Chapter Text
He’s really done it this time.
Pacing back and forth, he pricked at the skin of his lips, eyes glancing over at her resting figure in his bed.
Oh, what was he going to do?
Uta-Chan deserved so much better than his springy old mattress. She deserved a high-rise, five star hotel overlooking the entire city. Right now, he doesn’t even have tea to offer her.
His sheer audacity at placing her on his used sheets is enough to sentence him to prison—no, to the Iron Maiden. He knew that better than anyone.
It had been spontaneous, really. While trudging home after another grueling shift at his part time job, he had just so happened to recognize her back-waist length of 38.1 centimeters. It had nearly stopped him dead in his tracks.
Could it be…?
He had to rub his eyes three times. Sure, he’s always had 20/20 vision but being subjected to Utage-chan’s radiance for so long would surely cause blindness in anyone’s eyes.
Then again, because Utage-chan’s radiance was so bright, he might have actually upgraded his vision to 21/20 instead.
But no, it was really her! It was a sign, it had to be. After all, being dumb as rocks can really lead to a setback in business and it ended up causing him to stay a couple extra hours after work. By the time he locked up, STARFRUIT!’s first ever fanmeet had ended.
It was devastating. Then again, who was he to desecrate the mere presence of Uta-Chan with his gloominess? It would have been for the better if he stayed away. What if she accidentally inhaled his depressing aura and ceased to exist? He would have offered himself up for public execution!
At least that should have been the thought running through his head when he suddenly picked up his pace to settle just a few feet away from his starlight.
She’d picked up on him almost immediately, quickening her pace in response.
That had prompted Tamon to act fast. She was getting scared, and he couldn’t have that! Even if he’s scum at the bottom of the ocean, he needed this opportunity to see her—to talk to her!
Once he got close enough, he wrapped his arms around her figure. Uta-Chan had thrashed around in his grasp, voice struggling to scream. Understandably, of course, she probably thought he was a crazy person trying to kidnap her or something!
The struggle had eventually caused her to bang her head on a wall, effectively knocking her out. Tamon had nearly committed seppuku right then and there, but killing himself would result in her being left alone in some dark alleyway. He’d rather crawl his way to hell than leave her like that.
Instead he took the time to carefully maneuver her onto his back and speed walk back to his dingy apartment where he knew he’d have a first aid kit. If Uta-Chan ended up with brain damage, he’d simply do a backflip off of the Akashi Kaikyo bridge. It would be the bare minimum of his punishment, really.
That led him to his current predicament now. He had come home, laid her as gently as humanly possible on his bed and immediately started panicking.
What was wrong with him? At this point, he really must have several psychological problems to go out and grab her the way he did! Him!! He put his wretched hands on her clothes!
Sitting up, he glanced over at her skin. What if she picked up some type of disease from him and her flesh fell off? Oh gosh, he should have worn gloves at least!
His eyes drifted to his phone. Dai was just about the only contact he really had on his phone. Maybe he could call him for advice?
“My youngest brother who I’ve spent over half my life raising…is kidnapping women?! Where did I go wrong?!”
Tamon gripped his hair. Ahh, that’s just like Dai! Nevermind that Tamon had basically been a faulty product since he was born—Dai’s so pure of heart, he’d end up blaming himself for it!
It was Dai who had stayed in his corner when he had begged his parents for the opportunity to go to one of Tokyo’s exclusive performing arts schools as a scholarship student. He can’t disappoint him anymore than he probably already has.
Tamon whimpered as he sank down to hug his knees. Who else can he call?
He’s so alone. The other kids at school are too put off by his gloomy aura through no fault of their own. Hell, he sure as heck wouldn’t want to be friends with himself.
Toying with his fringe, his mood worsened. He had even gotten as far as to dye his hair the bubblegum pink color it is now, partially as a means to liven up his appearance (and also because Uta-Chan's official color was pink.)
What good does that do? You can’t hide the smell of rotting corpses with perfume. It was so superficial of him, really.
“Uhm…excuse me?”
Tamon’s head shot up immediately. Carefully perched on his bed was none other than Uta-Chan looking adorably confused.
“Where am I?”
For a minute, he couldn't even speak because his useless mouth refused to do anything except open and close like a fish. How could the lighting in his room complement the delicate curves of Uta-chan in ways that shouldn't be humanly possible?
“U-Uta-Chan?”
What the actual hell is happening?
No seriously, someone needs to tell her. What is happening right now?
Utage had been walking home from her first ever fanmeet (surprise, surprise, being an idol pays terribly) when she randomly got plucked off the street by someone. That someone who she presumed was currently hunched over in the furthest corner of this bedroom.
He seemed…unstable to say the least. Utage had certainly dealt with unhinged men here and there but this definitely took the cake.
Utage squinted a bit. Are those mushrooms growing out of him? She didn’t get the chance to ponder it for too long before a sharp pain shot through the back of her skull.
Waking up had been a chore in itself. Her killer headache told her that she had hit her head at some point in the struggle. Her only relief lied in the fact that she still had all her clothes on despite the fact that she was on a bed.
Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. 9:00 pm. She left the event at around six so...she's already been here for three hours?!
Her fingers rubbed at a hangnail. It's already so late and it was her turn to wash the dishes and take out the trash tonight. Will Riko do it instead?
Don’t get her wrong, she’s sweating up a storm. Whose apartment is she in? Is she still in Tokyo? Who is this guy anyway?
Eyes darting back and forth to gain some semblance of her surroundings, she noticed the STARFRUIT! Posters scattered around his walls. Three acrylic stands of her sat on his desk and two fans with her name written were carefully displayed in a pen holder.
He’s a fan, then? One of the crazier ones? If that’s the case, what are her chances of getting out here alive? Would it be better to just appease him?
Unfortunately for Utage, years of being curated into the responsible type had engrained an external essence of calmness that really shouldn’t exist in precarious situations like this. She probably should scream for help, the walls of this apartment seem thin enough but who knows what this maniac would do to her after. The diet that her company had recently placed her on (despite Inoue-san fighting it, bless her heart) would do her no favors in fighting him off.
That struck a cord of fear in her. Instead, she called out to him in character. To her surprise, he answered rather coherently.
“M-My apartment. We’re in my apartment.”
“Is that so? Your room is nice for a boy. It’s very clean,” she said lightly. Is he living alone? Did he do this by himself?
“U-Utage-Chan complimented me!” he squeaked, palms slapping onto his face. Utage blinked.
He went as far to kidnap her and now he’s acting shy? Seriously, what gives?
He seemed to shuffle over to her slowly, a bit like a hermit crab. If Utage wasn’t currently fearing for her life, she would have laughed at the display. Now that he was closer, she could see him better. Even with the dark baggy clothes and his hunched posture she can tell he’s tall and built underneath.
She’s going to burn this face into her retinas and then she’s gonna hightail it to the police once she’s out of here—Wait, his hair is pink?
Utage couldn’t help but stare. It was such a bright color on an otherwise very shy-looking individual. What had prompted him to make such a decision?
“You have a very pretty hair color. Did you dye it yourself?” she asked, polite smile stapled on.
The boy in front of her fiddled with the drawstrings of his sweater. “Dai—my brother dyed it for me.”
“Your brother sounds kind,” she says. Is his brother currently here? Maybe she can reach out for help—Wait no, what if he’s just as crazy—
Her thoughts are cut off at the sight of a shy smile gracing her kidnapper’s face. Hey, don’t get distracted! Your job is to leave here alive!
“He is,” he said softly. “M-My name is Tamon. Tamon Fukuhara.”
He pulled a small bottle of what looked like aspirin out of his pocket. “Uhm, you hit your head earlier.”
Utage could have wept. “Thank you, Tamon-kun!” He seemed to produce a water bottle out of nowhere seemingly and uncapped it before handing it to her silently. Utage smiled in what she hoped conveyed gratefulness. He might not be completely insane.
“Tamon-kun…” she began. He startled, fingers toying with the loose strands of his sleeves before piping up with his own question.
“I-Is your head better?”
She flashed a smile. “It is, thank you.”
“That’s–that’s good.” He said, barely audibly.
Utage stopped to take another sip of water as she considered her next words. Ahh, screw it, it’s already awkward as it is. There’s no use beating around the bush.
“Tamon-kun, why did you bring me here?”
He squealed, immediately dropping to the ground in front of her on his hands and knees. “I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I had missed your fan sign a-and when I saw you on the street, I didn’t know what to do so I…” He trailed off.
“I-I won’t keep you here forever because I know you have your job to do. I just…”
Utage stared down at him from her position on the bed. “You said you missed the fansign?”
“Y-Yes?” He said meekly.
The gears in Utage’s head were turning. She smiled, sliding off the bed to join him on the ground.
“Let’s do our own private fan meet, then! Extended edition!” And then you can let me the hell out. Probably. Hopefully…?
Fukuhara sputtered nonsense as she took a seat across from him. No big deal, she had gotten more than enough practice at the fanmeet today.
“Thanks for coming to see me, Tamon-kun! How was your day?”
The color of Fukuhara’s face was slowly matching his hair. “I-I went to work.”
“You work? But you look like a student!”
“I’m on a scholarship,” he replied, softly. “My brother and my parents send me money but sometimes I need a bit extra.”
Utage paused. He’s here alone, then?
“Hmm, it’s great to see how hard you work! You’re so cool!” she said, “You can ask me anything now!”
Fukuhara bristled. “A-Anything?”
“Sure thing!” Please don’t be weird. Pleaaaase don’t be weird.
Fukuhara’s gaze dropped to the floor before his eyebrows knitted together as he slowly looked up at her.
“W-What I did was wrong and I deserve to be strung over hot coals for it…” he began.
Well, she certainly wouldn’t go that far but jeez.
“But even so…could Uta-Chan call me her number one fan for just a few moments?”
Utage’s mind blanked. His hands were folded so carefully in his lap like he was scared to touch her. His bottom lip trembled as he gazed at her with watery eyes. His hood had fallen at some point, revealing his thick head of pink hair, carefully draping over his eyes.
He literally assaulted her. She’s in his room right now because he kidnapped her on her way home.
And yet…
Fukuhara seemed to squirm under her gaze.
Oh, she could just eat him up.
Slowly, she reached out and pulled his hands from his lap. Fukuhara gasped but complied without much complaint.
“You work so hard, Tamon-kun. I’m so very proud.”
Fukuhara’s shoulders raised all the way up to his ears. Even as he shrunk himself in ways that were probably not physically possible, he kept his eyes on her.
“How lucky am I to have such a devoted fan? Tamon-kun, of course. So long as you keep me as your favorite idol.”
To seal the deal, she leaned in close, intertwining their fingers. “Let’s stay together, yeah?”
Uh, actually was that the right thing to say in a situation like this?
Fukuhara’s breathing was noticeably heavier. From this distance she could see how blown out his pupils had become. Maybe not.
“U-Uta—“ Fukuhara didn’t get to finish his sentence as his eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open.
Thump!
Utage yelped as he slammed backwards onto his bedroom floor. A glowing white substance seemed to ooze out of him, heading upwards.
Utage’s mouth dropped open. Is that his soul?!
She immediately scrambled to her feet, reaching out and yanking it towards her before it drifted through the ceiling. She is not about to be arrested for murder, thank you very much!
Without thinking, she shoved the white material down Fukuhara’s throat. He heaved and shuddered in her grasp. Her fingers quickly trailed down to his pulse.
Alive and breathing.
Slowly she backed up, eyeing the door. Well, the opportunity is there, isn’t it?
Grabbing her shoes and purse, she cast one more glance at the still figure on the ground. Biting her lip, she looked at the sheets on his bed before sighing and grabbing one. She tossed it on top of him and sprinted down the stairs of the building, nearly running into a disgruntled neighbor that had been smoking up a chimney.
Once she ran two–three blocks away, she paused to catch her breath and fished out her phone to contact an Uber.
Eventually, a car matching the description in her phone rolled up on the block. This was definitely not how she expected her night to go. She mused as she settled into the backseat of her pickup driver who was female, thankfully.
As she pressed up against the door of the car, she quietly mulled over her next steps. Should she talk to the police? Would they even believe her? Fukuhara hadn’t really been physical aside from grabbing her and she had banged her own head on the wall. Plus, he looked so remorseful when she woke up. Ahh, she told Riko-chan she’d help her with the choreography for their upcoming single tomorrow morning but she’s so exhausted. And—Oh gosh, she was supposed to call her mother earlier as well.
She blew a piece of hair out of her face. Wait, back to Fukuhara. She should definitely still report him right? Why does it feel like lead is dropping into her stomach at the thought?
She sighed, pulling up the local police faction on her phone. As she did so, flashes of Fukuhara’s big tearful eyes, framed by thick lashes and dark circles came to mind. Oh come on Utage, you’re supposed to be stronger than that!
It was definitely not the smartest idea she’s ever had, far from it. But her decision was final. Sue her—she’s a pushover for tears. She clicked her phone display off, putting it back in her bag.
Besides, what are the chances that he’d try something like that again?