A/N: Okay so I wrote this for a friend on tumblr and I decided I wanted to publish it here, too.

warnings: Language, Crack I guess, and they're probably a bit OOC, but I tried to keep them as in character as the situation would permit.

Disclaimer: Sushibomb does not own [K]. This fic was written solely to entertain.

Take One for the Team

When it came to dealing with Captain Munakata, Fushimi could safely say that he was one of the select few in SCEPTER 4 who wasn't intimidated at the thought of having a private conversation with him.

… At least, that was how he felt on a normal day, under every day circumstances. But as it turned out, these were not normal circumstances by any means.

He stood in the hallway, feet firmly planted in front of the tall, wooden double doors that led to his superior's office and had not budged from that spot for the better part of several minutes. Fushimi sighed in faint annoyance as he roughly pushed a hand through his hair, nearly knocking his glasses askew as he did so.

Munakata sounded…strange, on the phone. The normally calm, collected tone sounded clipped and hesitant. Almost as if he felt awkward calling his subordinate into his office, something he did on a daily basis.

It was a little unsettling, to say the least.

Either way, Fushimi found himself hesitating once again as he brought his hand up to knock on the door. It would've been just as easy to turn around and walk back to the main computer room, where he had been working previously. And it wasn't too late to do so, either.

But he was sure that Munakata would corner him later and 'calmly' ask him why he ignored his request to see him if he did that.

"Just knock on the damn door." He chided himself with a sharp click of his tongue before throwing caution to the wind and rapping lightly on the door.

"Who is it?" Came the familiar baritone from the other side of the door.

"It's Fushimi. You asked to see me?"


Fushimi sighed, feeling strangely exhausted as he pushed the door handle down and walked into the large room.

As expected, Munakata was sitting placidly at his desk, a steaming cup of tea in hand. Though, the expression on his face was oddly solemn.

"Fushimi, your punctuality is much appreciated. Please, have a seat." Munakata said, motioning to the two deep red chairs placed in front of his desk. Fushimi nodded wordlessly before planting himself in one of the seats, slipping his saber from his belt and leaning it against the arm of the seat.

He looked up when he realized Munakata was watching him intently, chin resting in his open palm.

"Er…you said you needed to see me about something private…is everything okay?" Fushimi began cautiously. Munakata said nothing, instead taking a long sip from his cup, still regarding him silently. Fushimi shifted in his seat, adopting the same position as his superior. He slouched against the arm of the chair, head resting in his open palm as he crossed one leg lazily over the other. He had already initiated conversation. Now it was Munakata's turn to speak, and Fushimi hoped that the older man would open his mouth soon, because it was either he spoke, or the two would sit there all afternoon, staring at each other.

Thankfully, after a few more measured sips, Munakata set his cup down, a small smirk on his face.

"Why, do I seem out of sorts?" He asked after a moment.

"Not really. You just sounded strange on the phone is all."

At that, Munakata looked at him curiously before chuckling. It was a light, airy sound, and yet it made Fushimi shudder. Munakata wasn't someone made for laughing. It didn't suit him all that well.

"That bluntness of yours never ceases to amaze me, Fushimi."

"Thanks…I suppose."

This time, it was Munakata who shifted in his seat. Not as awkwardly as Fushimi, but after working with the older man for such a long time, Fushimi had come to learn the small signs of discomfort that were distinctly Munakata's.

Munakata sat up straight, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward slightly. That was the first sign.

"Listen, Fushimi. I have a small favor to ask of you." He began, regaining the usual 'all-business' tone he normally used. His eyebrows, however, were furrowed slightly. That was the second sign.

Fushimi nodded. "And what would that be?"

"It's about Ms. Awashima."

Fushimi had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of Munakata's second in command. It wasn't exactly that he detested Lieutenant Awashima; on the contrary, she was tolerable most of the time, as were most of the members of SCEPTER 4. It was just that she had a rather annoying tendency to nag him and get on his case and micromanage him, especially at times when it was really not necessary at all. He didn't think of her as a nagging mother, but more like a bossy older sister.

"What about her?"

Munakata sighed heavily as he removed his glasses, cleaning an imaginary speck of dust from the lens. Fushimi's eyes narrowed. He was stalling. That was the third sign.

After a moment, Munakata put his glasses back on. "What do you think of her?" He began casually.

This time, Fushimi was unable to keep his expression from souring.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" He blurted out, instantly wishing he could take it back. However, Munakata's expression didn't falter.

"What do you think of her?" He repeated calmly, ignoring Fushimi's outburst. Fushimi scratched at his cheek awkwardly. "…In…what regard?"

"Do you like her? As a person? As your direct superior? I'm just curious."

Fushimi shrugged. "She's alright, I guess. She nags me too much, but whatever."

Munakata adjusted himself in his seat before settling back. The gleam of the afternoon sun caught the lens of his glasses, the glare obscuring his eyes from sight and giving him a decidedly sinister look. "I see. And would you say that you would give special regard to her feelings?"

"Her feelings?"Fushimi felt his eye twitch. He was beginning to get aggravated. It wasn't like Munakata to ask so many questions in general, let alone such vague and personal ones. "Captain…you're not asking me to help you fire her or something, are you?"

Munakata settled back further into the cushion of his seat, crossing his legs. "Of course not."

"Then why are you asking me what I think about Ms. Awashima? Forgive my rudeness, but with all due respect, you're being fuckin' weird."

Munakata's eyes widened slightly at the last few words, looking genuinely surprised. Fushimi just sat staring at him silently, his eyes narrowed and his mouth bowed downward in the usual scowl he was known for when he got upset.

"Forgive me." Munakata said after a moment, "I'll get to the point."

Fushimi just looked at him expectantly.

Munakata leaned over his desk, pushing a medium-sized paper box in front of Fushimi with his index finger. Fushimi recognized it as the kind of box that gourmet dessert shops placed their pastries in.


"Ms. Awashima gave this to me for my birthday this morning." Fushimi looked up from the box.

"It was your birthday today?" He asked curiously, despite his irritation.

"No. Over the weekend, actually."


"And normally, I would be happy to eat whatever is inside, but…"

Fushimi leaned forward. "…But?"

Munakata sighed. "Just open it." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. If he hadn't been so annoyed, Fushimi would've outright laughed at the apparent frustration in his superior's actions.

But as it was, Fushimi stood up with a predictable sucking of his teeth and walked up to Munakata's desk. His hand hovered over the paper box for a moment before lifting the delicate lid.

"I…Holy shit." Was all he could say. It seemed that the pastry was small. Small enough that it could be consumed in one or two bites. From beneath the -quite literal- mountain of red bean paste, Fushimi could barely make out the pale white frosting of a mini-cake.

Munakata let out a small noise of frustration. "I'm not even sure what kind of cake it is, because there is …bean paste… all over it."

The way Munakata spat out 'bean paste' was enough to earn a snort from his subordinate. A crooked grin formed on Fushimi's face before a sharp peel of laughter erupted from him. Munakata was certain he heard a distinct murmur of 'what the fuck' amidst those giggles.

"Fushimi," Munakata began coldly, "This is no laughing matter. Ms. Awashima will be returning with her afternoon report shortly, and if she sees this," He pointed at the box with blatant disdain, "Still sitting on my desk, I don't know how she'll react."

Munakata looked up at the younger man, who was just staring at him, a look not unlike disbelief etched across his face.

"Sir…why don't you just scrape the bean paste off?"


Fushimi pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was he always the one left to do the rational thinking? It was like being at the Howling Flame all over again. "The bean paste is not a fixture on the cake, you know. It's removable."

Munakata just stared at him, frowning. "Are you mocking me, Fushimi?"

"Well sir, if you didn't think to simply scrape the bean paste off of the cake yourself, then in my opinion, you deserve all the mockery in the world."

Munakata leveled him with a stern glare. "I'm a busy man, Fushimi. I don't have the time to just sit here, scraping paste off of a cake at my leisure."

Fushimi nodded in faint amusement, his eyes slowly drifting to the half-finished puzzle sitting off to the side of Munakata's desk.

"Yes, I can see that you're clearly pressed for time."

Munakata stood up and walked around the desk, hands folded behind his back. "You do realize that I am your boss, right?"

"Yes, I do. But then I remember that you called me in here because of a cake and suddenly that doesn't seem to matter as much."

Munakata glowered but said nothing. Fushimi had a point. The two stood in silence for several seconds before Fushimi cleared his throat.

"So, what exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Get rid of it."

Fushimi supposed he should've seen that coming. "Why do I need to get rid of it? Why don't you just throw it away if you don't want it?"

Munakata shook his head. "No, I can't do that."


"Ms. Awashima might see it in the trash can. Besides," Munakata said quietly, leaning against his desk with his arms folded across his chest, "I have a guilty conscience."

"…So you want me to throw it out? It's fine if I do it, but if you do it yourself, you'll feel guilty? What kind of fucked up logic is that?" Fushimi snapped, resisting the urge to pick the parcel up and ram the cake right into his superior's face.

"Because then I can't personally be held accountable for the whereabouts of the cake. Therefore she can't be upset with me."

Fushimi's jaw nearly dropped. "But you're telling me to throw it out. That's still being accountable!"

"It's not the same."


"Your constant use of the word 'fuck' in response to your direct superior will not be ignored."


"Sir? I'm here with the afternoon report." A familiar voice sounded from the doorway suddenly. The two men nearly paled.

"Fushimi, just get rid of it! Hurry up!" Munakata whispered heatedly, flapping his hand wildly. Despite his annoyance, Fushimi quickly picked up the parcel, nearly dropping it as he fumbled around the office, looking for a place to stash it.

"Captain Munakata?" Awashima called softly from the other side of the door.

"Just a moment, Ms. Awashima." Munakata called out before turning to Fushimi.

"What's taking you so long? Just do something with it!"

"Fuck you!" Fushimi hissed loudly, a strange sense of panic rising within him. To think that Munakata's office was so large, and yet, in a frustratingly ironic twist, there was no place he could easily hide the cake.

"Our lives and careers are riding on this! Your future in SCEPTER 4 depends on this! Your entire life has led up to this moment!"


"Sir, are you okay in there? I'm coming in."

They both froze. The door handle shook before turning downward slowly. Munakata spun around, looking uncharacteristically frazzled. "Fushimi! "


The two passed the box between them, like a game of hot potato.

"Get rid of it!"

"You get rid of it! It was for you anyway!"

"Captain, if you're not feeling well, would you like me to call the infirmary?" Awashima asked from the doorway.

"I'm fine, Ms. Awashima." Munakata said as calmly as he could before turning back to Fushimi.

"Just-just throw it out the window!" He said as quietly as he could, motioning towards the window.

"She'll see it on the ground later! Are you stupid?"

"Fushimi, we're running out of options here!"

The door creaked open slowly to reveal the blonde lieutenant. Thankfully, she was organizing a stack of papers balanced neatly on her forearm and had not yet looked up.

Munakata turned to Fushimi. "Fushimi! Do something!"



Without thinking, Fushimi reached into the box and grabbed the cake, bean paste and all, and shoved the whole thing into his mouth before quickly throwing the empty box behind the bookshelf. They heard the soft thud of the box hitting the floor just as Awashima came to stand in front of them.

"Sir, I have the results of the surveillance you ordered on…" Awashima trailed off as she finally looked up, "…Tuesday…"

Munakata and Fushimi were both standing in the middle of the office, both posed rigidly.

The youngest member of their organization was undoubtedly the more uncomfortable looking of the pair however; his eyes were beginning to water and his cheeks were puffed out to nearly the size two over-stuffed rice balls.

"Mu'um." He saluted casually around a mouthful of...whatever he was eating.

"…Fushimi…"She nodded back, still looking at him strangely. But before she could continue on with her report, Munakata interjected.

"Ms. Awashima, before you begin, would you be so kind as to get a new bag of tea for me? I meant to grab one from the dining hall earlier…must've slipped my mind."

"Oh, of course sir." Awashima said without faltering once, quickly turning on her heel and walking back out of the room.

Once the clicks of her boot heels faded, Fushimi forced the mass of food in his mouth down his throat. Munakata clapped him on the shoulder.

"That was-"

"Don't you dare." Fushimi wheezed. "If I…don't get a…pr-promotion out of this," Fushimi panted harshly between words, "I'm going to go downtown… and talk to the Yakuza and… put a hit out on you..." Fushimi thumped at his chest, coughing loudly as he stormed out of the room.

Now that he was alone, Munakata sighed. He walked calmly to his desk and sat down, neatly folding his legs under the desk.

Fushimi seemed a bit upset. And he was also quite certain that his newest subordinate wasn't the type to make empty threats.

Munakata pushed his glasses up higher on his nose.

Perhaps a promotion of some sort was in order after all.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!