execution | Puppy Love

It’s not quite right. It’s not the way things really were. But coming from an unknown elder brother who can only do so much before his strength is gone entirely…even erasing their memories and rolling them back to a more innocent time is better than leaving Koujaku to languish in a cell with only a mockery of Aoba’s true self for company.

It goes a little wrong, Koujaku goes back farther than Aoba does, but at least they will be safe.

For Aoba, it’s just another day in Heibon. Haga-san is making a deliver, Bonjin-kun is puttering around the back, and Ren is sleeping on the counter while Aoba monitors the phone. The door chimes with the arrival of a customer—their first today, in fact—and he picks up his head in a hurry, trying to look like he hadn’t been struggling with dozing off, himself.

“Ah, welcome! Let me know if there’s anything I—” He fumbles himself into sitting upright and looks towards the entrance, but cuts off when he sees someone younger than he was expecting. Much younger.

Aoba is immediately suspicious, wondering if this kid is a friend of those three, and his demeanor loses some of its cheer.

“…Hey. You need help with something, kid?”

Maybe it’s the right place to come back to at all—certainly, with enough searching even Sei can deduce that it’s a time Koujaku yearns for—happy days in Midorijima with his childhood friend and his mother still alive…somewhere. Just when he’d come into his own as a man worthy of protecting his mother, just before everything went wrong…

Koujaku’s face contorts over the concave surface of the camera lends he’d been staring at, his eyes bulging, then his mouth, all innocently red still, and of a shade deeper than that of his kimono.

Then that voice startles him out of his reverie and he turns around to see—

His face turn a little red himself, as he eyes Aoba with that same appraising look he’d given much of the junk lying around the shop earlier on. He’s…familiar, but not quite so cute as the little one he knows so well, of course, but Koujaku’s a little overwhelmed all the same.

He stares at Aoba with openmouthed wonder for a few brief seconds before muttering, “You’re really cute, lady…”

...

Aoba had almost given the kid the benefit of the doubt, looking at that kimono and thinking of the only people he knew that dressed that way: the Benishigure gang. Maybe one of Koujaku's team was a family guy. It wasn't unreasonable. Wouldn't much explain what the kid was doing here, but at least--

And then he goes and opens his mouth. Aoba's visage cracks with even more annoyance.

He's never gotten THAT one before. For all the ways people react to his voice, he has never been mistaken for a girl, not even once. Especially not to his FACE.

He gives the brat a flat-eyed look and states with equal tonelessness: "I'm a guy."

~~Bitty Mikoshiba y/y?~~

He…probably should be bothered about hitting on a guy like this, but Koujaku simply tilts his head to the side inquisitively, a glint of mischief in his eye. Nope, definitely not a brat, and too young for Beni-Shigure standards, but not too young to miss out on sarcasm, of course.

Of course for a teenager that’s just encouragement.

Shit-eating grin, activate. “You sure? My mom told me to be nice to girls.”

Aaaaand this would be Aoba’s face slamming all the rest of the way into I Do Not Have Time For This Shit, all pretenses of giving the kid a chance already used up and gone. He doesn’t care if this kid is Kou’s or Hagima’s or what. He’s a brat just like the other three.

Aoba sighs, slipping his hand carefully under his bangs to pinch at the bridge of his nose, knowing that headache he’s starting to feel is not one of his more medical afflictions.

“Then how about you go find one and bother her instead of me? You’re not a friend of Kio and the others, are you? I don’t care what they told you—this isn’t a place to come play around in.”

He wouldn’t even know who they were, and Koujaku’s only half-listening in any case—having already a rather advanced mastery of nodding politely at adults for whatever it is they’re nattering on. Not that he’s being deliberately impolite or anything, but everything in this place inspires a kind of awe in him and—is that an honest-to-goodness VCR? There are practically fossils in here.

He turns to Aoba for a moment, all smiles. “Is that your girlfriend then, Nii-san?” And with that lilt characteristic of the older Koujaku, besides. Least that much managed to catch his attention before he scans the shelves and—ooh, an Allmate! He doesn’t even have one of those yet!

And he’s tall enough to reach the counter, too. As a matter of fact, he’s reaching for Ren right now, with all the cocksure aplomb of a kid who’s happily gone through growth spurt.

“Hey, is this guy for sale too, Nii-san?”

What kind of manners are they even teaching yakuza heirs these days goddamn. Nii-san is better than jii-san at least but—

“Oi!” Aoba’s hand flies up in a hurry, smacking the boy’s hand away before contact with his precious Allmate can be made. It’s a sharp gesture, but defensive rather than mean. He doesn’t want to hurt the kid…he just doesn’t want him touching Ren.

“That’s Ren and he’s mine,” Aoba quickly asserts, picking up the hibernating pup and moving him to the safety of his lap.

Edited 2014-07-16 03:13 (UTC)

Hey, he’s perfectly allowed to be a little shit to guys excuse you. Unless they’re elderly and deserving of respect like Haga-san, who is suspiciously absent today. Besides, he’d just had a faceful of boob from Yoshie-san on his way over—that can shake a kid up a little, especially when she’s insisted on picking him up and embracing him very, very tightly.

“Ow, you don’t have to be mean about it, Nii-san!” Koujaku scoffs, pouting for a moment as he rubs at his own hand, but he recovers quickly enough. He leans in very close to Ren, but shockingly keeps his hands held behind his back.

“I thought Mom might like something that cute.” He’s looking away now, and sheepishly at that.

Oi who said he could come around behind the desk? Aoba gives the kid a hard, suspicious look, still keeping one hand protectively over Ren’s back. He relaxes only a little when Koujaku’s attention drifts elsewhere.

‘Mom’, huh? Well he’s not reevaluating his opinion of you just yet, kid, ruffling Ren’s fur for a bit of reassurance. “Then you’d probably have better luck at a gift store or something,” he advises, a little gruff, but not disingenuously. “This is a junk shop. We carry things like spare parts, not stuffed anim—”

And that’s when the phone chooses to ring and accursed responsibility rears its head. Aoba gives it a glance, gives the kid a follow-up look, and then grabs the receiver, his voice automatically slipping back to pleasantness as he (mostly) focuses on the actual customer at the other end. “Hello, thank you for calling! This is Junk Shop Heibon.”

Kid he is still watching you and gods help you if you start making trouble like those three brats do.

Well can you blame him? Koujaku’s made it pretty clear that he’s crushing, after all—and it turns out his kid self isn’t precisely shy at going after what he wants. Ah, innocence.

“I know that, but—” And cue phone call—another perpetual reminder of just how cockblocked he really is, but Koujaku’s quick to remain politely silent while Aoba takes that call, as his ears not-so-politely quirk with interest. There’s an allure about this stranger that he can’t quite put a finger on—like if his childhood friend had grown up and grown enough of a spine to take him on without dissolving into tears.

But make no mistake—his interest is firmly on Aoba rather than the caller themselves. As a matter of fact, hearing Aoba with that unusual pleasantness earns the latter a pointed, and most definitely fascinated stare.

Well as we all know, Aoba’s an idiot, and given his current track record with kids in his shop (and guys hitting on him and thank the gods Noiz hasn’t come around anymore since that one time) he’s taking this new youth as some kind of troll.

But all the same, his guarded glances ease up the longer the boy does nothing more than stand there, allowing Aoba to focus on the call and potential sale. Of course it’s not just ‘potential’ for long, what with that certain quality of Aoba’s voice making it easier to cajole purchases out of people.

Aoba may be a lazy bum but he’s efficient on the phone. The call is wrapped up in short order, all the necessary data transferred to Heibon’s computer, and the kid hasn’t torn down the store in the meanwhile.

Alright. Aoba’ll give him another chance. He hangs up the phone and swivels his chair around to face Koujaku directly, sighing a little and getting his usual tone of voice back before he speaks.

“…If there’s something you’re looking for in specific, tell me and I can tell you if we’ve got anything like that.”

Well that cinches it. Koujaku doesn’t yet know why but that voice makes his heart race and surely, he’s never felt like quite the man as he does now listening in to an otherwise boring business transaction just to pick up at more of…whatever that is. It’s absolutely enchanting is what it is.

Aoba may not be good with kids, but guess what? Koujaku is. See? Compatible!

His heart skips a beat when Aoba returns his attention to him, and for a wild moment Koujaku imagines Aoba addressing him in that voice, but alas, things have become surprisingly mundane, though Koujaku has yet to get over that sudden lightning flash of desire.

His cheeks grow just a shade more crimson and suddenly his face scrunches up in a determined frown, and he moves just a tad closer to Aoba.

“Your name,” he says very resolutely, before remembering his manners and adding, with a cheeky grin, “Got anything like that around here?”

Aaaaaand the flat-eyed look is back.

Aoba tried. He gave the kid a second chance because he’d been quiet and behaved while Aoba was distracted by the phone. Now it’s back to this.

The last thing he wants is another irreverent brat addressing him by name. What is it with this shop and kids, anyway?

“You first.” Geez, Aoba, letting some barely-a-teenager get under your skin like this. It’s sad, really.

This whole annoyed face of his is a pretty good look on him, though. Koujaku’s impressed—and more smitten than ever. Ooh, keep talking snarky to him, Nii-san~

“Koujaku,” he immediately replies, with a smug look and his chest puffed up in what he hoped was a manly enough posture. He’s working on this, okay? He hasn’t yet realized that he’s at his manliest when defending the weak or some shit.

But just in case Aoba isn’t annoyed nearly enough— “Your turn.”

Koujaku needs to finish puberty before he can even think about calling himself manly. But more importantly, when Aoba hears that name he jolts, hazel eyes going wide and staring at the kid with his thoughts all suddenly in a jumble.

He already knows a Koujaku after all, and with the way this kid is dressed, don’t tell him….

No that’s impossible, he’s way too old even if Koujaku did screw up with precautions somewhere….

Maybe one of the other Ribsters…some kind of tribute-naming thing? But that doesn’t work either, Benishigure hasn’t existed all that long….

But it’s not exactly a common name, and with the distinct way he’s dressed, Aoba really can’t imagine what else could be….

The return question gets ignored for the moment. “Ah…any relation to Benishigure’s Koujaku?”

Well he’s someone’s hero at that age already, excuse you, so he’s plenty manly already!! Though granted, kid Aoba isn’t much of a standard to begin with…

Neither is the Aoba the Somewhat Greater, but nobody ever went for Koujaku’s ass because of his standards or anything.

But you know Aoba’s various facial contortions are absolutely enchanting, and Koujaku’s lapping it up for all its worth. So Aoba gets nothing but him beaming back at him proudly, because that’s definitely a name to be proud of, yep. Birdbrain.

“That’s me!” he exclaims in the modest tones of one trying not to be smug, because AHA! his notoriety precedes him after all!! Bet you want him now, Aoba. Never mind that he just lives at the Beni-Shigure district with his mom, oh no.

“So what’s your name, huh? We had a deal!”

Wait.

What.

But that’s….

But this kid’s got the eyes and the hair….

Koujaku the Elder got some serious ‘splainin’ to do.

(Not that Aoba will never be able to locate him in this little escape from reality of theirs.)

Finally Aoba just sighs, setting Ren back on the desk as he gives bittyJack a suspicious sort of look. They had no deal of any kind at all, but it’s hard to be rude just for the sake of being rude.

“Seragaki.”

Offering the kid a first-name basis seems like a bad idea though.

Well he might if that’s what he really wants—but what’s Koujaku and condoms, anyway. Wasn’t even assed enough to put one on before screwing his one true love. Repeatedly.

In better times, at least. But does this count? Koujaku here remembers none of the pain and heartache and his life is all sunshine in Midorijima and he’s fallen in love all over again. Just what is it about mullets that attracts him so?

Not that it doesn’t stop this Koujaku from pouting at the reply.

“That’s just cheating,” he informs him, but he settles down into a smile soon enough. Then he puts his arms akimbo and resumes that grin. “So I’ll just call you Sera-chan instead.”

Who’s cheating now? Aoba twitches, a strangled sound of protest escaping him, but…compared to the alternative….

Is he really having a battle of wills with a teenager—and losing? He debates his options. Aoba…or Sera-chan. Aoba…or Sera-chan. Aoba…. Sera-chan….

He is deadpanning you so hard right now, kid, and weighs his reply down with every pound of sarcasm he can muster, for all the good it’ll do him.

“Nice to meet you, Kou-baka.”

Hell he has no idea what Aoba’s even thinking, though not for the lack of trying, mind you. Koujaku’s definitely curious and eager to get to know him better—on the other hand, “Sera-chan” is being far too alluring and mysterious and shit.

It’s like the reverse of those hardboiled detective movies in that Koujaku’s adolescent little head he’s the one waxing poetic over this cool, distant piece of bad news with the amazing legs.

Sigh. Such is life. Even a false one.

But Koujaku has to smirk at that. Oh, so cruel, harem of his heart!! Giving him a nickname already? And before the first date? Does this even count as the first date?

Maybe Tae-san will know. For the time being, Koujaku’s content to fire back with, “Heh, I like it. ‘Specially since you came up with it all just for me.”

He’s doki’ing so fucking hard right now can you tell.

Aoba is giving him the death glare to end all death glares can you tell. Okay maybe a little less than ‘death’, he wouldn’t really inflict that on any kid, but oh my god just go away already.

He throws his hands up with a disgusted groan and turns his chair back to facing his little workstation, throwing himself up at the inventory list still up on screen after that last phone call. It’s a pretty transparent attempt at directing his attention elsewhere, but it’s all he’s got.

Aoba 0. Koujaku 1.

Nope; he’s in love and he’s yet to learn the slightly more socially-acceptable ways of expressing it as he would as an adult. But Koujaku obligingly stays out of Aoba’s way and even helps out, particularly when fetching this or that thing for him, should Aoba deign to let him touch the merchandise. All in all the afternoon had passed by pleasantly, with many cheeky comments thrown at Aoba’s way and Haga-san tousling his hair affectionately besides.

Of course he seems to have…vanished around closing time. Haga-san even asked for him, but there’s naught a splash of bright red to be found anywhere within the shop.

There is one fluttering about the Seragakis’ kitchen, however. Having obtained permission from his mother, Koujaku finally goes to visit a close friend of her’s, who’s currently ordering him about the kitchen besides. Koujaku cheerfully obeys throughout it all, even offering a few choice compliments for the smells of cooking wafting from the stove, to the venerable old lady’s gruff pleasure. He has no idea that there’s even any relation between Aoba and Tae-san…

How nice for Koujaku to be so in charge of his own sexuality for a change. But. Well. Maybe by the end of it Aoba can admit that, compared to the three brats, Koujaku is far less destructive to have around. Still a pain in the ass, but at least not a destructive one.

He’d been wary and suspicious when the boy had first popped up at his elbow, holding the set of G-series chips he’d been trying to locate, but a few more incidents like that and he had to concede: Koujaku was learning his way around the shop shockingly fast, and everything left his hands in the same condition he’d picked it up. Dare Aoba say it? The kid was even…helpful.

But he was still. A pain. In the ass. Whether he stuck to calling him Sera-chan or caught on and switched over to some form of Aoba (because of course, Haga-san called him Aoba-kun and there was nothing he could do about it), every impertinent remark flung at him left Aoba wanting to tear his hair out.

Possibly the only thing stopping him was how much that would hurt.

It was an incredible relief to realize the boy had finally disappeared, even if Aoba now dreaded Koujaku would show up with the same regularity as the brat trio. Cripes, what was it about kids turning him into a target? If working at Heibon hadn’t been such a nice job otherwise….

At least he could have an evening’s peace, he thought, for the moment blissfully unaware this would not be the case. He let himself in and paused in the entryway, sighing at the delicious scents of dinner—and from the sound of it, there was someone more than Tae in the kitchen with her.

Probably Koujaku. The grown-up one that Aoba liked significantly more, that was. Good. He could ask him about that little one after the meal.

“I’m home, Granny!” he called to announce himself, setting down his bag and bending to remove his shoes.

Hey, there’s none of the adult worries marring his perspective of the world just yet. And Koujaku’s at least in his own little heaven and he doesn’t feel the least bit out of place in it. Some of the shop’s customers have even mistakenly thought of him as one of the employees—or a relation of Haga-san’s, maybe. Regardless he’s cozying up to Tae-san right now, though she’s remarkably accepting of his whole existence, for some reason. Some illusions shouldn’t be shattered so early, after all.

But it had been a good day for Koujaku, if nothing else. He’s learning to be useful and he’s pretty sure he’s well on his way to getting “Ao-nii” to warm up to him. Haga-san had certainly been encouraging about it. And now Koujaku had just been setting the table when he heard his voice, and he’s quick to poke his head in the doorway.

“Yo, Ao-nii!”

Remarkably calm response from the boy for having no idea Aoba lived here. Aoba, on the other hand, cannot claim nearly the same composure. His head snaps up, his eyes go wide, and he recoils so fast his back slams against the inside of the front door.

There’s really only one thing to demand.

“What the hell are you doing here!?”

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