lucy-ya

Hej! Wiem, że Danganronpa jest dość starym tworem, a polskie fandomy na Tumblr nie są tak żywe, ale wrzucam pierwszy rozdział swojego fanfika w rozeznaniu, czy ktoś się tutaj kręci i czy kogoś może zaciekawi wstęp, który stworzyłam.

— Yo, Hajime! Jak było na uczelni?! — głośny ton Nekomaru wdarł się do uszu chłopaka, który leżał na zimnej ziemi. Nekomaru właśnie wrócił z pracy i energicznie zamknął za sobą furtkę. Na chwilę zatrzymał się obok Hajime, przysłaniając mu promienie słońca, które do tej pory ogrzewały jego twarz. — Wszystko w porządku?

— Tak, dziękuję…

— To co robisz na ziemi? Ja wiem, że już wiosna, ale nadal trochę jest za zimno na wylegiwanie się na jeszcze oziębionym gruncie. Przeziębisz się!

— Przewróciłem się. — Nekomaru dostrzegł kilka metrów dalej torbę Hajime, z której powypadały podręczniki, co uzupełniło słowa chłopaka. Podał mu pomocną dłoń, aby ten mógł wstać.

— Dzięki, Nekomaru, ale… Chyba coś usilnie próbowało sprowadzić mnie na ziemię, skoro tak skończyłem. Muszę więc chyba przemyśleć kilka spraw, zanim wstanę.

— Skoro jest to jakaś forma treningu umysłu, niech tak będzie! Jednak pamiętaj, żebyś nie przegiął, bo się pochorujesz.

— Jasne…

Nekomaru zniknął za drzwiami domostwa, a Hajime westchnął. Przetarł twarz dłonią i skrzywił się z powodu nawracającego bólu głowy. W końcu uderzył się nią o ziemię, gdy przewrócił się do tyłu. Prychnął zirytowany na samego siebie, że tak skończył w powodu niezdarnego stanięcia na starej skrzynce, aby sprawdzić czy w budce dla ptaków wykluły się jakieś młode. Nawet nie zdążył sprawdzić i tego dnia już nie zamierzał.

Hajime rzeczywiście wraz z upadkiem dosłownie i w przenośni wrócił na ziemię. Podczas gdy matka natura ochoczo przyjęła go z otwartymi ramionami, doszedł do wniosku, że musi przestać.

Musi przestać żyć uprzedzeniami i plotkami. Przede wszystkim one muszą przestać gromadzić w nim obawy i lęk. 

Hajime Hinata, którego znał od lat był antydefinicją kogoś, kto ocenia innych bezpodstawnie. A złapał się właśnie na praktykowaniu czegoś takiego, czym gardził na co dzień. Był zły na samego siebie i na intensywność plotek, które go do tego miejsca doprowadziły, że aż czuł echo uprzedzeń innych osób, które wpłynęło również na niego.

Owiany niezbyt dobrą sławą Nagito Komaeda, chłopak, który jak Hajime studiował kryminalistykę, miał wraz z Hinatą współtworzyć projekt na zaliczenie jedno z ważniejszych przedmiotów. Hajime nie wiedział na kogo miał zrzucić winę, że takie zrządzenie losu zaistniało. Najprostszą opcją było obarczenie wszystkiego Nagito, który sam z siebie wyjątkowo chciał z nim współpracować. Był przy tym nachalny i naciskał. 

Było to zapewne konsekwencją incydentu, jaki Hajime miał okazję rozwiązać na przerwie w toalecie. Sam sobie też taki los zgotował, że zyskał zainteresowanie tego dziwnego chłopaka. Jednakże nie byłby w stanie przejść obojętnie obok zastraszania i stosowania przemocy. Można powiedzieć, że stanął w obronie Nagito, którego zastał w toalecie w towarzystwie dwóch niezbyt przyjaznych typków, którzy na pewno nie mieli w zamiarze zawarcia z Komaedą przyjaźni. Hajime zwrócił chłopakom uwagę, że dokuczanie nawet młodszym kolegom na studiach w takim wieku jest przejawem braku dojrzałości i kazał im kulturalnie opuścić łazienkę w podskokach. Zrobił to, co zawsze w tego typu sytuacjach uważał za stosowne. Nie miało dla niego znaczenia to, że obiektem drwin był Nagito, za którym z reguły raczej nikt nie przepadał, a on sam miał do niego stosunek ambiwalentny. W jego charakter jednak nie wpisywało się przyzwolenie na tego typu akty i chciał zareagować. Nagito zaśmiał się, że interwencja wcale nie była potrzebna. Hajime jednak ujrzał wtedy tajemniczy błysk w jego oczach, który zobaczył ponownie przy uzyskaniu propozycji wykonywania wspólnego projektu. I absolutnie nie był w stanie odgadnąć co Nagito miał w głowie. 

Ostatnim winowajcą, dlaczego Hajime skończył w parze z Nagito, była Chiaki. Ją też chciał obarczyć winą za całe zło tego świata. Była to jego najlepsza koleżanka ze studiów, z którą bardzo często pracował. Podczas gdy Nagito próbował go zbajerować, Hajime błagał wzrokowo Chiaki, aby ta powiedziała, że ona już z nim pracuje. A ona odparła tylko, że w zasadzie chciała projekt zrobić z pewną koleżanką i nie będzie miała nic przeciwko, gdy chłopcy będą w jednej grupie. Hajime poczuł się osamotniony na polu bitwy. Przystał na propozycję Nagito, pocieszając się tym, że choć jego nowy partner nie jest osobą polecaną do pracy, to jest on jednak najlepszym studentem na roku.

Hajime zaproponował mu, aby po zajęciach zostali pod uczelnią chwilę dłużej, aby przedyskutować wstępny plan działania do projektu. Podczas ostatniego wykładu spostrzega, jak Nagito z zupełnie znudzonym wyrazem twarzy i dłońmi w kieszeniach opuszcza salę. Hajime tylko wzdycha. Prowadząca zajęcia, która już zna ich rocznik od kilku semestrów już nawet nie pytała się chłopaka, dlaczego wychodzi w środku zajęć. Chyba ona sama wolałaby też nie znać powodu. Już raz, próbując go zatrzymać w poprzednim semestrze, doszło do dziesięciominutowej debaty na temat tego, jak Komaeda postrzega cel prowadzonego jej przedmiotu - mianowicie żaden. Hajime miał jednak cichą nadzieję, że chłopak wyszedł do łazienki bądź poczeka na niego przed budynkiem.

Skończyło się na tym, że Hajime spędził około pół godziny pod budynkiem uczelni po zajęciach, starając się zignorować podśmiewanie innych znajomych z roku, że Nagito przecież się nie pojawi. Próbował do niego zadzwonić na komunikatorze, na którym nigdy nie widział go aktywnym - prawdopodobnie ma wiecznie wyłączony status aktywności. Gdy po raz trzeci został rozłączony z powodu zbyt długiego czasu żądania, zdecydował się wrócić do domu. Hajime bardzo chciał, aby na to zdarzenie znalazło się jakieś logiczne uzasadnienie, by mógł sam przed sobą przyznać, że się myli.

Z lawiny rozmyślań wyrywa go krótka wibracja, leżącego nieopodal telefonu.

— Oh, Chiaki, nie mam dziś ochoty z tobą grać… — mruczy pod nosem, gdy sięga po komórkę. Przymyka oczy, gdyż promienie słońca agresywnie rażą jego oczy, gdy próbuje odczytać wiadomość na trzymanym przed twarzą telefonie. W końcu udaje mu się rozszyfrować wiadomość.

Zapomniałem przyjść. Nie widzę też potrzeby omawiania czegokolwiek.

Hinata wzdycha po raz kolejny, gdy okazuje się to być wiadomość od jego projektowego partnera. Chciałby już móc się z tego zaśmiać, ale jedynie znów rzuca telefon na trawnik. Zostawia Nagito na odczycie. Przecież ten nie ma potrzeby rozmawiać o czymkolwiek.

— Dzieciaku, byś się już bał czego-tylko-kolwiek. — Do uszu Hajime dociera wrzask Akane, która też właśnie wróciła z pracy. — Zbieraj te chabety do góry. No raz! 

Nawet nie czeka na jego reakcję, sama ciągnie go za ręce, zmuszając do wstania. Hajime cicho jęczy, rozczarowany kolejnym przerwaniem jego własnego wewnętrznego cierpienia.

— Co ty se za rozrywki wymyślasz! Koszulę uwaliłeś! — Młoda kobieta strzepuje zabrudzenia z jego ubrań i kręci głową, niedowierzając.

— Przewróciłem się.

— I uderzyłeś się chyba przy tym poważnie w głowę.

— No tylko trochę…

Chłopak zaczyna zbierać swoje rzeczy, które leżą porozrzucane wokół miejsca, w którym spoczywał. Przez chwilę wgapia się w plecy, znikającej za drzwiami domostwa, Akane. Wyciąga telefon z kieszeni, gdy dostaje kolejne powiadomienie. Gdy widzi, że jest to kolejna wiadomość od Nagito, ma ochotę nawet nie odczytywać. Po kilku sekundach ciekawość jednak wygrywa i widzi:

Wszystko ok???

Hajime prycha pod nosem. Blokuje ekran telefonu, który zaświeca się znów po chwili wraz z ponownym powiadomieniem.

Jak coś wymyślę, to ci wyślę :3

one day - sskk fanfics

another day - oh guys, look at my fuckin ideal electrophoresis gel

ahhh, I’ll probably never write a full fic about my BSD high school AU. so why not say a few words about it here from time to time?

I wanted to set the main story in a small countryside town. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows way too much about each other (sometimes more rumors than actual facts, but that’s part of the countryside charm).

A new semester, spring, and new students in class. Who?

Chuuya — a pretty boy, born in the city, with a rich adoptive mother, Kouyou. And Atsushi — I don’t fully know why new school yet... But he will have parents and a healthy relationship with them. Chuuya has an amazing bond with Kouyou too, but his family is incomplete and he’s adopted, so not everything is cute and warm from the beginning. Atsushi deserves that kind of love and warmth. The others do too, but… he’s our cinnamon roll, right?

In the countryside, there’s a huge, almost monumental estate belonging to the local doctor — Mori. His wife is dead. His sister is dead as well, so her son, Dazai, lives with him, along with his daughter Elise. After his wife’s death, Mori became distant and cold, especially toward Dazai. Osamu feels pressured to become a doctor like his uncle, but he’s clearly more of a humanities type — writing poems and essays in the attic instead.

Okay, more about characters and relationships.

Of course, I want the SSKK and SKK fans’ dreams to come true — I’m one of them. But I also have something less popular: Ranposano, and a totally random idea — a difficult but genuine friendship between Akutagawa and… wait, Ranpo? YES. I don’t know how this idea got into my head, but years have passed and it’s still there. I won’t blame myself — I like it, and I like strange fic combinations.

Of course, Dazai and Chuuya will hate each other at first, but it will slowly turn into a rough, intense friendship, because neither of them really had friends before. Dazai was a strange boy with a lot of issues after the deaths of his mother and aunt, and everyone knows Mori isn’t exactly the warm father/uncle type (sometimes he is with Elise, but she spends more time with the nanny — and later with Dazai and Chuuya, eating way too much ice cream, which was absolutely worth it). And Chuuya was just a cocky boy, students rarly wanted to associate with him.

I don’t want to make Dazai and Chuuya’s relationship clearly romantic. That would be too tragic. It’s enough that their “friendship” is unhealthy and harmful at times. But the reader will sometimes feel that it’s more than friendship — and will understand more than the two of them ever do.

It will be like: “Chuuya, can I hold your hand?” “Oh… um… yeah.” “Is that normal in friendship?” “Uh… maybe? You know what? Fuck it.”

They’ll be too stupid and too lost to realize it. Maybe years after high school, they’ll meet again — without all those unprocessed traumas. Because I think… by the end of high school, this relationship will break. It will be too hard for them, even if they liked — or loved — each other.

Ouh, I am too lazy to write anything more right now—it will have to wait for another time.

Sorry for my language. It was checked by Chat (I don’t trust it at all), and sometimes I use a translator to feel more confident, but it’s still not the kind of English I want for communication.

To be honest… I don’t like English. It may come from my weak skills in learning languages (especially German). Uh, it’s really hard for me, because my stories are dense with emotions, I think. I can’t write about action, but writing and reading about emotions and relationships in Polish… it has more magic for me.

Hiii! I return with another mini chapter about sskk, which my besto friendo @aomiya72 translated from polish to english. Unfortunately this is the last one I have finished :c

“What have I done, what have I done, and why on earth did I do it?” This was definitely worse than asking his grandmother to come to school because he had been caught smoking in the bathroom. And not just any bathroom—the girls’ bathroom, with painted nails on top of it all. According to the school regulations, the whole incident had been classified as scandalous. Akutagawa had long felt that his very existence was one big scandal. And so, with each passing day, he seemed to humiliate himself more and more—even if his actions were driven by fleeting hope.

Ryuunosuke Akutagawa, for the first time in his life, was incapable of going on a date with someone. He had managed to ask Atsushi out—but picking him up was a completely different matter. Ever since early morning, he had felt it in his bones how this day might unfold. He had gotten up at five in the damn morning, on a Saturday no less, when he usually slept until ten. They were supposed to meet at noon.

He couldn’t eat breakfast. He tried waiting it out for two hours—no use. The bread roll with butter came back up after several minutes of nausea. He would have to survive the day on tea, a handful of pills, and extreme emotions. His grandmother, shocked that the kid was awake and looked like he was on the verge of agony, thankfully went out to do the shopping and didn’t force him to eat any more.

His hands trembled more violently than usual. Choosing the right outfit took him a full hour—he couldn’t decide what was appropriate and what wasn’t. He left the house far earlier than he would have for any ordinary, low-stakes meeting, knowing full well he would end up standing by the gate or the door for at least fifteen minutes, unable to gather the courage to ring the bell.

And that was exactly what Akutagawa was trying to do—scrape together the last remnants of his courage. He decided that covering his face with his hands and mumbling under his breath might help. Coward. More than ever before. The lack of control over his own body and emotions filled him with both frustration and shame. The only thing keeping the last shreds of his sanity intact was the thought that being late to pick up Atsushi would be unforgivably rude. Besides, they still had to catch a train to the neighboring city. He couldn’t afford to waste too much time.

Suddenly, the door opened.

Akutagawa no longer knew which version of events would be more awkward—Atsushi answering the door, or his mother, who had just stepped right into his path. He bowed immediately.

“Good morning, I—I don’t mean to intrude. I’m here to see Atsushi,” he muttered, averting his gaze from the woman, who looked surprisingly young for a mother. She probably has no idea that I kissed her son a few days ago. I wonder if she’d still be smiling like that if she did.

“Ah, Akutagawa, right?” He felt intimidated by her positive aura, her youthful appearance, her natural charm. He had never even seen Atsushi’s father, yet he already knew where Nakajima got his pretty face and that warm, magnetic presence.

“Yes… It’s nice to meet you.”

“Please, come in. I’d invite you to stay while you wait for Sushi, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She paused, narrowing her eyes in thought, then caught Akutagawa by the arm. “Could you remind him to lock the house and leave the keys where he always does? Oh—and I almost forgot! Before you leave, tell him to take the meat out of the freezer for dinner. And of course, if you’d like, you’re welcome to join us. My husband and I would be happy to finally meet one of Atsushi’s friends. I was very worried about him after he changed schools, so I’m really glad he’s managed to get along with someone.”

Akutagawa flushed, thoroughly embarrassed. He had been unceremoniously pulled into the rhythm of Atsushi’s household. They barely knew each other, he was meeting his mother for the first time, and already he was responsible for making sure Nakajima remembered his chores.

When the woman left, Akutagawa stepped inside hesitantly. He closed the door quietly and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Now comes the final boss.

But what was he supposed to do? Start shouting for Atsushi to hurry up? He couldn’t even bring himself to speak.

“Mom! What time are you coming back?!” The shout—accompanied by noises from the floor above—instantly eased some of Akutagawa’s tension and even coaxed a faint smile from him. He headed toward the sounds of movement. He was still nervous, but now that he had heard Atsushi, he wanted to see him.

Atsushi clearly heard someone step into the kitchen doorway but didn’t turn around, convinced his mother was still at home. Akutagawa, meanwhile, leaned against the doorframe and let his gaze roam over the boy from head to toe. When he heard the clatter of a metal spoon hitting the tiles, he had already resigned himself to the idea that they would have to take a later train than planned.

“Mom, can we invite Akutagawa over for dinner?”

Silence.

Atsushi froze, confused by the lack of response. He turned around—and dropped the spoon again when he saw Akutagawa standing where he had expected to see his mother.

Akutagawa was still gnawed at by stress, but he couldn’t suppress the intrusive, almost satisfied look on his face. It wasn’t only him who had been thrown off balance, surprised, and flustered that day. Atsushi’s face quickly bloomed with a blush, paired with a silly, awkward smile.

“Your mom already suggested it herself when she was leaving,” Akutagawa said.

“H-Hi… Sorry, I know I’m late…”

“Is it really that important?” Akutagawa stepped closer, picked up the dropped spoon, and placed it in the sink.

“I didn’t expect you…”

Their first direct look—filled with shyness and fragments of memories from a few days ago. Akutagawa felt embarrassed when he noticed Atsushi staring at him as if he were a painting. In his mind, the only beautiful picture there was Atsushi himself.

“I didn’t expect this either…” He swallowed hard when his gaze accidentally flicked to Atsushi’s lips. He looked away. He had no right to even think about that.

Ryuunosuke had planned to greet him properly. For several nights, he had played out different versions of this meeting in his head. Not a single one had worked. He had to improvise—and he couldn’t. The confident smile from his imagination shattered, leaving behind only nerves and a cold facade. He desperately didn’t want to come across as rude. He was afraid Atsushi might think he felt nothing, that he was distant.

“Can I…?”

“Hm?”

“Could I hug you?” The feeling after asking was worse than waiting for Atsushi’s answer to the date invitation. It felt like no matter what he did, it would be awkward and strange. After a moment, he heard:

“Sure.”

Maybe it would have been better if Atsushi had said no.

“Are you okay?” Atsushi asked when Akutagawa didn’t move after getting permission, only staring blankly at the wall behind him.

“Yes—sorry, I…” His words cut off with a sigh when Nakajima pulled him into a firm embrace. At first, he stood stiffly with his arms hanging uselessly at his sides. Only after a moment did he raise one hand, threading it into Atsushi’s light hair, while the other settled on his back, drawing the boy as close as possible. He rested his chin atop Atsushi’s head and closed his eyes, savoring the blissful sensation that slowly replaced the tension gripping every muscle in his body.

Atsushi was warm. Gentle. And on top of that, he smelled wonderful. He also seemed just as blissed out, melting into Akutagawa’s arms.

A quick kiss to the forehead—barely a brush, the lightest touch of lips. Then, nervously, Akutagawa clenched his fingers in the fabric of Atsushi’s clothes and abruptly pushed him away, much to the younger boy’s displeasure.

Another one short chapter with ssk and again thank u @aomiya72 for translation!

Another turn onto his other side. Switching the pillow from its warm side to the cool one. A few minutes of silence, then the sudden glow of a phone screen. 3:24 a.m. Zero notifications. And Atsushi still couldn’t fall asleep.

He wasn’t someone who stayed up late. His friends even teased him for going to bed as early as old people did.

With a sigh, he rubbed his face with his hand. The moment he closed his eyes, the same thing returned. Not even that scene—the one that had marked a turning point for him that evening. Though even thinking about it sent shivers down his spine and a wave of heat spreading across his chest. He felt embarrassingly flustered, yet a shy smile bloomed on his lips as his thoughts drifted back to the spontaneous kiss with Akutagawa.

Still, it wasn’t the image of Ryūnosuke’s flushed cheeks after that first kiss that haunted him the most. What stirred him far more was the moment they had returned to the other guests after their small incident. They had sat down at the table, supposed to act as if nothing had happened between them just minutes earlier. Yet the number of glances Akutagawa kept sending Atsushi’s way made it impossible for him to sit still without discomfort. Every little smile on Akutagawa’s face when their eyes met filled him with the irrational feeling that everyone was about to find out they had kissed in the bathroom—where, on top of that, they had accidentally shattered Chūya’s expensive perfume.

The phone screen lit up again. A quick stretch of his arm, a soft rustle. A glance at the display—a notification—and an ache of heat rushing to his cheeks. Atsushi snorted quietly, feeling strangely detached from reality. He didn’t like losing control over this particular part of his life; something was slipping away from him, as if someone else were writing a silly script for a saccharine romantic comedy.

Why are you online? Why aren’t you sleeping?

“What’s he doing, then?” Atsushi muttered under his breath. He sighed and unlocked his phone, staring blankly at the screen—and at the bouncing dots that meant Akutagawa was typing another message.

I can see you’re reading this.Can I call?

“Picked a great time…”

He agreed anyway. He wanted to hear his voice. And maybe scold him for being so shameless, for staring at him all the time. He probably wouldn’t find the courage to do that—but it didn’t hurt to dream.

“Everything okay, Sushi?” He flinched at the nickname.

“Yeah… I just can’t seem to fall asleep. What about you?”

A minute of silence. Then two. Three. Eventually five. Akutagawa seemed to lose the ability to form words and could only sigh. And when he finally spoke, nothing he said made much sense. Akutagawa was usually articulate, direct, precise—so Atsushi found himself confused. On top of that, it all sounded absurd.

“Aku, it was just a day with a slightly higher dose of excitement. I’m fine. Besides, you’re not sleeping either. What am I even supposed to have a problem with? The fact that I like you too? Honestly, I don’t even know how you came up with that…”

“I don’t really know either. I’m sorry…”

“What are you apologizing for?” Atsushi laughed softly. “Have you tried sleeping yet?”

“More than once.”

Sitting together in silence didn’t bother them. In the past, they often didn't know how to talk to each other, so they would sit side by side in awkward silence, unsure what to say. Each similar moment grew less stressful, less uncomfortable—until eventually it became something pleasant, simply being there with someone else.

“Atsushi?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you go out with me?” Atsushi could hear Akutagawa’s nervous breathing.

Nakajima felt like bursting into laughter—out of nerves and excitement at the same time. But first, he didn’t want to wake his parents, and second, he didn’t want to embarrass Akutagawa. He pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to hide the smile spreading across his face even from himself.

“Atsushi?” Akutagawa’s voice trembled with uncertainty now. He didn’t know what to think when there was no answer—just faint noises on the other end.

“Yes!”

“But… yes, as in what?”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Believe what?”

“You!”

A brief silence followed, then Atsushi heard a groan from the other side.

“You mean… you agreed?” Akutagawa clearly realized the meaning had reached him with a delay. Atsushi could picture him perfectly—Ryūnosuke squirming at the thought of his own cluelessness.

“Yes, I agreed. How about that?”

Long pauses didn’t bother Atsushi. Neither did the moments Akutagawa needed to think things through. He was used to it. He knew how hard it was for him to put emotions into words—anything beyond bare facts.

“I’m happy like an idiot…”

And Atsushi knew how much it had cost Akutagawa to say those words. He heard every tremor in his voice, mixed with quiet excitement. He could even imagine him partly hiding his mouth in his sleeve, as if pretending—to himself—that he wasn’t saying it. But he had said it.