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Entry tags:
[10-July-2021][Ayatsuri Sakon] Dedication
Title: Dedication
Day/Prompt: 10-July-2021
Fandom: Ayatsuri Sakon
Character/Pairing: Zenkichi/Sakon
Rating/Warning(s): Teen & Up
Sakon stared down at him. and Zenkichi continued flipping through the pages of a phone book, eyes rolling up and down, fingers slipping through the pages skillfully. His utter concentration dulled his senses and muted the outside world. The stack of books was a mile high; bookmarks and pencils slipped into the pages with sloppy sticky notes and highlighters scattered across the makeshift workstation.
One of the best abilities to have as a journalist was acclimating to your surroundings so that you could be wherever needed, whenever required and work fast as lightning in unfamiliar environments. Zenkichi had spent years living out of suitcases, munching on candy bars and konbini meals to coast through long-lasting investigations. He knew how to make a tent, haggle for hotels, or slept comfortably under the stars, and in the end, always found his way back home—even when he didn't know where it was in the storming days.
Sakon witnessed those skills through the years, but there was something different about his ability to roll with the punches. Perhaps Sakon was too tense to relax as Zenkichi could, but he admired it regardless. His hotel room desk looked like an accident waiting to happen and the desk he'd seen a dozen cases before. Binders of papers sat piled in the desk corner, and a dirty coffee cup stood next to them. But it never got messy. Zenkichi had mastered the art of keeping things tidy, even while rushing around and working himself to the bone.
Sakon assumed his office desk looked the same.
After a moment, Sakon reached forward, fingers hovering over his shoulder.
"Zenkichi-san?" Sakon tapped his shoulder softly, then put a hand on his chest. "It's twelve."
His brows lifted, wondering what he'd just said. That wasn't the time, not by a longshot, and Sakon knew the clock well. It was still almost ten o'clock at night, and there was ample time to work, but they'd been up all day.
Zenkichi still focused on the page. Sakon shook his shoulder more firmly.
"It's twelve. You should get some rest."
"Mm?" Zenkichi lifted his head slowly from the phone book. "Huh? Sorry..."
He set it down and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm just trying to find these numbers,"
Zenkichi pointed to several names and corresponding numbers written in sharp black marker. Zenkichi tagged alongside him to a beautiful mansion entrenched in flowers, prepared to take pictures of traditional arts, not classic methods of garroting somebody that had familiarized themselves over the years, but Sakon's days rarely went as planned. But somehow, then, the head of the house, a Kishinuma-san, with wind caught of Sakon's reputation, pleaded for help... and Sakon couldn't refuse. Nor could Zenkichi.
Zenkichi furrowed his brow, lips pressed into a thin life as he examined the numbers and notes again. He looked alarmingly tired in the lamplight.
Sakon frowned, biting his lip.
"Zenkichi-san..."
Zenkichi snapped back to reality and gave Sakon a wry look. "Hey, don't worry about me. I'll get this figured out eventually." But, of course, he wanted to continue; he worked to the bone to find answers for Sakon, and Sakon was absolutely thankful for all of it, yet that didn't mean Sakon would let him. He also knew Zenkichi was used to working late, and Sakon never practiced what he preached, but he could see his own tired self in Zenkichi's worked form. If he looked at Zenkichi from afar, no matter how muscular or rugged he seemed, the photographer looked instead... young.
For some reason, it made his heart pang.
"'I just need a little more time!" Zenkichi grinned, then flipped open a book with one hand, the other reaching back towards the phone book. His body sprung back into action in the blink of an eye. His enthusiasm was contagious, even without words. If they met years before, or if Sakon never had Ukon, in a very, very different life, Sakon could see himself becoming a news junkie like him, addicted to breaking stories and investigative reporting.
Sakon flashed an amused yet doubtful look. He wasn't swayed.
Leaning forward, Sakon squeezed his shoulder. He stood there, keeping silent but curiously observing.
"I finally got Ogasawara's address. I've been matching by addresses...?" Zenkichi offered, as though Sakon could genuinely force him to bed despite being much shy and petite, meek even. But, then, Sakon was a force to be reckoned with.
"You're tired," Sakon rubbed a hand down his back, hesitant, tentative, then a little bolder as Zenkichi unintentionally shifted into the touch.
Zenkichi was mentally and physically strong. It took true, dirty work to exhaust him, but when Zenkichi finally fell to exhaustion, he fell asleep instantly, snoring softly. When he did, Zenkichi could sleep through anything. He wasn't like others, so afraid of the dark and the menaces of society that they couldn't sleep at night because of fear of the dark and unknown. But that didn't mean he slept easily either. Stubborn.
Sakon could be just as stubborn.
"It's twelve, and... perhaps you're close, but you should rest please." Sakon firmly said, "There are many more hours ahead of us."
Sakon tugged at his shirt softly. Zenkichi stared into his eyes, and... Sakon looked just as tired.
Zenkichi hesitated, then rose to reply.
"Okay," Zenkichi lazily smiled and followed a hand that found itself in his own.
Day/Prompt: 10-July-2021
Fandom: Ayatsuri Sakon
Character/Pairing: Zenkichi/Sakon
Rating/Warning(s): Teen & Up
Sakon stared down at him. and Zenkichi continued flipping through the pages of a phone book, eyes rolling up and down, fingers slipping through the pages skillfully. His utter concentration dulled his senses and muted the outside world. The stack of books was a mile high; bookmarks and pencils slipped into the pages with sloppy sticky notes and highlighters scattered across the makeshift workstation.
One of the best abilities to have as a journalist was acclimating to your surroundings so that you could be wherever needed, whenever required and work fast as lightning in unfamiliar environments. Zenkichi had spent years living out of suitcases, munching on candy bars and konbini meals to coast through long-lasting investigations. He knew how to make a tent, haggle for hotels, or slept comfortably under the stars, and in the end, always found his way back home—even when he didn't know where it was in the storming days.
Sakon witnessed those skills through the years, but there was something different about his ability to roll with the punches. Perhaps Sakon was too tense to relax as Zenkichi could, but he admired it regardless. His hotel room desk looked like an accident waiting to happen and the desk he'd seen a dozen cases before. Binders of papers sat piled in the desk corner, and a dirty coffee cup stood next to them. But it never got messy. Zenkichi had mastered the art of keeping things tidy, even while rushing around and working himself to the bone.
Sakon assumed his office desk looked the same.
After a moment, Sakon reached forward, fingers hovering over his shoulder.
"Zenkichi-san?" Sakon tapped his shoulder softly, then put a hand on his chest. "It's twelve."
His brows lifted, wondering what he'd just said. That wasn't the time, not by a longshot, and Sakon knew the clock well. It was still almost ten o'clock at night, and there was ample time to work, but they'd been up all day.
Zenkichi still focused on the page. Sakon shook his shoulder more firmly.
"It's twelve. You should get some rest."
"Mm?" Zenkichi lifted his head slowly from the phone book. "Huh? Sorry..."
He set it down and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm just trying to find these numbers,"
Zenkichi pointed to several names and corresponding numbers written in sharp black marker. Zenkichi tagged alongside him to a beautiful mansion entrenched in flowers, prepared to take pictures of traditional arts, not classic methods of garroting somebody that had familiarized themselves over the years, but Sakon's days rarely went as planned. But somehow, then, the head of the house, a Kishinuma-san, with wind caught of Sakon's reputation, pleaded for help... and Sakon couldn't refuse. Nor could Zenkichi.
Zenkichi furrowed his brow, lips pressed into a thin life as he examined the numbers and notes again. He looked alarmingly tired in the lamplight.
Sakon frowned, biting his lip.
"Zenkichi-san..."
Zenkichi snapped back to reality and gave Sakon a wry look. "Hey, don't worry about me. I'll get this figured out eventually." But, of course, he wanted to continue; he worked to the bone to find answers for Sakon, and Sakon was absolutely thankful for all of it, yet that didn't mean Sakon would let him. He also knew Zenkichi was used to working late, and Sakon never practiced what he preached, but he could see his own tired self in Zenkichi's worked form. If he looked at Zenkichi from afar, no matter how muscular or rugged he seemed, the photographer looked instead... young.
For some reason, it made his heart pang.
"'I just need a little more time!" Zenkichi grinned, then flipped open a book with one hand, the other reaching back towards the phone book. His body sprung back into action in the blink of an eye. His enthusiasm was contagious, even without words. If they met years before, or if Sakon never had Ukon, in a very, very different life, Sakon could see himself becoming a news junkie like him, addicted to breaking stories and investigative reporting.
Sakon flashed an amused yet doubtful look. He wasn't swayed.
Leaning forward, Sakon squeezed his shoulder. He stood there, keeping silent but curiously observing.
"I finally got Ogasawara's address. I've been matching by addresses...?" Zenkichi offered, as though Sakon could genuinely force him to bed despite being much shy and petite, meek even. But, then, Sakon was a force to be reckoned with.
"You're tired," Sakon rubbed a hand down his back, hesitant, tentative, then a little bolder as Zenkichi unintentionally shifted into the touch.
Zenkichi was mentally and physically strong. It took true, dirty work to exhaust him, but when Zenkichi finally fell to exhaustion, he fell asleep instantly, snoring softly. When he did, Zenkichi could sleep through anything. He wasn't like others, so afraid of the dark and the menaces of society that they couldn't sleep at night because of fear of the dark and unknown. But that didn't mean he slept easily either. Stubborn.
Sakon could be just as stubborn.
"It's twelve, and... perhaps you're close, but you should rest please." Sakon firmly said, "There are many more hours ahead of us."
Sakon tugged at his shirt softly. Zenkichi stared into his eyes, and... Sakon looked just as tired.
Zenkichi hesitated, then rose to reply.
"Okay," Zenkichi lazily smiled and followed a hand that found itself in his own.