esp_dragon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
esp_dragon) wrote2009-02-13 09:58 pm
esp_dragon) wrote2009-02-13 09:58 pm
Remembrance
Fandom: Bartender/ Jing: King of Bandits
Summary: A lot of people wondered how Sasakura had gotten so good at a young age.
Rating: K
Notes: Based on the manga for both of them. The first series for Jing.
Pretty much my first thought when I first saw Sasakura.
I went and remembered Miwa's thief comment while writing this. X3
O.o The timeline... is slightly skewed, I think.
Mini crossover with Storm Hawks too.
I didn't actually notice how similar Jing and the Kaitou Kid were. They both go for mythical objects and send notes beforehand. Getting into places and out of it, they must have been taught by the same teacher or something. ;p
As always, not sure about the characterisation.
I seem to be making titles, chapter titles and summaries at the start, and then the fic goes off somewhere else. *facepalm* But then I can't think of another name/whatever because I like iiiitt. D:
Genre: General/ Friendship
Word count: 1,776
Status: Complete
There was something different about tonight, Sasakura concluded as he walked the streets of Ginza. Something off. He couldn't quite place what it was though; all he did know was that something just didn't feel right to him. He checked his pockets but nothing was missing so he hadn't forgotten anything anywhere. His surroundings weren't that particularly different and it was his usual route home so it wasn't that either.
After getting home and locking the door behind him, Sasakura peeked into all the rooms as quietly as he could, to see if there were any changes from the last time he had been in them. There weren't any from what he could see. He sighed as he looked at the final room (his bedroom) and leaned on the doorframe. One small thing and he was slipping back into his old habits. Again.
Shaking his head in amusement, Sasakura went back to the kitchen and poured himself a drink. Even after ten years, things would come back to him easily, as if he'd never stopped doing them in the first place. Like how to collect information about people, how to read people's intentions, sincerity. How to stuff three bottles of liquor in his jacket without it being noticeable. That was slightly embarrassing, getting caught before he had even left the room.
Kir would have been disappointed in him.
Sasakura sighed again, deeper this time, as he sat on the windowsill, one leg dangling off the edge while he swirled the contents in his cup. He wasn't going to drink it, more just play with it to give his hands something to do.
The stars could be seen easily from where he was sitting; the clouds were patchy at best and completely nonexistent in other places. But they weren't his stars, they weren't the stars that he had grown up with. Not that he could recognise any constellations, but maybe his mind was just being really sensitive tonight. Eyes softening, he slouched back a little bit as he continued to look up at the sky.
Ten years ago, everything had changed. It had been a routine heist: send in a notice about him coming, check out all the defences and then get the treasure as if there were no defences there in the first place, right in front of the owner's eyes. But something had happened, it hadn't gone according to plan. The owner was waiting for them in the chamber that held the Oblivion Crystal, with it already in her hand. Glowing. He had had enough time to shove Kir back out the door before something impacted on his back.
When he woke up, he wasn't on his own planet anymore. Considering the rumours around it, maybe he should have been more careful. It had been disorientating to see just how different his world was from this one once he'd gotten his bearings again. Somehow, he was lucky enough to be able to speak with the locals fluently; he still had to learn French though, which took a while.
He'd travelled for a while, stealing things, but it wasn't the same. Not without Kir. It wasn't as interesting or as fun, and most of the defences people had for their treasures were nearly exactly the same. It had gotten to the point that he could nearly do it all in his sleep. So he'd stopped doing that. Throughout that time, he couldn't find a way back home, or anything that even hinted that it could help him get home.
After that, he had just wandered around, going from place to place, doing small jobs here and there. Doing one such job, he'd overheard a conversation, talking about two people he'd known: Sherry and Rosé. When he'd asked about them, not believing his ears (and worrying if Sherry really was around), the two men had laughed and invited him to come along. They took him to a bar and introduced him to their drinks. They had brought him crashing down hard. When he had recovered, he'd asked the bartender if he knew a 'Kir' on the whim of, if the bartender knew drinks that shared the names of his friends, what other friends' names would turn up?
All of them, apparently.
He had wracked his brain for every name of every person he had talked to and each one had a counterpart drink in this world. Some as straight drinks, others as cocktails, but they were there, in one form or another. The bartender did seem to know the drinks and wasn't lying just to humour him. He'd also impressed his workmates with the number of 'drinks' that he knew at his age.
That night had been a real eye-opener for him. It had also made him insanely curious about all the other drinks in the bar and if the names weren't just parallels in that respect but also reminded him of their 'namesakes', in one way or another. Which was how he had begun the path of a bartender.
As an apprentice, it was both easier and harder than he thought it would be. Easier, because for learning the names of drinks, a lot of the time, he had an companying memory to associate with it; harder, because his memories didn't, obviously, correspond with the history of the drink and remembering a name was different from remembering what ingredients to use, and how to use them depending on the style wanted. It had been a clash of memories, of needing to remember past events to wanting to learn more about the 'new' cocktail, its little details and what would happen if it was mixed with something else. That had always made him laugh to himself, what mixtures his friends made when put together and how it fit exactly or would have never happened in a million years in his world.
It was also extremely painful, he'd realised after the first hour he'd spent properly learning. There he was, surrounded by his friends but not. Each memory triggered was a memory of something that he couldn't have anymore, something that didn't exist. They were only names and tastes to his Master; not people, like they were to him. And learning how to pour, how to stir... Maybe it was because he had never put that much thought into it before, and he'd been used to doing what he wanted for nearly as long as he could remember, but it had just seemed so non-important and structured.
But he had learned it, finally being able to reach an equilibrium between his old and new memories. His old memories had not been forgotten and they were treasured with fondness when he brought them out.
Afterwards, he spent some more time travelling; this time, it was bar to bar, to see the different people, the different atmospheres that could be created by the lighting, the colours, and, of course, the bartender. France had made for an interesting time, that was the least he could say about it. Actually getting a trophy -without stealing it, no less- had been a new kind of experience of accomplishment than what he had been used to. Similar in some parts (working hard to get it) and different in others (what he had to do to get it).
He had gotten bored again soon after that though, so he was back on the move again. This time, back to Japan. Who knew, maybe he could find something that could send him back home. Or something. He was getting used to wandering, never staying in one place for too long.
He had gotten used to living on Earth. Something which, ten years ago, he didn't think was possible.
Sasakura swirled the contents of his cup, clearing his mind of the memories and thinking only of the rhythmic movement of his wrist. Underneath him, a few cars drove by and he tracked them until they turned the corner. Funny how the normal things here were strange and fanciful back home. Not to mention, just how fast he had grown accustomed to them; he still didn't know how to drive them though, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to.
He peered into the cup, watching how the liquid moved and staring as it caught some of the lights. Maybe he should just go to bed. A few more old memories filtered through. ...What was with him today?
On the way back to the kitchen, he passed his calendar.
Oh.
That would explain it. From what he worked out and remembered, today may have been the day that he first arrived hre. He'd been on this planet for eleven years now; he had also chosen this date for his birthday since their calendar system was completely different from his own.
On autopilot, he poured the drink down the sink and started to clean the cup. Maybe there was something different about today. Things hadn't been feeling off for him until well into the night, possibly midnight. On Earth, there wasn't anything that could explain that; on his own world, there were numerous things that could be the cause of that.
Finished with the cup, Sasakura went to the closest window and looked out. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then again, it wasn't like he would know if there had been any warning signs before he had appeared (he hadn't started reading the newspapers until well after). He didn't think anything had happened when he'd arrived either, because there hadn't been a crowd around him when he'd woken up.
Well, he'd have to look in the morning. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't just run out of the house and start searching for possible clues; he was twenty-fo-five now - he needed sleep before he could do anything. Also, for all he knew, it could be something that took him back home. If it was, he'd have to hope that it was something that needed to be activated and not something that would teleport him without warning; he would want to say goodbye and take care of some other things first.
But he was getting ahead of himself. He could just be imagining it all and nothing would happen. Either way, he still needed to get sleep.
Who knew, maybe he'd wake up to find Kir staring down at him as he sat on his chest. Okay, no, Kir would have woken him up by either pecking his head and/or yelling in his ear.
Just as Sasakura was drifting off to sleep, he imagined the sound of feathers in flight and then dreamed of past adventures.
___________________________________________________________________________________
The Oblivion Crystal is something that can send another person/thing to 'oblivion'/another dimenstion. It doesn't work if the user thinks of the target as a friend, even for a second, for some reason.
Summary: A lot of people wondered how Sasakura had gotten so good at a young age.
Rating: K
Notes: Based on the manga for both of them. The first series for Jing.
Pretty much my first thought when I first saw Sasakura.
I went and remembered Miwa's thief comment while writing this. X3
O.o The timeline... is slightly skewed, I think.
Mini crossover with Storm Hawks too.
I didn't actually notice how similar Jing and the Kaitou Kid were. They both go for mythical objects and send notes beforehand. Getting into places and out of it, they must have been taught by the same teacher or something. ;p
As always, not sure about the characterisation.
I seem to be making titles, chapter titles and summaries at the start, and then the fic goes off somewhere else. *facepalm* But then I can't think of another name/whatever because I like iiiitt. D:
Genre: General/ Friendship
Word count: 1,776
Status: Complete
There was something different about tonight, Sasakura concluded as he walked the streets of Ginza. Something off. He couldn't quite place what it was though; all he did know was that something just didn't feel right to him. He checked his pockets but nothing was missing so he hadn't forgotten anything anywhere. His surroundings weren't that particularly different and it was his usual route home so it wasn't that either.
After getting home and locking the door behind him, Sasakura peeked into all the rooms as quietly as he could, to see if there were any changes from the last time he had been in them. There weren't any from what he could see. He sighed as he looked at the final room (his bedroom) and leaned on the doorframe. One small thing and he was slipping back into his old habits. Again.
Shaking his head in amusement, Sasakura went back to the kitchen and poured himself a drink. Even after ten years, things would come back to him easily, as if he'd never stopped doing them in the first place. Like how to collect information about people, how to read people's intentions, sincerity. How to stuff three bottles of liquor in his jacket without it being noticeable. That was slightly embarrassing, getting caught before he had even left the room.
Kir would have been disappointed in him.
Sasakura sighed again, deeper this time, as he sat on the windowsill, one leg dangling off the edge while he swirled the contents in his cup. He wasn't going to drink it, more just play with it to give his hands something to do.
The stars could be seen easily from where he was sitting; the clouds were patchy at best and completely nonexistent in other places. But they weren't his stars, they weren't the stars that he had grown up with. Not that he could recognise any constellations, but maybe his mind was just being really sensitive tonight. Eyes softening, he slouched back a little bit as he continued to look up at the sky.
Ten years ago, everything had changed. It had been a routine heist: send in a notice about him coming, check out all the defences and then get the treasure as if there were no defences there in the first place, right in front of the owner's eyes. But something had happened, it hadn't gone according to plan. The owner was waiting for them in the chamber that held the Oblivion Crystal, with it already in her hand. Glowing. He had had enough time to shove Kir back out the door before something impacted on his back.
When he woke up, he wasn't on his own planet anymore. Considering the rumours around it, maybe he should have been more careful. It had been disorientating to see just how different his world was from this one once he'd gotten his bearings again. Somehow, he was lucky enough to be able to speak with the locals fluently; he still had to learn French though, which took a while.
He'd travelled for a while, stealing things, but it wasn't the same. Not without Kir. It wasn't as interesting or as fun, and most of the defences people had for their treasures were nearly exactly the same. It had gotten to the point that he could nearly do it all in his sleep. So he'd stopped doing that. Throughout that time, he couldn't find a way back home, or anything that even hinted that it could help him get home.
After that, he had just wandered around, going from place to place, doing small jobs here and there. Doing one such job, he'd overheard a conversation, talking about two people he'd known: Sherry and Rosé. When he'd asked about them, not believing his ears (and worrying if Sherry really was around), the two men had laughed and invited him to come along. They took him to a bar and introduced him to their drinks. They had brought him crashing down hard. When he had recovered, he'd asked the bartender if he knew a 'Kir' on the whim of, if the bartender knew drinks that shared the names of his friends, what other friends' names would turn up?
All of them, apparently.
He had wracked his brain for every name of every person he had talked to and each one had a counterpart drink in this world. Some as straight drinks, others as cocktails, but they were there, in one form or another. The bartender did seem to know the drinks and wasn't lying just to humour him. He'd also impressed his workmates with the number of 'drinks' that he knew at his age.
That night had been a real eye-opener for him. It had also made him insanely curious about all the other drinks in the bar and if the names weren't just parallels in that respect but also reminded him of their 'namesakes', in one way or another. Which was how he had begun the path of a bartender.
As an apprentice, it was both easier and harder than he thought it would be. Easier, because for learning the names of drinks, a lot of the time, he had an companying memory to associate with it; harder, because his memories didn't, obviously, correspond with the history of the drink and remembering a name was different from remembering what ingredients to use, and how to use them depending on the style wanted. It had been a clash of memories, of needing to remember past events to wanting to learn more about the 'new' cocktail, its little details and what would happen if it was mixed with something else. That had always made him laugh to himself, what mixtures his friends made when put together and how it fit exactly or would have never happened in a million years in his world.
It was also extremely painful, he'd realised after the first hour he'd spent properly learning. There he was, surrounded by his friends but not. Each memory triggered was a memory of something that he couldn't have anymore, something that didn't exist. They were only names and tastes to his Master; not people, like they were to him. And learning how to pour, how to stir... Maybe it was because he had never put that much thought into it before, and he'd been used to doing what he wanted for nearly as long as he could remember, but it had just seemed so non-important and structured.
But he had learned it, finally being able to reach an equilibrium between his old and new memories. His old memories had not been forgotten and they were treasured with fondness when he brought them out.
Afterwards, he spent some more time travelling; this time, it was bar to bar, to see the different people, the different atmospheres that could be created by the lighting, the colours, and, of course, the bartender. France had made for an interesting time, that was the least he could say about it. Actually getting a trophy -without stealing it, no less- had been a new kind of experience of accomplishment than what he had been used to. Similar in some parts (working hard to get it) and different in others (what he had to do to get it).
He had gotten bored again soon after that though, so he was back on the move again. This time, back to Japan. Who knew, maybe he could find something that could send him back home. Or something. He was getting used to wandering, never staying in one place for too long.
He had gotten used to living on Earth. Something which, ten years ago, he didn't think was possible.
Sasakura swirled the contents of his cup, clearing his mind of the memories and thinking only of the rhythmic movement of his wrist. Underneath him, a few cars drove by and he tracked them until they turned the corner. Funny how the normal things here were strange and fanciful back home. Not to mention, just how fast he had grown accustomed to them; he still didn't know how to drive them though, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to.
He peered into the cup, watching how the liquid moved and staring as it caught some of the lights. Maybe he should just go to bed. A few more old memories filtered through. ...What was with him today?
On the way back to the kitchen, he passed his calendar.
Oh.
That would explain it. From what he worked out and remembered, today may have been the day that he first arrived hre. He'd been on this planet for eleven years now; he had also chosen this date for his birthday since their calendar system was completely different from his own.
On autopilot, he poured the drink down the sink and started to clean the cup. Maybe there was something different about today. Things hadn't been feeling off for him until well into the night, possibly midnight. On Earth, there wasn't anything that could explain that; on his own world, there were numerous things that could be the cause of that.
Finished with the cup, Sasakura went to the closest window and looked out. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then again, it wasn't like he would know if there had been any warning signs before he had appeared (he hadn't started reading the newspapers until well after). He didn't think anything had happened when he'd arrived either, because there hadn't been a crowd around him when he'd woken up.
Well, he'd have to look in the morning. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't just run out of the house and start searching for possible clues; he was twenty-fo-five now - he needed sleep before he could do anything. Also, for all he knew, it could be something that took him back home. If it was, he'd have to hope that it was something that needed to be activated and not something that would teleport him without warning; he would want to say goodbye and take care of some other things first.
But he was getting ahead of himself. He could just be imagining it all and nothing would happen. Either way, he still needed to get sleep.
Who knew, maybe he'd wake up to find Kir staring down at him as he sat on his chest. Okay, no, Kir would have woken him up by either pecking his head and/or yelling in his ear.
Just as Sasakura was drifting off to sleep, he imagined the sound of feathers in flight and then dreamed of past adventures.
The Oblivion Crystal is something that can send another person/thing to 'oblivion'/another dimenstion. It doesn't work if the user thinks of the target as a friend, even for a second, for some reason.