remake

The reaction is wonderful. Could Red ask for any better? Disbelief makes Fire’s laugh more of a bark in his ears, and the more he clearly rolls Red’s proposal in his head, the more Red wonders—apparently, something he was going to do a lot of today—if the guy was always this easy to tease. Fire actually seemed to believe him. There was nothing a guy could miss more at the highest peaks of Mt. Silver than deceiving a young, innocent soul. For everything it had, it lacked that. 

"Under you,” Red repeats in the moment available to slip it in. 

It’s like water to a dry throat. Delicious.

Keep reading

The innocent execution of Red's echoing questions earns the older trainer an eye roll. Probably the only thing that could break Fire's grimace at this point.

"Either you're delaying things or just tryna piss me off." He quietly shares this thought, putting his cup on the table to leave the rest of the tea to go cold.

The life of Fire. There’s almost a warmth (lift logs), cooled back down (demands for the lot), then it comes back round, stoked for its journey. Resting in his stomach, accompanied by a far from modest sip of tea.

He’s getting close to halfway, regardless of his burning tongue. But he likes that; likes the scorching sensation down the back of his throat. 

Likes watching how Fire’s eyes don’t shift. Won’t shift. Was the boy like this when they were kids? He’s sure he was more restless than this, a face that can look so sulky as it stares disinterest into the wood of the furniture.

He isn't just caught off guard. His mental following tumbles and rolls at the unanticipated proposal of Red's stay, his question of approval flipped into an invitation.

The man's unpredictability finally put a scowl on Fire's face, so Fire brings the cup of tea to his lips again before he looks to his guest, gaze hardly relaxed.

         " Funny. Real funny. "

The name is refreshing off Fire’s lips, but still leaves Red wanting despite the taste of it. It’s disappointing; there’s a lacking energy, an emptiness that’s spilling into Red slowly as they enter the new room, his mind needing to find familiarity to a dusty part of his brain. Did he come into this room? Did it matter if he did, when the crucial element he connected to—a voice bouncing off every wall erratically, so commanding—wasn’t here?

It’s so quiet. A dojo waking up is a dojo Red doesn’t like.

( But even the ferocity of fighters needs to understand the power in grace and patience, and exist in harmony, speaks a voice wiser than he ever would. Kiyo? Who knows.

It’s threatening to become uncomfortable, remembering so many ghosts. )

Keep reading

Watching Red claim a spot at the low table invokes a swell of nostalgia, and Fire inhales with the mental buildup of his neighbor's living room. Their mothers have just made two cups of instant coffee, which ensures another hour of chatter. Mom encourages Fire to nap on the couch if he's tired but he wants to sit with Red. See what game he's playing. Peace of mind was child's play.

What's Fire turned this into?

Whatever the answer, the guy turns the page with nonchalance that Fire envies (huh, about that), and the younger trainer settles at his level. He takes a cautious sip of the tea, accepting that serving the others would yield to this ... exhilarating encounter.

Fire is putting on a decent show really, despite their guest’s blasé assessment of the unfamiliar situation surrounding them. A master of ‘internalization’ at this point in his life, Fire feels his core tightening by the second as the reality of Red’s landing sinks in. Past panic and apathy - stations at silent offense.

Keep reading

He swears the carbonized woods are creaking louder today, perhaps disappointed in the lousy disorder weighing down on it. But who could expect him to overcome this resurfacing unrest so easily when subjected to the prickling of neutral eyes on his back.         Unimpressed.

Fire could sense something hushed - he knows the feeling too well.

Suddenly he stops, as they’ve arrived at the doors of the makeshift lounge already. His fingers settle on the notch of the shoji that's been left a bit open (and he scolds an absent figure, distracted briefly by the onset of colder weather).

What does he think?

Empty. 

Quiet. 

Should’ve come in at a busier time, frankly.

Still, it’s intriguing in a way, comparing the present to a past that he didn’t even know. The downtime that came before the inspiring quotes belted out from iron stomachs, passion moulded in square jaws, square shoulders, discipline and in love. 

If Red remembered anything normal about the city, it was the unapologetic vitality of a wounded dojo, keeping a stuff upper lip despite the hearts they wore on what remained of their torn up sleeves.

Fire is putting on a decent show really, despite their guest's blasé assessment of the unfamiliar situation surrounding them. A master of 'internalization' at this point in his life, Fire feels his core tightening by the second as the reality of Red's landing sinks in. Past panic and apathy - stations at silent offense.

There is something about the arcade… 

— she isn’t quite sure what.

Perhaps it’s the gamble — how she is familiar with that.                            Do you have enough coins for the Dratini?                                   No, but it’s coming, just you wait.

Or maybe it’s the raucous — the cheerful beeps and lowly boops.                        The whir of a win, the boo of a loss.

Or perhaps it serves a purpose to something more — at least to her.                                    A little Escape Rope if you will.                              Let’s forget for a bit and gamble for that plushie, shall we?

It appears as if this particular plushie did not want to be won by the likes of her.

Keep reading

A small oh escapes Fire when destiny tosses its pick right at him. Silly of him to take upon choosing the lucky winner himself, feeling like lousy prongs of a claw that people'd shake their heads at. But something extraordinary happens for him: the sought prize gets picked up with another.

Fire quietly laughs at first, dazed as much as she. Just how did she always know when and where to find him? The cheers of prizewinners in the adjacent aisle allows, to some degree, an excuse to look away from Leaf and wonder that for a second. This episode of gambling in his life - her cameo could be the second 7 of three, or the first caution to cash out. These metaphors run down his spine and perhaps for the first time,          he is a bit shaken by this. Them.

@embev

The main event is over: The warm hugs, the smiles that reach the eyes, the faces lit up in surprise from every body that comes knocking on the door of his mother’s house. Some semblance of peace exhales over Pallet Town, and Red is thankful for it, but finds the tension in his own body hasn’t released.

Home was for a boy three years his junior, its normal routines making a soul like his restless. So he does what he does best to combat it: Travel, but within the borders of Kanto.

He finds himself in Saffron, eventually.

He reads the antique scroll every morning in passing, the evidence of a promise miraculously upheld despite his notoriety for backing out of things. If the tender, unreserved tears of a relieved apprentice couldn't turn his ways, then he would be heartless - so Fire even dusts the faded paper once a week. Laughs those words in battle.

Mumbles them into an awakening cup of cold green tea.