Work Text:
The first thing his new boss did was try to braid his hair into pigtails. Or something else, Kikyo wasn't really listening. Slightly beaten by the twelve-hour flight, he barely defended the right to a hairstyle.
Cervellos showed him the room in silence, but stared at Kikyo all the way. Was it his imagination, or was it pity?
The next day, he found Irie Shoichi outside the Melone base. In a hole dug in the forest, which looks hideously like a grave, looking at the sky. Kikyo was even glad that there was a beacon on Irie’s raincoat. He leaned over the pit and asked if everything was okay.
"Go away,” came the reply. "You're blocking the sun,” Irie waved his hand, as if trying to drive away Kikyo. The six feet of ground that separated them didn't help him much.
“Irie-sama,” Kikyo began politely. “As far as I know, you have a job, and Byakuran-sama…”
"I fucked your Byakuran," came from the pit in an indifferent tone. Kikyo choked on his prepared words.
They were silent for a few minutes.
"If you died there, then I can empty the pit," Irie kindly offered. “And if you're not dead, then go back to the base. And I have rituals!” Kikyo looked into the pit again, again received the gesture "Go away, I'm sad." Unfortunately, Kikyo's job did not allow him to just leave.
"Irie-sama, I shall insist,” he asked again.
“Holy Amaterasu, don't even give me a normal morning, go on,” Irie moaned from the pit, and a second later he jumped out of the grave so abruptly that he hit Kikyo, who had not had time to move away, with his elbow on the nose. “Come on, you nasty.”
The only thing that reconciled Kikyo to this whole situation was Byakuran-sama's order. Maybe if he repeats it like a mantra, it will become easier?
The bodyguard should not kill the defendant.
Irie worked perfectly, Kikyo knew this from the reports. However, the clear, concise reports that Kikyo admired did not fit in with the chaos that was going on at the Melone base.
Irie Shoichi, as it turned out, could not work without music.
And it would be nice if this music was played in his headphones. But no, the speakers were bigger than Kikyo in size, played through the whole base and for the first time he was almost blown away by a sound wave.
Everyone at the base was running somewhere, shouting, jumping. Cha-os.
“Do you want one?” Irie asked him, leaning away from the computer. He fished out two glasses and a bottle of wine from the system unit. (Don't ask Kikyo how it fit in there, he won't answer you) And without waiting for an answer poured wine into glasses.
Kikyo, still a little shell-shocked by the music, accepted the glass without question.
“Come on, drink. It's not poisoned," Irie assured him. Kikyo sipped his wine carefully. The usual white semi-dry. "There's only about two hundred grams of cocaine per bottle... just kidding," Irie smiled, watching Kikyo choke with some sadistic interest.
Bodyguards should not kill defendants, remember, Kikyo?
Irie Shoichi... sang Bluebell lullabies at night. Every day. He just took it and called her, spending his entire lunch break singing. It was captivating.
Bluebell was for Funeral Wreaths as a daughter, after all. They protected her from participating in really serious battles, freed her from working with documents… And in response, she flooded Byakuran-sama with the Rain flame when his mind was blown off and he was angry.”
"It's like you're on a powder keg," Irie once remarked. “It's a bit of a pity.”
"We serve Byakuran-sama voluntarily," Kikyo replied, already accustomed to Irie's manner of conversation.
"That's how it was between us too, consensual,” he chuckled. What Kikyo has never gotten used to is such casual mention of Irie’s relationship with Byakuran-sama. “That doesn't change he’s fucked in the head, does it?” the question seemed to be rhetorical, because Irie continued. “That's why I'm working with Vongola.”
“You do realize that this makes you a traitor, right?” Kikyo asked with a threat in his voice. But Irie Shoichi definitely had Jews in his ancestors, so he just calmly remarked with a question:
“Do you realize that Byakuran knows?”
The conversation faded by itself.
"What do you think," said Irie, who was still lying in the same pit. He generally lay in it according to the schedule, every morning. “Are we pieces of a program, specks of dust in the endless space of someone's carpet, or minor characters in a shounen manga?” Kikyo, who did not want to plunge into the depths of an existential crisis in the morning, especially in the company of Irie Shoichi, remained silent.
"That's what I think too," Irie confirmed after a long silence. During the time spent in his company, Kikyo realized that he needed an interlocutor about the same as a dog needs a fifth leg, so he was mostly pointedly silent. For which he once received a pat on the shoulder from Irie and the title of "The best conversation partner I've ever had."
The chat between Irie Shoichi and Byakuran-sama was about half made up of dumb memes about potatoes. The other half was occupied by stupid memes about death. And between them flashed... no, not reports, no less stupid memes about gay sex.
Kikyo, who saw this only for the reason that he was checking the package, looked at Irie flipping through it all with a certain face. Finally, Irie scrolled to the message he was looking for, a text message. A miracle, no other way!
The screen read:
Amaterasu
If I ever send you roses
Send me something bad in return
Ame no uzume
👌
“I still think you misunderstood Byakuran-sama," Kikyo muttered, looking at the completely harmless bouquet of roses that Byakuran-sama had sent.
"I understand everything right, I’m hella good at it,” Irie muttered in response, without looking up from the keyboard. Judging by the speed and time of typing, there was a "Mahabharata", nothing less. “Send him a pack of condoms and a dildo,” and while Kikyo was processing what he said, he added. “The purple one.”
"Are you sure?" Irie's face took on a thoughtful expression. He even looked up from the keyboard.
“No, wait. Don't send it," Kikyo exhaled in relief. Then Irie made a gesture, a middle finger, took a selfie and instantly printed out the photo. He putted it on the table. “Add this.”
Kikyo restrained the urge to faint.
“Why is Byakuran-sama listed as Amaterasu in your contacts?” overcoming himself, Kikyo once asked. Irie looked up at him with red eyes, blinked a couple of times. He was in the middle of a big mess of documents.
"Because I am Ame no uzume," Irie replied after a minute, as if that explained something.
“Well, after all, you and I are companions in misfortune," Kikyo sighed, no longer even reacting to the fingers in his own hair. There was a chuckle from behind.
"And the name of this misfortune is Byakuran,” Shoichi purred. “Look how beautifully it turned out!”
This... bespectacled man! He’s braided pigtails!
Geder Sat 16 Nov 2024 09:08PM UTC
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Careless_Mirel Sat 16 Nov 2024 09:41PM UTC
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