Yagyuu Hiroshi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
usedlaserbeam) wrote2011-07-29 01:21 pm
usedlaserbeam) wrote2011-07-29 01:21 pm
Entry tags:
- always glorious always victorious,
- denial: not just a river in egypt,
- i am fifteen and what is this,
- mad pokemon breeding science,
- my pokeymans let me show you them,
- no tennis no life,
- purple = do not want,
- somehow this is all niou's fault,
- the gentleman is not amused,
- the perils of dramatic irony,
- their love is so molecular,
- ▶ goldenrod city
004 | Goldenrod City | Video / Action;
[Well, Johto, in a slight change of pace, this video is not coming to you today courtesy of PhantomCam™; in truth, it's actually sort of more like Lady's-Paw-Landed-On-The-Record-ButtonCam™, and the accidental nature of the recording shows. The vast majority of the shot shows a tilted, haphazard view of a bedroom (a very neat bedroom, an observant viewer might note), and only a small sliver actually manages to catch Yagyuu, who appears to have set his backpack down on the bed and is methodically extracting the contents.
(Every so often, this view ends up marred by what seems to be a tuft of tawny brown fur, or the occasional pink tail feather.)
Yagyuu, however, seems reasonably oblivious to being recorded, his attention fixed on the series of items he's removing from his backpack, one by one: a notebook and pen, a novel with a slightly dog-eared cover, a roll of grip tape, a tennis racket that he places aside with the utmost of care. With an Eevee and what eventually reveals itself as a Pidgeotto bustling around on the bed, he's clearly not taking any chances that it might get damaged.
This patient, deliberate ritual of unpacking goes on in silence for a minute or two, Yagyuu still apparently ignorant to the fact that he's on candid camera, when at last something shifts: he reaches into the bag and his expression abruptly turns to one of surprise and mild disgust. And when he yanks his hand back out of it, a sticky mass of purple goop (which is now partially encasing his hand) comes with it.
Eyes narrowed, he gives his hand a rather adamant shake, but the goo doesn't dislodge; on the contrary, it spreads a little wider and smiles at him.
A harder shake. It remains unfazed.
And then at last, with a long-suffering sigh, Yagyuu turns away from the camera and stalks out of sight, footsteps firm against the carpet as he apparently makes his way toward the room's door.]
Niou-kun...
[The door closes (it's not quite a slam, but it is perhaps a little more firm than was really necessary) and the Pokemon on the bed begin to shuffle around, and somewhere in the commotion another paw hits the Gear and the feed ends.]
(Every so often, this view ends up marred by what seems to be a tuft of tawny brown fur, or the occasional pink tail feather.)
Yagyuu, however, seems reasonably oblivious to being recorded, his attention fixed on the series of items he's removing from his backpack, one by one: a notebook and pen, a novel with a slightly dog-eared cover, a roll of grip tape, a tennis racket that he places aside with the utmost of care. With an Eevee and what eventually reveals itself as a Pidgeotto bustling around on the bed, he's clearly not taking any chances that it might get damaged.
This patient, deliberate ritual of unpacking goes on in silence for a minute or two, Yagyuu still apparently ignorant to the fact that he's on candid camera, when at last something shifts: he reaches into the bag and his expression abruptly turns to one of surprise and mild disgust. And when he yanks his hand back out of it, a sticky mass of purple goop (which is now partially encasing his hand) comes with it.
Eyes narrowed, he gives his hand a rather adamant shake, but the goo doesn't dislodge; on the contrary, it spreads a little wider and smiles at him.
A harder shake. It remains unfazed.
And then at last, with a long-suffering sigh, Yagyuu turns away from the camera and stalks out of sight, footsteps firm against the carpet as he apparently makes his way toward the room's door.]
Niou-kun...
[The door closes (it's not quite a slam, but it is perhaps a little more firm than was really necessary) and the Pokemon on the bed begin to shuffle around, and somewhere in the commotion another paw hits the Gear and the feed ends.]
action.
[And without actually hurting what he assumes is Niou's Ditto, but he's not mentioning that part.]
action.
action.
Or I could take it outside and scrape it off, which is what I intend to do.
action.
Should I go get a high-powered jet hose?
action.
action.
action.
I'm already being assaulted by one Pokemon. You want to subject me to another?
action.
If there is any good in this world, shouldn't the two evils cancel each other out?
action.
He shakes his head, flicking his wrist experimentally one more time.]
On the contrary, I believe they're far more likely to stack.
action.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Don't make me break out the cheesy, motivational idioms.
action.
And Yagyuu is just. Staring.]
...I hope that doesn't imply its obedience is commanded by cheesy motivational idioms.
action.
It takes all kinds! If hair-iron monopolizing ghosts exist, a sap of a ditto can't be too far of a stretch.
action.
Ah, good, it's taking to you instead. Return it to Niou-kun the next time you see him, won't you?
action.
I would, if the prospect of giving Niou two dittos was in any way appealing to me.
action.
Two-- [A pause.] ...It's not his?
action.
then, a quirk of an eyebrow.]
Your first clue should've been that you didn't end up becoming Yagyuu Scissorhands, really.
action.
For Yagyuu's part, now that he's really looking--and not afflicted with purple goo all over his hand--the slight differences are beginning to show. Niou's Ditto is infuriating, yes, but this one has an odd sort of enthusiasm to it, a variety that's somehow subtly different from that of his partner's.]
And that's how you could tell?
action.
seemingly preoccupied with his thoughts, his reply is absent--]
Think of it this way. If this was a ditto raised and taught by a certain Niou Masaharu, would a sticky hand really be your only complaint?
action.
Yagyuu, meanwhile, is finding himself quietly biting back a "Yes" in answer to Fuji's question--because really, if it were Niou's Ditto, that's all it would take and Niou would know that. If the point were a trick, he'd know exactly how far to push.
And if the point were a trick...well, he'd be here to see it, wouldn't he?]
Ah. So your reasoning is intuitive, not factual.
action.
he opens his mouth. closes it, and refocuses on the ditto with something like surprise. in hindsight, he should've realized that it would've been so forward, really. within a span of half a second, he feels the uncomfortable sensation of something shotting up his shorts, and. well.
an uncomfortable pause.]
No, now it's factual.
action.
...He's not going in after it. No, sir.]
Undoubtedly.
[He clears his throat.]
I'll-- [FLEE TO THE NEAREST SAFE HAVEN] --ah, step out and let you...
[...Yeah.]
action.
pleasantly.]
Leaving so soon? I don't think we [a pause, here, grimace, it's moving] are quite finished here.
action.
In retrospect, it's something he'll find intriguing and appreciate in Fuji. At the moment, he's working on studiously avoiding certain death.]
Do you really want an audience while you attempt to get rid of it?
action.
[0% to do with the prospect of your hands down his pants, and 100% to do with the fact that the last thing he wants right now is your ditto down his pants while you're behind a door somewhere giggling in the spirit of Schadenfreude.]
action.
(For what it's worth, his hands wouldn't be going near it for anyone at the moment, even his own teammates. There are limits.)
Which means the only way to get out of this is by finding another way of getting that Ditto out of Fuji's pants, one without the necessity of hands-on interaction.]
Perhaps your high-powered hose will come in handy, after all. Drowning it out might suffice.
action.
action.