Milk Run

May. 8th, 2017 01:18 pm
carmineeyes: (Default)

It was a milk run, the simplest of missions to ease CP9 back into work once they finished recuperating from the events—not defeat, never within hearing distance of Lucci, whose hearing was sharp enough to pick up someone thinking the word—at Enies Lobby. Five targets, guilty of funding the rebellion, all taking a liner between islands; security was as minimum as the Grand Line would allow, and, as intelligence reported, no one with devil fruit abilities was anywhere near the liner. Kaku almost felt insulted; command may have considered it a gift, but it would never take three members of CP9 to take out five middle-age merchants with more fluff around their middles than brains in their heads.

It took less than an hour to recheck security, find their staterooms, search their belongings for any information or items helpful to the government, and find a discrete place to hide the bodies until nightfall, leaving five more days to relax.

At least, that was the idea; Kaku hadn’t felt tenser since before the Water7 mission, pinned down as he was at his table. Granted, it wasn’t anything his tablemate was doing but Kalifa’s cool look and Lucci’s glare from across the room that was setting him on edge.

“Your colleagues seem perturbed by my presence,” Mihawk stated, never looking up from his wine glass. Kaku, deciding ‘pissed off and murderous’ could count as ‘perturbed’, nodded.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, I was under the impression you had your own means of traveling.”

Mihawk considered for a moment, swishing the wine around in the glass. “I find that, on occasion, a change in routine can have beneficial results.” The golden eyes flicked up, the interest in them pinning Kaku against his chair. “More wine?"

(Tumblr post)

carmineeyes: (Default)

It did make sense, Kaku decided, laying on the roof of the judicial tower, to use capture the flag as a training exercise. It was easy enough to rile up the competitive spirit of a bunch of eleven- and twelve-year-old boys.

Competitive boys got creative very, very fast. Some of the strategies his classmates had come up with to hide and find the flags had been impressive.

And violent; the infirmary was already half-filled with injuries caused by careless—or, he added, allowing himself a grin, careful—rankyaku or shigan.

Still, when looked at the right way, Capture the Flag was a good, basic mission:  identify and locate the target, work with team to create plan, eliminate obstacles as necessary, eliminate target. If the instructors were lucky, the trainees would remember something from this later on. It was almost perfect.

“There he is!”

It made sense, Kaku repeated, jumping off the tower, his classmates in fast pursuit, but he hated being the flag.

(Tumblr post)

Shovel Talk

May. 8th, 2017 12:54 pm
carmineeyes: (Default)

Silence reigned in the living room, occasionally broken by the rustle of paper when Mihawk turned the page of the newspaper. The rebuilding of Mariejoa was going swimmingly, according to the reports; perhaps he should travel that way when he left the island…

The door made a muffled sound as it opened. A surprising courtesy, that. He peered over the top of the paper and allowed an eyebrow to rise at the sight of Lucci standing in the center of the room, the glower he usually wore around Mihawk tempered to something that could almost be seen in polite company. Granted, he still looked at Mihawk like the swordsman was something to be scraped off the bottom of his shoe, but it was mildly less hostile than usual.

Mihawk wondered if the other man was feeling all right.

Lucci didn’t say anything. He simply stared at Mihawk for a moment before shifting his gaze to the pair of tickets sitting on the table.

“The concert’s at seven,” Mihawk said, his attention still partly on the newspaper.

The silence took on a more pointed tone. It would have been irritating, coming from any other member of the group. But it was Lucci.

“I’ll have him back early.”

There was a cough from the doorway. “Are you done trying to safeguard my virtue?” Kaku asked, pulling on a jacket as he leaned against the doorframe.  “I can come in again if you need a minute.”

Lucci snorted in response, but his face smoothed into impassivity and he strode out of the room. Kaku echoed his snort, looking bemused.

“Does he do that often?” Mihawk asked, standing and setting aside the paper.

Kaku shrugged. “He’s mellowed.”

“I see.” And, as he started the odd bend-and-twist that allowed them to kiss without Kaku’s nose getting in the way, there was a flurry of wings. Hattori landed on Kaku’s shoulder, a bowtie snug around his neck.

“I’m going to accompany you,” he announced, glaring at Mihawk as well as he could (surprisingly well, actually, or not so surprisingly considering his owner).

There was a pause, then Kaku pushed away, his smile taking a distinct plastic quality. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and disappeared out the door. Mihawk sighed and picked up the paper again, resigning himself to being late to the concert. Again.

(Tumblr post)

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