#48 Christmas Drabbles 2010 - batch 2
Batch 2
For augustfai: Conservatory AU - any time
The university hall of residence Jun stayed at had been built specifically with music students in mind. Almost all of the rooms had at least an upright piano, and the walls were soundproofed such that one could spend the whole night playing the trumpet part for Holst’s Mars and your neighbour would only register a distant hum.
The same could not be said of Hall Two. The moment Jun stepped into the lobby he was surrounded by noise - computer game bleeps and harried phone conversations. Someone was listening to K Dub Shine in his or her room and rapping enthusiastically along. It did not help that the entire place smelled of burnt pizza and old shoyu.
“How do you practise?” he asked Shun, who studiously filling out the sign-in sheet.
Shun merely shrugged, and continued printing ‘IKUTA TOMA’ under the ‘Name of Resident’ column. For an orchestra librarian, he was startlingly careless about details. Also, the fact that he had sequestered the entirety of the library’s original scores for Also sprach Zarathustra in his dorm room was more than slightly worrying.
“In case the library catches fire or floods,” was the reason Shun had provided when Jun had questioned him on this. Now, only politeness stopped Jun from pointing out that Hall Two seemed a lot more likely to burn down or sustain water damage than the library ever did.
“Is there a reason why you’ve put Toma-kun’s name down instead of your own?” asked Jun, when they were headed towards the rather narrow staircase.
“They have an overnight charge if I forget to sign you out,” replied Shun matter-of-factly.
“Right,” said Jun.
Shun lived on the fifth floor, and as they proceeded up the narrow stairs their footsteps echoed loudly over snatches of conversation and the occasional sound of a door slamming shut.
They were passing the third floor when Jun paused on the landing.
“Tired already?” asked Shun, turning round.
“No,” said Jun, “can you hear that?”
“What?”
Someone in one of the rooms down the third floor corridor was playing the alto saxophone. It was, undoubtedly, the most eloquent butchering of the B-flat major scale Jun had ever heard. There was no standard rhythm and some of the notes were more rushed than others, but that sound was amazing.
And then, as if the person practising the scale couldn’t quite be bothered to finish with it, the notes began meandering off in the middle of the descent, breaking into a delighted, uncontrolled run.
It was terrible. It was beautiful. It made Jun want to run headfirst into a wall.
“Oh,” said Shun, tilting his head to one side to listen. “That would be Aiba.”
----
For calerine: Aiba-centric - Cloud Factories
“What is that?” asked Chinen with some trepidation, pointing at the dark shape in the distance that was disappearing up into the clouds they had just planted.
“Ah, I thought we’d never spot them,” said Aiba, tugging at the harness and steering the pterosaur straight towards the unknown object. “It’s a storm ship, Chinen-kun. Remember what I told you about them?”
“Stay away and never join the crew?” said Chinen, clutching on to the edges of his saddle as Aiba brought the pterosaur into a steady upward climb.
“…did I ever tell you that?” asked Aiba, sounding puzzled.
Chinen opened his mouth to reply, but his answer was drowned out as the pterosaur gave a great clanking roar and swooped suddenly into the clouds.
Chinen hated going through clouds - it was cold and wet and disorienting, and bits of white fog always clung to his goggles. Aiba loved it though; that much was evident from the whoops of joy he made as they hurtled through the thick layer.
“Refreshing, isn’t it?” said Aiba when they emerged above cloud level.
“I… suppose,” said Chinen. If you enjoy having your face frozen off, he added mentally. Ohno would never make a detour like this. Chinen had seen him in the air before, executing perfect turns on his pterosaur as he scattered the cloud seeds in an even layer across the sky.
It was Yamada who had gotten the assignment with Ohno, though, not Chinen. Yamada said that when Ohno was not in the air he spent the rest of his time sleeping in his quarters, and that he hardly spoke to anyone else. Chinen was sure this was because Yamada was socially awkward or something. If Chinen were Ohno’s lieutenant they would definitely be best friends.
“-are you listening to me?” Aiba was asking.
“Uh - yes,” said Chinen, sitting up in his saddle.
And then he saw the storm ship.
“Wait - what?” Chinen exclaimed. “We’re flying towards it?”
“Of course,” said Aiba. “It’s time you saw one up close.”
As they approached the storm ship, Chinen could already see the trails of sullen grey staining their freshly-planted clouds.
“Are those-”
“The beginnings of a storm,” said Aiba. “A big one, by the looks of it.”
This ship was a smallish one by sea standards, but even from some distance Chinen could tell that it was beautifully made. Instead of sails on their mast they had billowing cloud-cloth, and carved into the prow of the ship was the imposing figurehead of a bird.
There was someone moving about near the starboard rail of the ship, but Chinen was relieved to see that their abrupt emergence had not alerted that figure to their presence-
“HELLO,” Aiba shouted, waving his arms in the air and causing the pterosaur to swerve slightly. “JUN-KUN! ”
“Aiba-san, are you sure you want to attract their attention?” Chinen hissed urgently.
“Why not?” asked Aiba, steering the pterosaur closer the ship.
“Because they turn our clouds into storms!” Chinen exclaimed. “Because they’re pirates!”
“Oh,” said Aiba, considering this for a moment. Then he turned to the man on the deck of the ship, who appeared to be dipping a long copper rod into the sea of cloud below him. “JUN-KUN! ARE YOU A PIRATE?”
The man - Jun - glanced up at the approaching pterosaur, faint irritation on his face. “Masaki. Will you quit bothering me and just land?”
“Right away,” Aiba called back, skillfully manipulating the reins to take the pterosaur into a beautiful arc over the ship, before cajoling it into the smoothest of landings.
“Tether your pterosaur where you’re supposed to,” said Jun, not looking up from his measurements. “If it scratches the deck again Sho-kun will throw a fit.”
For augustfai: Conservatory AU - any time
The university hall of residence Jun stayed at had been built specifically with music students in mind. Almost all of the rooms had at least an upright piano, and the walls were soundproofed such that one could spend the whole night playing the trumpet part for Holst’s Mars and your neighbour would only register a distant hum.
The same could not be said of Hall Two. The moment Jun stepped into the lobby he was surrounded by noise - computer game bleeps and harried phone conversations. Someone was listening to K Dub Shine in his or her room and rapping enthusiastically along. It did not help that the entire place smelled of burnt pizza and old shoyu.
“How do you practise?” he asked Shun, who studiously filling out the sign-in sheet.
Shun merely shrugged, and continued printing ‘IKUTA TOMA’ under the ‘Name of Resident’ column. For an orchestra librarian, he was startlingly careless about details. Also, the fact that he had sequestered the entirety of the library’s original scores for Also sprach Zarathustra in his dorm room was more than slightly worrying.
“In case the library catches fire or floods,” was the reason Shun had provided when Jun had questioned him on this. Now, only politeness stopped Jun from pointing out that Hall Two seemed a lot more likely to burn down or sustain water damage than the library ever did.
“Is there a reason why you’ve put Toma-kun’s name down instead of your own?” asked Jun, when they were headed towards the rather narrow staircase.
“They have an overnight charge if I forget to sign you out,” replied Shun matter-of-factly.
“Right,” said Jun.
Shun lived on the fifth floor, and as they proceeded up the narrow stairs their footsteps echoed loudly over snatches of conversation and the occasional sound of a door slamming shut.
They were passing the third floor when Jun paused on the landing.
“Tired already?” asked Shun, turning round.
“No,” said Jun, “can you hear that?”
“What?”
Someone in one of the rooms down the third floor corridor was playing the alto saxophone. It was, undoubtedly, the most eloquent butchering of the B-flat major scale Jun had ever heard. There was no standard rhythm and some of the notes were more rushed than others, but that sound was amazing.
And then, as if the person practising the scale couldn’t quite be bothered to finish with it, the notes began meandering off in the middle of the descent, breaking into a delighted, uncontrolled run.
It was terrible. It was beautiful. It made Jun want to run headfirst into a wall.
“Oh,” said Shun, tilting his head to one side to listen. “That would be Aiba.”
----
For calerine: Aiba-centric - Cloud Factories
“What is that?” asked Chinen with some trepidation, pointing at the dark shape in the distance that was disappearing up into the clouds they had just planted.
“Ah, I thought we’d never spot them,” said Aiba, tugging at the harness and steering the pterosaur straight towards the unknown object. “It’s a storm ship, Chinen-kun. Remember what I told you about them?”
“Stay away and never join the crew?” said Chinen, clutching on to the edges of his saddle as Aiba brought the pterosaur into a steady upward climb.
“…did I ever tell you that?” asked Aiba, sounding puzzled.
Chinen opened his mouth to reply, but his answer was drowned out as the pterosaur gave a great clanking roar and swooped suddenly into the clouds.
Chinen hated going through clouds - it was cold and wet and disorienting, and bits of white fog always clung to his goggles. Aiba loved it though; that much was evident from the whoops of joy he made as they hurtled through the thick layer.
“Refreshing, isn’t it?” said Aiba when they emerged above cloud level.
“I… suppose,” said Chinen. If you enjoy having your face frozen off, he added mentally. Ohno would never make a detour like this. Chinen had seen him in the air before, executing perfect turns on his pterosaur as he scattered the cloud seeds in an even layer across the sky.
It was Yamada who had gotten the assignment with Ohno, though, not Chinen. Yamada said that when Ohno was not in the air he spent the rest of his time sleeping in his quarters, and that he hardly spoke to anyone else. Chinen was sure this was because Yamada was socially awkward or something. If Chinen were Ohno’s lieutenant they would definitely be best friends.
“-are you listening to me?” Aiba was asking.
“Uh - yes,” said Chinen, sitting up in his saddle.
And then he saw the storm ship.
“Wait - what?” Chinen exclaimed. “We’re flying towards it?”
“Of course,” said Aiba. “It’s time you saw one up close.”
As they approached the storm ship, Chinen could already see the trails of sullen grey staining their freshly-planted clouds.
“Are those-”
“The beginnings of a storm,” said Aiba. “A big one, by the looks of it.”
This ship was a smallish one by sea standards, but even from some distance Chinen could tell that it was beautifully made. Instead of sails on their mast they had billowing cloud-cloth, and carved into the prow of the ship was the imposing figurehead of a bird.
There was someone moving about near the starboard rail of the ship, but Chinen was relieved to see that their abrupt emergence had not alerted that figure to their presence-
“HELLO,” Aiba shouted, waving his arms in the air and causing the pterosaur to swerve slightly. “JUN-KUN! ”
“Aiba-san, are you sure you want to attract their attention?” Chinen hissed urgently.
“Why not?” asked Aiba, steering the pterosaur closer the ship.
“Because they turn our clouds into storms!” Chinen exclaimed. “Because they’re pirates!”
“Oh,” said Aiba, considering this for a moment. Then he turned to the man on the deck of the ship, who appeared to be dipping a long copper rod into the sea of cloud below him. “JUN-KUN! ARE YOU A PIRATE?”
The man - Jun - glanced up at the approaching pterosaur, faint irritation on his face. “Masaki. Will you quit bothering me and just land?”
“Right away,” Aiba called back, skillfully manipulating the reins to take the pterosaur into a beautiful arc over the ship, before cajoling it into the smoothest of landings.
“Tether your pterosaur where you’re supposed to,” said Jun, not looking up from his measurements. “If it scratches the deck again Sho-kun will throw a fit.”