Death God Dilemma
"His name is Miharu."—Funny how a ruthless death god like Yoite, yes, THE Yoite, fussed over some meager details. But then again, this is Miharu we're talking about, isn't it?
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"Raikou, I need you to start guarding the Shinrabanshou at night."
"At night, Sir?"
"Yes, when you have completed your Wakachi tasks, you will guard the Shinrabanshou."
"Yes, sir."
Silently, Gau sighed, Great. No time to with Raikou after work.
"Yukimi, you will have to lay off your over-world work for the meantime."
"Sir?"
"You will watch over the Shinrabanshou in the day."
"Y-yes, sir." Yukimi said, hesitantly.
Hattori directed his gaze at the death god, who stood in a corner in the dark, "Yoite, you will stay by the Shinrabanshou's side for the entire—"
"His name is Miharu." He muttered quietly.
Everyone in the room held their breath. Yoite was doing it again, digging himself a grave by acting rude towards the President. He must have been doing this since the Shinrabanshou joined they Kairoushuu, with the full knowledge that Hattori could just easily have him killed for doing such rude acts.
The first time around, his complaint had been not providing Miharu with correct okonomiyaki utensils.
The second time around, he started carping about how Miharu needed an adequate bed. (Not a couch.)
Now, it's about his name.
Of all the things!
Yukimi planted his heels on the ground, ready to stand up and smack the sense out of Yoite.
"Pardon me, Yoite?"
"His name," Yoite enunciated the words slowly, as if Hattori was a child, "is Ro-ku-jo Mi-ha-ru."
"Ah, yes. You mean the Shinrabanshou."
Raikou and Gau exchanged worried glances. Yukimi was glaring at Yoite, who stood meters behind him, hoping that once Yoite saw 'THE GLARE', he would stop being so idiotic.
Yoite didn't look at him.
"Mi-ha-ru." Yoite's temper fused, he hated it when people were being idiots.
Hattori chuckled, amidst the fragile tension in the room, "I'm not sure if you understand, Yoite, but it doesn't really matter who the new container of the Shinrabanshou is," he flashed a fake smile, "as long as he is the Shinrabanshou."
Yoite stayed silent, as the crickets of the night sang in creaky chorus.
"Yoite, you will stick by Shinrabanshou for the entire day and night." Hattori started once more.
"No, sir."
And then, Yoite slammed the door of the tiny conference room, leaving everyone aghast and Yukimi ready to beg for the death god's life.
---
The soft rapping on the door made Yoite feel slightly apprehensive. He imagined it to be Raikou and Gau, off to do what they Wakachi did—to exterminate people who talked back to Hattori (people like him).
"Yoite?" But it hadn't been the Wakachi. Yoite almost felt glad.
"It's me, Miharu." (But then again, maybe seeing Miharu was as worse as seeing the Wakachi.)
The death god turned in the couch, his back facing the door, "Go away."
"I heard that you got in trouble with Hattori."
Yoite frowned, muttering, "I'm going to kill Gau."
"Actually, it was Yukimi." Miharu slunk down on the couch next to Yoite and bringing his knees up to his chest, "Yes. Yukimi." For some reason, Miharu and Yukimi never got along. Raikou said it had been because of the death god himself, but Yoite could never imagine the two fighting over him—after all, weren't they the ones who bothered him on a daily basis?
Yoite's frown deepened, "Why do you care?" he tightened his grip on the throw pillow beside him.
"Because," He could almost hear the young teen smile, "I heard you got in trouble because of me."
When the death god stayed quiet, Miharu took it as a sign to leave—but he pretended to read the sign wrong, and continued, "His name is Ro-ku-jo Mi-ha-ru." He quoted, trying to sound like Yoite by lowering his voice.
Was he here to tease him, or to thank him?—Yoite wasn't sure, but he was sure about one thing… Miharu knew how to get one someone's nerves.
"Go away, Miharu."
Miharu giggled.
Suddenly, the couch grew light.
Miharu stood up and went behind the couch, and in an ambushing-manner, leaned over, pecked Yoite's forehead—invading the death god's personal bubble and nearly knocking him off the couch in utter whuzzat?.
"Thank you, Yoite."
And as quickly as he had come in, he went out. Boldly. Like a glorified cat that just killed the neighbor's chickens.
Yoite felt warm—for once, his whole body felt warm. His cheeks, his hands, his… forehead. His heart jumped around.
But he completely forgot about his little hassle with his leader as he pressed a finger to his forehead.
And he concluded, in the spur of the moment—he should get into trouble more often.
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Oh, yes. I think you can tell that I was trying to make this funny. XD –Fail- I hope you enjoyed!
Oh! And please, pleaaase tell me how to improve my writing! I just started writing, actually, and X3 I want to be a better writer!-- This fic was something new for me, actually. 8D Less than 1,000 words. I'm known for making multi-chapter stories, but recently, I was told that if I start by writing one-shots instead of multi-chapters, then I'll be a great writer of both! 8D So expect more from me!
Thank you for reading. 8) You make my day.
~sly