FIC: 36 View of Mt. Fuji: Spring (3/9)
Title: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji: Spring (3/9)
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji is a series set early in Batman and Superman's careers, shortly after the S/B annual #1. The full series can be found here.
Rating: G
Summary: A cherry-blossom-viewing party; flowers, the moon, and ephemeral beauty.
Word Count: 1600
In spring on castle heights
they celebrate the flowers;
In the cup they share
the moon casts a reflection.
--Doi Bansui
Bruce Wayne sat at yet another conference table in front of yet another audience, this one on industry's responsibilities to curb climate change. He was sitting next to Shigeru Matsunaga, who was snoring slightly. Bruce resisted the urge to elbow him sharply between his meaty ribs. Instead he poured Matsunaga another cup of strong green tea, the classic mark of social inferiority in Japan. Matsunaga took it from him with a grunt and slurped it loudly. Bruce tried not to grind his teeth.
In the audience, he caught a flash of startling blue eyes and a glimpse of smile. Clark Kent. Bruce waited for the stab of irritation and tension that accompanied having Clark watch him playing the idiot, but it didn't quite materialize. He was apparently getting used to it. He had to admit it had been...different...sightseeing in persona in the morning, having someone around who knew it was all an act. It made it more of a challenge in some ways, but also more like a game, somehow. Less of an abasement and more of a shared joke.
Bruce wasn't exactly sure he wanted to be in on a shared joke with Superman, exactly. He knew the type: warm and sunny, give them an inch and next thing you know they seem to think they have a right to your time and friendship. Start trading knowing looks with Clark Kent and soon enough the Kryptonian would be assuming Batman was going to build a space station for this "Justice League" with his bare hands or something.
He wasn't sure when he had gotten to the point where he was feeling--he groped for the right word--not displeased to see Clark in the audience. It seemed to have happened as quietly and yet as abruptly as a flower opening: a bud one moment, the full-blown bloom the next.
"--isn't that true, Mr. Wayne?" The chair of the panel looked annoyed as Bruce looked confused--and didn't have to fake it for once. He had entirely missed the question, had to have it repeated, and looked a convincing moron indeed. Because he was thinking about flowers and Clark Kent.
He caught the edge of the reporter's ironic gleam in the crowd again and grimaced to himself. No need to tell Kent he hadn't been acting that time.
: : :
Clark heard Bruce coming down the hall toward him as the conference attendees trickled out of the hotel. "Really, Adytha," he was saying in his mild, smooth playboy voice, "I so would love to take you to the blossom-viewing. But I--" Bruce's voice brightened as he caught sight of Clark, "I promised Mr. Kent here that I'd take him along. Right, Clark?" Bruce's smile was all teeth, and Clark nodded reflexively.
Adytha Harpswell smiled at Clark as well. Clark felt rather like a minnow caught between two sharks. "Brucie, hon, are you telling me this is your date for the evening?" She eyed him speculatively, and Clark felt a hot blush rise to his cheeks unbidden. She was very beautiful, her dress clinging to her in all the right places, and Clark felt a surge of annoyance mixed with embarrassment that he didn't feel the slightest bit of sexual interest in the woman. Where the hell had his libido gone for the last four months?
"Don't be silly, dear. Clark is writing an article about my involvement at this conference, and while you can get me into the papers, Mr. Kent can get WayneCorp into the papers. It's strictly business."
Adytha looked dubious, brushing her ringlets of golden hair back from her face and pouting. "Well, I'll just have to find another date, then. You're not the only fish in the sea, you know, Brucie." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, then flounced off.
"She makes me feel like sushi," Bruce complained with a sigh. He grimaced at Clark's expression. "Sorry, Clark."
"You know, I do have other things to do with my time than function as your personal supermodel repellent."
The other man looked surprisingly contrite. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that without checking with you. So what have you got on the agenda tonight?"
"Uh." Clark had just been back to Metropolis over lunch to make an appearance there; he was forced to admit he had no other plans for the evening. "Actually...I'm kind of free."
"Oh?" Bruce said rather diffidently. "Well, if you're not busy, you can come along if you like."
Clark remembered the look on Bruce's face as he had accepted the invitation from Shigeru Matsunaga, the tone in his voice as he had used the exact wrong Japanese to introduce himself. He felt a tickle of intuition that he couldn't quite pin down. "I'll come. I've never been to a cherry-blossom viewing party."
Bruce grunted. "Matsunaga will do it up right. His company may be in the red--strictly off-the-record--but it's important to keep up appearances."
Indeed, Matsunaga had spared no expense. Clark and Bruce arrived at a private garden reserved for the evening, the moon clear and full above their heads. Quiet, beautiful women in kimono handed out tiny cups of nearly-transparent porcelain filled with sake. Bruce moved to be closer to Matsunaga, chatting with him animatedly. Matsunaga had Adytha Harpswell hanging off one arm and was somewhat flushed with drink; he even laughed ponderously at a joke Bruce made.
Clark wandered off to give Bruce some space, keeping one ear on the conversation. The garden was filled with cherry trees at the peak of their bloom, masses of white blossoms tinted with pink like clouds above the guests' heads. A few delicate petals drifted down here and there like flakes of snow; Clark felt an odd sense of deja vu, but shook it off impatiently. He settled down under a low cherry tree and found himself sitting next to Chiaki Yamaoka, Bruce's interpreter. He inclined his head towards her as he sat down and she smiled at him. "He doesn't seem to be needing my help today."
Clark watched Bruce tilt his head as he listened intently to an anecdote the CEO was recounting, his teeth flashing appreciatively. "He seems to be doing all right tonight."
Chiaki took a tiny sip of sake. "You probably think we Japanese are rather obsessed with cherry blossoms."
"They're very beautiful."
"It's more than that, they're the ultimate in the Japanese aesthetic." At his interested but uncomprehending look, she smiled again and continued. "We Japanese prefer our beauty to be ephemeral and fleeting, gone almost before one can be aware it exists. The very transience of beauty renders it perfect. Cherry blossoms instead of stone, here one moment and gone the next." She reached out and picked up a cherry blossom from the ground and handed it to Clark: the flower laid in his hand whole and unfragmented, perfect. "Cherry blossoms fall at the very moment of their glory. They never wither. For one flawless instant they exist and then are gone forever. The pinnacle of perfection." She sipped her sake again and smiled over the rim at Clark. "Most Westerners I've known don't see it that way."
Clark was watching Bruce laughing at something Adytha had just said, his dark hair falling onto his forehead, his hands graceful and poised as they plucked a rosy petal from her hair. He looked down at the flower in the palm of his hand. "The pinnacle of perfection," he echoed. He sipped at his sake. It tasted like moonlight.
"Let me refill your cup," Bruce was saying to Matsunaga.
"Thank you, Wayne-san. You are most considerate."
"I do hope you'll consider my offer to make the ties between our companies a little more official, sir."
Matsunaga chuckled. "You make a compelling case."
Clark looked up at the moon through the cherry blossoms. Thoughts were clicking inside his head, connections, implications...he stood up and shot a look at Bruce, sitting under the largest tree next to Matsunaga. As if he had felt Clark's gaze on him, Bruce looked up to meet his eyes, then rose and made his apologies to Matsunaga. He walked up to Clark, nodding to Chiaki, and the two men walked together for a little while through the garden under the cherries.
"Bruce."
"Yes, Clark?"
"Your friend, Seio. He was killed by Kyodai Ken because he uncovered evidence of a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister." Bruce said nothing. Clark went on, putting the pieces together. "The Prime Minister was giving a speech that day about reforming the construction industry, removing the graft and corruption in it." They were in a grove of weeping cherries now, their boughs drooping gracefully, covered with white blossoms like veils. Bruce slipped through the branches, appearing and disappearing as Clark talked. "Seio's father runs the biggest construction company in Japan. And you've hinted that Seio and his father didn't always get along." Clark stopped walking and so did Bruce, strands of cherry blossoms between them in the moonlight. "Bruce. Are you trying to find a way to have Matsunaga arrested?"
Bruce laughed lightly, his playboy's laugh, sweet and innocuous. "Arrested? Oh no, Clark. That would hardly be satisfying. If my suspicions are correct--" He smiled cheerfully at Clark, his dark hair tousled like a boy's. Clark saw his eyes and shivered. "--I intend to take away everything that's ever mattered to him." White petals floating in the air around him.
"The police can have what's left of him when I'm done."
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Series Notes: 36 Views of Mt. Fuji is a series set early in Batman and Superman's careers, shortly after the S/B annual #1. The full series can be found here.
Rating: G
Summary: A cherry-blossom-viewing party; flowers, the moon, and ephemeral beauty.
Word Count: 1600
In spring on castle heights
they celebrate the flowers;
In the cup they share
the moon casts a reflection.
--Doi Bansui
Bruce Wayne sat at yet another conference table in front of yet another audience, this one on industry's responsibilities to curb climate change. He was sitting next to Shigeru Matsunaga, who was snoring slightly. Bruce resisted the urge to elbow him sharply between his meaty ribs. Instead he poured Matsunaga another cup of strong green tea, the classic mark of social inferiority in Japan. Matsunaga took it from him with a grunt and slurped it loudly. Bruce tried not to grind his teeth.
In the audience, he caught a flash of startling blue eyes and a glimpse of smile. Clark Kent. Bruce waited for the stab of irritation and tension that accompanied having Clark watch him playing the idiot, but it didn't quite materialize. He was apparently getting used to it. He had to admit it had been...different...sightseeing in persona in the morning, having someone around who knew it was all an act. It made it more of a challenge in some ways, but also more like a game, somehow. Less of an abasement and more of a shared joke.
Bruce wasn't exactly sure he wanted to be in on a shared joke with Superman, exactly. He knew the type: warm and sunny, give them an inch and next thing you know they seem to think they have a right to your time and friendship. Start trading knowing looks with Clark Kent and soon enough the Kryptonian would be assuming Batman was going to build a space station for this "Justice League" with his bare hands or something.
He wasn't sure when he had gotten to the point where he was feeling--he groped for the right word--not displeased to see Clark in the audience. It seemed to have happened as quietly and yet as abruptly as a flower opening: a bud one moment, the full-blown bloom the next.
"--isn't that true, Mr. Wayne?" The chair of the panel looked annoyed as Bruce looked confused--and didn't have to fake it for once. He had entirely missed the question, had to have it repeated, and looked a convincing moron indeed. Because he was thinking about flowers and Clark Kent.
He caught the edge of the reporter's ironic gleam in the crowd again and grimaced to himself. No need to tell Kent he hadn't been acting that time.
: : :
Clark heard Bruce coming down the hall toward him as the conference attendees trickled out of the hotel. "Really, Adytha," he was saying in his mild, smooth playboy voice, "I so would love to take you to the blossom-viewing. But I--" Bruce's voice brightened as he caught sight of Clark, "I promised Mr. Kent here that I'd take him along. Right, Clark?" Bruce's smile was all teeth, and Clark nodded reflexively.
Adytha Harpswell smiled at Clark as well. Clark felt rather like a minnow caught between two sharks. "Brucie, hon, are you telling me this is your date for the evening?" She eyed him speculatively, and Clark felt a hot blush rise to his cheeks unbidden. She was very beautiful, her dress clinging to her in all the right places, and Clark felt a surge of annoyance mixed with embarrassment that he didn't feel the slightest bit of sexual interest in the woman. Where the hell had his libido gone for the last four months?
"Don't be silly, dear. Clark is writing an article about my involvement at this conference, and while you can get me into the papers, Mr. Kent can get WayneCorp into the papers. It's strictly business."
Adytha looked dubious, brushing her ringlets of golden hair back from her face and pouting. "Well, I'll just have to find another date, then. You're not the only fish in the sea, you know, Brucie." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, then flounced off.
"She makes me feel like sushi," Bruce complained with a sigh. He grimaced at Clark's expression. "Sorry, Clark."
"You know, I do have other things to do with my time than function as your personal supermodel repellent."
The other man looked surprisingly contrite. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that without checking with you. So what have you got on the agenda tonight?"
"Uh." Clark had just been back to Metropolis over lunch to make an appearance there; he was forced to admit he had no other plans for the evening. "Actually...I'm kind of free."
"Oh?" Bruce said rather diffidently. "Well, if you're not busy, you can come along if you like."
Clark remembered the look on Bruce's face as he had accepted the invitation from Shigeru Matsunaga, the tone in his voice as he had used the exact wrong Japanese to introduce himself. He felt a tickle of intuition that he couldn't quite pin down. "I'll come. I've never been to a cherry-blossom viewing party."
Bruce grunted. "Matsunaga will do it up right. His company may be in the red--strictly off-the-record--but it's important to keep up appearances."
Indeed, Matsunaga had spared no expense. Clark and Bruce arrived at a private garden reserved for the evening, the moon clear and full above their heads. Quiet, beautiful women in kimono handed out tiny cups of nearly-transparent porcelain filled with sake. Bruce moved to be closer to Matsunaga, chatting with him animatedly. Matsunaga had Adytha Harpswell hanging off one arm and was somewhat flushed with drink; he even laughed ponderously at a joke Bruce made.
Clark wandered off to give Bruce some space, keeping one ear on the conversation. The garden was filled with cherry trees at the peak of their bloom, masses of white blossoms tinted with pink like clouds above the guests' heads. A few delicate petals drifted down here and there like flakes of snow; Clark felt an odd sense of deja vu, but shook it off impatiently. He settled down under a low cherry tree and found himself sitting next to Chiaki Yamaoka, Bruce's interpreter. He inclined his head towards her as he sat down and she smiled at him. "He doesn't seem to be needing my help today."
Clark watched Bruce tilt his head as he listened intently to an anecdote the CEO was recounting, his teeth flashing appreciatively. "He seems to be doing all right tonight."
Chiaki took a tiny sip of sake. "You probably think we Japanese are rather obsessed with cherry blossoms."
"They're very beautiful."
"It's more than that, they're the ultimate in the Japanese aesthetic." At his interested but uncomprehending look, she smiled again and continued. "We Japanese prefer our beauty to be ephemeral and fleeting, gone almost before one can be aware it exists. The very transience of beauty renders it perfect. Cherry blossoms instead of stone, here one moment and gone the next." She reached out and picked up a cherry blossom from the ground and handed it to Clark: the flower laid in his hand whole and unfragmented, perfect. "Cherry blossoms fall at the very moment of their glory. They never wither. For one flawless instant they exist and then are gone forever. The pinnacle of perfection." She sipped her sake again and smiled over the rim at Clark. "Most Westerners I've known don't see it that way."
Clark was watching Bruce laughing at something Adytha had just said, his dark hair falling onto his forehead, his hands graceful and poised as they plucked a rosy petal from her hair. He looked down at the flower in the palm of his hand. "The pinnacle of perfection," he echoed. He sipped at his sake. It tasted like moonlight.
"Let me refill your cup," Bruce was saying to Matsunaga.
"Thank you, Wayne-san. You are most considerate."
"I do hope you'll consider my offer to make the ties between our companies a little more official, sir."
Matsunaga chuckled. "You make a compelling case."
Clark looked up at the moon through the cherry blossoms. Thoughts were clicking inside his head, connections, implications...he stood up and shot a look at Bruce, sitting under the largest tree next to Matsunaga. As if he had felt Clark's gaze on him, Bruce looked up to meet his eyes, then rose and made his apologies to Matsunaga. He walked up to Clark, nodding to Chiaki, and the two men walked together for a little while through the garden under the cherries.
"Bruce."
"Yes, Clark?"
"Your friend, Seio. He was killed by Kyodai Ken because he uncovered evidence of a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister." Bruce said nothing. Clark went on, putting the pieces together. "The Prime Minister was giving a speech that day about reforming the construction industry, removing the graft and corruption in it." They were in a grove of weeping cherries now, their boughs drooping gracefully, covered with white blossoms like veils. Bruce slipped through the branches, appearing and disappearing as Clark talked. "Seio's father runs the biggest construction company in Japan. And you've hinted that Seio and his father didn't always get along." Clark stopped walking and so did Bruce, strands of cherry blossoms between them in the moonlight. "Bruce. Are you trying to find a way to have Matsunaga arrested?"
Bruce laughed lightly, his playboy's laugh, sweet and innocuous. "Arrested? Oh no, Clark. That would hardly be satisfying. If my suspicions are correct--" He smiled cheerfully at Clark, his dark hair tousled like a boy's. Clark saw his eyes and shivered. "--I intend to take away everything that's ever mattered to him." White petals floating in the air around him.
"The police can have what's left of him when I'm done."