[ti]private[/ti]Hanahaki

A whistle sounds. A wolf whistle.

“Damn.” The sound of familiar steps come to stride across the grass, trampling the lavender blooms underneath. Kazuki’s eyes rake up the view, following the slope of Verai’s back clad in the thin kimono. The fabric is by no means revealing (unfortunately), but it drapes over him well, accentuates his broad shoulders. And his ass.

<Damn!> Sprigatito squeaks, thinking it’s the appropriate expression. He doesn’t run up, but he does a little scamper, trying to reach Kitten as fast as his tired legs can take him. His collar jingles as he does. <Purrai, did you make that too? Both of you look so pretty!>

Kazuki grins, stopping close. “Yeah, what’s the occasion?” He hadn’t heard Verai earlier, but seeing him in the kimono reminds him of something Ren mentioned that morning. But that shouldn’t have any relevance here; he’s seen people run around the game in everything from onesies to buckass naked with only a loincloth and a foam Torchic head. A kimono is a pretty normal pick, just not one he expected to see the armorer in.

The lack of a retort is a little surprising, but Kazuki, being who he is, simply takes this as permission to continue ogling. Sprigatito delights once Kitten bounces up to him, immediately rubbing his face all over her fur—and whining once he gets one of his large cheek fluffs caught on her ornate collar.

At the mention of Hokkaidō, Kazuki’s brain slams the breaks. It’s not readily apparent; his brows only rise, as if the mention of his current residence didn’t just give him whiplash. A festival. That’s what Ren had mentioned. They wanted to visit so they could snap photos and—update his page’s ‘reels’ or whatever the fuck. Kazuki had said no, but—

<Ow!> Sprigatito yelps, dragged forwards along with Kitten because of the tangle. He looks up at Verai with big cherry blossom eyes. <Can we? Can we have outfits, pleasepleaseplease?> He loves being waffle, but he wants to try other things too!

Kazuki kneels down beside Verai. “How did you get this?” He reaches out, tugging the fabric of Verai’s collar. “It’s a cosmetic, isn’t it?”

Sprigatito smiles, cheeks squished between Verai’s warm hands. <Mwuh mwuh, Pwuwai!> He’s making fishy faces, pawing excitedly at Verai's knees at the prospect of wearing something new.

At the question about Sprigatito’s collar, Kazuki rolls his eyes at him. “Are you kidding me? It’s been impossible to make him take it off.” He’s still fiddling with the other’s collar, enjoying the feel of silk under his hand. His chin is propped up on his knuckles as he stares, deep in thought.

“… You should take your daughter to the festival,” he laments out loud, eyes half-lidded. “Shibazakura, right? Either in Takinoue or Higashimokoto. Both only last until early June. Would be a waste not to go."

He rolls back on his haunches and stands. From how restless the cats are becoming, it’s clear where the next destination is. “Well? We going to Briarbane or what?"

“You said you usually went every year. You should be used to the drive.” Kazuki sounds irritated, and he is. Verai’s got that defeatist tone on him again, and he's making excuses. Kazuki mulls something over. “There’s a new hotel in Higashimokoto that should be open. It’s not expensive either, so you should be able to nab separate rooms, if your daughter—if Bria’s so intent on hanging out with her friends.” Why does that name sound familiar? Whatever. It’s a pretty simple nickname. He could’ve heard it in an ad or something.

In any case, what he just said was a lie. The hotel he’s thinking of isn’t technically new, nor is it affordable, but he has connections, and for now, money. It’s nothing to him.

But that’s up to Verai.

Sprigatito is picked up without a fuss, as limp as a blanket, but it's when they start moving that he begins wiggling his front paws, head turned to the ground. <Purraiiii… you didn’t pick up Kitten! I wanna sit next to Kitteeen!> he whines, as if Verai is a carnival ride, missing his friend. Plus, Kitten is warm! It’s nice to cuddle with her.

Kazuki thinks over the question as he walks. “I don’t want a boringass kimono.” He’s always been made to wear simple ones by the teams in charge of him. Too many patterns and colors would clash with his looks, or whatever the fuck. “Maybe I’ll get something that looks like it was dug up from a slaughterhouse. Covered in blood splatters,” he cackles. “That'd be sick.”

And then he pauses, brows furrowing, before he looks at Verai with a too-late realization. “Wait, why are you even wearing that? We’re in a game.”

Despite being turned into Kitten’s couch, Sprigatito seems quite delighted. <Hooray!> And he returns her affectionate bonk by tapping his nose on her fur. <Boop!>

Kazuki raises a brow, ever convinced of his perspective and quick to assume. “Because… they don’t celebrate the festival here?” He chuckles. “We're on the North American servers. Literally no one else is wearing one right now unless they’re cosplaying.” Or grinding for achievements, but that doesn’t seem to be the case, from how defensive Verai is being.

The man seems open to his suggestion. Now comes the verbal gymnastics, because for one thing, Kazuki refuses to divulge who he is unless he knows who Verai actually is, and for another, he’d rather be caught dead than admit he’d given a gift, especially to someone he met in a game. “Just call Hotel Sura, ask them about the—” 'Hm.' “Himura rooms. Should be vacant.”

'Note to self: Call Yoshitaka. Buy out the rooms, reserve for. Fuck, who? ‘Bria’s dad’?'

Kazuki scoffs. 'That’s Yoshitaka's problem.'

Being ignored by Verai is one thing—and it’s a thing he’s gotten accustomed to and will not be deterred by—but what comes out of the man’s mouth is another.

“Kumagai?” Kazuki’s brows shoot to the ceiling. “Kumagai? Are you fucking kidding me, Ver?”

Oh, now he’s done it.

Kazuki puts to a screeching halt literally everything and begins listing on each of his tattooed fingers. “First of all, Kumagai couldn’t land a proper kick even if it shoved itself up his ass. Have you actually watched his fights? His match with Tarasova was over instantly all because he was so wrapped up in getting fancy that he didn’t notice how much stamina he was using; that, and his choke game was weak, and then there was his rematch with—”

It goes on. Forever.

“Plus, he is so goddamn full of himself,” Kazuki scoffs. “His PR. We get it, shitnugget, you donate to every charity to exist, you don’t need to hog the AdSense!”

In the middle of his trainer’s impassioned rant, Sprigatito pokes his fluffy head out from where he’s been locked in some sort of pretzel standoff with Kitten in Verai’s arms. <What’s a shitnugget!>

<Aww!> Sprigatito pouts, only to get smacked in the face by Kitten’s back. Further questions and concerns are drowned out by the call of real meowtial arts.

With the end of his rant, Kazuki expects some kind of dismissal, or perhaps for every word of his to have slipped out one ear to another. Even though he’s aware Verai has fighting experience, he’s still surprised at the revelation that the man’s been keeping up with the professional MMA scene for 10 years.

—Or, you know, Kumagai’s professional MMA scene.

Kazuki’s eyes slowly. Squint.

And then by the time his name comes out of Verai’s mouth, the decision has solidified, and his face has ruined the blessing his mother had given him by contorting into an ugly snarl. “A good fighter is versatile.” But he finds himself mentally shuffling his training schedule. He’d been worrying about recovering his leg strength, but improving his punches is far from impossible. “Everyone’s playing it flashy for the camera, that only makes it more inexcusable when you cut the length of the fight by getting downed early, and—”

It turns into a back-and-forth debate, because unfortunately Kazuki lacks Verai’s good manners and enjoys playing contrarian, but it’s also because talking with someone who’s just as interested in professional fighting is just—fun. Even if they are kicking his ego.

They’ve made some distance by the time the point about the charities is reached. This one is trickier to fight on, though it’s not one Kazuki let go either, even with the stare Verai levels him with. “You really think he does it out of the goodness of his heart?” Kazuki mutters, glaring at him, then down, and then looking elsewhere. "Whatever. Arguing with you while you're wearing that is fucking cheating. Now where's the shop?"

<Kiiitteeen,> Sprigatito whines. <I can’t see! Get your tail out of my face!> He bats it away—and then keeps doing it, because Kitten’s tail is thin and wiggly and has a fun little tuft at the end. Once he’s over the distraction though, he perks up at the sight in front of them. <Oh! Oh!! Look! Hats!>

Before them stretches Briarbane, and smack dab in the bustling commercial district of saloons and newly-built antique stores is a store with a proud sign saying, BANDANNAS, BELTS, AND BOTTOMS BOUTIQUE! It’s been lightly vandalized, changing the word ‘BOUTIQUE’ to ‘BOOTYQUE’.