what_we_dream: (Gintama Parachute)
[personal profile] what_we_dream
Shuffle song meme
Fandoms: Magic Kaito (2) Gintama (3)
Pairings: Mild Gin/Zura
Rating: G

Magic Kaito
Someday - Nickelback

The tiny light Kaitou Kid holds in his palm like a firefly is barely enough to illuminate the ground at their feet. A cold wind is blowing through the ancient tunnel; it carries the rich scent of moist earth and crumbling stone. As they walk slowly forward, she catches glimpses of gleaming white flecks amid the thick black dirt. The bones were cleaned of their flesh a long time ago.

If Aoko were alone trapped down here, metres below the mansion holding Kid’s target, she would be terrified. If she were trapped down here with anyone but him, she would be terrified.

But she’s alone with Kid, and that leaves only room for one emotion: rage.

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you when we get out,” she tells him. “My father has probably found all the entrances to this stupid dungeon by now – he’ll have them staked out.”

Kid doesn’t look at her. He hasn’t once since they tumbled down here. “I’m afraid they don’t show up on the building’s plans, Nakamori-san. But I’m sure the Inspector is bustling all the same.” His smile is just a change in the shadows of his face.

“Don’t mock him. He will catch you.” She crosses her arms, refusing to shiver in the breeze.

“And if he doesn’t, you will?”

“I would never throw away my whole life for a grudge.”

The light in Kid’s hand flickers, his fingers closing over it momentarily. She glances at him, but he’s already throwing his arm out to point at something. “The exit, I believe,” he says, in a light tone.

She opens her mouth to reply, but he’s already striding off into the darkness.

J-E-N-O-V-A - Final Fantasy VII

It’s Nakamori who finds him, half-buried in a pile of weeds and dirt left by some untidy gardener. He can hardly move, but that’s just bruised ribs and a twisted ankle from the bad landing – nothing serious.

“This isn’t a game,” Nakamori tells him, as he turns off his flashlight and pulls Kid out of the refuse. “Don’t play with your life like this. You’re not some … some video game character. You keep taunting them and they’re not going to keep missing.” He drags Kid up onto his feet, hurrying him along away from the spotlights and flashlights.

Kid grimaces at the pain in his ribs, like long curves of wire cutting into him. He turns it into a grin, knows the moonlight above will catch off his teeth.

“Don’t worry, Inspector, I’m not so easy to get rid of. Kaitou Kid doesn’t stay dead.”

Nakamori grabs him, twisting him around so tightly that Kid snarls against the pain.

“Maybe he doesn’t, but you will. So don’t you damn well ever say that.”


“Now get out of here. San-cho-me has been swept clean; go that way.”

Kid pauses, then tips his hat and limps off. A few steps away, he sheds his white clothes and disappears into the night. Behind him, he can hear Nakamori shouting at some hapless uniform to get back to his post.

Ocean – Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos

The air is thick with salt, so thick he can taste it on his tongue. Feet dangling over the edge of the dock, Gintoki watches the orange waves far out in the ocean embracing the wrecked ships. The black smoke, still billowing up resolutely from the sinking vessels, paints dark tiger streaks across the setting sun.

“Damn fool never could tell when things were over.” Gintoki has one hand pressed against the stinging wound in his side; the salt has seeped in there too, relentless.

Beside him, Zura is standing stiff and straight as a lightning pole waiting for the strike. “It will never be over. Not for any of us.”

“Shut up, Zura. Don’t try to sound so dramatic; this isn’t Shounen JUMP.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong, you stupid gloomy terrorist. What’s inside our heads – is inside our heads. It doesn’t have to go any further than that.” Out in the ocean, the waves close over the last of the wreckage, dark smoke finally extinguished. Gintoki puts a hand on the cold cement of the dock and levers himself up slowly.

“Not everyone is crazy enough to try that,” says Zura, wringing the last of the water from his sleeves.

“You are not someone with the right to call others crazy.”

“Shut up, Gintoki. Ah – and it’s Katsura.”

Lost Heaven – L’arc en Ciel

“So this is where you’ve gotten to,” says a familiar voice, as Gintoki is carefully putting the final touches on the Yorozuya sign. His hand twitches, leaving a hook of black paint over the N. He lowers the brush and swivels around, glaring up at the man standing on the veranda beside him.

“Dammit, Zura, look what you’ve done. Yorozuya Gin-chare?”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura, and that is what whitewash is for.”

“You can’t whitewash one letter – cover-ups always show. That’s why your face looks like such a mess.”

Zura looks down at the writing and sneers. “It’s a ridiculous sign anyway. This is how you intend to live your life? This is the end you’ve come to?”

“No, it’s the beginning I’ve made.” Gintoki puts down the brush, and pulls the bucket of whitewash over. He picks up the roller and holds it up. “You going to fix what you ruined?”

“There is no fixing that. This isn’t where you belong, Gintoki.”

“We’ll never belong anywhere that exists now. We have to make our own lives. You know that as well as I do, Zura.”

“We belong in the Jyouishishi! Come with me, Gintoki.”

“No thanks. Those guys are way too committed to morose pessimism and serious dramas. I’m more a soap kind of guy.”

“You would rather stay here, whitewashing signs and running errands?”

“Yep.” Inside, the alarm clock beeps. “Oops. Time for Lady’s Four. Sorry, Zura. You’re just gonna have to fight for gloomy terror on your own.” He steps over and opens the door, kicking off his sandals.

“What kind of end is this for the Shiroyasha?”

Gintoki turns, and something in his eyes makes Zura take a step back. “He died a long time ago, Zura. This is the birth of Yorozuya Gin-chan. Mark it in your calendar – I expect presents next year.” He steps inside, and slams the door behind him.

Order Made – Rad Wimps

Zura comes crawling into the apartment sometime around 3am; Gintoki doesn’t know when exactly, because his eyes won’t focus properly before 9.

“The Shinsengumi have set up a stakeout outside my apartment,” says the moron, huffing on his fingers. It’s been a cold winter, and Zura’s apartment is on the other side of the city.

Gintoki groans and turns over. “And that’s my problem how?” Zura reaches down and presses his frozen fingers against the back of Gintoki’s neck; he yelps and jerks up.

“You bastard, that was uncalled for. How the hell am I gonna get back to sleep now? Go sleep in the living room if you won’t go back outside like a good animal.”

“’S cold,” murmurs Zura, still breathing on his fingers. Gintoki’s eyes have adjusted enough to the poor light in his room that he can see Zura is hunched in a tight ball, and that he’s not wearing his usual white haori. Gintoki sighs. His apartment isn’t heated – he can’t afford kerosene or the extra electric bill, not when an extra set of clothes will do just as well. It would sure come in handy now, though.

“You put your icy fingers or feet on me again, and its out where you belong,” he mutters, lying down and turning over. There’s a rustle of cloth, and then Zura’s slipped under the heavy duvet to lie beside him. He can feel Zura shivering gently, his forehead pressed into Gintoki’s shoulder. After a minute, Gintoki elbows him in the stomach and then turns them both over as Zura recoils. He draws Zura in against him, arms wrapped around his waist and long legs pressed against the backs of Zura’s.

“You smell like burnt toast,” he tells the rebel, feels Zura shiver as the words brush over his neck.

“M-my haori got singed. Maa, more burnt. But I took out two patrol cars,” he reports proudly.

“You should’ve stayed there – would’ve been warmer. ‘Sides, ‘s not like your brain can get any more fried.”

“You would’ve missed my company.” Zura’s slurring his words now; Gintoki can feel him relaxing as the warmth seeps into him.

“Not likely.” He contemplates shoving Zura’s head off the pillow but holds back. Zura wakes up early, and there’s no telling what kind of revenge he might exact. “Go to sleep, Zura.”

“Not Zura: Katsu – ra.” He falls asleep even as the words slip out.

Gintoki rolls his eyes momentarily, before resting his forehead against the back of Zura’s head. Closing his eyes, he lets the soft sound of Zura’s breathing guide him back to sleep.
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