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28 September 2015 @ 09:04 pm
Oneshot: First Stop: Anywhere  
Title: First Stop: Anywhere
Author: Me~!

Pairing: Nakajima Yuto/Yamada Ryosuke (YutoYama)
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Alternate Universe - Doctor Who

Summary: Yuto as the Doctor, last of the Time Lords, and Yamada as still an idol but also his companion. Together, they travel through space and time (and maybe fall into something like love).

A/N: Heavily inspired by and is a mash-up of Doctor Who, a British TV show, and HSJ.

There are a few references to the show but you don't really need to have knowledge of the show to understand the fic.

I guess the only thing I feel I absolutely have to explain is the "name" part of the story. In DW the Doctor's name is a secret and no one knows it except for River Song (and maybe Clara?), who they played off as some great love for the Doctor. If you can't tell, I don't particularly like River.

Anyhow, because the Doctor is only ever called the Doctor, even Yuto Doctor must be called the Doctor.

Hope that wasn't too confusing. Please enjoy =)


The first time Yamada sees that royal blue box he’s an eight year old kid kicking a soccer ball around in the park. He’s mostly intrigued by the tall older man wearing suspenders and a bowtie entering the box because who still wears bowties and suspenders? And why go into the box? There can’t be much space, surely.

He’s distracted for a moment when his mom calls out his name, concerned because she lost track of him and when he turns back around the box is gone.

He forgets about the box and the strange man and doesn’t think about it at all until he’s eighteen and twenty and twenty-two and twenty-five and twenty-six and...


Yamada has hidden himself away in a secluded corner in NHK hall trying to get a moment to himself when a strange noise starts from nowhere. He looks around frantically trying to find the origin of said noise and finally comes face to face with it when a blue box materializes inches away from him.

He squeezes his eyes shut. He must be hallucinating.

It’s still there when he opens his eyes again.

The moment he tries reaching out to it the door swings open and a head pops out, scaring Yamada into leaping back.

“Oh, hello. I’m the Doctor.” The man closes the door behind him and stands in front of Yamada, back straight, head held high, mouth curled into a welcoming smile (and dare he say with a touch of arrogance as well?) as he fixes his bowtie. “You are?”

“Yamada Ryosuke,” he answers cautiously, still not believing any of this is really happening and yet the man - handsome and tall and lean, slightly unkempt thick jet black hair parted on the side, seemingly scattered moles forming a line from under his left eye to his neck with a scar that immediately draw attention to his mouth - is still there no matter how many times he shakes his head to snap out of it.

“Well, come on then Ryosuke. I might have gotten myself a bit lost here.”

Ryosuke? He thinks as he quickly trails along behind this strange man, still completely baffled. Ryosuke? He looks Japanese but he clearly isn’t from around here if he’s calling Yamada by his first name so casually.

Before he knows it he’s roped into foiling an alien plot to take over the world involving Japanese pop music and robot idols, the bright young minds of Japanese youth, and subliminal messages that… makes them do something?

Honestly, Yamada’s stopped trying to understand what the hell was going on halfway through because he just doesn’t understand people (and aliens!) most of the time and really, how is this even his life?

Still, as he’s running away from aliens with laser guns and handsaws, one hand in the Doctor’s, he can’t help but think it’s the most excitement he’s had in years.

After the Doctor saves the world and before he leaves, he pauses, one palm braced on the door to that same blue box (and really, where does he think he’s going in that?), turns around and says to Yamada, “You wanna come with?”


“Yep. All of time and space, what do you say?”

There’s an earnest look and something much sadder hidden in the depths of those eyes, eyes that seem to hold hundreds (maybe thousands) of years of knowledge and memories (loneliness), and he hates to disappoint, doesn’t understand why he even feels that way but he’s got people here who depend on him.

“I can’t just up and leave. People need me. I mean- What about my group I-”

“All of time and space.”

The Doctor already knows his answer.

Yamada already knows his answer too.

“Time machine?”

“And space ship.”

“And both of us will fit how?”

A cheeky grin as the Doctor opens the doors with flourish before galavanting inside and throwing his arms up. “This is the TARDIS. There’s a million million rooms in here. Okay maybe not that much but there is a pool. It’s… somewhere.”

“No way.” Yamada follows the Doctor in, eyes wide in disbelief as he does a single slow spin to take in the room around him.

“Come on. Say it.” Cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “I love when people say it.”

“It’s bigger on the inside!”

The Doctor snaps his fingers and the door snaps shut.

“So, all of time and space at your fingertips, Yamada Ryosuke,” whispered into his ear, sending a shiver of excitement down his spine. “First stop?”


The Doctor whoops and glides around the console, pressing seemingly random buttons before the soon to be familiar whoosh whoosh whoosh fills the air.


The first place the doctor takes him to is relatively calm and action free, which surprises him because for whatever reason he had it in his mind that what happened back home was an everyday occurrence for the Doctor.

This world with it’s red sun and orange skies are untouched by the destruction of humans - the air crisp and clean and different in his lungs.

They sit there in the purple grass relishing in an orange sunset tinged with red and green hues and when he glances over at the doctor, he sees the wonder and awe he feels reflected in that face.

The Doctor must have seen just about everything and yet he’s still like a child opening a present on Christmas eve. That’s not a bad thing though. In fact, it’s amazing to have someone sharing the same awe and wonderment.

And this, this is great. Sometimes Yamada feels like life is moving too fast for him to just take these kind of moments in for himself. To be able to sit back and tilt his head towards the warmth of this sun and feel it on his skin brings a smile that threatens to take over.

The Doctor ruins the moment by asking, “So, what’s with all the sparkles and feathers?”

He face palms and doesn’t know where to begin.


“You like ghosts?”

That’s how they end up on a world where the sky eternally glows an eerily faded navy blue and the stars never stop blinking above them.

He’s like a child visiting the zoo for the first time, excited at every new creature that comes into sight. Some similar enough to Japanese ghost folk lores that he recognizes them, some he’s never even imagined before in his life.

The Doctor, for all of his savior of worlds and universes bravado doesn’t know how to deal with ghosts and supernatural creatures.

“Not ghosts and supernatural creatures in the sense you’ve come to understand them. I know they’re-”

A cute little creature pokes the Doctor from behind, sending him careening into Yamada’s arms with a shout.

“But you’re still scared of them?”

“Well, yeah.”

The Doctor has a way of making everything sound so simple even when he understands nothing.


“Doctor, what’s your name?”

It’s three days after he started running away with the doctor that he realizes he doesn’t know the Doctor’s name.

The Doctor gives him a smile, but it’s tight and doesn’t light up his face like all the others he’s been given.

“You can call me the Doctor.”

He can’t say he’s not disappointed, but from the Doctor’s answer he knows he’s not going to get anywhere, no matter how much he prods and pokes. Vaguely, he remembers the Doctor saying (while they were on that planet with all the ghosts and creatures) that names have power, some more than most, and someone as old as the Doctor (he hasn’t gotten an exact age yet but he will someday) must have a very powerful name indeed.

So Yamada offers him a smile with a nod, says, “Doctor,” and watches the worried wrinkles of the Doctor’s face fade away.


It feels like time stops when he’s with the Doctor.

Either that or like it doesn’t exist at all.

He’s stopped trying to keep track of which day of the week it was because it didn’t matter. One day it was Tuesday and the next it’d be Sunday and after so long he realizes days and weeks months and minutes and seconds - that concept of time - is a construct of humanity’s inability to do anything but move through each linear point. He isn’t confined to that anymore though, not when he’s with the Doctor.

“So, where to today?” The Doctor asks, jarring him out of his thoughts. They do this half the time. The Doctor asks him where he wants to go, and then takes him to the closest equivalent he can find.

So, he opens his mouth and says, “Show me a world filled with candles.”

The Doctor breaks out a grin at him. “I’ll do you one better,” pulling down a lever and they’re off.


“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“You’re the one who wanted to meet real samurais!”

“I’m Japanese! Of course I wanted to meet Samurais! But meet not be killed by!”

They’re both yelling at each other while they’re running away from a group of samurais not too far behind, swords out and ready to slice them in half the moment they catch up.

“What did you do?!”

“I don’t remember!”

“You forgot why a warlord wants to kill you?!”

“I’m over twenty five hundred years old! You tend to forget a few things!”

“That’s no-”

Yamada skids to a stop right before he falls over the edge of a cliff, the sound of a rushing water far below reaching his ears.

The Doctor stops seconds behind him and he’s got that look in his eyes that tells Yamada he’s going to make them do something crazy and he knows exactly what the Doctor has planned.

“No. Nonononononononono.”

The Doctor grabs his hand even while he’s frantically shaking his head and moments later they’re hurtling over the edge, Yamada screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs.

“I hate you so much,” he sputters out when they surface from the river, dragging their bodies onto shore.

The Doctor just laughs and laughs and laughs like he’s going crazy. It’s starting to scare Yamada, but then hands are on his shoulders and a forehead pressed against his own.

“We’re alive.”

And yeah, they are.


“Why, hello there handsome. Fancy meeting you in a place like this.”

And that’s how he meets Captain Jack Harkness, a man equipped with cheesy one-liners and the charisma and confidence of someone who doesn’t know rejection even while he’s chained the wall. Maybe especially when he's chained to the wall. It certainly doesn’t stop him from leering at Yamada. Even on a good day he wouldn’t put up with that kind of bullshit.

“Doctor!” he harshly whispers out, hands gripping the bars of his cell. “You better be about to save me!

The Doctor pops up in seconds, silly grin splitting his face. “Ryosuke, always so demanding.”

“Doctor?” Jack interjects from the back of the cell.

The Doctor peers around him, shock and affection written clearly on his face. “Jack!”

A press and whir from the sonic screwdriver and the cell door and chains pop open, the Doctor side-stepping him as he runs to hug this Jack person, leaving Yamada feeling shocked and cold.

“New face, I see.”

“Was getting tired of the old one.”

“You keep looking younger.”

“And you haven’t aged a day.”

They’re still holding onto each other, grinning like mad men, and then Jack pulls the Doctor towards him by the nape of his neck and their lips are mashing together. The Doctor laughs into the kiss but doesn’t return it. He doesn’t break free either.

After, he saunters over to Yamada and sizes him up while Yamada glares at him, arms crossed firmly across his chest. It’s petty, he knows, but he doesn’t like the fact that this Jack person clearly knows things about the Doctor that he never will.

Maybe he even knows the Doctor’s name. Just that thought alone pricks at his carefully crafted cold and aloof exterior.

Still, when a stray shot catches Jack before the Tardis door closes, he is filled with overwhelming sadness for the Doctor because he realizes, right there as Jack’s body falls, that everyone around him is mortal, Yamada included, and the Doctor will always be fated to see his loved ones die.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he takes his hands off the pulse point on Jack’s neck. “He’s got no pulse. I think he’s-” He can’t say it, can’t finish that train of thought, so instead he apologizes again.

“Yeah, he does that.” No remorse or sadness, like it hasn’t hit the Doctor yet. He’s halfway between crouching and fully standing up, already well on his way to comforting the Doctor, when Jack suddenly jerks up into a sitting position and sucks in a deep breath, scaring the hell out of Yamada as he falls back on his ass with a scream.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god.” He feels like he’s having a heart attack.

The Doctor’s by his side instantly, soothing hand on his head.

“Hey, hey…” he says into Yamada’s hair. “It’s okay. I should have told you he does that too.”

Yamada buries his face in the crook of the Doctor’s neck. Everything is so crazy and unexpected and people come back from the dead now and every other day he’s running away from being shot at or running towards saving whichever planet or moon they happen to be on.

It’s all so crazy but also so wonderful and amazing and brilliant and fantastic and it’s his life. It’s actually his life.

“Thanks,” he says, right into the Doctor’s skin.


After Jack the Doctor takes him to a world where the waterfalls sing in a language even the Tardis can not translate. The melody is soothing, reaching out to calm his soul as the grass presses against his back.

He turns to the Doctor and says, “There’s something I want to show you.”


The thing about the Doctor is that he makes you want to show him the best side of you. The best side of Yamada has always been JUMP, loves them with a depth he didn’t think possible when they were first thrown together, but knows that as much as they need him, he needs them even more. Can’t imagine being where he is now or going anywhere else without them.

So he drags the Doctor through the back, weaving through the hustle of stressed out staff members and scared Juniors, and plants him in the area reserved for other Johnny’s if they wanted to see the show.

“Ryosuke, really!” The Doctor protests as he manhandles him into sitting. “I have no clue what’s going on!”

“Just stay here,” he insists. “You’ll see.”

Half an hour later he ses the Doctor cheer for him, for everyone actually, jumping and whooping and frantically waving his arms in the air like he’s having the time of his life. It ignites a fire inside him, fuelling him long after the concert is over.

After the last encore song he walks back to the sight of the Doctor waiting for him, practically bouncing on his feet.

“You were amazing!”

He’s bursting with energy as he pulls a sweaty Yamada into a tight embrace.

“Thanks,” he says as he’s grinning into the nape of the Doctor’s neck, holding back just as tight. “I wanted to show you the best part of me.”

“Every part of you is brilliant,” comes the immediate reply.

And doesn’t that just make him feel invincible.

“Eh? Who is this?” Hikaru asks when he’s stopped mid-way to passing them by, catching the attention of the rest of the members and suddenly they’re surrounded, all eyes curious and trained on them.

The Doctor pulls back abruptly, hands sliding to rest on Yamada’s shoulders as he grins at everyone, a teasing tilt in his head, and Yamada’s mentally preparing for all hell to break loose.

“You guys were great too,” he says, the tone of his voice playful. “Can’t help but feel like you guys need a drummer though.”

And that makes Hikaru and Keito devolve into shouts of “That’s what I’ve been saying all along!” and “I know!” and the conversation itself delineate from there until everyone’s interjecting with their own opinions.

In the Tardis while he’s toweling his hair dry, the Doctor says to him, “You really love them, don’t you?”

He nods. “Each and everyone one of them.” He can’t help the sadness and hopelessness that permeates through his words like fruit flies that refuse won’t die.

The Doctor hears it like he hears everything when it comes to Yamada.

“You each all have something only you can give to the group.” The Doctor says it like it’s fact.

“Yes and it’s-”

The Doctor shushes him with a finger on his lips and he’s tempted to bite it just to see the Doctor squawk in pain. But before he can do anything the Doctor is a whirl of pings and zings on the console, a mad look in his eyes, and then he’s running out the door and shouting at Yamada to stay put.

He comes back ten minutes later, looking pleased with himself, and refuses to answer any questions.


(“Did you ever think about quitting?”

“Once but I remembered the promises we made together and I couldn’t abandon them after that. Everything I went through - am going through I guess - no matter how hard - was because I believed in JUMP.”)

(“Everyone’s excited about all the solo activities they’re getting. It’s amazing but it’s a sudden change of heart on the agency’s part. What did you do?”

“You know, I once toppled a prime minister’s regime with just six words.”)

(“It’s not all or nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You love being an idol and you love being with them. You could stay and when you’re ready I’ll come back.”


A warm hand on his head answers him.)


The first time he sees the Doctor cry it hits like a punch to his liver. The Doctor is crying over a little girl, holding her limp body in his arms while he rocks back and forth.

She had been so sweet with her adorable blue hair in pigtails swinging behind her, occasionally brushing her pink tinted skin, one hand in Yamada’s and the other in the Doctor’s as she led them around the small little village while they hunted for their next clue.

Yamada’s throat closes as he chokes back his own tears, feeling raw and vulnerable and like his heart was breaking in two. It’s the first time he sees someone he cares about die (really die and not come back to life).

In the end the Doctor saved the day but he couldn’t save her and even though her small little village is all safe and well it doesn’t feel like they’ve won at all.

It dawns on him sometimes the Doctor can’t save everyone.

It’s not all magic all the time. He doesn’t know if he can go through this again.

In the Tardis he tells the Doctor he wants to go home.


“You’re different,” Chinen says, scrutinizing him with his gaze.

“Oh?” He doesn’t spare Chinen a glance, barely paying attention to him as he focuses solely on the magazine he’s pretending to read, the other members of their group messing around in front of the camera for their PV Making of Video.

“Yeah, physically you look the same. But your eyes…”

“Hmm? What about my eyes?”

“They look older than they should be.”

He tilts his head towards Chinen, eyes turning to slits, pupils peeping out from the corners, and gives his friend a bland smile, enigmatic and mysterious, revealing nothing as it ends the conversation.

For a moment he thinks he hears the familiar sound of the Tardis landing (or was it leaving?) but when he closes his eyes and concentrates it’s gone like it was never there to begin with. And maybe it wasn’t.

It’s just he thinks he hears it every day and it’s driving him a bit crazy.


All that time with the Doctor (but how do you measure time with the Doctor?), he never once forgot about this, never stopped missing this at his core even as he was running across the universe watching stars die and be reborn, watching the Doctor be a hero, having the Doctor telling him he was brilliant as he pulls Yamada into a forced hug.

The thrill of the bass beating against his skin, the scream of thousands of girls in his ears, the music awakening every nerve ending as he puts on a show - it’s everything he loves about being an idol.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss being out there among the stars, shooting through space with a destination of anywhere his mind can imagine, the Doctor brimming with excitement as he shows Yamada spectacle after spectacle.

Secretly, what he misses the most is just being with the Doctor. Their easy banter back and forth, the way the Doctor would reach out and ruffle his hair and the way he’d say, “What? Bowties are cool,” as he fixes those stupid ridiculous bowties of his because it makes something tender flutter in his chest and he’d never felt anything like it before.

He thinks he sees one just briefly - a bowtie that is - out of the corner of his eyes and it makes his heart somersault in his chest with hope, but when he turns to look there’s nothing there but girls holding fans with his name written on them.

He’s beating himself up for the rest of the concert. Why is he still hoping the Doctor will come back for him? He’s the one who chose to leave.


A demo for their upcoming album is shown to him and he is asked to write lyrics for the song. He refuses at first because he doesn’t know what the hell he could write but they keep insisting, saying he could write anything that comes to his mind.

He tells them he’ll think about it with the intent of turning it down at a later date, but the melody stays with him.

Alone in his room one night with a single candle lit, he finds his inspiration.

(“Show me a world filled with candles.”

The Doctor breaks out a grin at him. “I’ll do you one better,” he says, pulling down a lever and they’re off.

The Tardis lands them in a world where the ground is warm and the water does nothing more than trickle in harmony with the sound of nature cricketing around them. There’s something in the air, like fireflies only a hundred different more shades - hues of a pink and orange and red and blue and violet and green. The glow of it all makes the world seem like a dream.

“You’re kind of a romantic,” the Doctor says to him.

“Is that a bad thing?”

The Doctor shakes his head and then they’re back to an amicable silence again.)

“You’re in love with him,” Chinen says as he hands the lyrics back to Yamada.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” Pain flits in his eyes for just a second and Yamada briefly wonders why before his mind shifts back to Chinen’s earlier statement and yeah..

Maybe it’s just that simple.

When he sings the words - watching the flickering flame I wish for your happiness, from afar, from the bottom of my heart that’s how I feel - he thinks they’re words to live by, has tried living them because he does want the Doctor to have all the happiness the universe has to offer, wants to let go and just be happy the Doctor is happy. He just can’t. Maybe some day but right now the pain is still too raw, an open wound that refuses to heal.

(“You wrote these lyrics?”




“Nothing. Just thinking about how mature you are. I guess one of us has to be the adult here.”

He doesn’t tell the Doctor the words were for him and that no matter how much time passed or how hard he tried he never did let the Doctor go, couldn’t actually, so the words, in truth, were a lie. )


“World Domination by alien robot idols take two,” the Doctor says, grinning madly at him after they’ve literally bumped into each other in NHK hall again, hiding themselves in the closet as whirs of gears slam against the door.

“Yep, that totally explains everything.” He forces pep and a too bright smile on his face because he’s so not having any of this, really, except it morphs into something too real because the Doctor is here right in front of him and they’re doing what they do best: fumbling around and accidently on purpose saving the world.

“Ready?” The Doctor asks.


“On three?”

He nods, doesn’t wait for the Doctor to start counting, just shouts, “Three!” and they’re bursting through the door and running down the long barely lit hallway as the Doctor throws random blasts of sonic something from that sonic screwdriver of his.

He’s never been the best at this science stuff - he’s an idol for god’s sake - so blasts of sonic something from that sonic screwdriver is the best it’s going to get.

But damn it all if the Doctor doesn’t make him feel like he’s brilliant, fantastic even, like there isn’t anything he can’t do.

They save the world (again) and the whole time it’s like a fire has been set inside of Yamada. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this alive.

Parked at the end of the hall is that beautiful blue box he had hoped he’d see again but didn’t think he ever would, and he runs his hand against her as he circles her slowly, swears he feels her purr underneath his touch.

There’s a knowing smirk on that stupid handsome face he’s wanted to see ever since he said goodbye to it.

“What do you say?”

Sometimes Yamada hates that the Doctor knows him so well. He doesn’t dignify the question with an answer, just pushes the door open and starts to enter when-


“Chinen?” He whips back around. His friend is there, confusion and apprehension and worry in his eyes, so he says, “I’ll be okay. It won’t even feel like I’m gone.”

A moment of clarity for Chinen (of what, he doesn’t know) and he’s darting towards them as the Tardis starts phasing, that glorious sound music to his ears. Chinen fades away as the Earth comes into view, that big blue ball of water and dirt as glorious as the first time he looked upon it.

The Doctor comes up behind him, chest warm against Yamada’s back and they stare at the earth for a minute (or a fraction of a second, two years? It’s all relative) before, in typical Doctor fashion, he ruins the moment by asking, “So what’s with the sparkles and feathers again?”

It’s not until later that the Doctor really looks at him, perplexed. “There’s something different about you.”

Yamada doesn’t even bother looking up, one hand under his chin to prop his head up as he reads his book. “I dyed my hair.”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it. New clothes? No… we discussed this. Clearly a costume. Or so you say.”

A suspicious leer he's gotten used to long ago.

“I dyed my hair,” he repeats but knows it’s pointless even as he continues on with his one-sided conversation. “It faded a little so it’s a shade somewhere between silver and gold now. It’s kind of reminds me of the moondust on that moon with the fairies.”

Suddenly he’s got a face full of Doctor, eyes narrowed as he scrutinizes Yamada. Finally, after a beat too long, he says, “Did you do something to your hair?”

He answers with a smile. Still the same old Doctor.

“Do you like it?”

The Doctor ruffles his hair with that big, warm hand of his and he leans into it, can’t even help himself.

“I think it’s brilliant.”


The Tardis doesn’t always take them where they want to go but she always manages to take them where they needed to be.

Which doesn’t explain why they’re locked in a large bedroom with a pretty lustrous bed after having landed on a planet eons more advanced than Earth but still partied like it was their last night alive.

It hits him, literally and figuratively, while he’s pressed against the cool wood of the door, his body suddenly heating up and on fire. Sex pollen. Of course in a world of Daleks and Cybermen and Time Lords and Sliveens and everything else he'd seen, why is he even surprised that sex pollen (aphrodisiacs, whichever you prefer to call it) exists and that's why you should definitely not accept drinks from strangers.

“Doctor,” he pants out, “something’s wrong.”

The Doctor’s next to him before he even finishes his sentence, hand pressed against his forehead to feel the flush of his skin and it’s not helping. It’s really, really not. God, doesn’t the Doctor know already? Yamada feels a forehead flushed against his own, feels the Doctor’s hands slide up his neck and into his hair and the sharp bursts of air against his lips as the Doctor says, “We’ll figure it out. Deep breaths,” and it’s just too much. He can’t-

He kisses the Doctor right then and there, moans into that delicious mouth and gives into the burn as he pushes a wide-eyed Doctor down onto the bed, tugging at his shirt and undoing his bowtie.


They don’t talk about that night but not for lack of trying on Yamada’s part. Every time he tries to get that conversation going, the Doctor essentially sticks his fingers in his ears and pretends he doesn’t know what Yamada’s talking about as he fiddles with the Tardis’ gears and announces their next destination.

The Doctor, being the Doctor, loves hearing the sound of his own voice even if most of the time he isn’t really saying anything important, just spouting off useless information that flies right over Yamada’s head.

In true Doctor fashion, however, when it’s important the Doctor clams up like he’s never spoken a word in his life.

The Tardis is not impressed either as she’s practically fuming when the Doctor picks up Chinen and drops them off in late 1500’s Venice, pushing them out the door and telling them to have a nice time because “My isn’t Venice just so very romantic? No vampires this time, I promise. Or alien fishes disguised as vampires,” and slams the Tardis doors in their faces before phasing away.



“That was subtle.”

“He’s kind of an idiot a lot of the times.”

Chinen barks out a laugh. “Okay Mr. Timetraveler, tell me what’s going on.”

“Mr. Timetraveler?”

Chinen deadpans, clearly not impressed with him. “I don’t know about you but this sure doesn’t look like the 21st century to me and there's no way in hell you're going to convince me this is all a dream.”

Yamada grumbles to himself something along the lines of, "I wasn't going to anyway," even if the thought really had crossed his mind.

The Doctor picks them up three days later, and Chinen punches him in the shoulder when they’re back home. Not enough to knock him down but enough that he stumbles back a step. “Don’t drag me into this thing between you two,” he says as he’s walking out the Tardis, hands tucked into his pockets, not once looking back, every inch the idol he proclaims to be.

“What?” Yamada asks when Doctor gives him wounded puppy eyes. “Chinen’s a good friend.”

The Doctor sighs, resigned, and Yamada decides the Doctor just needs more time so he gives it to him, doesn’t push, because he’s got more than enough.


Surprise, surprise, they meet Jack again when the Doctor is hell bent on toppling a corrupt and unjust military regime on Kalafaxia. The only worthwhile take-away (other than freeing millions of people from tyranny) is that as hands-y and affectionate as the Doctor is, when Jack leans in for his usual kiss he turns his head so that Jack catches his cheek instead.

Jack’s gaze shifts right over to him, eyes chuckling as his lips loudly smacks against the Doctor’s cheek.

Bastard, Yamada thinks. He knows and he’s doing it on purpose.

When they drop Jack back off on his own ship, a monstrosity of a thing, he pulls Yamada into a hug against Yamada’s own protests, and says into his ear, “There's nothing for you to worry about. You’re Yamada Ryosuke,” like his name meant something meaningful.

But you know, maybe Jack isn’t so bad after all.


Going back to world War II was a bad idea. He had told the Doctor that but Winston Churchill (“And old friend!”) had called and well, how could he let the Doctor go out there alone? The guy could barely take care of himself half the time and he seems to be oblivious to the fact that he looks Japanese during World War II.

A sense of dread settles deep in his gut when they land but it’s still a surprise when a bullet hits him in the stomach, making him crumble down into a heap of blinding pain and blood springing up from his wound even with the Doctor’s hands applying pressure.

Whoever that bastard was he was at least a good shot, Yamada will give him that. The edge of his vision whites out, and the last thing he sees and hears is the Doctor’s face shouting at him to-

“-od damnit Ryosuke! Ryosuke. Hey. Hey, stay with me, okay? Just stay with me.”

“I fucking hate guns,” he spits out before everything goes dark.

He comes to to the familiar surroundings of his own room, the Doctor having fallen asleep on the side of the bed he wasn’t using. He tries to move but everything hurts, and he lets out a pained noise, jarring the Doctor awake immediately.

“Don’t try to move.” The Doctor’s voice is quiet, gentle. He pushes Yamada’s bangs out of his eyes and Yamada leans into the touch, feels the warmth in those figures radiate against him, soothing some of the pain away.

“What happened?” he tries to ask, but it comes out a jumbled mess. Somehow, the Doctor understands.

He doesn’t answer though, just places a kiss to the side of Yamada’s head and breathes out, “You’re okay,” like he was worried Yamada wouldn’t make it.

Tiredness seeps into his bones again, making him groggy and his eyes heavy as they start to close of their own accord after each blink. He wants desperately to stay awake, knows something is wrong in the way the Doctor speaks to him, in the way he’s being held but his body is defiant, dragging him to slumber.

He mutters out a, “Don’t leave me behind, okay?” and hears the Doctor’s reply, a chuckled out, “Like I ever could.”

But here’s the thing about the Doctor:

He lies.


They’re both a little drunk and laughing their asses off about something he can’t even remember anymore when Chinen abruptly leans in to presumably to catch his mouth in a kiss. He’s not even sure as he’d jerked back on instinct before anything could happen. but gets his confirmation when the mood turns somber and Chinen throws himself back against the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighs.

“Ryosuke, he’s not coming back.”

“He will,” he answers immediately, sure of his answer.

“You’ve filmed two dramas. We’ve released three singles, an album, and gone on a tour. He’s not coming back.”

Exasperation is clearly written on Chinen’s face, but what else can he say other than “He’ll come back for me”? Because he will. Not matter what Chinen says or thinks, Yamada knows the Doctor will come back for him because the Tardis loves him and she’ll make him see, one way or another, that life doesn’t shine when they don’t have each other.

“You’ve been so sure about that from day one. You don’t even doubt?”

He thinks of the Doctor and his lips curve into a soft smile, his chest warming with affection.

"He promised.”

Later, when Chinen is leaving and Yamada’s ready to close the door, he says to his friend, “I’m sorry.”

Chinen shrugs and replies with, “I kind of already knew I missed my shot. Thought that since he was gone I could make a go for you now. Maybe if I hadn’t waited until after you met him…”

He lets the sentence hang and Yamada knows Chinen well enough to know that the rejection he dealt probably stings more than he’s letting on so he doesn’t have the heart to tell Chinen that it probably wouldn’t have mattered either way. Instead, he bids Chinen a good night and closes his door as the whoosh whoosh whoosh of the Tardis landing fills his ears and he sees her phasing in as she materializes around him.

“You’ve got impeccable timing,” he quips.

The Doctor shrugs one shoulder. “Well, I am a Time Lord.”

“So, does this mean you’re ready to stop running away?”

“No,” the Doctor says. “But I thought it’d be better if we were running away together.”

Yamada laughs because he sees the lie right in the corners of the Doctor’s eyes and the way he’s fidgeting with his hands.

“She made you, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

By the gods he hadn’t even realized how much he could missed the Doctor, not until right that moment.


“It’s a fixed point in time,” the Doctor says, anguished. “It’s Pompeii all over again. If I don’t do this more people are going to die and I just-” he crumbles right in front of Yamada’s eyes.

He gets it. The Doctor tires to save everyone and most of the time that's just not possible so he's the one who has to make all the hard decisions. He's the one who's saddled with the responsibility of who lives and who dies, and after so long (twenty-seven hundred years) at some point it wears you down and it just becomes too much.

But two-hundred thousand people versus the potential eleven point eight billion others.

The decision has already been made no matter how much it hurts.

“I understand, you know,” he says as he rests his hand on top of the Doctor’s. “You don’t have to do it alone,” and with his eyes squeezed shut, he pushes down the button and two hundred thousand lives are gone.

The Doctor is trembling in his arms moments after and he doesn’t see it, but he feels the tears wet his shirt. He wants to break down too because he had just done something he didn’t think he ever could - killed two hundred thousand - and he’s going to carry that with him forever but the Doctor is falling apart and he needs Yamada to be strong for him. So Yamada steels himself and he holds on.


“Don’t be scared. Timelord regeneration. A nasty way to cheat death and I don't get to decide anything but when it’s done I’ll still be- well a version of me will be- and they-” The Doctor stops and his eyes are sad, good-bye and regret written so clearly because it won’t be him, not his Doctor, not really. “I don’t want to go.”

Yamada closes the distance between them even while the Doctor retreats, fear in his eyes even as he shouts for Yamada to stay away until his back hits the wall of the Tardis and he has nowhere else to go.

“So stay.” He's begging but he doesn't even care.

The Doctor's face crumbles as Yamada seals his lips over his, trapping in all that heat and energy, an explosion of stars and memories and lost loved ones - Amy and Rory and River and Rose - the sadness and loneliness and guilt - the last of his kind (again) - and so many different lives lived imploding in his mind in one single agonizing moment, making him ache and burn and understand the Doctor in ways he couldn't before and it’s almost too much to bear but he doesn’t stop, knows he can’t stop or he’ll lose the single most important person in his life.

It's over in a second and they’re a heap on the floor, foreheads pressed together as they breathe in harshly, nostrils flaring, and Yamada slumped in his Doctor’s arms.

“How did you do that?” The Doctor asks, wonderstruck.

“Hell if I know.” That answer seems to be enough, at least for now.


The Tardis hovers a safe distance from a dying star moments away from breathing in its last burst of life. They’re sitting next to each other, sides pressed together as their legs dangle over the edge of the opened Tardis door. It feels like a lifetime passes (and yet it will never be enough) as they watch the star slowly dwindle away into nothing before it stops and then an explosion of gas and particles, and the most beautiful colors he’d ever seen and he just feels so god damn small and insignificant at the sight of it all, less than one tiny blip in the grander scheme of the universe.

“It’s beautiful but also kind of really sad,” he chokes out, feeling a tear slide down his cheek as he looks on.

The Doctor doesn’t say anything but Yamada didn’t expect him to. He also doesn’t expect it when the Doctor reaches out to tuck a tuft of his hair behind his ear, gentle, leaning in, breath ghosting along his neck, to whisper just one word.



Ending Note: So, like I said before, very heavily Doctor Who inspired because I had this image of Yuto as Eleven and it just wouldn't get out of my head even if I couldn't capture the magic that is DW. I don't even know if there's anyone else in the HSJ fandom who likes DW which kind of makes me want to explain everything so if you wanna fangirl with me about HSJ and DW that would be so awesome.

Also, after I finished it I realized I ended this story the same way I did my last one! Haha... I really agonized over whether or not I should even end it that way and I really thought, "This is why people have editors."