Demeanor

Author: Silverfish
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst. Drama. One-shot.
Status: Complete.
Pairing: Akabane x Ginji.
Summary: Akabane reflects on Ginji.

“He’s so creepy.”

He let the slight against him go, finding amusement in the young man’s discomfort. The hallway was black and riddled with debris, a fitting place for any King Arthur to return to the throne, if one was to think on history. Perhaps this person before him wasn’t so unlike that legendary king, a man of strength and innocence that was both his elevation and his destruction.

Akabane, also known as Dr. Jackal, tipped his hat towards Ginji, effectively covering the amusement in his eyes with the wide, black brim. His long coat swept across the floor as he walked, smoothing out the dirt as he appeared to float above it. Behind him, he could hear more of Ginji’s assertions that he was up to no good, it was certain he was a dangerous figure he had to watch out for-These thoughts spoken aloud in his usual comic self dictation. Akabane smiled at this. As much fear as Ginji harbored for him, facts were he genuinely did find this member of The Getbackers group highly amusing. As such, he wasn’t a person easily prone to bore him, as so many other opponents in the past had.

What was it about this blond, tow-headed man that filled him with such question and actually, on some strange level, made him happy? Amused, yes, that had happened before in the face of the bravado of other opponents, but this man…How strange, to be forced to face the fact that it wasn’t so much that colder sentiment than a warmer one emanating towards him. It had been a long time since he’d felt such emotions, if he wasn’t careful he’d actually have to start admitting he frankly enjoyed Ginji’s company.

A person who, on any level, makes you happy is a dangerous person indeed.

Instinctively the scalpels embedded in his body quivered at the very instinct of threat, their points threatening to open from the various callused wounds of his flesh. Ginji was still muttering behind him, his shadow lagging behind Akabane’s own long silhouette, an unsure ally. So painfully cute.

No, he didn’t think such a thing.

The scalpels in his body were pointing towards the surface of his flesh now, the sharp points cutting his skin painfully. It was only through a great amount of will that he managed to calm them, and keep both himself and Ginji safe. He may not know it, that tow-haired man following so fearfully behind him, but Ginji was growing a far more dangerous trick than simply channeling electricity. Emotions, as Ginji knew himself from the force of his own power-Emotions are the key to anyone’s supreme strength.

Emotions are things a person like Dr. Jackal has to take very, very seriously.

He buried the feelings, however slight and fleeting they were, deep inside of himself. The scalpels began to retract, not sensing the usual danger. He was a man cursed, and there was no recompense for others that dared to tempt the blades. Care, hurt, anger…and love-The price of such things from Akabane are too destructive for anyone else to have to pay. He’d had a loss, before, because of his carelessness. He wouldn’t let such a thing happen again. Not to someone as interesting as Ginji.

The scalpels quivered again. Akabane smiled. His own hooded gaze met Ginji’s for only the briefest of seconds, but it was enough. He’d taken in the wide-eyed innocence, the shocked expression of fear. He had such a messy, soft look about him thanks to those rumpled clothes and that mop of blond hair. Akabane closed his eyes, forcing the scalpels to settle again. Just the smallest loss of control, and Ginji would become nothing more than slices of human meat scattered across this filthy, dark hall.

Ginji kicked a piece of debris out of the way. Something light caught his eye and he followed it, finding himself in front of a large painting. The Last Supper, by Davinci. Jesus and his disciples, two nights before he was nailed to a cross and left to die. Odd, how this was the one thing that showed up in this darkness, taunting him with his past. Ginji seemed mesmerized by the painting, and Akabane felt a lesson in religious history may be in order. He slipped into his ancient role so easily he surprised himself. Hopefully, Ginji wasn’t so sharp as to catch on why he knew what he did about this particular religious history.

A traitor in the midst. Yes, there was that, but it wasn’t what Ginji was thinking now, not someone of their company handing them over to Makubex. No, the betrayer would be from someone who felt love, who despite all of what they knew would bend to the pressures of their basest nature and betray him into death.

The scalpels in his body, quivering, thinking, striking out anything that caused emotion.

He would hide any such care with simple amusement. He would fool that base nature into thinking he was merely curious.

Ginji walked ahead, and he watched him, enjoying the troubled expression on his face as he passed. Ginji, walking past death itself. There was trouble ahead, by the look of things, his scalpels could sense this kind of danger easily. Mukabex was about to strike.

He followed, wondering what amusement would ease the pain of the scalpels in his body this time.