♔ THE GRAND KING.

I see…

Are those.. the only people  who knows the secret behind these foul monsters!? Then I shall call for them.

[Walking to the window, opening it, he places his hands down on the edge and leans his head out.]

[ he’s really given up by now, just watching Kanesan go towards the window. hoe don’t do it... ]

...

[ oh my god. ]

But... it’s just a toilet. It’s in every house, and it’s not alive, so it can’t... “devour you.” Just... leave the bathroom before you cut through a pipe, or something -- now that’d be troublesome.

     ”Ew.. is right.” He flinches as he looks back at the man who seems to be having a sloppy make out— is that? The sword has no idea what it is the round object around the male’s neck, but the troll is placing his lips upon the item. He must be very happy about it. This really bothers him just a bit so he diverts his attention back to the male before him as he gives a sigh. Kanesada raises a hand to move them through black locks showing how distressed he is.

     To have so much hair on one being, it’s almost as if his hair sparkles in the sun? Is he a Vampire? Jk lol.

     ”I’ve seen women chosen by royalty to be someone’s wife, but this monstrosity looks like no king but.. a .. villager. I overheard this phrase from someone, I believe this man to be the fungus that feeds on the pond scum. No, lower. The pus that infects the mucous… that cruds up the fungus… that feeds on the pond scum.” He states this knowing majority of what he’s saying, all in all, it’s an insult and he likes it.

     A few people nearby seem to be making faces, as if they’ve seen or smelled something they don’t like. Looking around, there’s something that’s bothering the people within the crowd, how it breaks apart and Flava Flav is curious as to what’s going on. Or perhaps, it’s the cage that takes their interest. “Oikawa Tooru,” Kanesada speaks his name to have it adjusted to his tongue, it’s nothing like the simple old days but he’s sure to remember it, “Removing ourselves from such a place is ideal, I have better things to do than deal with this.” The peace sign is known to him, Naki always made little hand gestures and the other swords seem to like doing such hand signs like this.

     It’s a blessing he can understand such a few things whilst being taken away from a time of nothing but countless war.      Then again, this whole celebration is War. That man, Flava Flav, he is the Mighty Big One.

     Following after Oikawa’s steps, he makes sure to halt his movement when the other stops, concerned as to what’s going on and caught his attention. The tachi leans back up, his gaze targeting towards the people who are screaming about their shoes and others who are laughing at what resides in the cage but once the animal was freed, even Kanesada believes he’ll fall into a pit of laughter. “Survive poultry? A.. Ahaha.” What the hell is this joke, “Is this a joke? Haha, an animal like that can’t attack anyone and remove the skin from common human’s le—”

     But is Kanesada wrong as he watches in horror the chicken flap it’s wings wildly towards the male who wore the red jersey, the chicken pulling at his pants leg enough to rip a hole in it. The raven falls as if he’s yelling for his life, a ‘squelsh’ sound is heard as the man pushes himself back by sliding on his butt, the attire becomes soggy at the bottom and a lump appears as if something is weighing his pants down and tighty whities that were to be exposed are darker, feces excreting from the side of his underwear.

     Kanesada believes, he really believes, he’s going to be sick. “I..” His eyes watch as the chicken begins to peck through the hole of the man’s pants, the orange of it’s mouth becoming red as it begins to rip off white skin from the hole it’s made. A scream coming from the male who’s suffering, a loud BRRRRRNNNN coming from him and more of his.. secretions begin to leak out.

     A hand on Kanesada’s chest.

     Flava Flav opens his eyes and then points to what’s going on, it’s not even the chicken he’s worrying about.

Thankfully, not Oikawa's.

As it latches onto the boy's leg (Oikawa thinks he looks pretty familiar -- did he try to intrude to hang out with his daughter once? If he did, Oikawa is glad he didn't let him in), he screams in pain, falling straight onto his butt. The sound that the fall produces is... unnatural, at best. Instead of a sharp smack of bone hitting the wooden panels, a squelch can be heard, and then he sees... it.

"Oh my God, oh -- ugh, I'm going to throw up," one of his hands wanders to Kanesada's shoulder as he turns away, leaning on the man slightly. "Ohhhh my God, what did I do to see this, aaah! This is so disgusting!" As he freaks out, the boy continues screaming, as the chicken keeps to tear at skin and flesh. A sick smell of feces and blood rises in the air, and Oikawa has to pinch his own nose to keep it out. Honestly, he'd rather choke than open his mouth right now -- death seems like the better option.

He's nearly in tears by the time Flava comes down, commenting on letting the boy on the yacht. As stupid as the old man is, Oikawa has to agree -- who's even married to this guy? Whoever it is, he feels deeply sorry for their loss. 

When he gets the courage to look again, he sees a massacre -- the chicken had left the boy's leg, but it looks positively destroyed, flesh and bone visible through long tears in his sweatpants. He's still screaming, the sound of his voice blocking out most of the noise, but something else catches Oikawa's attention -- namely, the chicken, who seems to be running after his daughter now. Ayano looks scared, trying to avoid suffering Shintaro's fate, and Oikawa feels panic -- he can't just let her leg get eaten, can he?

"Sorry, I'm going to borrow this real quick," he says to the stranger, grabbing the hilt of the sword fastened by his side. He pulls it out with one, smooth swing of his arm -- and while he can't be sure that the sword's even real, if he can hit the chicken with it, it should be fine, right? And just like that, he jumps into the crowd and away from Shintaro and the awful smell, chasing after the chicken. Ayano seems trapped, her only way out being jumping into the water -- he approaches the chicken from behind, sneaking up on it slowly, until it's within the reach of the sword to cut.

With a deep breath (he's not heartless -- killing an animal still makes him sad, regardless of how monstrous said animal is) he swings the sword once -- tears the chicken apart with one, smooth cut, improvising completely. He's seen sword-fighting in anime before, though, so really, how hard can it be? Aside from cutting the chicken, the tip of the sword gets stuck in the wooden boards underneath. He tugs on it a few times to pull it out clumsily, and when he does, people swarm around him, cheering.

"THIS HERO HAS SLAIN THE BEAST! GIVE IT UP FOR YA BOOOOI!" Flava yells, throwing his hands up in the air, and the crowd responds in a similar manner. He's surrounded, now, but his gaze wanders to seek the stranger -- he did take his sword, after all.

Bonus Track of Val’s birthday: Bed hair Oikawa.

…and actual human being Iwa-chan

     Even the name was pathetic, ‘Red Oyster’, is it because of the color that he wore? Sapphire gaze falls onto the various attendants, a young girl with a red scarf has a name that’s ‘Sweetie’ and a young man beside her is deemed ‘Hoopz’. What ridiculous names, as it goes on, a man with black hair who seems to be eyeing the brunette that has decided to come towards him, the name patched on the raven is ‘Serious’. These names, honestly, what is this?

     To be truthful, Kanesada is tired but he does have to make himself appear like he’s someone before people because he is— no matter what. As tired as he is, that doesn’t leave his features that much since he already seems to be tired with this ordeal already.

     ”Is this some sort of celebration?” He asks to both him and the male who inquires the same answers, “Apparently we’re competing for his heart—” The way he says this as if it’s slightly disgusting, the man— no this troll is ugly, his stress lines are showing, his shades, his hat, lord, take him away. “He must have found many of us quite attractive if he’s going this far to find someone for this.” Which Kanesada doesn’t blame him, he is a good looking man. If this is a celebration, he wants no part of it and it already seems like the person labeled ‘Pumkin’ is close to just leaving on the spot.

"If it is, I have no idea what could possibly be celebrated like that, ew," the man is ugly, after all, and Oikawa's pretty face isn't getting anywhere close to his old, wrinkly self. That's disgusting. "Well, duh. Although I'd question the beauty of some people who happened to get a name --" and he looks at the boy in the red jacket again, currently touching up on his butt as if he's trying to hold something there. What a weirdo.

He notices the sword attached to the man's side, as well as his traditional clothing -- but it is a cruise, and maybe he's a performer? Oikawa doesn't even bother questioning it; rather, he reaches to stay the man's hand, as even if that thing is a prop, it's better not to take it out. There's a grandma sitting near them, staring intently at a biscuit -- what if he accidentally cuts or hits her? 

"It's not my name, either. I'm Oikawa Tooru," and he raises his hand, offering 'Red Oyster' a peace sign. "And I'm definitely not doing this. Come on, we need to find a way to escape before that big guy gets us," he's pretty sure he's seen Kuroo somewhere around, but where did he go? At any rate, Oikawa doesn't plan on sticking around -- instead, he ducks into the crowd, expecting the other to follow. But --

"Huh --?"

On the center of the deck stands a cage with a really, really angry rooster in it. The man named Rick crouches by it, as if threatening to open the door.

"This beast can eat a man's entire leg in one swallow. Whoever survives this assault... gets a date with Flavor Flav!"

     "Ah, right, right. Your precious face and irresistible charms — I’m glad you stayed in, then.” Even though he’s well-aware that Oikawa’s current exaggerations are to the point where it makes him want to turn aside and laugh — which the other would take offense to, no doubt — he barely manages to maintain a straight face, allowing small snickers to escape the corners of his mouth. "Though, do you think I’d just let you disappear, like that?" Lifting a hand, he lightly pinches the side of Oikawa’s cheek, tugging gently; meets his eyes for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "You’re not the kind of person that I want to lose easily."

"You know, my fans can be pretty vicious," he adds, after a moment, noticing the way Kuroo's holding in his laughter (it's been a little too long for Oikawa not to notice all the small things Kuroo does -- but especially the way he smiles, sly and genuine all at once.) "Ah," he can feel the warmth rising to his cheeks, suddenly embarrassed again; those are pretty simple words, but considering the situation they're in, Oikawa's sudden shyness feels almost justified. He's never done this before, really -- dating all these girls interested in him only out of shallow attraction felt completely different than this.

In a way, Kuroo's his first.

"Oh, really? I'll leave it to you, then," he returns the brief kiss with a small grin, tipping his head to the side. It's Oikawa who's been on countless of dates -- in the end, his knowledge of what to do is probably more extensive (still, he thinks it'd be nice to be taken out, for once.) "Sure, it's not like I've got work, or -- anything to do around here, really. I didn't -- make any plans for this, either. I've only thought it out till the card part," he admits, after a second, huffing quietly. It was a spur of the moment decision -- if he didn't do it as soon as it popped up in his head, he wouldn't do it at all.

     "This is— Ah.” Upon reading the contents, eyebrows lift, moderately amused at what he finds; the back of his head tells him that this is Oikawa’s way of answering the age-old question of what are we?. It breaks his smooth composure instantly, but the change isn’t all too visible — a rare, appreciative expression forming across the lower half of his face — with the corners of his lips upturned and his cheeks a slight shade darker; the remainder of it hides behind the card that he’s quickly pressed against his mouth — a nonverbal way of saying don’t look at me, please don’t, it’s embarrassing.

     "Was I dating you? Wow, I wasn’t aware… Looks like the Grand King’s too used to giving orders.” When he manages to recover from feeling like anything but a grade-schooler, his hand moves to rest on his hip, the corner of the card now held between his fingertips. His answer is obvious — put trivially, he wouldn’t mind killing spiders for Oikawa for the rest of his days. However, he returns the favor of indirectness — lets out a long sigh, with a, "This is cute, and all, but……”

"Then, I guess Kuro-chan will have to get used to obeying them, huh?" Truth be told, being demanding just about covers his own embarrassment -- he's definitely not used to giving orders, except on the court (anywhere else, no one would ever listen.) For the sake of the conversation, though, he tips his head up proudly; regrets it when Kuroo's fingers connect with his forehead, a short, sharp hiss slipping past his lips. 

He pouts, too -- obviously. "I was busy, okay? You try going out on Valentine's day with this kind of a face," and he points at his own cheeks, his expression practically screaming 'duh.' "I would've gotten ambushed on my way there, and what then? You'd never see me again! You should be grateful I stayed put." 

待ってます | ALO

     At the suggestion of skipped showers, he instantly freezes beneath Oikawa’s hand, the fur at the back of his neck bristling, apprehensively; stares at him with caution (tinged with guilt), caught in the brief, fight-or-flight moment of we both know the answer to that question. It still doesn’t make sense to him, why humans are so insistent on showering daily (and sometimes twice per day, if necessary); doesn’t understand why humans even have tongues in the first place, if not to lick themselves clean. Pushing a hind leg behind him, Jisoo makes the first move, backing up slowly; then, a few more steps to follow — but, he doesn’t bolt fast enough.

     Despite his attempts to skirt away, he finds the ground getting farther away from his line of vision, and he yowls, wriggling furiously and waving his paws in the air in a last-ditch plea for help (to the air, possibly, smacking Oikawa by accident a few times). But, Jisoo isn’t entirely uncomfortable in Oikawa’s gentle grip, dangling his forepaws idly over the boy’s hand. (Even without much direct pet experience, Oikawa’s surprisingly good at carrying him from place to place; who would have thought? Plus, the warmth that Oikawa’s hand provides, his palm pressing lightly against the white fur of Jisoo’s stomach, isn’t the most undesirable thing in the world; or, even undesirable at all.)

     Nonetheless, he produces a sad, plaintive meow, knowing all too well what Oikawa has in store for him. (They go through this every few weeks or so; it has to do with that pesky human cleanliness factor that Jisoo still can’t wrap his head around.) Even with the offer of food, his ears flatten; even with how he’d practically sell his soul for food and food alone, none of that changes how bothersome baths are, to endure, and for the remainder of the journey — from living room to bathroom — he lets himself go limp, letting out tiny whines.

Once they're in the bathroom, he makes sure to close the door after himself -- which seems pointless, considering Jisoo can turn human anytime, but still -- and lets the other jump down from his arms, glancing at the cat now seated on the small rug in the middle of the room. "Don't worry, I'm not going to make you jump in a cold bathtub," he assures, briefly, noticing the way Jisoo tilts his head, almost in confusion. True to his words, right after setting the bags down, he heads to turn the water on -- makes it warm, but not too hot. Jisoo isn't particularly big in his cat form (unlike his human one), so a few inches is enough -- after that, he moves over to pick him up again, as gingerly as he can.

Over the few weeks of knowing each other, he'd learned how to make this as painless as possible -- clumsy at first, now, his movements are steady but gentle: he knows the easiest, quickest way of getting this over with, considering how much Jisoo hates bathing (why, Oikawa can't fathom, but then again, he supposes it's in his nature to loathe water.) He massages the shampoo into the other's fur gently, rinses it with water, then repeats -- a few times, to make sure all the dirt is gone. Once that's done (regardless of how fast it takes, he usually still ends up with a few scratches on his hands), he picks the cat back up, setting him on the dry rug and reaching for a towel.

Jisoo's fur isn't particularly long, so drying doesn't take a whole lot of rubbing -- and, once Oikawa's sure he's dry enough, he leans back a little, staring at the slightly damp cat in front of him thoughtfully. "See? It went just fine -- and now you're clean and pretty, unlike... uh, turtles," for example. "And every kitty lady will want you, or something." Clearly, there's not much you can say to a cat -- but he doesn't linger on the floor for too long, instead getting up to open the door for Jisoo.

     A few seconds pass, with him returning Oikawa’s thoughtful gaze, and when Oikawa prompts him to get up, he does, allowing himself to be pulled to a nearby chair, instead. (To be honest, he likes the couch a whole lot better, but the chair isn’t that uncomfortable, and considering the weight of his request, it’s only fair to comply.) Nonetheless, before Oikawa lets go of his hand, Kuroo gives it a small tug, pulling it towards him, forcing him to have to yank his wrist from Kuroo’s grasp.

     "It’s my birthday — I deserve this, don’t you think?” Looking up, he matches Oikawa’s grin with a smirk of his own; hisses, as nails scrape lightly against his skin, but it’s not a bad feeling — it sends a light shudder down his spine. "Plus… don’t act like you’re totally not into it, either,” he practically purrs; relaxes against the back of the chair, to watch Oikawa instead, observing the way he sways back and forth — almost as if he’s experienced, almost as if he knows what he’s doing.

"Gee, thanks," in return, he offers the other a small grin; leans forward to press his forehead against Kuroo's, as the taller boy cranes his neck. "Instead of talking, weren't you going to show me what you think, though?" He's perfectly aware that, technically, the recipient shouldn't be allowed to touch the dancer; but they're not in a club, and privately, none of that really matters. Because of that, he steps past certain boundaries as well; runs his fingers through Kuroo's hair, then down his neck, to finally let his hands settle on the other's shoulders.

Despite the small distractions, he never really stops moving -- circles his hips along to the beat of the song, shifting his weight down and against Kuroo. And, as the music slows down, Oikawa doesn't feel particularly inclined to do anything complicated, anymore; settles comfortably in the other boy's lap, pressing himself against him tightly, movements languid and leisure.

     Instinctively, he backs away a bit, when Oikawa looms closer, his fingers curling idly into the empty space in the air between them; but, he’s quick enough to try to turn it around, leaning forward until he’s less than an inch away and he can taste the mint in Oikawa’s breath; practically murmurs his words against his lips. "Oh, am I? Sorry — forgot to tell you, in between the times we’ve, you know, fucked.” His voice dips down, lowly; injects fake offense into his tone, suddenly soft. "I’m hurt; I thought you knew me better than that.”

     Nonetheless, it’s just like Oikawa, to have kept something like that on-hand (granted, he’d also kept the thigh highs from earlier — at this point, Kuroo ends up assuming that whatever he can name off, Oikawa has, somewhere in his room-sized closet). As Oikawa dashes off, ever so determinedly, he leans back to wait, but soon enough (with a bit of delay; he looks up and instantly sees why), the other boy appears from the hallway — wearing far more than what Kuroo had envisioned.

"Hmm... nope, this won't do. Come on, Tetsu-chan, up," leaning down, he reaches to grab Kuroo's hand gently; laces their fingers together, and tugs on his arm, waiting for the other to get up on his own. When he does, Oikawa leads him to a chair, standing a little further away from the couch and the table -- figures he'll need the extra space, pushing the flat of his palm against Kuroo's chest to make him sit. Before he lets go, he waits a moment to make sure Kuroo's comfortably seated; and, as the song changes, Oikawa finally moves, standing behind the other boy instead.

"You know, I still can't believe you asked me to do this," he mutters, grinning, both hands now rested on Kuroo's shoulders. As the intro of the song rolls by, he slides them down; scrapes his nails over the defined lines of muscle, purring against Kuroo's ear contentedly. In the meantime, he starts moving along with the music; gets used to the slightly irregular rhythm, slipping the tips of his fingers beneath Kuroo's waistband just to pull away mere seconds later.

     He lets them go soon enough, however, meeting Oikawa’s underhanded comment with a confused frown; half from registering the insult, and half from wondering what actually seems wrong, to Oikawa, about spending a week or so, doing just that. While the obvious exaggeration goes noted, "The same goes for you — are you saying that one or two things at a time is all that you can handle? “ His voice rings, with faux disappointment, pulling an insincerely crestfallen expression. "I thought you were a…”

"From you? Hardly," but, there's no malice hiding underneath the obscenely sweet tone of his voice; he feels flattered, so, really, why would he resort to rudeness? After they both take a moment to look at his outfit (nothing special, really; he didn't dress up, but he didn't expect Kuroo to request something that required doing it, either, so it's not his fault) he huffs; gets up, anyway, about to leave -- before Kuroo continues. Slowly, deliberately, Oikawa turns on his heel to face Kuroo again; leans forward, resting both of his hands on the other boy's knees, his expression completely serious.

"Kuro-chan..." he pauses, as if to create suspense; continues after leaning a little closer, voice dropping lower. "... really is a pervert, isn't he?" A soft, amused laughter follows, and he straightens up again, resting his hands on his hips. "Well! I can probably dig something up from the modelling props, so just wait here!" Naturally, he's not opposed to the idea -- anything that allows him to show off and gain more attention is okay by default (besides, it seems like a cute idea, now that he takes some time to mull over it, digging through one of the few closets.)

He finds it soon enough -- a costume he'd used once, a few months ago, for a very peculiar photoshoot; it's a schoolgirl uniform, to put it simply, and whereas Kuroo only asked for a skirt, Oikawa feels like it wouldn't fit with his current outfit -- so he puts it on completely (it takes some time, mostly because of the thigh highs and the button up shirt; he only throws the sweater on briefly, for the looks.) Once that's done, he walks out of the bedroom and back to Kuroo -- stands in the doorway, raising one hand in a trademark peace sign.