Zone-00 is the definition of moe times a thousand. They need so much more support than what there is now D: Spoilers of mention of the Northern witch: Ruiko. I don't own anything.
First Step Forward
The snow should have been able to bury that scent deep beneath the frozen earth.
But from its ancient roots, it was blossoming once more.
"Goodnight Inspector, goodnight Miwayama-san."
The last man on their team stood up from his desk to leave for the night. It was just past midnight.
His voice blended into his and two words merged into one, they looked up at each other and he stared without a change in expression, black frame glasses resting neatly atop the bridge of his nose. Murakumo was the first to look away and then Miwayama turned back to his computer screen.
They were the only ones left in the office.
Miwayama typed at his report while Murakumo leaned back into his chair. The tap of the keyboard keys was the only sound left reverberating in the room, even the air conditioning systems had been closed down for the night. The minutes added on.
Neither of them succumbed, neither of them was human.
It had been years, thousands, maybe even more. But he was still relatively young in comparison to the generals that had already made their mark on the world and the dead witches from before his birth.
In this day and time, Miwayama saw the inspector everyday. Their acquaintance had last for hundreds of years and there wasn't a single sign that things would change. He waited silently as his eyes trailed over the rim of his glasses to glance at the inspector in his leather seat.
Murakumo chewed on the end of his unlit cigarette and grumbled at the heat with a motion to the still air. "…What cheap bastards."
Miwayama bit back a grin and watched as the other ran a hand through his hair. He knew for a fact that the man hated the heat but he was only a snake that crawled along the ground, he was in no position to complain. Standing up slowly, Miwayama offered with an overly modest smile at his lips. "Should we leave then, Inspector?"
Miwayama didn't mind the soft grunt or the guarded stare that came back as a reply.
They stepped out into the opened air, the moon hung right above their heads.
Miwayama saw his car. Murakumo smelled a hint of his past in the wind.
They both paused.
It was the rose of winter, the flower that blossomed against the stretch of falling snow.
His eyes were trained on the Inspector who sniffed at the air and he remembered all the years that he had spent beside the Mononoke Inspector with the scar on his face. Things were about to change, he could feel it with the trace of animal instincts that laced his blood.
It was the little Red Riding Hood from the North.
Miwayama wasn't one of those Mononoke Candies. He was the snake slithering against the grass. He did not lust after the inspector's attention with glazed eyes framed with long lashes. He did not wear short skirts and skimpy panties just to drape himself off of the man. He was a man with his own needs but his concern (that was close to an obsession) for the inspector always won over.
Only this time, he couldn't do it.
This time, he had to live for himself.
Taking the first step forward, he was nine paces to his car and he too could smell her in the air.
He paused at the inspector's call.
"Do you smell that?"
He blinked, eyes fluttering shut for a fraction too long. A lick at his lips and the smile that stretched over was effortless. Turning around, he asked with unheard laughter on his tongue and deafening amusement in his eyes. "What are you talking about, Inspector?"
But who was he to fool?
She was the witch and he was the devil in disguise.
Her death came before his birth and no amount of investigation brought him to the face of the truth. He could see Inspector Murakumo everyday for the duration of his life but he didn't know everything that there was to the other.
Murakumo caught himself in the glint of Miwayama's glasses and it was like looking into a mirror, the jagged scar cut across his eye, splitting the reflection into two.
Just forget about her.
They didn't know whom it was from. It could have been easily each other. Murakumo shook his head with a low laugh as he waved off the matter, as though nothing else mattered.
"It must just be my imagination then."
Five hundred years ago. The world was different but they were the same. They loved and then they killed, they lived and then they died for an obsession that bound them to their years on earth.
Today, it was just the same.
They got into the car without another word.
Miwayama sat at the driver's seat and the smell of new leather was suffocating. He was their battle strategist, once upon a time, but now, he didn't even know how to fight his own war. He turned out of the station's parking lot. Murakumo opened the window and rested his elbow on the ledge. A cigarette was lit, their speed picked up, and the wind rushed inside.
There was no mistaking it.
Even with the nicotine in their lungs, the crimson smell of camellia had come back from the dead.
Megane-Miwayama is a seme waiting on his prey and he just can't get enough of his beloved Inspector Murakumo ;D