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nightwalker6200 · 1 month

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Okay but what if in the realization panel of Hirano to Kagiura- Kagiura does something stupid and gets his ass beat or something, and Hirano, supposedly good in a fight, comes to his rescue. Or Kagi gets threaten/ punched while Hirano is around and Hirano tackles/ fights the guy. After Kagi and him argue because they are both mad… and it comes to this conclusion after they yell at each other either in public or in the dorm or something:

(Yelling words… etc)

Kagiura, tell arguing: you could have gotten seriously hurt! Why the hell would you do that!?!?!

Hirano, angry and also yelling (the argument keeps getting heated): I didn’t you dumbass! Besides you would’ve gotten your ass beat if I hadn’t stepped in!!!

Kagiura: God you’re so stupid! The fight was my fault! Why didn’t you let me take care of it! Why did you tackle the guy!!! Huh!? You got in trouble-

Hirano: Because I love you, you stupid brat!

Kagiura: You always fix things and now you got in trouble with the headmaster and wait… what?

Hirano crossing his arms or not realizing what he said and continues lecturing.

Kagiura, normal voice: What did you just say, Hirano!

(Miyano or Sasaki or Hanzawa or Ogasawara if there: He said he loves you, you stupid brat… aw)

…….

Honestly though I think Hirano will figure out his feelings either when he gets sick after the entrance exams like Sasaki (Sasaki mentioned he won’t recover as fast as Hirano in v6? I think) and Kagiura takes care of him. Or when Hirano moves out… or a personal favourite, Kagi gets hurt somehow like a fight on the basketball court or something, and Hirano to the rescue… as we see in the manga, anime and books, Hirano loves taking care of people, he’s very affectionate in this way (giving Kagiuras little cousins a bath and drying them off and helping them get ready for bed even though, according to Kagi, they were old enough to do it on their own (an ironic statement), Hirano taking time to eat with Kagiura when he was sick, holding his hand when his was in the infirmary, listening to Kagi when he’s upset and hearing him out, helping with his homework, eating the foods the younger dislikes, waking him up every day, etc…) - I think this is his love language (Kagi is starting to figure out that Hirano likes taking care of people, which annoys Kagi in a sense that he wants to be able to take care of Hirano too - not just a one side gives and the other takes which is something Hirano has no problem with but the younger does. Kagi is right in wanting Hirano to see him as a equal because Hirano, by giving him all this attention, is still only seeing him as his kouhai, someone younger than him that he’s supposed to look out for and take care of (the sibling and mentor thing- also in a way a parent cares for a child; so this is why I’m betting on the sick scene where Hirano gets a fever and stuff after his exams and Kagi forces him to rest and eats with him, etc. will be where it clicks for Hirano)). The oldest love language is caretaking whereas Kagiura likes touch and closeness (and receiving words of affirmation), so either Hirano will figure out that he’s been taking care of Kagi, in the same way couples do, because he likes the younger - he realizes he’s grown affectionate or attached to the younger in some way (hasn’t figured out in what way yet but he is starting to), or when Hirano receives the same care and affection that he gives to others/ Kagiura - basically Kagiura doing something for or taking care of Hirano… thoughts?

I also like the idea (which I hope we see in full) of Hirano getting jealous (nevermind the fact that I want proof that Hirano is good in a fight, not just word of mouth)- like Kagi starts hanging out more with others or something. We’ve seen Hirano upset when Kagi doesn’t rely on him much and starts ignoring the older - AND, we’ve seen Hirano discussing how he admires and loves the focus and determination and energy (basically enjoyment and love) Kagiura puts towards basketball, and how he wishes that Kagiura would focuse like that on him. He wants Kagiuras attention and is “slightly” jealous over Kagis attention towards basketball. He wants Kagi to show him the same movtivation and admiration he has for basketball to him (vol 1). Hirano also enjoys and loves to watch how happy and focused Kagiura is towards basketball. He goes to the games and brings him snacks and drinks for after (taking care of him again). He enjoys watching others be happy and wants someone to look at him with that same emotion/ happiness…. Ironically he has yet to compare the joy Kagi feels towards basketball and towards Hirano - if he did, I’m sure he’d realize or begin to realize that it’s the same emotion. I also think that Sasaki and Miyano figuring out their own feelings while Hirano to Kagiura is just “starting” is helping Hirano analyze is own.

Sorry for the long ass rant but I’m also waiting for the 10+ second thing where Kagiura (maybe after a bad day or something) starts to pull away after 10 seconds and Hirano is like, “what are you doing?”

Kagiura “it’s been 10 seconds…”

Hirano after a few seconds of quietness and a frustrated look on his face, pulls the younger back to whatever position they were doing, “it’s fine, I’ll give you a pass tonight…”

So yeah.

#incorrect quotes #anime #manga #hirano #hirano and kagiura #hirano taiga #hirano to kagiura #kagihira #kagiura akira #ogasawara jirou #hanzawa masato #hanzawa to tashiro #sasaki and miyano #sasaki shuumei #sasaki #miyano yoshikazu #sasaki to miyano #hirakagi #sasamiya

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sunnnfish · 11 months

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Thinks about how hanzawa masato is actually very easily flustered. Like. He can talk about romance and give advice all day but the moment he actually sees two people in love it’s over for him. He sees people hold hands and is like YOU DO THAT IN PUBLIC ??? He’s so. Private. And so weird. That he can’t fathom public displays of affection. Or any displays of affection.

^ch 42.5

Chewing through my arm. “I might have just seen something that shocked me more than anything else in my entire school career.” It’s sasaki brushing Miyano’s hair away from his eyes with the fondest expression. What do you MEEEAAANNN hanzawa masato. Anyways. Don’t have the capacity to extrapolate anything else from this. Peace and love on planet earth.

#interacting with thoughts of aranarumei post about tashiro falling on him and pushing his bangs away from his eyes etc etc #haaaahhh…#hanzawa masato #sasaki to miyano #hanzawa to tashiro #sunnfish.hzsr #sunnfish.txt

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plumjam0215 · 9 months

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kagi gave him the jacket .

#sasaki to miyano #hirano to kagiura #hirano taiga #kagiura akira #hanzawa to tashiro

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aranarumei · 4 months

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bonus hanzawa to tashiro (ft. the anomalous agate)

have you read the anomalous agate? yes? if so, this is the bonus I was talking about—if not, as long as you know what I mean by hanzawa to tashiro, this should still make sense. if you were introduced to hanzawa and tashiro as characters through the anomalous agate and that alone, consider reading this post where I explain little but talk a lot.

this bonus scene takes place between the two scenes in ch 4 of the anomalous agate. specifically, it takes place around two weeks after the first scene in ch 4 / a week before the last scene in ch 4, during tashiro's cultural festival as a third-year.

and since this exists within the context of the anomalous agate, which is written first-person and trying to emulate seigi's pov, this bonus is written in tashiro's pov, and attempts to blend my style with tashiro's first-person narration in love & passion.

ok I think I've spent enough time talking. fun stuff is below the cut!

bonus: hanzawa to tashiro, ft. the anomalous agate

Tashiro Gonzaburou, third-year. At the moment, I was experiencing a horrible case of déjà vu.

Two years ago, I’d lost so badly at a ping pong match that I’d stumbled my way into being the captain of the ping pong club. And as much as I liked the club, and had even gotten pretty good at ping pong, I was still pretty annoyed about having been tricked into joining.

Though the former captain of the ping pong club who’d tricked me then wasn’t the former captain in front of me now, I couldn’t help but feel the way I had then—cornered.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact reason. Maybe it was the black and red sailor uniform I was wearing. But Kuresawa had worn it just fine the year before, so even though I hadn’t shaved my leg hair, I couldn’t have looked too bad. I’d also worn this specific outfit quite a few times—we’d needed to adjust the fit, and I’d needed to practice my lines. Maybe it was the makeup I was getting done. But I’d tried some of that before, too. Getting blush dusted on my cheeks had gone almost exactly as the same as it had last time.

Almost, except for one thing: it was way too quiet. The guy sitting in front of me, Hanzawa Masato, was probably used to that kind of thing. In fact, he was the type to take a normal silence, extend it until I felt awkward, and then mercilessly tease me whenever I blurted out something to fill the space.

“Weird to see you with earrings on,” I said. …And here I was, falling for it again.

Hanzawa-senpai didn’t seem fazed at all by what I’d just said, but he was an annoying guy who looked the same whether he was angry or not. “You’ve seen me wear them before, though?”

“Not in school,” I pointed out. Hanzawa-senpai had been a terrible sadist of a president, but he was squeaky-clean about the way he did it. Even now, with his earrings clearly visible, he was the perfect picture of a model student working in quiet concentration.

Hanzawa-senpai hummed in thought, his hands rummaging through the bag of makeup products he’d left on a nearby desk. “Well, I’m not a student anymore,” he said with a shrug. “Even so, aren’t they fairly hidden?”

As if—they were small, and a plain steel color, but it was Hanzawa-senpai. Of course I couldn’t stop staring.

“Trying to hide your delinquent ways?” I asked, not expecting a serious answer. Hanzawa-senpai’s secrets probably had secrets. He’d passed over his title of captain to me, so I knew his caginess wasn’t completely because I was unreliable, but it still bothered me.

“If you’re looking for a delinquent, look in the mirror,” Hanzawa-senpai teased, and then produced some kind of torture contraption from his bag. “Now don’t move, okay?”

I yelped and threw my hands up in self-defense. “You can’t put that thing near my face!”

Hanzawa-senpai just laughed at me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. Sadist!

“It’s just an eyelash curler, Tashiro-kun,” he drawled. “Calm down, would you?”

I shook my head furiously. “No way,” I said, ready to fight for my life. When we’d gone over the basics, this guy hadn’t mentioned this step—I’d bet anything it was purposeful! “How can—”

A warm hand curled around my wrists, and I froze. Hanzawa-senpai pulled my hands away from my face, pressing in close, and made an order: “Sit still, would you?”

I’d barely listened when he was captain of the ping pong club, but something about his voice held me in place. I’d never really thought about it before, but Hanzawa-senpai had one of those storybook-narrator voices—the kind that made even simple things sound weirdly compelling. And then he had to go be one of the most eloquent people I’d met, too.

So, my eyes, which I thought would never hold still, obediently refrained from twitching as Hanzawa-senpai slowly curled my lashes.

The process was less painful than I thought, but it was still freaky—my vision was half metal, and so even though I knew that Hanzawa-senpai was right in front of me, the only real cue for that was the way he kept murmuring instructions into my ears. Once he’d curled my eyelashes, he carefully applied mascara, and then leaned back to survey his work.

I could finally breathe again. My eyes felt… different?

“Blink a few times,” Hanzawa-senpai suggested.

After taking his advice, I got a bit more used to the feeling. “Huh.”

“Eyeshadow next.” After that announcement, Hanzawa-senpai started digging through his bag again.

“Right,” I suddenly remembered, “Were you planning on buying something fancy?” At Hanzawa-senpai’s blank stare, I elaborated, “Fancy earrings. Since there’s that jeweler guy you’re friends with.”

“Not friends,” Hanzawa-senpai corrected after a beat. “I’ve met him a total of four times.”

You’re counting?

For two people who weren’t friends, they sure had talked to each other like they were. And now Hanzawa-senpai was looking through his stuff with a strange look in his eyes, so I’d clearly touched some kind of nerve.

I sighed. “Do you have to overthink everything?”

He didn’t even pause his search. “Maybe you could stand to think more?”

“Hey!” I crossed my arms. I think about you all the time, don’t I?

“…Okay, that was a little rude,” Hanzawa-senpai admitted. “Forgive me?” When he smiled, his eyes would always curve in a way that made it impossible to be angry.

“…We’re doing eyeshadow next, right?”

Instead of answering, he pressed an eyeshadow palette in my hand. Palette wasn’t the right word—what did you call something that was just one eyeshadow? Before I could think too hard about it, I got distracted by the eyeshadow’s color. “…You’re not colorblind, are you?”

“I can tell that’s green,” Hanzawa-senpai said, clearly amused. “No, that’s just for you.” He gestured to the eyeshadow palette in his hands, which was way more color-appropriate. “Close your eyes.”

I did close them, but I couldn’t stop thinking—what did “just for you” mean?

After I’d faced an eyelash curler, the eyeshadow and eyeliner didn’t seem so bad. The hardest part was staying still—how did some girls do this daily?

Once Hanzawa-senpai was done, he tugged me to a standing position, and moved a few steps away to check the result. Judging by the irritating smugness radiating from his expression, he’d done a good job.

“Where’d you get this eyeshadow?” I asked, holding up the one still clutched in my hand. I couldn’t bring myself to ask why.

“…When I was helping Seigi cover his bruise, I happened to find it, and—” He shrugged, deliberately casual. “You like that shade of green.”

I did. It was my favorite color, and I wore it all the time. But I still didn’t understand why Hanzawa-senpai had gotten this eyeshadow for me. And I didn’t understand why my chest felt so weird when I heard him talk about Seigi.

“…Is that everything, then?” I asked.

“There’s lip gloss,” Hanzawa-senpai said, handing me a tube of the stuff, “but that’s easy enough for you to do. Sit down, but turn to the side—I’ll do your hair.”

I had a faint memory of Shirahama saying he didn’t trust anyone else with hairstyling, but I figured he’d accept Hanzawa-senpai’s skills, so I didn’t protest.

In this new setup, I was stuck staring at a random classroom wall. Though I couldn’t see Hanzawa-senpai standing behind me, I could feel the brush he was carefully pulling through my hair, working through the tangles with a steady hand.

“You know,” I said, “why didn’t you ever do the contest yourself? You’d be so good at it.”

“I prefer to be on the sidelines for this kind of thing, I think.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “But if you did—oh, you’d have to pick out a name!”

“A name?”

“It’s a conversation I had with Kuresawa. Like, his girl name would be Tasuko. And I could just shorten my first name to be something like Gon-chan. For you, maybe… Masako?”

I thought he’d laugh at my lack of naming sense, but instead, Hanzawa-senpai just shook his head. “That one’s out—it’s my sister’s name.”

“Ah—that’s right, you have a few siblings, don’t you?”

“I do. And you’re quite obviously an only child.”

“How do you know that?”

He simply smiled. “It’s impossible not to.”

“...Sure,” I said.

I didn’t have an immediate reply, so I unscrewed the tube of lip gloss. It was easy enough to apply, even without a mirror, so once that was over, my thoughts wandered.

What kind of magical, mystical quality did having siblings give to someone? Maybe even thinking that was what made me an only child, but really…

I stole a glance up at Hanzawa-senpai. If this guy was my brother, I don’t know if I would cry or laugh.

As it turned out, you couldn’t unnoticeably look upwards when you had someone’s hands fiddling with your hair. Our gazes met, and Hanzawa-senpai smiled—like a cat who’d gotten the canary. I stayed frozen in place as he leaned down.

“Alright, Gon-chan,” Hanzawa-senpai purred. “It looks like you’re all set.”

My face turned instantly, abruptly red. No wonder Miyano had said I’d been way too casual about accepting the name. It definitely, definitely, without a doubt, definitely, definitively, couldn’t be used casually!

Hanzawa-senpai straightened back up. “...Tashiro-kun?”

“I—” My voice came out way too high. “I’m going to ask Shirahama to help with my hair!”

Then I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.

(...Running in a skirt wasn’t that hard—it was actually kind of fun—but that was the last thing on my mind, then.)

#so yeah in case its obvious: I'm not doing two versions of this scene #i have one half-written but 1) it needs a lot more work and 2) i kind of feel like this stands on its own and #itd be worse if it had to accompany smthing subpar #maybe another day maybe never is where I'm at about it now #anyways. i don't think anyone will be too mad lol #i just felt the need to clarify #kiri.txt #hanzawa to tashiro #the anomalous agate #hanzashiro #tashiro gonzaburou #hanzawa masato #my writing

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sweetsuke · 1 year

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some of my favorite hanzawa and tashiro moments 💕

#tashiro x hanzawa #hanzawa x tashiro #hanzawa to tashiro #tashiro gonzaburou #hanzawa masato #sasaki and miyano #sasaki to miyano #hanzashiro #also something something hanzawa being depicted as liking cheetah print and tashiro wearing a cheetah print scarf in that one panel <3 #just noticed that

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dirtbra1n · 3 months

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hello! its tashiro anon with another random idea, this time valentine flavoured since its everywhere and i cant escape

i think tashiro would try to make handmade goods for his friends,, maybe not immediately but like after seeing somewhere just how happy it can make someone to receive handmade sweets he would go 'oh i gotta try that' and what better day is it to give them then the chocolate day?

it definitely would take multiple tries to get it good but i can see him presenting them proudly to them. the shape is not perfect and neither is his packaging but his smile alone would be enough to make ones heart feel full i think,,, kuresawa would probably immediately send it to his gf with the caption 'someones trying to give me valentine chocolates'

he would make some to hanzawa too,, although if he would actually manage to give them is debatable, i think it could create a cute scenario

thats all have a great day!

TASHIRO ANON!!! HI!!! I do always love to be brain blasted into the wall

I’m writing this as thoughts develop Went and opened up the second years novel because there’s a chapter about white day. tashiro anon did you know this chapter is crazy There’s some really crazy stuff in here. kuresawa’s always got insanely Something things to say about his friends IIII’m suddenly dizzy okay anyway. kuresawa’s crazy ANYWAY

really really fun thing about tashiro is that he can kind of. do anything he puts his mind to. he sees what kind of expression someone can make when receiving chocolates and goes Oh I can do that. I need to do that. and he does. looks up a recipe at home jots it down and makes a day of going to the grocery store. browses aisles with his hands at the back of his neck. realizes he needs like, a basket at least. helps one of the bathhouse ladies with her stuff when they cross paths. laughs raucously when she jokes a little crassly about how busy her valentine’s day is gonna be.

gets home three hours later with a few bags worth of stuff and things. headband keeping stray hair out of his eyes. squinting at his handwriting. chocolate! some a little lumpy others bigger than he meant them to be. takes a nibble and they taste fine. it’s not like he’s someone’s girlfriend doing this, anyway. a few lumps aren’t gonna kill anyone. except the lump in his throat, maybe, What kind of thought was that even? ha ha ha I have fun

brings them in the next day though, yeah, and kuresawa texts his girlfriend and she replies Reject them. and tashiro’s protests can be heard from the rooftop. miyano almost starts to argue before he looks at tashiro’s face, the barest trace of maidenly anticipation. and he takes them staring at the floor and his ears warm. Fine, he thinks. and he says thank you, and tashiro whoops.

shirahama gets his thrown at him, second he comes through the door. catches them last minute. starts sniffling with damp eyes.

and you’re so right tashiro anon…. some dedicated to hanzawa senpai. when’s he supposed to even give them to him? is the sort of question on his mind. he’s passing the packaging between his two hands, back and forth, on his way out of school. down the street. after practice, so the crisp not-yet-spring air is biting at him a little. downhill to the bathhouse.

serendipitous, hanzawa senpai standing in the middle of the street. it isn’t a steep decline but it feels like one.

Tashiro-kun, hanzawa senpai calls up at him. he looks small from up here but his voice is the same as ever—just a little surprised.

tashiro, eyes wide and earnest, holding his full hand up, calls back down, Chocolate!

#thank you tashiro anon your presence in my askbox is literally always a blessing. essential service you provide #(tashiro beam)#actually really looking forward to february. january beautiful and necessary but she’s earned her time off #this is all from me though! for now!!! hoping you’re also having a great day!!!!!!#askbox #hanzawa to tashiro #<- because i think it’s fitting #tashiro gonzaburou #<- i missed tagging him so bad

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taigasuniverse · 10 months

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hb little Tashiro again

i love this gif

#sasaki to miyano #tashiro kun #hanzawa to tashiro #lgbtqplus #shou harusono

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gonzaburrow · 1 year

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to the tide

Tashiro tries to remember, whose idea was it to come here? He doesn’t think it was his; he doesn’t often leave work past midnight with an itch to go to the beach. But he doesn’t not want to be here. Truth be told, the drive over is a blur.

And so, he’s on the beach with Hanzawa Masato. He abandons his shoes before they leave the car and urges Hanzawa to do the same. The other man complies, and before long they’re meeting the tide roll in. Tashiro squeezes the wet sand in between his toes; it feels weird good and soothing.

He’s wading into the water before he’s processing his actions. Ankles, to knees, Tashiro stops when the water meets his thighs. He’s extending a hand towards Hanzawa, who joins him without hesitation. They’re holding hands, their hair is blowing in the salty breeze, and Tashiro is struck by a suffocating sense of deja vu.

Hanzawa’s hair is blown out of his face, and there it is. His every feature is illuminated by the moonlight, and Tashiro’s heart jumps in his chest. He pulls the other man forward and steps back, pulling the pair deeper into the water.

They’re waist deep, and he’s regretting not removing even his t-shirt. He’s pretty sure they didn’t bring any towels or spare clothes; the air is crisp and threatens to turn into a biting chill.

They’re in too deep now. Turning back now would be silly.

Tashiro takes another step, and his foot is met with a strange texture. It summons a shriek out of him, and it’s at that moment he realizes neither of them have spoken since they stepped foot on the beach.

Hanzawa tries and fails to hold back his laughter. His hands are braced on Tashiro's shoulders. Warmth radiates from his palms through Tashiro's t-shirt. He shivers.

"You know, you're the only person who consistently steals laughter out of me."

Tashiro's head whips up, their faces are just a breath apart.

"Of course, that's cause I'm freakin amazing. "

The other man's laughter dies down, but he's got his real smile on. "Yeah, you are."

At this distance, their slight difference in height is present. Hands are still on shoulders, Tashiro is hyper aware of the light pressure.

"Wait no, I was kidding. You weren't supposed to agree with me."

"You don't give yourself enough credit."

"If that's how it is, then you don't give yourself enough time to relax."

"What's this then? I'm feeling pretty restful here, with you."

"You know that's not what I mean." But then Hanzawa's words sink in. Tonight Tashiro's brain is in a constant scramble, just bees trapped in a jar. "Why’d you say it like that?" It comes out in a mumble, he kicks the sand under the water; whatever he stepped on earlier gets caught on his toes. He tries to ignore it.

"How would you have me say it?"

Tashiro processes the response and reaches to free his foot from the seaweed. He braces an arm on Hanzawa’s chest before he realizes his actions. He loses his balance, but Hanzawa’s hands move to his waist and keep him steady.

They're essentially hugging. Tashiro feels the hard line of muscle under his hand. Their position feels like something out of a shoujo manga.

"I'm waiting for that answer." He says it like the punchline of a joke.

Tashiro doesn't have an answer.

"Can I get back to you on that?" On instinct, one of his fingers pet the fabric underneath. It's soft and barely textured. It feels nice. A warm hand covers his. The absence on his waist feels wrong.

"Yeah, or don't. It's not that serious after all, is it?" Hanzawa plucks Tashiro's hand from his chest and steps back. His smile returns to its shallow standard. "Sorry I dragged you here. But thank you for coming."

They're still speaking in whispers.

"I don't mind. Can I ask why we're here?"

"You can ask," Hanzawa says, "but I'm not sure I'll answer." He turns away and walks back to shore.

Tashiro is stunned.

Was this one of those serious moments he couldn't read? What would happen if he asked Hanzawa? He wasn't sure if he should be scared of the potential answer or lack of.

They're watching each other, one on the beach and the other waist deep with waves tapping his back.

Tashiro wishes the ocean would swallow him whole.

A particularly large wave crashes over him, bowls Tashiro forward. He swallows a most foul mouthful of saltwater. He’s spitting it out, and Hanzawa is still by the shore. He’s got one foot hesitating in the water. But he doesn’t make any further moves.

Something about their positions, Hanzawa’s hesitance to do something for once in his life, and the ocean water lingering on his tongue makes an animosity bubble in Tashiro’s gut. He’s not an angry guy, he always lets things just roll off his back. He’s a lazy stream.

This moment though, breaks something inside him.

He’s shouting, screaming; he didn’t know his voice could sound so feral. Tashiro starts moving towards the shore, attempting to maintain composure although the tide is making it difficult. Let this be the one moment he’s actually taken seriously.

He stops close enough that Hanzawa can hear him, but enough that they’re a generous arm’s length apart. Tashiro’s gathering his thoughts, and trying not to admire Hanzawa’s form when his clothes are sticking to his body; white button up now translucent.

The other man opens his mouth to speak, but Tashiro brings a hand up to stop him.

It was now or never.

“You can’t just run away like that.” Tashiro says.

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

Waves crash in the distance.

“You always have an answer until it comes to yourself. You gotta stop putting yourself in punishing situations, man. I’m not letting you deflect this time.”

“It’s not that easy.” Tashiro almost misses his words; the ocean threatens to bury his voice under its sound.

A chuckle sneaks out from Tashiro’s throat. He knows it’s not a funny situation, but the absurdity of how stubborn Hanzawa could be, it hit him in a strange way.

“Sorry, I know there’s nothing funny. But I don’t think it needs to be that deep?” He heaves a deep sigh. His mouth is still bitter from the water. “Why don’t you try being more direct? Everything you say is so enigmatic; I never know what’s for real and what’s a joke.”

Hanzawa’s eyebrows stitch together. It’s such a foreign look; he doesn’t look like himself. Their eyes are meeting, and Tashiro can’t tell if water sprayed on the other man’s face or if he shed a few tears.

“The problem with that, my dear Tashiro, is I’m not entirely sure myself.”

“Well,” Tashiro invades Hanzawa’s space and envelopes him, pulling his head into the space beneath his chin. “That’s a good place to start. Thank you.”

#sasaki to miyano #hanzashiro #hanzawa to tashiro #tashiro gonzaburou #hanzawa masato #just gonna keep sharing snippets of this story here and eventually post it on AO3 with it all stitched together #hopefully this wasn't too long to post on tumblr #if its a lil sloppy then uuuuuhhhh pretend its not or smthn #ALSO #i was literally sobbing from the reaction to the last hanzashiro thing i wrote #thank u thank u thank u i am literally the biggest fan of all of u #tryin so hard not to be starstruck by the cool kids liking my writing

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totallyexhausted · 8 months

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Kagiura: Hey, Hirano-san, watch this!! (Hirano from his bed, watches Kagiura hold pajama pants out in front of him and trying to jump into them, missing, tripping, falling and slamming into the table in the middle of the room) Hirano turning back to his book as Kagiura groans in pain: Fucking impressive, Kagi-kun.

#hirano to kagiura #hirano and kagiura #kagiura akira #hirano taiga #sasaki to miyano #sasaki and miyano #sasaki shuumei #miyano yoshikazu #niibashi juuya #hanzawa masato #hanzawa to tashiro #he would #Hirano is not impressed

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sunnfish · 16 days

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pg 3-4

First | Prev | Next

Masterpost

Based on this post!

#sasaki to miyano #hanzawa to tashiro #tashiro gonzaburou #kuresawa tasuku #miyano yoshikazu #sunnfish.png #hanzashiro #sasaki and miyano #pg 4 some of my favorite framing :3

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massyworld · 1 year

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their dynamic in a nutshell

#help i love them #from the anthology #hirano to kagiura #hanzawa to tashiro #hanzashiro

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sunnnfish · 28 days

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having tashiro gender thoughts. the way he doesnt crossdress in that first year is because hes got crazy leg hair. not like No im a boy. or I dont want to. he's candidate at all in the first place after miyano because they're both "tiny" and would look the best (also opinion of shirahama. won't get into that. hey shirahama you think miyano and tashiro would be cute if they were girls...? sorry) Miyano, firm in his masculinity, is angry for the both of them. yeah hes got a complex about it but you'd think tashiro could resist a little more. he doesnt think hed make a good girl because of the leg hair. this flimsy barrier of "masculinity" hey tashiro what would you think if you shaved it. would you make a good girl then? would that remove your inhibitions? or would you find something else. are you scared of what you could discover if transformed into a girl? sit in the chair why dont you. flimsy barrier, a hairs width thick, between you and girlhood, supposedly. Gon-chan, a girl name accepted so easily, so comfortably. resist a little more! youve said before Miyano may be cute, but hes definitely a boy. are you definitely a boy? do you even care at all. nah, i cant make a good girl. ive got craaazzyyy leg hair. Shave it! Hell no! switch the flip.

#i am also normal about tashiro being “tiny” his first year #and then growing to be like pretty damn tall. really normal #slightly referencing an article about a trans girl. called something like. im trans and ill never come out of the closet. or something #has a bit about if there were a chair you could sit in a flip a switch and you'd change genders. she'd take it #but the reality of having to come out and like physically and socially transition after living as a boy for so long.#too much work too much stress. not as easy as sitting in that chair and flipping that switch #anywayyysss #sunnfish.hzsr #hanzawa to tashiro #tashiro gonzaburou #sasaki to miyano

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plumjam0215 · 10 months

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bro became a fairy

#tashiro gonzaburou #sasaki to miyano #hirano to kagiura #hanzawa to tashiro

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aranarumei · 5 months

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the anomalous agate (part one) *updated

hey guys. some of you probably wanted to see "two" written there! that'll take a little more time.

for those of you who don't know what the title's about at all, this is my crossover fic for the case files of jeweler richard and sasaki to miyano. specifically, this asks the question of "what if hanzawa masato visited jewelry étranger?"

i wrote the original version of this chapter in like, four days, and this is me doing an actual editing pass. it's not required to read it, as I don't actually add any new information, but I would recommend it. this fic is also posted on ao3, so you can read the updated chapter there, as well

edit: part two | part three | part four | epilogue

without further ado, I'll leave the fic under the cut!

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (part 1)

The longer I worked for the shop, the fewer days arrived when there were no appointments scheduled. As always, Richard seemed unfazed by the lack of customers. I supposed it made sense—this was a shop that only existed on the weekends, after all. He had hired me, but had the two of us not met by chance, it was likely he wouldn’t have hired anyone at all.

Perhaps the reason my employer seemed so content was the fact that he was currently cutting into a delicate slice of tiramisu crepe cake. He ate with almost ethereal grace, and as I somehow hadn’t thought to grab a slice for myself, my mind wandered to the circumstances that had led me to the purchase.

The week before, I had been making Richard’s royal milk tea as usual—I felt somewhat confident in my skills at this point, but there really was no matching a master—and asked him if there was a reason we didn’t serve coffee to customers. It was a common feature of many cafés, after all, and though this place was no longer a café, we still offered things like tea and snacks to customers.

Richard had stared at me like he was waiting for me to figure something out on my own, and after wracking my brain for possibilities, I tried, “We have barley tea and green tea, so it can’t be because you think anything except for royal milk tea won’t do…”

I received a deep sigh for my efforts. Richard arched an eyebrow. “Do you know how much is involved in the process of making coffee?” he asked.

As the coffee I most regularly consumed came from a can, there wasn’t a single response I could give.

That night, I searched up the process of manufacturing and brewing coffee, and quickly found myself beginning to develop a headache. Not only were there many places where coffee beans were grown, the different ways in which coffee was then brewed and what it was paired with felt almost limitless. Searching for espresso machines brought prices well over 15,000 yen, and it was at that point that I began to understand what Richard had conveyed in a single sentence.

Instant coffee could be made without any sense of technique or equipment, but the kind of coffee that set one’s mind at ease was probably the kind that only a real café was capable of. Or a coffee enthusiast, and I was neither. I tried to conjure the image of being offered canned or instant coffee at Jewelry Étranger, and immediately wrinkled my nose. Coffee at a café was meant to be pleasant; I had no desire to remind myself of what it felt like to work night shift after night shift as a security guard. Any comfort the scent had brought was overwhelmed by its bitter necessity. The caffeine might have kept me awake, but it had worsened the quality of my sleep.

Still, though I had given up the idea of introducing coffee to our drink selection, I must not have completely forgotten about it, because the next time I stepped into a bakery, their offering of a tiramisu crepe cake caught my immediate attention.

I’d had tiramisu only once during a birthday in junior high. Birthdays when I was younger were a melancholy affair—they were small, intimate celebrations that reminded me of the insignificance of my life. It was the same feeling as lighting a candle in pure dark—loneliness shined more under small points of light. But my mother had always remembered to buy a cake year after year, no matter the circumstances. While she had already developed a taste for coffee, I still considered it something that was a bitter, awful drink that adults actually enjoyed. But after some firm persuasion from my mother, I reluctantly dug in.

Add enough sugar, and bitter mellows into sweet. I knew that now, but as a child I had been given an experience akin to magic. Even years after the fact, I could still recall the light and sweet taste accompanied by the delicate hints of coffee and chocolate.

Remembering it now, it was hard to explain why I hadn’t had one in such a long time, but I hadn’t developed the habit of searching out cafés, bakeries, and sweet shops until I started working at Jewelry Étranger, either. Food simply tasted better as of late.

This bakery in particular was a favorite of mine—it felt like every time I entered, there was still some sweet I had yet to try. And encounters like these, where it felt like little parts of my life were slotting together in serendipitous fashions, were becoming far more common. It was obvious in the way I’d found out about Tanimoto-san’s love for rocks and minerals, as well as her friend Shinkai-san’s dance company, or, in a more negative light, Hase-san visiting at the exact time I happened to be in the back of the shop, but when I told Richard this, he simply brushed it off.

“The more knowledge and experience you acquire, the more the world reveals itself to you,” he said. “Department stores existed before you began working here, but only once you took an interest in diamonds did you notice the kinds of jewels they sold. The girl you wish was your girlfriend had an interest in minerals long before you began to. That was not fate—it was the fact that the more you learned, the more you could find commonalities or points of connection in the world around you.” He paused. “You, in particular… I would guess that you run into so many coincidences because you’re unable to turn your back.”

He was correct. The more people that visited Richard’s store, the more that I came to knew about the world. I had liked Tanimoto-san before I had met Richard, and she had loved rocks and minerals for far longer. But because I had been able to meet with Richard—and that was an encounter that could have only been fate—I’d gained awareness of a part of the world that had always existed, just not in my eyes. The more I learned about jewels, the more I treasured various things.

So that Saturday, I entered the bakery again, bought a slice, and arrived at Jewelry Étranger with an offering.

“…I still won’t give you a raise, you know,” Richard said.

As always, he looked beautiful. I had the feeling that he’d be annoyed if I told him the purchase was due to a bottomless kind of gratitude.

“I know.” At this point, I wondered if I needed to directly tell him how he paid far more than what I earned as a security guard. But I’d already turned down a job offer to stay here, so he must have known that I felt as if the work I was doing here was infinitely more valuable.

Since we’d had this kind of exchange quite a few times before, Richard tried the tiramisu crepe cake without much fuss. It was obvious he was enjoying it—perhaps his face hadn’t cracked out into a smile or anything of the sort, but there was always a serene look on his face when he was enjoying sweets.

As he ate, a question popped to mind: “Say, Richard, have you had real tiramisu in Italy before?”

Richard paused between bites. “Do you mean to ask if I’ve had authentic tiramisu?”

“Well, you just seem as if you’ve been everywhere in the world…”

Rather than tell me if he’d spent time in Italy or not, Richard began to speak about the conflicted meaning of the word ‘authentic.’

“Tiramisu is Italian in origin, but the exact nature of how it was first produced is still up for debate. As we recognize it today, it certainly does not come in the nature of a crepe cake, but—” He paused again. “Grab yourself a fork, would you?”

I stared at him blankly as he deliberately placed his fork down on his plate. The last few bites of the tiramisu crepe cake remained untouched, and only when he tilted his head in confusion did I rush to the kitchen in realization.

When I returned, Richard continued speaking without commenting on my lack of wits. “Something being authentic indeed means it is the real thing—a genuine article. Authenticity is also related to truth—in art, the style of realism is grounded in an attempt to depict life authentically, without alterations or embellishments. For gemstones this is a fairly simple thing to classify—jewels are mined from specific places, so we designate that which is naturally-occurring as authentic. This runs in opposition as to imitation jewels, which are made from a different material, and approximate the look of a jewel without matching its innate qualities. The question of authenticity also is relevant when looking at heat treatment—pigeon blood rubies that haven’t undergone heat treatment are more valuable, because they have acquired the color naturally, yes?”

I nodded in agreement, reminded of Tanimoto-san’s opinion on heat treatment. She probably prized the authenticity of a gem—the one-of-a-kind nature each jewel had. I understood her feelings, but I also thought there was some kind of wonder in the process of polishing and cutting and heat treatment—each step gave a jewel a special kind of shine. But beauty was the kind of thing where opinions differed often.

I couldn’t imagine anyone disagreeing about Richard’s beauty. “You’ve forgotten to actually put your fork to use,” he said, and I startled out of my daze to hurriedly take a bite.

As expected, the tiramisu crepe cake was both light and sweet. The texture of crepes was certainly different from what I’d eaten as a child, but both carried that sense of pure delicacy—each layer felt like cotton-candied air. Though it didn’t smell like coffee, there was indeed the warm, rich undertone of what I’d come to understand as coffee’s flavor. If I could spend a birthday just like this… it would be a treasure of a memory.

Richard’s lips curled. “How is it?”

I made sure to properly swallow before I replied. “It’s delicious,” I marveled. “I don’t know why I’d forgotten the taste.”

“When you make rice at home, would you consider that rice real or authentic?” Richard asked. When I nodded, still chewing on my final bite of cake, he then asked, “Why?”

Maybe I would buy tiramisu on the way home. Or gift some to Hiromi—I could only assume that my birthday all those years ago was the last time she’d had tiramisu, too. “Well, because it’s rice,” I said. “I bought the rice grains, didn’t I? They were grown naturally. And then I cooked them.”

“If you acquired the exact ingredients required for tiramisu, and followed the same exact process as the original—though there are debates at to what the original is—would you still say that was authentic?”

I frowned. “I… suppose I would? Since everything is exact.” Was there a loophole I was missing?

“Perhaps,” Richard said. “Because it is hard to pinpoint its specific origins, what tiramisu qualifies as authentic can be hard to judge. Though the base components and methods are the same, the exact specifics differ—some may consider any tiramisu that follows the general process to be authentic, while others may not. In the case of champagne, unless what you think of champagne is made in the Champagne region of France, it cannot legally be called by that name. Even if the sparkling wine that is created is similar in taste, or uses the same process and ingredients, if the grapes are not sourced from that region, it will not be champagne.”

“Even though it’s possible to make an equivalent product?”

“You could, indeed, make a very close match,” Richard said. “But it would legally not be authentic. Can you think of a reason why someone might want a name of a food protected?”

When phrased like that, the answer arrived to me immediately. “Brand protection,” I said. “Because the idea of champagne is precious, if other winemakers started selling something labelled as champagne, it would lose some of its prestige. By controlling what can be called champagne, they retain control over the production and image of champagne.”

“Good for you,” Richard said, and I bit down a smile. “Authenticity holds a different value for many people and many things. All that aside… this tiramisu crepe cake remains delicious.”

“It is,” I agreed, and then began to make him tea.

The rest of the day passed by in peace. Richard read from his collection of books, blond hair glittering under the sharp sun. I busied myself by cleaning the kitchen and running out to complete a few errands. The movement was helpful; the chill of autumn had settled in, and I had made the mistake of dressing far more lightly than Richard. His choice of wear likely made it easy for him to sit still, but I thought that even if he was wearing his suit in a blizzard or a tropical summer, he would seem as even-keeled as ever. That was the beauty of jewels—they were something that was gorgeous from all angles.

Around a half hour before closing time, the intercom buzzed.

Richard set down his book, and I went to let in our surprise customer.

Accompanied by a brush of cold wind, a young man stepped into the shop. He had a slim frame, but despite being dressed as lightly as I was, showed no signs of being sensitive to the cold. His hair was slightly long in the front, bangs barely cropped above his eyes, but it was trimmed evenly. He was dressed casually yet neatly in a simple powder-blue sweater, gray slacks, and loafers.

The door closed behind him, and he glanced around the room once before asking, “This is a jeweler’s store, correct?”

“You’d be right,” I said, guiding him to sit in one of the red armchairs.

His hesitant expression curved into a full-faced smile. As he sat down, the awkward lines of his body began to bleed away, and he relaxed into the chair with an air of steady self-assurance. His pose remained polite, though—he kept his hands carefully folded over his lap, and his ankles were loosely crossed.

Originally, I had wanted to give him something to soothe his nerves, but it looked like that was unneeded. Still, I asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Ah… that milk tea would be nice, if you don’t mind,” the man said, gesturing to Richard’s teacup.

Richard returned from the bookshelf, taking over the process of greeting our newest customer, and I headed back to the kitchen. Both men spoke in clear tones, so even though they spoke at a medium volume, their voices carried well enough.

“…Richard Ranasinghe de Vulpian? Is it alright to call you Richard-san, then?” He spoke the name slowly, but he pronounced Richard’s full name without fumbling.

“Yes, that’s alright. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Richard-san. I’m Hanzawa Masato. Apart from gemstones, do you also sell jewelry at this place?”

“Indeed, we do. Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

I returned to see Hanzawa-san wearing a thoughtful expression on his face. His gaze flickered towards me as I reentered the room. “I was hoping to look at stud earrings… and I’d prefer if they weren’t prohibitively expensive, I suppose. Is there anything else I should specify?”

“Are there any kinds of stones you’re interested in looking at? Or a particular occasion or style this is meant for?”

When I drew close enough, Hanzawa-san turned to face me and accepted my tea, eyes still curved in a pleasant smile. “It’s something like a birthday gift, I suppose. As for stones… I’m not too knowledgeable regarding them.” He paused in contemplation.

Choosing a gift was always a complicated thing, in my opinion. For a gift, the trouble never ended at the purchase—it was always at the gifting that the issues arose. Would they understand the gift with the same meaning that I had in mind when I picked it? I thought about my grandmother and mother choosing my name. Was I the type of person they’d had in mind? I could only hope that was the case.

“I guess… something neutral would be best? The kind of earring fit for daily work wear.”

“Are you interested in looking at birthstones?”

Hanzawa-san sipped his tea, eyes fluttering shut in thought. “Not particularly.”

I had spent enough time with Richard to catch the traces of concern on his face, but not enough to understand the reason. “It will take some time for me to bring my selections out. Please enjoy your tea while you wait,” he said, and then he was off, a determined crease to his brows.

Though I didn’t know exactly what was troubling him, I could learn. Surely Richard wouldn’t mind if I made some small talk?

“Might you also be a university student, Hanzawa-san?”

Hanzawa-san waved dismissively. “It’s only my first year, so I think I’m younger than you. I know I’m a customer, but there’s no need to be formal. Your name is…?”

“Nakata Seigi,” I said. “I’m in my second year.”

“I was right, then,” Hanzawa said. He’d passed over both Richard and my name without comment. I’d expected him to end the conversation there, staying as restrained as he had with Richard, but he spoke to me freely. “Would I be right in saying you seem more interested in jewels as compared to jewelry?” At my confusion, he gestured to my neck, ears, and hands, which were bare of any accessories. “You don’t seem to wear any, so I’d wondered��”

“I suppose it’s the jewel itself that interests me,” I admitted. “Is it the opposite thing for you?”

“Most likely,” Hanzawa said. “It’s what I have experience in, anyways.”

At my once-again befuddled expression, Hanzawa brushed back his hair, and I caught sight of six piercing holes in his left ear.

“I see…” I replied, a little stunned. Now that I knew what to look for, it was easy to spot a few of his piercing holes even when his hair wasn’t brushed back.

Richard had probably noticed them from the moment he’d walked in.

Now that I thought about it clearly, a birthday gift could be presented to oneself, couldn’t it? Just like Yamamoto-san trying to buy herself a garnet. Guys with piercings weren’t all that uncommon in my university, too, but none of them seemed like the type to buy jewels in Richard’s store. Then again, Hanzawa looked so mild-mannered that the existence of his piercings alone was a surprise, so I took this fact in stride.

In the same way that I’d only noticed the tiramisu in that bakery after asking Richard about coffee, it was only now that I realized the reason for Richard’s concern. If it was a present for himself, the uncertainty to Hanzawa’s answers was troublesome.

“If I could ask…” I prompted as Richard returned to the table.

Richard set down his tamatebako with a harder than usual thud. He was still frowning, though maybe more obviously than before.

“Sure.”

“Is there a reason a guy as young as you has so many piercings?”

Before I could get a response, I jumped at the sharp click that sounded at my side. Richard had opened up his tamatebako.

Hanzawa kept smiling up at me. He took a long sip of his tea, and then directed his attention towards what Richard had selected.

I leaned over to take a look. As I did, Richard shot a pointed glare towards me. What? I mouthed back, but he ignored me.

The stones Richard had picked were split between gemstones with faceted cuts and cabochons. The studs themselves were made of a simple silver backing, with the stone fitted on top in a rounded or squared shape. The exceptions to this were the studs fitted with lapis lazuli, which were backed with gold. While I recognized the diamond and amethyst, there were a few colored stones in faceted cuts that I wasn’t certain I could identify. But the ones that caught my attention were the larger stud earrings, which were fitted with polished stones that didn’t sparkle but had bands of red, terracotta, and peach striped across its surface. Others had the same banding pattern but in soft grays and whites.

“These are beautiful,” Hanzawa said, smile fading into a look of deep consideration. He leaned forward to study each one. “Diamonds are a classic choice,” he mused.

“You mentioned that you might prefer a neutral color,” Richard explained, “The clear color of a diamond is well-suited to that purpose. They might be a little above your price point, but if you enjoy the look of them, there are various alternatives you can seek out.”

“I see,” Hanzawa said. He gestured to the rest of the jewels. “I recognize the amethyst. And the… lapis lazuli, yes? Seeing it in person, it certainly is a vivid kind of blue,” he commented. “But I’m a little unfamiliar with the rest of these gems. Would you mind explaining them?”

“Of course,” Richard said. “The green stone you see here is peridot, and the stones in yellow and orange shades here are citrine. Like amethyst, it is a type of quartz. This”—he pointed to a deep orange stone— “is heat-treated amethyst, which looks quite similar. The banded stones are agate. They are a mix of quartz and moganite—both have an equivalent chemical composition, but different crystal structures.”

I hadn’t heard of moganite until now—unless I was mishearing morganite, but Richard had such wonderful pronunciation I thought that was impossible.

Despite the overload of information, all Hanzawa did was nod in understanding. “Peridot,” he repeated to himself, a curious look in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve seen any before.”

The stone he was looking at was a sparkling kind of lime green. “It’s like the color of spring,” I said.

“Yes,” Hanzawa agreed, and bowed his head, suddenly bashful. “It’s… well, it’s a color I’m fond of,” he admitted.

“Spring is a wonderful descriptor,” Richard said. “Peridot tends to come in lighter shades than most emeralds, and it far more affordable. Would you like to see more?”

Hanzawa shook his head. “…No, it’s not really… well-suited for me.” After considering the other stones before him, he pointed to the lapis lazuli. “What does this get its gold flecks from?”

“Lapis lazuli is composed of several different minerals, and a common one happens to be pyrite, which is what creates that gold color. As you mentioned, the blue of lapis lazuli is quite vivid, which is why, historically, it was ground to create ultramarine. Before a synthetic alternative was created, it was an extremely expensive and prized paint.”

Hanzawa smiled down at the stones. “I’ve heard of ultramarine. Isn't it what provides the blue shades in many of Johannes Vermeer’s works?”

I made a note to ask Richard who Johannes Vermeer was later. Richard’s clients often spoke of things I wasn’t knowledgeable about, but this was the first time it had happened with someone so close to my age—though it wasn’t like people my age often visited this shop in the first place.

“You would be correct. Blue pigments were otherwise hard to come by, so his work is well-known for his use of ultramarine.” After a pause, Richard added, “If you are looking for something neutral, blue tends to be a color that pairs well with others.”

“Oh, that’s—I’ll keep it in mind,” Hanzawa said. Haltingly, he asked, “Is jewelry made of lapis lazuli—is it quite common?”

“Compared to the rest of these stones, it’s a bit of a more delicate material,” Richard allowed, “so it has to be carefully looked after. But historically, lapis lazuli has been used in all kinds of jewelry.”

“…Is that so.”

Silence dragged on between them. Hanzawa seemed unbothered by it, though it was hard to see much of his expression from above. Even face to face, his bangs and lashes expertly obscured his eyes without actually hiding them.

“…This agate. I feel like I’ve seen stones with this banding before.”

“Banding is characteristic but not exclusive to agate,” Richard said. “It has been used for carvings as well as jewelry and remains popular today. Each piece of agate has differences in how exactly the banding occurs, so one could say that each piece is truly unique.”

“Unique…” A ghost of uncertainty appeared on Hanzawa’s face, but it was gone in a flash. “Does it come in any other colors?”

“Oftentimes agate will be dyed into various colors, but there are some other colors present in naturally occurring agates. Would you like to see them?”

“Surely that dyed agate is prettier, huh?” Hanzawa murmured, so low I barely heard him. Apropos of nothing, he then straightened up, looking flustered. “Sorry,” he said. “I think—I think I’m a little in over my head.” He drank the last of his tea in disconcerting silence. “And it’s near closing, anyways,” he added.

“If you’d like to come back, we take appointments,” I said.

“…Right,” Hanzawa said, eyes still fixed on the sets of earrings before him. He set his teacup down on the table. “What would be a good time?”

“Sunday, 4PM?” Richard suggested, and Hanzawa agreed.

With that settled, Hanzawa thanked me for the tea, bid a polite goodbye to us both, and exited the shop, leaving another gust of crisp air in his wake.

Hanzawa had been right—it was now closing time. I went to collect the now empty teacups, only to find Richard looking up at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked.

He sighed. “Nothing that concerns you, I suppose.”

“By the way, who’s Johannes Vermeer?” I asked, ignoring the faint irritation in his voice.

“Have you ever seen a picture of Girl with a Pearl Earring?” Richard asked.

A vague portrait sprang to mind. “He was the artist?” I confirmed, and then went to wash the teacups.

When I returned, Richard hadn’t moved from his seat. Rather than close it and return to his room of jewels, he was staring at his open tamatebako.

I took a seat next to him. “Thinking about our client?”

“…Jewels reflect the inner feelings of a person,” he said after a long silence. “I wonder how to convey that truth to a person like him.”

“Is it harder because he’s young?” I asked, unsure what Richard thought Hanzawa was like. I didn’t even have enough information to describe Hanzawa as like anything. “Well, Hajime-kun was much younger, but his circumstances were different…”

“You’re quite young yourself,” Richard commented dryly. “Aren’t you two the same age?”

“If we went to the same university, I’d be his senpai,” I said. “Still. It’s rare. I thought he’d be more nervous.”

“…I don’t think he wasn’t nervous,” Richard said, but when I prodded him for an explanation, he didn’t elaborate.

“Well,” I said, wondering how I could clear those worry lines from his face, “we’ll see him next week.”

“Maybe,” Richard said, and this, I didn’t need him to explain.

If Hanzawa Masato came in next week at the appointed time, or if he had disappeared out that door for forever, it was impossible to know.

#my writing #kiri.txt #cfojr #hanzawa to tashiro #hanzawa masato #the case files of jeweler richard #i just KNOW i'm going to post this and find some grammar or spelling mistake i didn't catch and. I'm just going to have to live with that #jeweler richard

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