crack_van | Yami no Matsuei/Bronze (NC-17)

Title: Anesthesia by Falstaff
Pairing: Muraki/Hirose, Muraki/Oriya
Author on LJ:

greekhoop
Author Website: Fanfiction.net
Why this must be read: Anesthesia picks up on similarities between YnM's Muraki and Bronze's Nanjo Hirose - two bespectacled blond antiheroes with serious brother issues - and runs with them. The premise sees Muraki treating Nanjo Koji in hospital after his car accident; thereafter, the story interweaves on the fringes of both series as Muraki and Hirose tip toe warily around a would-be relationship too dangerous to flourish in either world. Muraki recognises Hirose as kindred - a problematic concept for both men. Muraki has been searching for something special, someone useful - but Hirose is no-one's puppet. Written in a deliberately noir-ish style steeped in similes, the story is told in alternating first person POV and evokes the darkness of both series.

"All I really have is a name. Nanjo. Perhaps you've heard it before...?"

"Nanjo?" He glances up, hair making spider webs around his face. "I didn't know you had an interest in pop music, Muraki."

I know he's making fun of me, but he makes it difficult to warn him against it. Any humor he has is dry to the point of desiccation. "Actually, it is his older brother who has captured my interest."

"Akihito, you mean?" But then his lips pull into a hard little smile. I know that look. I've seen him close a trap on unsuspecting prey enough times. "Or... could it be Hirose?"

"I don't like that look, Oriya. Do you know something about him?"

"We've corresponded briefly."

He's always a step ahead of me. Without even trying, he's always right where I need to be. It's what makes me adore him, and it's what makes me, deep down in the reptile part of my brain, fear him a little.

It's what makes me want to hate him.

"Do elaborate," I say to him.

"It was nothing, really. His brother caused a disturbance in my restaurant and Hirose interceded on his behalf to see that it did not become public."

"How much did he pay you?"

Oriya only lifts one arm languidly, letting the soft light tangle in the silken folds of his haori. Dark blue, rich with violet embroidery. It's a color I've never seen on him before, and it smells like money. My knowledge of antiques is humble, but even I can feel the wealth drifting off it.

I have heard that it takes years to dye that shade of indigo.

"Do you like it?" Oriya says, as though that explains everything. He tilts his chin back a little. "You ought to stay away from that man."

"Don’t worry, I'll see that any extravagant gifts are passed on to you."

"That's not what I'm talking about." He moves suddenly, setting his hand over mine. "Nanjo Hirose is dangerous. Even he doesn't even know how dangerous he can be, but you don't want to be the one to make him find out his potential."

"Your concern for me is touching." I tug at my trapped hand, but there's no graceful way of working it free. "What makes you think I would do such a thing?"

"You are who you are."

This time, I do shake him off; I'm not looking at his face, but I can imagine the way his mouth must twist. "Such an unusual man. His hair is silver, you know. Stark white, as though it's never been anything else."

"He must dye it."

"He does nothing of the sort." And I'm curious to see how Oriya will react when I smile and say casually, "I checked."

Anesthesia 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, epilogue