Tag Archives: harajukuharuspex

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Headcanon: love uwu

Hakuba is the type to fall quickly for many different types of people. It’s difficult for him to see just what’s going to stick, as there are so many facets of a person that are important, and he’s so very picky. Interest sparks for many, but very few go on to be flames, and fewer still turn into those long-lasting fires. 

For him to fall in love with someone, successfully, it usually has to be a slow burn. Sparks of interest here or there, stringing along until it becomes a flame, but at some point there has to be a transition between Hakuba doing the pursuing (which is how he prefers to start things), to the other person showing equal interest and dedication. 

Trust is built over time. Secrets exchanged. A healthy amount of dirty laundry on the table. Clear the air. Decide that they’re still in it, still willing, still interested. Accept him for who he is. He’ll accept them for who they are. And then it becomes a mutual partnership. Friends, lovers, soulmates. He hopes for marriage. And then sharing his life – all of it – with whomever becomes his mate. 

Ideally, anyway. He’s ridiculously compatible with a lot of people, but rarely gives anyone a fair chance… too busy self-loathing and being defensive to, I guess. Ugh. 

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City Jaunt!

harajukuharuspex:

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Everything hurt.

She came to with a start, with a gasp, with a near-silent cry of pain and an even quieter mental cry-

      [Emi.]

Her world spun. The walls, were they white or black or somewhere in between. Was someone there? She felt – or she thought she felt – a warmth, a heartbeat of someone close by, her left side in fact, and what was jammed down her throat? Akira choked on the breathing tube and heard the erratic beeping of the heart monitor as she struggled. The person beside her stirred, and Akira recoiled at the garish white and black smeared into grey and the black pits for eyes, a red slash for a mouth.

Akira screamed.

All of the time spent waiting, hyper-focused on every factor of his friend’s vital statistics, had lulled the detective into a false sense of the passage of time. Even the cases that Hakuba brought with him did little to hold his attention for any particular length of time, most of his presence dedicated to counting between each heartbeat, each revolution of the machinery in the room. It had become a sort of comforting despair. 

The scream, of course, disrupted that ever so thoroughly. 

Hakuba fell off of the chair that he’d been sitting in, papers scattering to the floor in a flurry of white and manilla, then scrambled to pick himself up. Any residual pain from his injuries was nothing to the pounding of his heart or the panic that flared up like scalding steam.

“A-AH! Akira-kun!” he cried, eyes wide. “Ah- ah, j-just hold on, hold on, let me… let me get the…”  The detective threw himself to the call button, hitting it a bit harder than necessary, and turned back to the girl in the bed. “Th-they’re coming! They’re coming! It’ll be all right!" 

He didn’t want her to choke, but strictly speaking, he wasn’t really permitted to remove the breathing apparatus on his own. Still, could he stand there and do nothing? Hesitantly, he edged closer to try to put a hand on her shoulder, frantic. 

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harajukuharuspex:

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                                                 ”sᴀɢᴜʀᴜ!”

          There was no time for any other words- shouting her partner’s name would cost her dearly, blowing her cover to the enemy. Akira shot down the two enemies sniping out the detective, but she suffered a blow to the left shoulder from a third, hidden enemy and retreated, gun close to her chest.

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“Got it!”

Although Hakuba still wasn’t entirely comfortable with using their first names, he hadn’t really been given the opportunity to argue. It didn’t matter in the heat of the moment, anyway; dodging, ducking, and rolling a shoulder against a pillar to safety. 

God, he’d almost been shot – again. Frustrated, he cursed under his breath and continued on his way, strafing down the long corridor that left him almost entirely open until he could roll around the next corner and duck behind a pile of barrels. He’d really been slipping lately, and he used to be so good at this game. Then again, he’d been less distracted before, too.

Gun at the ready, he very carefully moved, mentally tracking Akira’s movements through the arena’s maze-like layout. If he knew her typical pattern, she would be waiting to regroup with him at the charging station just far enough within enemy territory to allow for retreat where necessary. It was a dangerous location, but did afford them a certain offensive advantage. 

Once he caught his breath, the detective slipped through, crouching to move under a slip of net that the Japanese players, he knew, would have little trouble with. It wasn’t nearly as easy for someone as tall and admittedly bulky as he was, but he’d also had some basic training at the academy, and far more stubborn determination than a foreigner was expected to– they wouldn’t see him coming.

And they didn’t. He took out another two enemies, though right in the back which he thought was very unsportsmanlike, and then ran the rest of the way to the rendezvous spot, quickly getting winded again. The whole affair, while useful, had him sweating and embarrassed, so completely informal and silly. But then, it was better than hot yoga, so he kept his complaints to himself. 

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♜

♜ :My muse’s best friend.

Historically, there’s no one closer to Hakuba than Baaya. 

In the RP scene, there’s Akira, Emi, Devin, and one Akako, whom he adores.

I mean, depending on who’s writing them, he’s also quite fond of Kaitos, Kudous, and Hattoris, but above all, it’s Baaya. 

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City Jaunt! || harajukuharuspex

harajukuharuspex:

Trumpets. She could hear…trumpets? And drums. And muffled singing, growing clearer as she blinked a darkness she couldn’t call sleep, not exactly, out of her eyes. A marching band. Dressed in black – or was it white? The colours shifted before her eyes; first adorned in black with grotesque clown makeup, then white with placid smiles and grey eyes. Akira scrambled to get up, realising they weren’t stopping and vaulted herself sideways. Her white dress gathered a splotch of red from her scraped knee. Scraped on what? She hissed in pain and tucked her knees to her chest as the band paraded past, unaware (or perhaps uncaring) of her safety. Once the gold and black elephant rounding out the macabre crew – shifting between black and white with such speed now that to Akira’s eyes their clothes appeared a dull grey, same as their eyes – she stood and surveyed the area.

Nothing.

She reached out for Emi, always the strongest, always there for her, and found an empty void of something darker than black equal in to the white at which she now stared.

Nothing.

I need to get out.

I’ll put one foot in front of the other one 
I don’t need a new love, or a new life 
Just a better place to die 

Hakuba was discharged the next morning and taken home for bed rest. But although he stayed in bed, he did not rest well- it was fitful at best, rife with nightmares and tossing, all of which aggravated his injuries. The image of his friend’s face, slick with blood, or lying there so… gone… he shuddered, dug his fingernails into his unbandaged wrist.

He had flowers delivered every day and waited, pleaded for news. Was she awake? Was Akira all right? They had nothing for him. How would Himura-kun react? What would become of them?

Each question plagued him, drilling holes into his conscious thought with desperate fervor. Why had you been driving so fast? There might not have been an accident. They could have gotten the book, enjoyed an afternoon shopping, gone to the party… 

Would she wake up? 

When his head had stopped its constant ache and the lesser of the cuts and scratches had begun to heal, Hakuba made it a point to return to the hospital every afternoon to wait at her side. He brought his work with him and sat, like a faithful golden retriever, reading and filling out paperwork with nothing but her breathing and the mechanical sounds that went with the equipment that monitored her progress.

[text] Himura-kun, I don’t know what to do. Is it my fault?

Most days, he ended with his head buried in his hands in exhausted shame, waiting for Baaya to collect him.

One, two, three, four…

Seven… eight…

[text] Akira, please wake up.