Ship/Character: Kita Shinsuke & Miya Osamu Fandom: Haikyuu!! Major Tags: Graphic depictions of violence Other Tags: blood, murder, a bit of gore Word Count: 796 Remix Permission: granted!
this went a bit differently than intended, but it's. still blood fnsjkdf
***
This could have been cleaner, and god knows that Kita is meticulous about it, but Osamu would argue that doing a clean job is harder than it sounds. To be fair, he tries to keep splashes of blood and trails of dirt to a minimum, but when your opponent isn't cooperating and likes to paint the walls of a small alley with pristine crimson, it can't yield a satisfactory result.
“Well, at least the target is dead,” he comments, shrugging.
“And so is your shirt,” Kita points out, staring at the hole in Osamu's side and the torn sleeves.
Osamu gives a short snort, still tightly wrapping an arm around his middle to prevent his body from emptying his blood stock. Strangely enough this doesn't feel like the worst of it, one would think that getting stabbed would ring some alarms in someone's mind, but Osamu is so used to mundane wounds like this one that he doesn't consider it an emergency. Emergencies would be getting shot in the chest, or drinking poison, or having a literal bomb strapped to your back (an experience he doesn't want to relive ever again). Sure, it's a bit painful; everything in life is painful anyway, a physical wound is almost more bearable than a trauma, or something.
He glances at his boots covered in red. He can see the fingerprints dragging to the end of the shoes, remains of the last efforts of a dead man. Leather boots, he learned over the years, are way more practical and less likely to keep a stain, and Kita was pleased to know Osamu chose them. He could go on his expeditions with rubber boots, but it's not very threatening, right? And the squishing sound it would make when walking into a puddle of blood would be atrocious and kind of disgusting.
The moment he bends down to pick his knife, he jumps out of his skin at the sound of something vibrating. He exchanges a look with Kita, and with his permission, he reaches for the phone in his pocket. It's true that it's past their usual time. He doesn't wait for the one on the other side of the line to talk.
A sharp metal noise echoes. Osamu looks up. Someone is standing at the end of the alley, looking more beaten up than the one on the ground, and that is quite a feat since Osamu didn't really go easy with his blade and his kicks.
“Let me,” Kita says, perfectly calm, like always.
He takes out his own knife, while his gun is still secured in his pouch. Osamu will never get used to seeing his partner splattered in blood.
“What's going on?”
A roar is the signal to move. Kita swiftly dodges the raw and imprecise assault, lifts his weapon and brings it down into the man's shoulder. The guttural scream he lets out can render someone deaf, and Osamu is surprised that this doesn't wake up anyone in the vicinity.
Oh right. Deserted neighborhood.
“Nothing, just taking care of one last detail.”
He doesn't hear it, but he can see the way the blade turns and turns the flesh, ensuing more screaming of pain and ragged panting. Another attempt at getting to Kita is made, but shooting point-blank actually requires more technique than it seems, and Kita easily deflects the attack by shoving a smaller dagger into the wrist. Everything is done without a speck of blood on his clothes or his face. Even the gross drops of blood landing on the ground don't dirty his shoes.
“Okay, don't take too long.”
Kita is barely moving, at this point, not a scratch on him. He murmurs something, asking a question probably, but he only gets a snarl as an answer, so he sighs. He pulls out his knife, allowing the blood to freely pour onto the man's body like a waterfall of fire, and without hesitating a second he plunges it into his neck in one precise and commanding thrust. Everything spills; red liquid and red breath.
“I think it's finished.”
Kita steps aside and lets the body crumble. The legs are twitching, one last time, before the pool of blood beneath them are evidence enough of his chance of survival leaving him. He never stood a chance anyway, not when he decided to mess with one of the scariest people on Earth. Kita carefully takes back his weapons, always minding the droplets of blood, and quickly wipes them with a cloth. He puts them away and nods at Osamu.
FILL: Team KinKage, T
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Major Tags: Graphic depictions of violence
Other Tags: blood, murder, a bit of gore
Word Count: 796
Remix Permission: granted!
this went a bit differently than intended, but it's. still blood fnsjkdf
***
This could have been cleaner, and god knows that Kita is meticulous about it, but Osamu would argue that doing a clean job is harder than it sounds. To be fair, he tries to keep splashes of blood and trails of dirt to a minimum, but when your opponent isn't cooperating and likes to paint the walls of a small alley with pristine crimson, it can't yield a satisfactory result.
“Well, at least the target is dead,” he comments, shrugging.
“And so is your shirt,” Kita points out, staring at the hole in Osamu's side and the torn sleeves.
Osamu gives a short snort, still tightly wrapping an arm around his middle to prevent his body from emptying his blood stock. Strangely enough this doesn't feel like the worst of it, one would think that getting stabbed would ring some alarms in someone's mind, but Osamu is so used to mundane wounds like this one that he doesn't consider it an emergency. Emergencies would be getting shot in the chest, or drinking poison, or having a literal bomb strapped to your back (an experience he doesn't want to relive ever again). Sure, it's a bit painful; everything in life is painful anyway, a physical wound is almost more bearable than a trauma, or something.
He glances at his boots covered in red. He can see the fingerprints dragging to the end of the shoes, remains of the last efforts of a dead man. Leather boots, he learned over the years, are way more practical and less likely to keep a stain, and Kita was pleased to know Osamu chose them. He could go on his expeditions with rubber boots, but it's not very threatening, right? And the squishing sound it would make when walking into a puddle of blood would be atrocious and kind of disgusting.
The moment he bends down to pick his knife, he jumps out of his skin at the sound of something vibrating. He exchanges a look with Kita, and with his permission, he reaches for the phone in his pocket. It's true that it's past their usual time. He doesn't wait for the one on the other side of the line to talk.
“Target killed, rest assured.”
“I wasn't worried,” an identical voice answers, sounding annoyed. “Just checking.”
“Well, check you did.”
A sharp metal noise echoes. Osamu looks up. Someone is standing at the end of the alley, looking more beaten up than the one on the ground, and that is quite a feat since Osamu didn't really go easy with his blade and his kicks.
“Let me,” Kita says, perfectly calm, like always.
He takes out his own knife, while his gun is still secured in his pouch. Osamu will never get used to seeing his partner splattered in blood.
“What's going on?”
A roar is the signal to move. Kita swiftly dodges the raw and imprecise assault, lifts his weapon and brings it down into the man's shoulder. The guttural scream he lets out can render someone deaf, and Osamu is surprised that this doesn't wake up anyone in the vicinity.
Oh right. Deserted neighborhood.
“Nothing, just taking care of one last detail.”
He doesn't hear it, but he can see the way the blade turns and turns the flesh, ensuing more screaming of pain and ragged panting. Another attempt at getting to Kita is made, but shooting point-blank actually requires more technique than it seems, and Kita easily deflects the attack by shoving a smaller dagger into the wrist. Everything is done without a speck of blood on his clothes or his face. Even the gross drops of blood landing on the ground don't dirty his shoes.
“Okay, don't take too long.”
Kita is barely moving, at this point, not a scratch on him. He murmurs something, asking a question probably, but he only gets a snarl as an answer, so he sighs. He pulls out his knife, allowing the blood to freely pour onto the man's body like a waterfall of fire, and without hesitating a second he plunges it into his neck in one precise and commanding thrust. Everything spills; red liquid and red breath.
“I think it's finished.”
Kita steps aside and lets the body crumble. The legs are twitching, one last time, before the pool of blood beneath them are evidence enough of his chance of survival leaving him. He never stood a chance anyway, not when he decided to mess with one of the scariest people on Earth. Kita carefully takes back his weapons, always minding the droplets of blood, and quickly wipes them with a cloth. He puts them away and nods at Osamu.
“Come back, then.”
Osamu hangs up.