Disclaimer: I own none of Hideaki Sorachi's characters, but it was fun dressing up Sougou.
Rated: Teen for HxO implications.
Summary: Authors are never good news.
Pairings: HxO, although Hijikata's clueless and who knows what Sougou's thinking.
A/N: For everyone who wanted more HxO. If you squint hard there might be a plot.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed or favorited Sakura & Mayo! I don't have much time to answer reviews, but I deeply appreciate them.
Artistic License
(Life is a Set of Twenty-four Volumes and None of Them are Translated)
Chapter One
Things started getting strange after the bombing of Maruzen (luckily the day AFTER the new Jump came out). The bombing wasn't strange – the Shinsengumi were getting so used to random bombs exploding that some members were getting suspiciously lax while responding (although Kondou-san at least thought Yamazaki's claim that the badminton racket was in case someone lobbed a grenade at them and he needed to hit it back, was plausible. But Kondou-san thought EVERYTHING was plausible – except for bad things, which always kind of surprised him.)
The fact that the bombing disrupted civic proceedings, caused considerable damage, began with a boom, escalated into a dramatic fight between fleeing terrorists and Shinsengumi troops, and ended with the terrorists inexplicably escaping amid the dust and smoke, was also as per usual.
Really, Hijikata sometimes wondered, did the terrorists have a contract with God that said they were always allowed one conveniently overlooked escape outlet? Was there a clause somewhere that stipulated the sudden appearance of large trucks to cling to in the event of no small winding back alleyway, and a river, lake or other patch of murky water to dive into if there was no truck?
Why was there even a lake below the bottom floor of Maruzen?! It was a BOOKSTORE! Didn't the builders know enough to check for easily broken underground pipes leading to the bay?! Hijikata had already put a note in his daily planner to hunt down the builders of all Maruzens and kill them somewhere between 1/5 and 5/16th dead.
It was during the battle, sometime right before the huge geyser of underground God-contract-clause escape material poured up into the basement floor that, thanks to the bomb, had become one with the first and second floors, that Sougou had saved the Amanto author who had been holding some sort of signing on the first (now basement) floor. And that's when things had begun to get strange.
And this, remember, was strange for the Shinsengumi, who had to deal with animal or thing-shaped aliens, terrorists with identity issues (really, shouldn't he WANT people to get his name wrong? What kind of sneaky underground terrorist went around announcing who he was all the time?!) and perhaps most significant of all, Sougou, on a regular basis.
Even Kondou had admitted it was a little strange, and he NEVER thought things were strange. He hadn't even thought it was strange that time when the VCR recorded the season finale of Ladies Four even though everyone in the squad had SWORN they had forgotten to program it. Personally, Hijikata had avoided going into the community room for at least a week or so, and was just as pleased when Sougou had accidentally exploded the machine while aiming a rocketlauncher at Hijikata's head.
The author that Sougou had saved by cutting through a falling timber with one slice of his blade (Hijikata had to grudgingly admit that Sougou was almost as good at dramatic flare as he was) had been there to promote his upcoming series of 24 volumes of a "classic samurai" coming-of-age saga. Hijikata had never heard of him, but Kondou had practically had a heart attack when he realized it was the author of "The Petals at Moonlight" who was grasping Sougou's arm so intently.
However, even he had seemed a bit confused when the author had moved on from stroking Sougou's sleeve to finger his hair, face and jaw and ears. When he got to the point of attempting to trace Sougou's collarbone, the young captain had shot his superior officers a disgruntled 'Just to let you know, I'm going to have to kill this man now if he doesn't stop' look, and Kondou had quickly hustled the author away.
Yamazaki was using his racket as a sieve to search through the spreading pool of water for traces of terrorists – or maybe fish – and everything else seemed to be being taken care of, so Hijikata lingered by Okita. "Sougou?"
Sougou made a face. "I think he drooled on me."
Kondou bounded back up. "He wants to take us out for dinner to show his thanks!"
"No thanks," Hijikata said brusquely.
"But it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"
"Good, then I won't have to decline it ever again."
"Kondou-saaaaan, he drooled on me," Sougou complained, still poking at his sleeve.
Kondou's eyes instantly turned into puppy dog pools of pleading. "Please, Sougou," he begged, "I've read every book he's ever written!"
"You said he's only written one," Hijikata pointed out, annoyed at this sudden literary passion in his old friend.
"Only one's been translated until now. But soon his mangnum opus of 24 volumes rich in the proud history of the samurai will be unleashed upon the public! It'll be SO COOL! And he said he'll take us to a really good restaurant."
Sougou shrugged. "Okay, then I don't mind."
Immediately Kondou swiveled to fix Hijikata with his extra special Kicked Spaniel Meets Starry-Eyed Idealist gaze. Hijikata sighed grumpily in consent and hoped no one was looking at the Commander of the most feared law enforcement team in the city grabbed its "demon vice commander" and "demon prodigy" in half a hug each and grinned like a brain-damaged five-year-old.
"Just don't kill him, okay, Toshi?" Kondou added, grin dropping a little.
"I wasn't doing anything!" Hijikata scowled, offended. "Sougou was the one who was about to chop an arm off or something."
"You looked like you wanted to kill him."
"I always look like that."
Hijikata was not pouting, so Kondou had no reason to suddenly clap him brotherly across the back (causing Hijikata to wince slightly). "Don't worry!" he said optimistically. "Even if Tsugu-san is 'like that', we've already given Sougou the Talk, so there should be no problems, right?"
Kondou's version of the Talk, awkwardly given about the time Sougou had moved from a pouty, disconcertingly bland-eyed kid to a pouty, do-me-now-if-you-think-you-can pre-teenager, had been along the lines of "Sougou, see, um. Boys have um. Boy parts. Right? And, well. If anyone touches your boy parts and you don't want them to, you can stab them but don't kill them – and try to make it look like an accident."
Three or four injuries later, Kondou had realized he should have been more specific about which boy parts he had meant, since naturally Sougou considered all of his parts to be boy parts and thus, for example, someone touching him on the shoulder to ask the time deserved Stab.
Kondou, in what Hijikata considered to be his only craven act (except maybe that time when he had blamed the lack of mayonnaise on Yamazaki) had finally sent in Hijikata, who had been immensely relieved that Sougou already knew the contents of the more standard Talk. As far as Hijikata could tell (not that he was actually paying attention or anything) the standard talk had not yet been put into play, however, while Kondou's advice had resulted in several convincing accidents.
"Come on, Toshi," Kondou wheedled. "It'll be fun! With free alcohol!"
Hijikata conceded the alcohol but not the fun and after paperwork they met for dinner.
And that was when, for Hijikata at least, things got strange.
The Amanto could have almost passed for human, with only his overly pale eyes and lisp in speaking the language really giving him away. That and the fact he obviously had money, which not many of the true Earthlings had anymore.
The restaurant was one of the best in the sector, lush and expensive with a no-swords policy that left Hijikata feeling jittery despite Sougou's known ability to pull out rocket launchers practically from thin air.
Over appetizers, Kondou and the author chatted nonstop – Kondou was really too simple not to get along with everyone, and the Amanto obviously took any excuse to drone on about his work. Hijikata fidgeted and tried not to look too bored, and Sougou sat with his usual lack-of-action switched-off expression, moving only to snag tempura with his chopsticks or swat away the Amanto's hand as it continually wandered over to finger his hair or clothing.
No sword notwithstanding – in a pinch there was always the straw in his water glass, or even the lemon - Hijikata would have been tempted to kill the author, or at least wound him a bit around the ears, if not for the perfectly unconcerned way Sougou kept batting away the writer's hands with barely a pause in eating.
For the entrée, Hijikata ordered steak because he felt like cutting up something. The waiter looked at him funny when he asked for mayonnaise.
"Does everyone on this planet like their meat so well-oiled?" the Amanto asked interestedly in his high fluting voice, gazing at Hijikata's eating habits.
"That's Toshi all right," Kondou agreed happily, oblivious to Hijikata's Stare of Death, which richocheted harmlessly into the bar, luckily missing the other dining tables and thus not causing customer trauma.
"To like what you like, regardless of the look of things– that is a very samurai trait, yes? Of course you do live by a code, but that very fact means you are beholden only to yourselves, am I correct?" Grandiosely, the author pontificated, seeming to be completely focused on the question of the moment, even as his hand stretched out to pat Sougou's hair.
"Well put!" Kondou said enthusiastically.
Sougou swatted the hand away with his chopsticks.
"That nobility of spirit – and yet creating a certain kind of rugged innocence – was what first attracted me to this planet," the Amanto explained seriously, seemingly unconscious that his hand was already moving back toward Sougou's face.
Sogou swatted the hand away.
"In fact, you may not know this, but my 24 volume Samurai saga, "The Rustle of the Cherry Trees," (a story of the coming of age of a young Samurai in a world torn by violence) was written before I had even set foot on this planet, but with a clear picture of the samurai spirit."
The hand wove toward Sougou. Hijikata sawed his steak viciously. Sougou swatted the hand away.
"But in fact, I must admit that until this afternoon, I had yet to encounter the kind of samurai I had pictured so clearly in my mind."
The hand moved back. Sougou swatted the hand away. Hijikata sawed his steak. Kondo beamed peacefully at how well everyone was getting alone.
"Thus, it makes me so pleased to find such a group of comrades as yourselves –"
The hand moved back. Hijikata sawed his steak so hard it cut the plate.
This time Sougou used his fork and stabbed.
"Ha ha," laughed the Amanto, gripping his wounded hand painfully. "That spirit I do so admire. And thus it is that I have an application to make. I have various arrangements about my printing I need to see to tomorrow, but I am terribly afraid that that renegade bomber may strike again. Perhaps he does not like my work, yes?"
Hijikata wondered idly whether, if he accidentally slipped the information to Sakata, the naturally curly-haired idiot could manage to get it to his terrorist buddy in time for said terrorist to blow something useful up for a change.
"Therefore," the Amanto continued, punctured hand now chastely on the table and bleeding sluggishly as Sougou calmly finished his dinner, "tomorrow I would ask that you allow me the use of the brave Samurai who saved my life earlier."
Hijikata choked on the piece of mayonnaise covered plate he was chewing. "What?"
"I already cleared it with your Shogunate and they agree it would be a beneficial and gracious gesture on your part," the Amanto said smoothly.
"What?" Hijikata demanded again.
Kondou, of course, beamed. "I'm sure nothing could make Sougou prouder!" he declared.
Sougou looked at Hijikata's scowl and Kondou's grin, then glanced at the Amanto. "Free lunch?" he asked.
"Of course!"
The captain of the first squad of the Shinsengumi shrugged. "Okay," he said neutrally.
Which left Hijikata to say belatedly and somewhat on his own, one more time, "What?"