earth and felt it, the changes coming: summer, they said, in summer.
Japan was kinder to him than most civilizations and certainly kinder than Shin Makoku: black hair and eyes were the norm here. It had been generations since he had needed to dye his hair. The methods were different now, but more efficient.
He read the instructions on the carton (I think I see why women usually do this with a friend's help) and spent the next half-hour perched on the counter, cross-legged, playing Tetris on his cell phone with a scrubby towel tossed over his shoulders to protect his t-shirt.
In Shin Makoku he would be able to talk to the Shinou, really talk to him, not this parody of contact that they had so far apart. He would get answers to his questions, have a hand in events again, something he'd itched for during his time on Earth. He would have maryoku again, the rush of confidence, of ability, returning to him all at once and making it easier to breathe. He would be able to watch Shibuya, judge him properly, instead of holding tight to hope and glimpses of potential.
His reflection in the mirror was blond. He had to keep from smirking. It looked indefinably odd, as if someone had done a poor job of recoloring a photograph of himself. Perhaps it would look more natural with the lenses in. Instead he just made his eyes water painfully and still looked like a poor recoloring of himself. He leaned against the sink and laughed until he couldn't breathe.
...what are you doing? asked his friend.
Murata smiled slowly, brushing away the moisture in his eyes. "I'm giving myself a makeover," he said aloud.
Perhaps the ancient king heard him; perhaps he only heard part of it, or perhaps nothing at all. He said, you seem to be having fun.
Wistful? Jealous? Nostalgic? "It's a private joke," the boy murmured, "just between you and I. No one else will get it."
He turned a bit, observing himself from different angles and trying to see if he'd missed any telltale dark spots. He looked like a Japanese boy trying desperately to look Caucasian, but in Shin Makoku the only thing they would notice was that he was not the telltale demon color.
The Great Sage: Available in Original or Original King colors, he thought, and laughed again until the voice in his head gave up on him and his sister pounded at the door, demanding to know if he was going to come out today.
He was going home. Preparations had been made to accomodate his appearance, he was going to be with Shibuya all summer thanks to applying for jobs together so he would be ready when the call came, he had his innocent routine down perfect.
Murata tugged at a strand of blond hair near his eyes. It was a clumsy resemblance, and he couldn't share it until he had returned to Shin Makoku and found an appropriate pool of water to reflect him to the one beyond. But it would all be worth it to make the Shinou laugh at his blond, blue-eyed Sage. If he would just laugh, all the years of distance and pain would melt away, and things would be all right again. They would come home together.
Days left until summer vacation: t-minus two...