CounterSpin by purple jellybean hoarder

Warning: uh…extreme ooc for Rikkai? Someone has to be evil here…

Disclaimer: no…(sobs)

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Those sneers and mocking stares were quite enough. As if he were the cause. As if he were responsible. He snarled back from behind iron bars. That was why he hated working in a team. Teamwork, ha! What was the point of 'working together' if everyone was clambering for benefits? And if they weren't kissing up to the superiors half of the time, they turned to stabbing at each other's backs. He grinned wryly. Even he was involved in this little game. He wasn't ashamed to admit it. It was how life should be lived— every man for himself.

The chain stretching from his leg to a metal loop on the wall clanked as he rearranged himself into another sitting position. His whole problem started when his lousy-excuse-of-a-captain received orders to capture some squirt. That's right, Captain Marui was so proud and confident that the Colonel had chosen him for such an important task. It was mostly clean-up from the mess that useless Yagyuu had created, but it was nonetheless an opportunity for that slimy jackass to strut his stuff.

Marui wasn't too happy when he learned that a fellow captain was also tagging along. That wasn't unusual. Ever since Major Yagyuu got demoted to a lieutenant, all forms of hostility broke loose as the captains tried to overthrow each other for the spot.

He laughed. Marui had certainly done his homework this time. Completely outperformed himself. Not only did Captain Marui ruin things for Captain Jackal, but he also landed himself in deep shit. He must remember to congratulate him the next time they meet… after beating him to a pulp, that was.

Any idiot would know that the equation just didn't add up: two captains with two teams armed with a loaded battle ship against one measly jet. And still, they failed.

And to top it off, Jackal got shot in the ass.

The front door suddenly screeched. Someone was coming and he instantly recognized the voice. He looked at his other inmates. They were either asleep or too tired to care. That was all right. He wasn't in the right mood to properly welcome the Colonel either.

"—a bunch of miserable dogs," came the voice. The clicking of those boots stopped at a cell not far from his. So the Colonel had decided to grace Marui with his presence.

"Look at you, Marui. Look how pitiful you are. To think that you have degraded to this." The Colonel spat out the words. "They kinda fit you, actually. The chains, I mean. They add a sort of—what do you call it—mood to the entire situation, don't they?"

"Rot in hell, Kirihara."

"Show your superiors more respect. But I'm not here to dictate you on your lack of eloquence. I'm here to give word from the General. He says that you are a painful embarrassment to us all. Your punishment's gonna be tomorrow afternoon, right after they whip the living crap out of Jackal. Hmm…oh, and you can say goodbye to your title."

"Wait!" The voice was frightfully sharp, and with reason. "Tell him to give me another chance! It was that bumbling Jackal who messed up everything. He had the boy and he lost him to that pesky pilot! I was up at the ship the whole time!"

"Save it. It was your fault in the first place because you failed to eliminate Kikumaru's plane." The Colonel let out a bark like laugh. "Not a surprise, knowing your records. I don't even know why the General told me to pick you at all. He probably knew already that you guys were going to fail. You know, kill two birds with one stone?" There was some shuffling of feet as the Colonel turned to leave.

"No one asked for your opinion." Marui snapped bitterly.

"Hey, don't get all crabby with me. Everyone's entitled to his own opinions, right? And I think you suck. So deal with it." The voice faded and the rusty gate was shut again.

How boring, he thought as he slumped back against the cold, dank wall, fingers clawing at his copper bangs. All talk and no action. He couldn't even catch a glimpse of terror on Marui's face.

He squinted at a naked light bulb. Success was rewarded while failure was cruelly dealt with, was it? A harsh life he had chosen, but what use were regrets? What was needed now were plans. Plans for the future and plans to save his skin.

There was only one direction to go in this situation, and that was up. Move up the ranks, get in onto the plans, win the power to command and lose the life of a lowly soldier.

Become the General.

Now that was a thought.

He could still remember the first time he landed in this wretched pit, and the advice someone had given him.

'Strive for the top and knock down those in your way.'

His thoughts exactly.

Gekokujou

---

Ryoma was not impressed. He squinted at the bright morning rays from the window. It had been a week now since he moved in with Fuji and not one day had passed where he had any decent time to himself.

He breathed out a huff of frustration. Everywhere he went, Fuji was with him. Everything he did, Fuji was with him. He even dared to suggest following him to the washroom. It wasn't the attention that he found disturbing, it was too much of it that unnerved him.

Flashback

Enough was enough, Ryoma thought as he dashed downstairs. Fuji had just excused himself while he went to fetch more of his baby photo albums from the attic. He felt bad for ditching him especially when Fuji was so eager about the whole idea, but after going through nearly 20 albums that illustrated Fuji's life as a toddler, he had enough.

Ryoma slowed down. Was he overreacting? Maybe he was making this a bigger deal than it actually was. There wasn't a need to physically run from him.

He landed on the last step just as Fuji's curiously innocent voice floated out from his room. "Ryoma? Where are you? There are still 3 boxes of photos to go through before we can even consider my first year in elementary school…"

Nope, running was good.

He made a quick turn to his right and entered the living room. He looked at the TV and then at the remote. He could just pretend to be flipping through the channels when Fuji finds him and maybe, just maybe he would get the hint and leave him alone.

Hold on…wasn't he watching TV the other day and Fuji had sat down beside him? And something else happened…?

He shuddered.

"Ryoma?" Fuji's voice sounded oddly close.

Quickly now! His mind screamed and he doubled back to the hallway. He didn't want to step foot into the dojo and he certainly didn't want to cower (he scoffed at the word) in the bathroom. If he backtracked more he might bump into Fuji. The only other option left was…the kitchen.

Ryoma found himself stopping shortly at the doorway. The kitchen was clean, spacious and… foreign. Even in Maho, he hardly ever went to the cookhouse. Food was always given to him in a tray. He now looked at the sparkly sink and polished granite countertop. What could he possibly do to convince Fuji that he was busy? No dishes to wash, no decent non-spicy foods to eat, zero knowledge in preparing anything for himself…

"Ryoma, you're in the kitchen, aren't you?"

Screw planning and hide already!

Ryoma skidded to a stop in front of a kitchen cabinet and wrinkled his nose in disgust. There was no way in hell that he would— ah, forget it.

Ryoma closed the doors just in time as Fuji leisurely strolled into the kitchen. Wary green eyes peeked through the slit-like crack where the two doors of the cupboard met. Fuji wouldn't be stupid enough to check every nook and cranny, so all Ryoma had to do was to wait for Fuji to give up and leave, right?

He nearly cried out loud when Fuji took a seat on a highchair instead.

No, no, no!

Ryoma felt his heart beat faster. He was so cramped that his legs were starting to prick from a lack of blood flow. Damn, that wave of dizziness was back again from a number of sleepless nights. He tenderly pressed his fingers against his temple, careful not to make any noise.

Stupid Fuji-senpai.

If only he could have slipped into the dining room, if only Fuji wasn't so insistent at opening up to him, if only—

If only he didn't stay at Fuji's.

He risked another peek. Arg. He was still there, now twisted in his seat. Those crystal blue eyes boring right at him and lips smirking. Ryoma almost wanted to pound at something in frustration.

…wait a damn minute.

Ryoma blinked and pressed his face closer against the crack. He was positively certain that he made absolutely no clink, no bang, no nothing whatsoever that would give away his position. But how would that explain Fuji sliding off the chair, slowly making his way to the very spot where he was, all the while those secretive eyes staring through the false security of those wooden doors?

He jerked his head back, nearly colliding with the back of the cupboard. Th-this couldn't be happening. There was nothing here but boxes of pasta. They had only recently finished lunch, so why was Fuji in a sudden mood to cook again? Shit, he really did it this time, Ryoma thought as his mind scrambled for some solution that would get him out from this tight fix. Hiding in a small, enclosed space must be his most idiotic plan yet. Had he really successfully trapped himself with no possible routes for escape?

"Ryoma, I know you are in there."

Huh?!

"Is something the matter? Why aren't you coming out? Are you afraid of me? Did I do something wrong?"

Damn straight.

Ryoma watched with disbelief as Fuji sank in front of the cabinet and bowed his head, wisps of russet hair obscuring his face. "Oh, I know what's wrong. You must be angry at me." Were there sniffling sounds or was his head going haywire? "I'm such a bad host. I can't even make any guests feel welcome. I'm sorry that I'm so selfish. Here I am, getting so excited about the whole ordeal that I'm flipping through the pages without asking for your opinions! I'm just talking away without letting you a chance to stop me and admire my cuteness! I'm jumping from one album to another without letting you offer any insights at all! No wonder you don't want to be with me…"

Ryoma was speechless. Just what happened? How did—? Plan completely backfired! Must …stop… insane ramble…now!

"Don't worry, Ryoma." Fuji continued, his voice now charged with a renewed vigor. "I'll change. I'll do better, I promise. We'll spend a few minutes for you to make some pointers after every page and we can engage in a full detailed discussion at the end of every album! How does that sound, ne? We can start from the very beginning again, so you can add—"

Ryoma pushed hard at the doors, tumbled out and began to talk really fast. "Fuji-senpai! Stop! You did nothing wrong! You're not a bad host! I just happened to crawl in here for no particular reason, that is all!" Another deep breath. "What you were doing before with your narration was fine! Do you hear me? I don't hate you and I—"

"Why Ryoma, I knew you love me!" Fuji miraculously recovered from his bout of despair and exclaimed happily. He stood up quickly and began to pull Ryoma's arm towards the stairs. "Now let's get back to the photos. And maybe, we can squeeze in some shots of my little brother Yuuta before dinner!"

Why that… jerk!

End flashback

Ryoma sighed. After several more futile escape attempts, he had given up. Wherever he went, wherever he was, Fuji would always find him. And anyway, what was there to gain by following him? He was no thief. He did not desire any material goods or was he after money.

But Fuji was persistent. Why the close surveillance? Not because Fuji wanted to know him better. No, it was more like Fuji was trying to find what secrets he harbored, what made him tick…

What his weaknesses were.

He didn't like that. What was there to examine? For what reason was he on Earth? Was he a test subject of some sort? The buoyant feel in his heart suddenly dropped to a dead weight and a fear took hold that made it hard to breathe. That was it, wasn't it? That was why they were so worried about his health, why they took pains to befriend him, why Fuji accepted him into his household.

You have been deceived, his mind then laughed, a rough, haunting laugh. And just when you thought you had left everything behind you! They will use you, ridicule you and then discard you. Just like in Maho.

Ryoma curled underneath his blanket. It's true, he thought bitterly. No matter where he goes, it will always be the same. Even if he is on Earth, the planet of greatness and prosperity, things will not change. He will forever remain manipulated and unloved, unable to fulfill that one wish he yearned for most—

That is not true, said a tiny voice.

What?

That is not true, came that voice again, stronger this time. You are not unloved. There are people who are concerned for you, care for you. Think back, it pleaded, and remember those who reached out to you.

That's right. He realized after a moment's thought and the vice-like grip in his heart began to ease. They were so strange; they hardly knew him, yet they still came over once in a while. They brought gifts sometimes, but they mainly came to talk. And they talked of the most fascinating things. Of Earth, her people and the multitude of languages that anchor them to their rich cultures— everything he listened with an avid attention.

But that still doesn't explain why Fuji needed to keep such a close eye on him.

Fuji. Now he was the strangest of all. What exactly went on in that brain of his? And anyway, Fuji scared him. He always knew what was going on when Ryoma was concerned. Such as that time when he hid in the cabinet. Or the times when he woke up drenched in sweat from those horrid dreams in the middle of the night. He could sense them all: those had-been screams, those grotesquely twisted faces and bodies, the blood, the smell of decay…and when he shot up, eyes darting to and fro in a crazy frenzy, Fuji would be there, sitting in that little stool at the far corner with those piercing eyes, silently observing.

It was freaky.

He turned again on the soft bed, tucking his chin deeper in thought. Maybe that was only scratching the surface of this entire mystery. There was something odd that Ryoma had noticed since the very beginning, like the time he first woke up at the hospital. It didn't seem out of place at first, but the more he thought on it, the more convinced he became. Inui-senpai had charged in when not 5 minutes had passed since he regained consciousness. And considering the fact that Fuji made no calls to inform anyone that he was awake…well, it was enough to prick his curiosity.

Then, there was that time when the gang had shoved him into Fuji's care. It had started innocently enough, some comforting gestures here and a few awkward replies there, but that all soon escalated into a series of destructive and uncontrollable events that landed him where he was now.

Ryoma gave a small frown. There was definitely something fishy going on here and he wasn't going to be caught unaware again. He was tired of being left in the dark, and he was tired of being pushed around.

The games end tonight.

---

"…so cute, Syusuke."

"Isn't he, Neesan?"

They both continued to eye the young boy from the kitchen with amusement. It was an odd picture, to say the least, with Ryoma sitting so quietly at the dining table while everyone around him was making a whole racket of noise.

Maybe it was more correct to say that Eiji and Momo were making a whole racket of noise.

Fuji gave a little sigh as he turned to check on the lasagna again. He normally didn't have this many guests over for dinner, but he needed everyone to be present for the upcoming spectacle.

If it were to come at all…

He shook himself from that thought. What had happened to him? He was never this doubtful before. He wasn't getting soft, was he?

"I'm sorry that Yuuta couldn't make it to this dinner…" The other punctured through his thoughts in a soft tone.

"I'll pack some leftovers for you to bring to him. And anyway, I think it may be for the better. His mind is still unstable—"

"—all the more reason for you to delay this. What if your theory fails?"

Silence.

Fuji straightened and stared hard at Ryoma, who immediately caught the look and glared back. He closed his eyes again to give Ryoma a disarming smile before turning back to Yumiko.

"It will be my responsibility then, ne?"

She suddenly reached out and grasped his arm. "Syusuke, there's no need to push yourself like this. Another week won't make a difference. Won't you wait until you start work again? Ryoma isn't going anywhere—"

He gently but firmly pulled her hand away from him. "You don't know…" his expression became pained and his voice dropped. "The thoughts that run through his head…they are terrible. Like he is falling and has nothing to grasp onto." There was an awkward pause before Fuji busied himself with pulling the pan from the oven, his back to her.

"I failed twice, and I won't allow myself to do it again. I thought you would understand more than anyone… "

"Syusuke, it won't do you any good if you run yourself ragged. Mother and Father wouldn't—"

"—Neesan!" Fuji's voice was unnaturally sharp. "Ah…sorry. I—I just don't want to talk about them now. Painful memories are what we all try to avoid, ne?" Fuji offered an apologetic smile. "There's no reason to worry. I have stretched this game long enough, so it is best to end it soon. And what better way to wrap things up than to ensnare him further to those who need his gifts the most?"

without a chance to escape, forever entwined

Yumiko watched helplessly as her brother brushed past her to the dining room, balancing the pan of lasagna with practiced ease. "Just watch from the sidelines, won't you? You won't be disappointed."

---

It was only after everyone had eaten their full of that wonderful cheesecake that all sorts of conversations began to spring up. They were all light and cheerful, but Ryoma couldn't shake the feeling that there was something creeping underneath all the jokes and laughter, just waiting for the moment to surface.

Damn, he was so paranoid.

Not to mention frustrated as well. Didn't he promise himself that he would solve that shrouded puzzle? Dinner had already ended, yet he still remained as clueless as ever…

"Isn't that right, Echizen?"

"What was that, Momo-senpai?" Ryoma asked with a tinge of annoyance. He had been bothering him all dinner.

"How you were valiantly fighting for that last piece of chicken with your butter knife?"

Ryoma blushed brightly under Fuji's questioning gaze and quickly ducked his head. It was true. He had never tasted such a delicious assortment of food in his life. It wasn't to say that the meals he had with Fuji before weren't great, but maybe it was the cheer and presence of the whole crowd made the taste even better. "It was good," he mumbled.

"You see? Geez, Fuji-senpai, is there anything else you can do?" continued Momo. "Like, besides cooking, gardening—"

"—singing like a girl, freaking people out, waving sharp objects around—" interrupted Eiji with a wicked smile.

"—inability to gag from my beautiful vegetable juices—"

"—being annoying and an obtrusive pain in the ass," finished Atobe smugly from his corner, to which he earned everyone's glare.

"Um." Momo did a quick glace at Fuji whose smile was starting to waver and mentally cringed. "Ah… well. I wasn't exactly looking for those words." He took a quick moment to go over what he was about to say, while his head blared the words: danger, danger! "I meant, desirable abilities. Like… sword playing! Yeah!" He gave himself a mental pat and ignored the way Oishi was rolling his eyes. "Which reminds me, Fuji-senpai, remember those short swords you showed me the other day? I'm very interested."

Fuji visibly relaxed. "Ah, those. I recently got another one." He turned to his left and asked sweetly, "Ryoma-kun? Remember that wakizashi with the red hilt I pointed out to you yesterday? The one hanging in the display cabinet? Can you get it for me?"

"…sure." Ryoma pushed himself from the table and headed to the beautiful large wooden case located a little distance behind Fuji's seat into the cosy sitting room. Even from a simple glance, anyone would know that it was expensive and very much treasured. He himself had spent countless moments standing before it, admiring the dark rich wood and its fine finish. But that was not all that held his attention because the displays were beautiful too. The antique cabinet housed the most decorative and elegant weapons he had ever seen— daggers with gleaming blades and elaborately ornamented handles, exquisite swords of various sizes with graceful curves. At first, he didn't approve on how the weapons were placed, having been pulled out of their scabbards and delicately resting on stands fastened to the back cabinet wall. It was dangerous if they were ever to fall. But he couldn't deny that he liked the way the light danced and bounced off from those sharp and highly polished metallic thins.

The curiously sheathed wakizashi was located on the topmost rack surrounded by several of those ­jagged-edged knives. Ryoma grabbed a nearby stool and noted with dismay that he could only just reach it if he stretched.

Curse his damn height.

If only he were a little bit taller, he grumbled while he tugged at the little metal knobs to open the glass doors—

=Bang!=

Waa! The displays rattled on their stands and he hastily raised his hands in defense. Ryoma made a careful check at the cheery crowd behind him once everything stilled and let out a breath of relief. Ah, that was close! He didn't know the doors needed so much force to yank them open. He turned back to the short sword. As difficult as it may seem, he just had to be careful. His hand gingerly reached over and he lifted his head, eyes squinting at the target. Come on, just a little bit more—

Gently, gently, that's it…

Fingers curled around the smooth cool scabbard. All that was left now was to dislodge it from the two little hooks that prevented the sword from slipping off the rack. He held onto a shelf to steady himself and raised on his tippy-toes—

=Screeeeech!=

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop! His mind screamed. What was that? And that creaking and cracking noise? Instinct kicked in and he instantly stumbled back, tripping on the stool and falling onto his back. He looked up. Was it just him or was the cabinet lurching forward?

His pupils dilated in fear and his mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Oh God, with the way the entire display case tilting towards him, the whole shelf of swords and daggers were jostled out of their racks and were falling…blade first.

Body froze, mind blanked and time slowed. Those jagged daggers came closer, razor-sharp and flashing under the light.

-Iamgoingtodienothingthatcanstopthemtoolateforanyonetopullmeaway-

Ryoma could only shut his eyes to what was inevitable.

-
-

-
-

-
-

And what do you think you're doing?

It was that voice in his head again, that same voice that had wrapped him in warmth when he was down, that gave him comfort when he was lost, now sparked with anger and agitation.

Are you simply going to end your existence when you have yet to accomplish anything? Here is your opportunity to start anew, on another planet, where you can leave and forget that dwelling of hurt and pains, but you are just tossing it away!

Stop it, he wanted to snap back, there is nothing that can be done. Even a mere fool would understand the situation. But the voice was relentless.

Weren't you the one who promised yourself that you'll reach the bottom of this swampy mystery? Where is that will now? The will to live? Has it vanished? Was that all just talk then?

The voice sounded desperate. As if it was running out of opinions and time. As if it belonged to an actual being instead of just a piece of his sub-consciousness.

This is not the way how things are done! Giving up when the going gets tough! We fall and we stand again! No—no wonder you are weak, you spineless sniveling coward! No wonder you were such a pushover to those children! You are nothing but an incompetent and careless dimwit who allows all sorts of people to take advantage of you! And that was why you were never chosen by any of those hopeful parents in the orphanage, that was why you deserved to be mocked and scor—

Shut up! I'll live, dammit! He was furious now. How dare this invisible entity accused him of being weak when he was the one who had suffered in that hellhole of an orphanage! How dare it called him a coward when he was the one who bravely endured those long tormenting days of humiliation and agony from the company of those stupid children! And how dare it claimed that he was a dallying and ignorant fool when he was powerless to what his fates are!

And at that, Ryoma suddenly felt an unexplainable warmth that spread like wildfire from his chest outward; a force that soon threatened to burst out, like water in an overflowing dam. But when he let go, that force didn't recede. It came and came, like torrents, filling him with a sense of awareness. Awareness for movement and awareness for immobility.

He snapped opened his eyes to see the scene frozen like it would in a snapshot. So this was how last moments were, he mused, where dread and terror lagged, long and timeless. The heavy cabinet hovered ever dangerously close, looming over like the death it promised. And merely a few inches from his face were the daggers, coordinated like a fleet of jets, spinning along their lengths as they remained suspended in midair…

Spinning—?

Something jammed roughly into him and the both of them crashed into the adjacent wall. Ryoma twisted in his savior's hold, eyes refusing to leave the sight before him, despite the fear that threatened to eat him alive.

And then, as if time was running once more, everything fell. He looked on with horror at how the cabinet wood splintered into a thousand pieces, at how the shattered crystal glass fragments scattered themselves onto the ground and at how the daggers embedded themselves deeply into the varnished hardwood floor.

… holy shit

Ryoma slumped weakly against a warm chest. He was shivering so badly that he didn't even notice how tightly he was being held, or how Fuji had buried his face into his hair.

All the occupants had gathered round, silent and stunned. Clear disbelief etched on their faces.

"Ochibi," Eiji whispered, "you're a psychokinetic?"

-----to be continued

A/N: went on a break (that lasted way too long), had a serious writer's block. (this was one hard chapter to write!) and muses demanding for near perfection (damn you, everyone, for spurring them on!) Now that I look back, I don't like this chapter. I think it's because my writing's starting to change (frowns). But for those of you who endured, that long, ridiculous (and hopefully funny) FujiRyo moment was for you! (heart!) Hope you guys enjoyed that part. Uh, the OishiKiku moments will come…soon. And another thing, according to my friends, I swear…a lot (though I don't agree). So don't be disturbed if some of it begins to appear. And if I have offended some of you, deeply sorry. Oh, and sorry also to everyone for that long wait! But let truth be told (however bad), when school rolls around, the wait will be much, much worse…

 On to Chapter 6!!