An independent RP blog for Kazama Chikage of Hakuouki. There will likely be much crack on this blog. Feel free to interact with him, but do be warned that he isn't exactly nice. (So please don't take anything he says personally!)
Working on coming out of hiatus (but it will probably be kind of slow, so please bear with me ;w; thank you to those who stayed even after so long!! <333)
Somewhere in his still reeling mind Ibuki registered that he was being pulled along the corridor (away from his painting), with Kazama prattling on along the way. Ryu was too busy wondering how he managed to not set the student council president into a rage of insult laced lectures and hand-out detention slips to actually pay attention to what the other was saying.
It wasn’t until a soda was handed to him that Ibuki took in his surroundings.
[“Kondou-sensei wants to have a school dance,”]
Right… he heard something about that earlier this week, hadn’t he? Probably from Okita no doubt. The boy listened on as the other explained further, stopping every now and then to add emphasis or… to intimidate him? At least it seemed that way. While the crimson stare wasn’t hostile, it was still one that made Ibuki want to shy away. Not that he had been to any business deals before, but he would imagine it would feel something like this.
[“I’m in charge of the decorations. To be quite honest, I lack all but the most basic artistic ability, so I wouldn’t be able to assist any students working under my direction in that way. I need help; a second in command, if you will.”]
The confession caught him off guard, if anything. Kazama obviously had great leadership skills, but Ryu wondered what other talents he had beyond that. (Wooing ladies didn’t exactly seem to be one of them either.. From what he saw, Kazama’s tactfulness women rivaled that of Nagakura-sensei’s.)
[“I’d like you to do that.”]
”..Eh??” Ibuki blinked. Him? Really? He thought everything the elder had said over in his head, mulling around the idea of taking on such a project. Being asked personally to take charge (or at least partial charge) of such an important task… He stayed uncharacteristically quiet while red eyes scanned him again. Finally he spoke up;
"Why don’t you just use what’s in the budget to buy the decorations?" he asked as if it were the most obvious thing Kazama hadn’t thought of. He took a swig of the soda while awaiting a response.
[“Why don’t you just use what’s in the budget to buy the decorations?”]
Kazama waved a hand as if the idea were a particularly annoying insect. “The budget is small enough as it is, but it’s being split between decorations and food. Naturally, school health requirements apply even to food for special events, which makes it a bit more pricy. Even if some of the students and teachers brought in dishes they’d made themselves, Kondou-sensei wants to reimburse them for a percentage of the ingredient costs. What’s left over is enough to either pay back the art department for a portion of the supplies, or cover half of the gym in mediocre decorations. It’s been agreed that the former is a better use of the funds.”
Kazama leaned back in his seat, folding his hands into his lap, still observing the other. While he was personally quite fond of Ibuki, he was quite sure that that fondness wasn’t mutual, and it was no surprise to him that he’d tried to talk his way out of working with him. He began again, “In addition to that, I’m sure Kondou-sensei made the decision to go through with the dance, despite the low budget, in an effort to strengthen inter-class relations and to build student pride and confidence. I don’t particularly wish to disappoint him.”
He had a respect for Kondou-sensei, but beyond that was the looming threat of Oikta making his school life a living hell if this dance failed and it were his fault. That was a nuisance which the blond could do without, thank you very much. He allowed some of that worry to leak onto his features. “What do you say? Will you help me?”
The second hand ticked far too slowly on the clock above the classroom door. Did the teacher really have to milk every last moment out of a class ending in two minutes? Apparently so. Heaving a sigh, the teen glanced across the room and out the window, not bothering to listen to this week’s assignments and letting his mind wonder.
A few days ago, (at the start of the week) Ibuki finally submitted his first piece to the school’s art board. After the consistent nagging of his few friends and upperclassmen who happened to steal glances inside his sketchbook, Ryunosuke gave into the positive peer-pressure. He spent hours on the piece he brought to the board and at the time, he was satisfied- proud even. But every time Ibuki walked past the case, his eyes couldn’t help but pick out one more mistake he didn’t catch before.
'Those colors aren't blended as much as they should be…'
'That line should have been a bit thicker..'
'Maybe this could have used more blue..?'
The mental checklist ran on and grew with every passing by the board. While it did pester the boy’s thoughts, it also spurred him on to practice more and more, improving all the while.
'Next time, I'll submit something even better.' he thought decidedly as the bell finally rang throughout the school. Quickly cramming his books into his bag, Ibuki joined the few students flocking too the door, eager to have a few minutes of socialization in the halls before next class. He darted down the hall to take one more look at his painting to take a few more mental notes. Next period was free, so if he hurried, he could probably use one of the art rooms to start the base colors for another landscape piec—
Wrapped up in his thoughts, Ryunosuke walked headlong into another person making their down the hall. The impact only bumped him back a step, but with a few blinks his loud mouth was open again before he even looked up. ”What where you’re goin—… oh.” Oh wasn’t the best choice of words, but what else do you say to the student council president after you just walk into him and start mouthing off? Ibuki Ryunosuke had never been particularly spectacular with words.
Normally, Kazama would have scolded whoever it was that had knocked into him, but as luck would have it…
[“What where you’re goin—… oh.”]
His previous smile hadn’t yet left, and almost brightened at his good fortune. “Ibuki-kun, just who I was looking for.” He slung an arm around the younger student, leading him back towards the student council room and ignoring the previous attitude and the fact the poor boy looked like he thought his mouth had just gotten him into trouble again. “I have a matter I must discuss with you. It’s of utmost importance and I’m afraid it can’t wait, so I’ll write a note to excuse you from your next class. Kondo-sensei has already approved,” —which wasn’t quite true, but he had told Chikage to handle it, “—so there shouldn’t be any problem.”
They reached the room in record time, despite having to dodge around every other student in the hallway, and Kazama gestured for Ibuki to pick one of the other chairs while he took out two bottles of soda Shiranui kept in the fridge under the desk. If he was going to drag the boy away from class and into his domain to enter into a project with him, he saw no reason not to at least be a good host to the boy.
And dammit, Shiranui had enough energy as it was without that extra sugar.
May as well cut to the chase before the kid has an aneurism. “Kondou-sensei wants to have a school dance,” he started, sitting down and handing one of the bottles to Ibuki, “but there isn’t enough room in the budget to hire someone for it, so he’s put the student council in charge of organizing the event and gathering students and faculty to help with different aspects of the event.” He paused a moment, ruby eyes scanning his face carefully to see if he could guess where this was going yet, then locking gazes. “I’m in charge of the decorations. To be quite honest, I lack all but the most basic artistic ability, so I wouldn’t be able to assist any students working under my direction in that way. I need help; a second in command, if you will.”
Another slight pause, taking the small seconds it took to take a sip of his own soda to observe his companion. Then he looked him in the eye again, pleasant smile gone for the moment and a serious expression in its place. “I’d like you to do that.”
I’m making an attempt at coming off of hiatus! I really missed RPing with everyone these last few months… god it’s been like a year and a half since I did anything serious… TT.TT
It’ll be slow going while I try to get used to writing and Kazama again, but I’ll be really grateful if you’d be patient with me. I… honestly don’t remember where a lot of the threads in my drafts here were going, so to be fair I’ll be deleting all of them. Following that, if anyone wants to jump in or start something with me, feel free to shoot me a message! (Though, after Wednesday I’ll be kind of busy for the next week and a half or so, because of the Con at the end of the week and a wedding I’m going to on Saturday, as well as my best friend coming home from Canada for a little over a week, which intend to take full advantage of! After that, hopefully things should pick up on here! ^.^)
Kazama walked the halls of the Academy, lost in contemplation. Earlier Kondo-sensei had visited the student council room and conveyed them the task of coming up with students to help with the upcoming school dance. The catch was that because of budget restrictions, no professional companies could be hired for the event and so everything was to be provided by the students and faculty, with some limited help from parents permissible.
As president of the student council, one of the things the blond was best at was delegating, but he had also learned long ago that if he wasn’t careful to whom certain tasks were delegated, it would come back to bite him in the ass sooner rather than later. Because of this, he quickly assigned the position of Head of the School Dance Food Committee to Amagiri— because one of the few thoughts more terrifying than Shiranui in a kitchen was Shiranui in charge of a kitchen —and volunteered to head the decorating himself. That left the violet-eyed member of their group in charge of organizing the music, and with a stern warning that if more than three explicit songs “slipped by” him into the playlist there would be consequences.
This left Chikage in a bit of a pickle. While he considered himself to have nothing less than the finest taste in everything that was or could be, he himself had a very… limited… personal artistic talent. Which meant he would have to find someone better at it than himself to work beside him, and to assist any of the other students involved in the decorating with any projects he could not. While he’d considered checking the grade books for the art classes, the projects assigned had relatively limited parameters, and his purposes demanded one who could think for themself. Thus, he headed for the school art board dedicated not to class-assigned works but to those that students did in their own free time and submitted if they felt like it. The contents of the board switched out every three weeks or so, discounting exam weeks and holidays, and could contain up to forty standard-size pieces at a time though usually hovered somewhere between twenty an thirty.
Today, one piece to the left of the board caught Kazama’s eye. Outwardly, it was nothing spectacular— a typical landscape work of a countryside that could be any rural area in Japan. Upon closer inspection, however, the details became apparent, as did the way the artist had used a number of blended colors to give the appearance of more singular colors from farther away. Not bad at all, he mused, scanning the paper for something else now: the required signature each artist was obligated by policy to put on their work if they wanted to submit it to be on the board.
Ibuki Ryunosuke was printed somewhat sloppily in one corner, and the blond immediately felt his lips quirk up. He’d encountered Serizawa-sensei’s adopted son a number of times; the boy had a mouth that he didn’t always know when to keep shut, and an attitude roughly the size of Kazama’s own ego, yet there was something about the younger boy that was endearing to him. Yes, Kazama thought, heading for the first year classrooms, he’ll do very nicely indeed.
Aaannd, now it’s a three-bee.
Kazama neither needs nor wants to watch this so he’s gonna scuttle off for a bit
and plan a certain dog’s death