ibuberu | Arakawa Under the Bridge (general)

I felt uneasy about the lack of arakawa fanfiction. And Sister/Maria is probably my arakawa otp, though I don’t know if I did them justice ;;

Title – Adding Fire to the Fuel
Author –

ibuberu
Characters – Recruit/Nino, Sister/ Maria, Chief/P-ko, Stella, Metal Brothers, Hoshi, Shiro
Rating – PG
Genre – General, Romance, Humor
Summary – five ways to smile under a city bridge
Notes – A collection of five short stories about the main characters. There’s one tiny reference to ep 12 of the anime, in case this could lead to potential spoilers.

Adding Fire to the Fuel

“Shall I take you out on a date?” Kou pressed with lilting eyes.

“A date? What’s that?” Nino responded quite vacantly.

“Remember the time we went for a walk down the river?” he reminded her dutifully.

The man was oddly patient with the girl today, though the likely cause was because the Ichinomiya Corporation had given up on its intention to chase them out of their humble and queer community. As insane as everyone here was, he couldn’t search it in himself to leave them in the lurch. And now, it was far harder to imagine a life that didn’t revolve around two-minute masses or crappy musical performances by star-shaped loudmouths.

As Nino nodded to show that she had just the faintest, foggiest recollection of such an occurrence happening, the man returned to the present situation.

“We should celebrate that we can stay together now. How about I bring you to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in the city? Or maybe you’d like to go and see fireworks?” Kou suggested, the initial ideas fitting in his head one after the next in rapid succession.

“Have you ridden on a helicopter before? Would you like to? I could– ” he stopped as Nino started to shake her head, eyes wide and lips shaped in a thoughtful frown. She walked silently over to the river and sat down with her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket.
“I’d like it if we could just sit here and watch the fishes swim,” Nino answered with a monotonic honesty that he found vastly familiar, in a way that showed she had actually put a bit of mindful weight into the idea.

Kou nodded indulgently, the timid smile on his face opening up as they settled at the edge of the river. After being gone for one week, the blonde’s simplicity and questionable memory were a relief to experience and recall. He sat down next to her as she removed her shoes and allowed her feet to drift along in the caress of the water. She stared intently at the river, entertained by the most uncomplicated things in the world like the floating of stray grass and the frolicking of the fish. Kou mimicked her actions, and as their feet touched in the water, Nino acknowledged the contact with a stream of words.

“I lot of things happened while you were gone,” she began before drifting off into a story that would only be told half-way, with a sizable amount missing parts and important details forgone.

Kou watched the sun disappear behind the cover of distant horizon of city buildings, spilling hues of orange and red over the darkening canvas of the sky. He sighed, realizing that he had missed the scene of the sunset too, after having been locked away within the walls of his company for seven days. If asked a year ago if he found the sun set beautiful, he would have probably answered that he didn’t have the time to waste on such a menial thing.

He leaned back, propping himself up with one of his hands, continuing to listen as Nino retold events of the past week in her own unbridled, dreamy way. It took him awhile to realise that they were holding hands – an effortless gesture of sorts that came about entirely unbeknownst to either of them. Nino held herself intact, unaffected by their hands in the most enamoring way, the brightening of her eyes amplified against the golden of her hair as she lapsed deeper into fond, hazy memories about Hoshi nearly drowning in the river.

And Recruit supposed, for a moment, that maybe the life under the bridge was the calm and perfect one in a sensible reality – the life he had endured up above seemed so ridiculously complicated in comparison.

The moonlight framed her, outlining her figure and catching her bubblegum hair in a way that had him half-wishing he hadn’t seen the way she carried herself, half-praying that the moment would last for just a silver of a second longer. The beams of moon collecting in the river were round and luminous, the dark waters swishing with timid ripples and conversations of the fish. In the background, he heard the hum of the animals, the bells of the cows sounding against the clips of crowing the chickens produced.

Maria’s eyes were striking, almost blinding against his, unblinking and hardly interested in that habitual way of hers. She seemed to be contemplating the night – the simple dinner, the short walk, and the pools of dark red blood that trailed behind his walk like his own pair of footsteps. Her eyes flickered for an instant, and though her expression betrayed no change, he realized that she had paused and posed under the moon because she had momentarily run out of insults to bludgeon him with. He was quite pleased with himself for withstanding the whole night – it was good training, it kept him in shape, after all, war could happen at any time.

“Your lips look awful, I suppose even your own mother detests wasting a kiss on someone like you.” Maria began with new vigor, examining her nails with a deadpan expression that did nothing to smother the strength of her features and the beauty of the contours on her face.

The words gnawed effectively at him, and he felt the cold blood pulse under his skin, about ready to burst through the seams of his scar again. But the idea of kissing that Maria brought up was suddenly so apparent, and like a spark of a fire, embarrassment flashed in the dullness of his eyes. “Sorry,” he said as he lowered his gaze, in an almost affectionate, giving way he would refuse if later questioned.

“If we kiss, I’ll vomit blood,” she sighed vaguely in characteristic disdain, threads of another suspicious emotion leaking by the corners of her mouth. He found himself nodding quite obliviously, and started to stalk away before she could make him feel any more devastated – he had assumed that she had perhaps tolerated – maybe liked – their date, save for the constant barrage of insults. But apparently that wasn’t the cas–

In one swift movement Maria vaulted to block his advance, the hem of her white apron gliding as she grabbed his cross and yanked, and before he could respond, her lips had brushed softly against the cheek that owned his scar.

He couldn’t pinpoint the reason for an abrupt light-headedness blossoming from his chest, and he stumbled into numbed silence.

“Don’t you know how to be persistent with a woman?” Maria quipped teasingly, her steady breath cooling the heat of his face just before she stepped back and let go of him. Her eyes smiled differently and her lips moved to follow, and maybe that was affection flitering through on her face. He relaxed his grip on the handle of the dagger he was about to draw out from the sleeve of his dark tunic, stunned beyond any respect a flash grenade could have achieved.

“… That’s what makes you a pathetic man,” she informed him curtly.

The smile was suddenly no different from the ones she usually displayed, and she seemed to glean amusement as he proceeded to stagger backwards and land with a gratuitous ‘thump’ on the cushion of the overgrown grass lining the banks of the river, stricken with a bout of grief – though euphoria reigned as the general in his palpitating heat. Maria started to laugh without restraint in a sweet, albeit twisted and sadistic tone of voice that reverberated through the night air. As she sauntered back to her house, a curious gaze lingered over her shoulder, regarding him for a moment as she threaded one hand through her hair. In a way of endearment or perhaps genuine repulsion, he could not tell, she spoke her parting words with flushed cheeks: “You look horrible like that.”

He realised that a smile had instinctively broken out on his face in spite of the blood spilling from the scar tracing his cheek. And in the end, he couldn’t find it in himself to care – because in the bigger picture of things, she didn’t say ‘I hate you’ and that he ‘deserved to die’.

He lay there on the ground in a rare period of peace for a few minutes, before mechanically getting onto his feet and making his way to the area behind his church. From whence, he found himself mounting a piece of memorabilia from the war with Maria – it was a humble, runty thing with only one modest cannon and a limited firing range of maybe ten feet or so, and there wasn’t even night vision available in the military tank – and he went around blasting the cannonballs like celebratory fireworks until Riku came flailing down the field, demanding for an explanation on where the little-one had come from and consequently getting run over in the process.

She cultivated the vegetables he preferred to eat with uncertain hands and a hammering heart, taking extra care and sparing them the most attention out of the others in her utopian garden. She worked under the glare of the sun and shaded them with a broken umbrella she had come across along the inner bank, wherein someone from above must have dumped because of the broken handle it sported. She found no problem in that, the umbrella itself devoid of holes and more than capable to cover the plantation of growing peppers and tomatoes.

She knew that it was no advisable to play ‘favourites’ in her quaint nursery, she was afraid the rest would shrivel or wilt from the depression or neglect that would result – but she had to groom the best, if only to present him with something she had personally created, fashioned with alacrity and something that made her heart stagger in her chest.

And she couldn’t bake; she had ended up spilling flour everywhere and breaking ten eggs instead of the required one the last time she tried. Her garden was the only place she felt un-prone to accidents. She knelt down and tucked her knees under her chin to observe the sprouts that had strained through the soil and immersed to the sun at the beginning of the week. Her mouth twitched and her eyes tried not to betray the harboring of any feeling outside of pride – but anticipation and romance prickled beneath her lips regardless. As she moved and grabbed her watering can, the red-haired girl realized that a shadow had casted itself over her frame. She lowered the dirty pink umbrella and glanced over to her shoulder, only to see the Chief standing behind her, scrutinizing the expanse of her garden with an engaged countenance on that dashing green face.

P-ko immediately sprung to her feet, her cheeks heating wildly as water leaped out of the open watering can to drench her standard black dress. She squeaked and moved to wipe the droplets off her skirt, only to slip on the small puddle that appeared at her gardening boots and proceed to flail her free hand and plunge onto her rear in the most unglamorous and suicidal way probably ever possible.

She managed to avoid falling onto the seedlings, but the same could not be said for the umbrella, whose broken handle was now shattered, amongst other parts that were now bent out of place underneath her. The girl was exasperated at herself, setting the ridiculous watering can down, and threatening to just scream out in absolute frustration.

The only thing that thwarted her was the green hand that suddenly touched her shoulder comfortingly, before taking her own muddy fingers to help her up from the mess. The girl’s mind wavered as she left his strength hoisting her and any feeling other than awe and bliss became notably obsolete.

He asked her if there was any clear water left in her watering can after politely inquiring from her the details of what she was growing, for he felt hot under the afternoon sun. She answered an affirmative too quickly, tripping over the clumsiest words and deciding to just cease all talking as she slowly and carefully grabbed the handle of the watering can from the ground, kicking the broken umbrella aside as his and her shadow proved to be sufficient to shield the sprouts from the sun.

She tilted her wrist guardedly, angling it with a focus that seemed redundant for such a menial task – but caution warded away the formidable klutz within her as she finally watched the river’s water splash and collect on his head. And when a serene grin rested on his face, P-ko couldn’t help but mimic the mesmerizing expression until long after the watering can ran out of fluid.

“Stella, who do you like best?” They asked earnestly one afternoon, soon after an occurrence of the question and the resulting scuffle a pair of brothers usually shared.

The foreigner blinked quietly in response, her lip furling and her cascade eyes focusing on one of the numerous metal supports connected to the overhanging bridge. She hummed and deliberated and the brothers stood on the edge of their toes, eager to know the answer. And when she reached a conclusion, she announced proudly: “Stella can’t choose, she loves both of you equally!”

She then grinned keenly, no hesitation in her choice of statement.

“Really?” they probed, enthralled by her words.

“Of course! And if one of you dies, I’ll still have one more left!”

She smiled lovingly despite the content of her sentence. And the brothers were stunned with indescribable shock as they tried to endure the onslaught of fearful tears and continue to follow the little blonde girl as she traipsed down the bank of the river.

“Hey Hoshi,” he called out to the person sitting next to him as he cracked opened a can of beer.

“What?”

“Do you feel like we’re missing out on something here?” he found himself asking vaguely, as if it came to him as an afterthought.

“What the hell are you crapping about? We’ve got a pack of beer, my guitar, and the nightline of the city – we’re the luckiest bastards tonight!”

“What? Why –”

“We’re free men!”

He found the statement quite logically convincing, and the feeling of loneliness haunted him no more. And so the man toasted his drink against Hoshi’s and started to gulp it down sparingly, a smile touching his lips when the cats yowled and the dogs barked madly as Hoshi began strumming and bursting out into an old-favourite chorus about leeches and unrequited love.

end

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

great fan fic (or should i say fics? lol)! very well written and very much in character =] while i liked them all, i really loved numbers one and two. i thought you captured maria and sister very nicely =]

i hope you write more for this show soon!

AH Thank you so much (: Glad that I managed to keep them in character, that's a relief, especially regarding Maria and Sister. And I'd be incredibly happy to write more if ever possible.

Drats...I don't know this fandom enough to understand it as much. :-( Though, it does look pretty nice from what I see so far. There's a life to this work that I don't usually see in the general fanfics out there...which is a shame, because having a form of tone and vividness is exactly what makes writing beautiful.

Thanks for the beautiful fanfic. :3

It is pretty awesome, and the anime is 13 episodes only, you should check it out if you've got nothing to do, haha C: Anyway thank you so much for leaving a comment regardless ♥ I agree with you about tone and vividness! Vital parts about writing, they are.

The Stella one was really cute. :]

ffff thank you, glad I managed to achieve that :D

I finally found fanfiction for Arakawa Under the Bridge. I recently got addicted to the series. My favorite is the one with Sister and Maria :D I love those two. Of course, Sister would celebrate by firing a canon. And of course Riku would get injured in the process.

Thank you >3

You found a great series to get addicted to! I loved this series a lot when it first aired (:

Anyway, thank you so so much for your kind words :D

Arakawa Under the Bridge (general)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject