Gift fic for rockthecliche (part 1)
Title: Track 8
Pairing/Characters: Hina-centric. You can read it as gen or with a number of pairings, mostly centered around Hina, depending on what you like.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: swearing, some mention of drugs
Notes: Dear rockthecliche - I hope this will be to your liking! ♥♥♥ It's sort of AU and sort of isn't (which will make sense as you read). Your sign up asked for Hina and Yasu or Jacky and Toppo, but I've heard you like a number of Hina's relationships with his bandmates. I tried to base my fic on that - I hope I didn't skew it too much in any one direction. Dear beta and my two assistants, thank you! Mods, you are lovely people who shouldn't have to put up with me. ♥
Summary: Did you know that Kanjani8 plans to shoot a prequel for 8Uppers this year? Don't feel bad, neither did Hina. Nor did the 8Uppers. It doesn't matter who Hina's playing - Jacky or himself - the most important thing will always be the group.
It came during a break, a moment of silence when Yokoyama quietly slid it across the table with a knowing look - the kind of look that Hina assumed could mean only one thing. "Porn?" he asked, unfazed, as he picked up the unlabeled disc.
"They're putting it out as an extra for the next release," Yoko replied.
"Porn?" Hina repeated, a slight laugh at his own joke.
"Just watch it."
That's the way it worked - somehow or another Yoko always got details from the higher ups to pass along to the rest of the group. Although, he usually had a little more information to spare, or at least a pre-emptive, "They didn't tell me anything else." If he knew more this time, he didn't say - and Hina didn't get the chance to ask. Breaks were short and the producers had already started to signal that they were back on the air. Hina leaned forward to welcome the listeners and as Yoko added his greeting, he quickly turned around to toss the disc into his bag.
By the next break, they were sidetracked by a completely different conversation.
And by the time the show ended, both had forgotten about the disc entirely.
"Need a ride?" Yoko asked.
Hina waved him off. A ride from Yokoyama was usually a genuine offer to take someone home - but mostly a subtle suggestion to go out and eat. Given the chance, Hina rarely declined. But every man must have his secrets and Hina's was a hole-in-the-wall place, a five minute walk from their studio, so nondescript that the only people who ever showed up were regulars who had been coming for the past thirty years. He couldn't remember how he had found it or what prompted him to go in in the first place, but it was one of the few things Hina preferred to do alone. Just a couple of times a year - around 1 am - relax and unwind with a few drinks and some food in perfect anonymity and oblivion. The year was already half over and he hadn't been by even once - it was past time to stop in.
Outside, the air was humid and warm, an atmosphere not too unpleasant for walking. Hina slung his bag over his shoulder and headed in the opposite direction of most of the staff, the slap-slap sound of Hina's geta ringing out on an otherwise silent street. He could already taste the cold beer and salty food; it caused a smile - wide and full - to break out. It stayed on his face until he stepped through the doorway with a greeting halfway out of his mouth.
The problem with secrets, he quickly realized, is that they don't work when you tell other people about them.
"Oh, Shin-chan!"
Hina scrunched up his face a little as he took an empty seat at the bar. "What are you doing here?"
Maru looked a little surprised. "I was in the area...."
Hina sighed and dropped his bag on the floor. "I never should have told you about this place."
"We were filming around here, it's a coincidence." Maru had a drink in one hand and used the other to push a cold beer toward Hina. "Complete coincidence."
He smiled, gladly taking it. "Well, it's been awhile since we've been out drinking, right?"
"Right." Maru smiled back and raised his hand to get the bartender's attention. "Master!"
"That term's so lame," Hina muttered. "Sake, please. Dry."
"Best way to end a night," Maru replied, with a small nod.
One drink turned into two, then two more, and the next thing Hina knew, he was trying to fit the right key into the lock at his place with an unsteady Maruyama hanging onto his side. "Just this one night," Maru asked, face apologetic. Well, it had been awhile since he had last stayed over, too.
With the door open, Hina kicked off his shoes and Maru headed straight for the couch. Maybe once, when they were much younger, Hina would have felt the need to tell him to make himself at home - but at this point it was no longer necessary. Hina dropped his bag onto Maru's lap en route to the bathroom. Maru could take care of himself; Hina's bladder could not.
"What's this?" Maru asked when he came out, holding up the unlabeled disc.
"Ahh, an extra for the next release," he answered. "Yoko gave it to me earlier." He grabbed a pack of cigarettes off of his counter and two beers out of the fridge before plopping down on the other side of the couch. He held out one of the cans, which Maru waved off, and then looked at his friend with inquisitive eyes. Maybe once upon a time he would have had to ask out loud too - Maru gave a slight nod back and Hina knew that was all the permission he needed, grabbing his lighter off of the coffee table and lighting the cigarette.
Maru crouched in front of the television, loading the unlabeled disc. "The next single?" He handed Hina the remote.
"He didn't say."
By the time Maru was perched back on the couch, grabbing one of the pillows to hold in his lap as he pulled up his legs, they were both greeted by the image of Yokoyama's face - lips parted and eyes slightly squinting. In other words, Yoko's serious look.
Text quickly filled up the screen. "Welcome to The Eight," it said.
"8Uppers?" Maru asked, with a slight cough, looking at his friend. "We're doing that again?"
Hina stubbed out his cigarette and shrugged. "I haven't heard anything about it."
Maru ran his fingers through his hair - it was shorter than usual, completely straight to comply with drama filming - and browner - a far cry from the curly, long mess that had characterized Gum. "Maybe for next year?"
"My name's Mac," the text said on the screen. Yoko's image was unmoving, unblinking, set in silence. It was a little unnerving, but mostly funny to Hina, as the space underneath Yoko's face scrolled with information about the 8Uppers and finally ended with, "We don't have a lot of time."
"Walk in the front, look for a window, go through the next building or stay in the car," Maru read out loud. "Oh." He grabbed the remote and clicked through the options until 'Stay in the car,' was highlighted.
"We've already staked the place out, we should go in," the text said.
Hina grabbed the remote back and chose 'Walk in the front.' "This isn't...?"
"There's a guard at the door," the screen read. "What do you do now?"
Hina laughed. "This is an extra?" he said excitedly, pushing Maru in the arm. "Choose your own adventure DVD game?"
"Those are kind of old fashioned," Maru replied. "Wait, no, don't 'Send Gum in!' Go back and try-"
"The guard has a gun."
Maru made a reach for the remote. "Gum walks away, Gum walks away!"
"Gum punches," Hina said out loud, clicking the remote with one hand and keeping Maru away with the other. "There, see? You knocked him out, what were you worried about?"
"Ten more guards show up," Maru read out loud.
Hina paused. "Punch worked well last time...."
"You're going to get me killed."
"I don't think you can get killed in this, that'd b- oh, Gum has been captured."
Maru grabbed the remote away from him, clicking through the next screen. "Send the rest of them in! Where's 'Drop everything and go save Gum?'"
"Go home, send in Ace, have Toppo throw a smoke bomb, or," Hina read, "have Johnny mix a drink?"
"Maybe they haven't worked all the bugs out yet...."
"Game over. Why did you pick mix a drink?!"
"Well, I thought...it'd work, wouldn't it?! It'd work!"
"Gimme that," Hina said, taking back the remote and then sliding off the couch onto the floor, his back against the cushions. "It changed." The mission was completely different and instead of invading a target's house, they were supposed to send someone in to get information. "Send Johnny in as a waiter, send Arsenal in as a janitor, send Jacky in as Ultraman, or send Mac in as Sailor Moon. Are you kidding me? What is this?!"
"That's a tough choice," Maru mused.
"Ultraman, right? It has to be Ultraman." Hina clicked through the answers, torn between annoyance that clearly there were too many bugs for it to be included on the next release and a small excitement that his character had the best option. He started rapidly picking the answers that sounded the best, sure that he could beat the game easily.
The second mission ended with the team going broke, the third had Toppo thrown off of a pier, the fourth got the kidnapped victim accidentally shot, and the fifth, inexplicably, ended with everyone magically turning into turkeys. "Who wrote this?" Hina groaned. The screen flickered back to the second mission again and his eyes settled on the option of sending Mac in as Sailor Moon. "Hey," he said to Maru, not looking away as he selected it, trying his hardest not to imagine his coworker in a tiny blue skirt and red-heeled boots. "You don't think this is part of the script do you?"
There was no answer. Maru was fast asleep, stretched out on the couch and his cheek smushed up against his hand. Hina figured he had probably drifted off halfway through the second round. He reached over to the end of his couch, grabbing a brown throw he kept on the arm, before hitting the power button on the remote to turn off the tv.
A quick glance at his watch told him it was 4 am and Hina quickly realized that he had underestimated how tired he really was. In the dark, he blinked several times to keep his eyes open, scooting toward the other end of the couch while unfolding the small blanket. He spread it out over Maru. "Night," he said, yawning, not even bothering to whisper - he knew that when Maru was out, he was out for good.
Hina then put a hand on the couch cushion to help himself off of the floor. He later figured that the motion must have somehow startled his friend, as Maru gave a small grunt in his sleep and reflexively punched out, hitting Hina in the face with his fist and sending him back into the coffee table.
"Maru," Hina grumbled, rubbing his cheek, stumbling to get up. It wasn't worth waking him just to chastise him. Instead, Hina headed toward his bedroom. Halfway there, he had to stop - he hadn't thought that Maru had hit him that hard, but his head was suddenly swimming. Reason told him the smart thing to do was stop by the bathroom and take something to minimize future swelling.
But Hina could barely keep his eyes open, almost falling asleep where he stood. Reason lost out. He mentally shrugged - if his face swelled up, then he'd have something to talk about the next time they were on air.
Hina took a few more steps, barely making it to the threshold of his bedroom before he tumbled forward, hitting the door on his way down.
When he came to, he couldn't quite open his eyes all the way. His head was killing him - the light above way too bright and the voice over him way too loud. He was still on the floor, that he was sure of, feeling every bit of the cold, hard wood in his back.
"Way to go, idiot."
Hina blinked and tried to say, "Maru?" but nothing came out.
"Me? It's not my fault, I was busy taking out the guards! ...it wasn't my fault! What about you, huh?"
Hina could hear a crunching sound and he scrunched up his face. "Don't eat my stuff, Maru," he managed to mumble.
"It's his fault for not paying attention, he wouldn't have got hit in the he- hey, where are you going? Hey!"
"I'm heading home."
"And what you think's gonna happen when they come in later and he's still on the floor, huh?"
There was a pause, filled only by the sound of crunching. Finally, "If you're worried, take him to the hospital."
"I'm not taking him."
Hina slowly sat up, trying to rub his cheek without causing too much pain - it was ginger to the touch, definitely a little swollen. "How annoying," he muttered, blinking his eyes open. "You're really loud, you know that?" he said.
When his sight finally adjusted, he realized he wasn't in his apartment and Maru wasn't there eating his snacks. He was in what seemed like a familiar room - where the walls were covered in signs and posters and the atmosphere a little hazy - and before him stood a stunned pair: Ryo, with a stick of pocky precariously hanging out of the side of his mouth, and Subaru, with a cigarette hanging out of his.
Hina blinked. They were both in suits. "How did you-" The minute he realized Subaru had long hair and a goatee, he sighed and flopped back on the floor. "Another dokkiri?"
"...maybe you should take him to the hospital."
"How did you get Maru to go along? He's so bad at keeping secrets," Hina said, pulling himself off of the floor and brushing off his sleeves, noticing that he was in a suit too. "Did you really have to take my pants off?"
"Jacky, are you okay?"
Hina made a face. "Okay, Yoko, come out. He's in the next room, right?" He quickly glanced at his watch - different from the one he sometimes wore. "Ah, I have to be at the studio in an hour, sorry," he said, waving them off as he walked toward the door. It really did look like their old set, but he couldn't remember it well enough to tell which door was the closet and which was the exit.
"Jacky!"
"It's okay," Hina replied, finding the right one by chance on his first try. He stopped short. "This is the extra, isn't it? This is going to be on the DVD?"
The other two looked at each other, expressions confused.
"This probably isn't any good then," Hina said to himself. "They'll have to set it up again. Pick a day when I don't have to be somewhere, huh? See-"
"J-jacky, your face!"
Hina rubbed his cheek again. "It's okay, makeup will figure out something."
As he shut the door, Ace turned to Arsenal and punched him in the shoulder. "Mac is going to kill us."
Arsenal shrugged. "At least he's not still on the floor?"
Outside, Hina jogged, glancing around. The sun was already up, the first shreds of daylight peeking out. His head still hurt and as he hurried down the street, he kept his eyes open for a convenience store, a stand - anything where he might be able to grab a bottle of water before he headed into work. But everything looked closed, a little run down. After about three blocks, Hina slowed his pace to a walk. Another block more, nothing looked remotely familiar. He stopped. It was hard to get somewhere else when he didn't know where he was to begin with.
He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. At least the managers could probably pick him up at the nearest landmark.
No phone.
Hina continued to feel around in his pockets. No phone, no keys, not even a wallet. He wandered a bit more, just in case he stumbled upon someone he could ask for help or a taxi he could promise to pay for once they were at the studio. But it became very apparent that the further he went, the less populated the area got - nothing but run down buildings, chain link fences, and a river stained by industrialization. Even if he found a taxi, he didn't know if it'd get him to the studio in time.
"Guys," he sighed to himself. "You could have at least left my phone." With another deep breath, he looked at the buildings and started jogging again. He didn't know where he was, but he could at least figure out how to get back to a known starting point: the club. With only a few wrong turns, that he quickly corrected, Hina arrived at the front - to a welcome sight.
Crouched in the alley, with his mass of curly, bright hair shining in the sunlight and a stray cat at his hand, was a familiar face.
"Maru," he said, giving the other a light swat to the shoulder. "What was that about last night? You punched me, really punched me! You weren't asleep at all, were you? And then I wake up here."
The other quietly smiled, picking up a dish off of the street and heading toward the door. Hina followed closely behind. "You didn't have to hit so hard," he continued. "You're paying our tab next time, you know. Hey, your hair - what is that, a wig? So it is the next release? Part two? Ah, are we actually filming today, is that why? I'm not supposed to be at the studio this morning? I should probably call anyway, do you have your phone? You know, for our tenth anniversary, I'm switching it on him - I should get started now and then by the time our tenth anniversary comes, bam, Yoko won't know what hit him. Do you have your phone?" He paused for a minute. "Hey, Maru? Maru."
The other man stopped and turned around, a polite but somewhat detached smile, slightly towering over him.
"You're awfully quiet this morning," Hina commented. "I need your phone. Are you listening?" He reached out to smack him on the head.
...only to have his wrist grabbed before he made contact.
Gum let go and smiled more. "I thought you didn't like cats."
"What?"
"You named it - Maru, right?"
Hina's mouth parted and he squinted, his face the reflection of dumbfounded irritation. "Your name's Maru! Ma-ru! Ma-ru-yama."
Gum shrugged and with a cheerful demeanor walked inside the club. "You're acting weird today, Jacky."
Hina sighed. "Not you too."
***
Later that night, Mac was unhappy.
Ace reached out with an expectant hand, waiting for Arsenal to part with a cigarette. "I told you he'd be pissed off," he muttered.
"Ace wanted to leave him on the floor," Arsenal answered, nonchalant, handing one over.
"Aw, fuck you dude, come on - don't tell him that!"
"Why didn't either of you take him to the hospital?" Mac inquired, standing in front of them as they lounged in chairs on the main floor. "Gum told me he was talking to that stray cat all morning."
"Gum does that every morning," Ace pouted.
"I mean Jacky."
Behind the bar, Hina stood with his arms crossed, a bag of ice in one hand. He had zoned out on part of the conversation, looking around the room for hidden cameras. He had spent most of the day sitting around until, one by one, some of the other members had shown up - each of them keeping a strange distance as Hina insisted that the joke was over. It wasn't like Yoko to go this long without declaring some sort of victory. So he had moved on from the most obvious explanation, a prank, to the possibility that they were actually shooting the sequel which, for budget reasons, was going to be completely ad-libbed. "I'm fine," he said, holding up the bag of ice. "This is enough." Even still, everyone needed a break now and then. "Sorry to stop the scene, but can I get my phone back?"
Mac looked over at the other two. Ace shrugged.
"You dropped this last night," Arsenal replied, fishing something out of his pocket and tossing it Hina's way.
He had to lean over the bar to catch it, just barely getting there in time. "What the- oh, the butterfly knife!" Hina dropped the bag of ice on the bar and started playing with the small weapon. "I think I remember how to do th- ah, no, that's not it."
Mac's eyes were as wide as they could be, his mouth in a straight line, as he glared at Arsenal and Ace. "Idiots."
"Got it!" Hina declared, holding up the exposed knife. "Ah, where's the fork? That was funny."
"Put the ice back on your cheek, it's still swelling," said a gentle voice next to him, one that had been content to stay quiet while their leader berated part of the team. "Maybe he shouldn't go tonight, Mac," Johnny said.
"You're probably right."
"I'm fine," Hina replied. "I still need my phone back." No one made a move to offer it. He shrugged. "I must have dropped it then. It'll turn up."
"Ace, you're going instead."
"Can't," Ace said, hands up, standing up from the table. "Previous engagement." He headed for the door before another word could be said.
Arsenal followed suit. "I worked last night so I'm off tonight." He nodded his head toward the bar. "He's fine."
"I can't go, I have to meet with another client in a few hours," Mac replied. "I'm not sending Gum and Toppo alone."
"I'll go," Johnny offered.
"No offense, Johnny," Mac said, face apologetic. "I was looking for a little more muscle in case there was trouble."
"Ah," Hina blurted out, "don't send Gum in the front door, there are ten guards there, right?"
"Maybe he can just drive tonight," Mac sighed. He tapped his fingers on his pants as he thought. "Go with them if I'm not back at closing." He pulled his pocketwatch out to check the time. "Think you can handle it tonight?"
"It'll be fine," Johnny answered. "We're almost done with the prep. Go."
Hina watched as Mac nodded and quickly left. "Prep?" he asked. "Oh that's right, Jacky likes to cook, doesn't he?" He clapped his hands together and started to poke around the bar, repeating the word "prep" as he finally fished out a cutting board and knife. But once he had them placed on the bar, he was at a loss for what he was supposed to be cutting. "Cooking's more your thing, Tatsu."
"Just make the usual," Johnny replied, washing his hands before pulling out glasses.
"The usual. I just remember cutting up cucumber," Hina said to himself, finding one in their small bar refrigerator. He looked it over, shrugged, and chopped off the ends before making a series of cuts lengthwise. There were a number of things that Murakami Shingo was skilled at, a number of tasks one could throw at him that he'd complete successfully. The cucumber pieces were uneven, mostly too thick and a little ragged in places. He stuck his bottom lip out as he nodded, satisfied in the work. Good enough, another task conquered. Next.
Johnny stepped over, glancing at the slices before taking the knife out of his hand and putting it down on the cutting board. "Why don't I cover that tonight?"
"I can chop things up," Hina insisted. He didn't push it - Johnny had already pointed for him to get out of the bar area, picking up one piece of cucumber that was about a fourth of the whole vegetable's width and eyeing it in disbelief. Hina nodded again. "Well, cooking is more your thing."
"Why don't you rest on the couch in the office," Johnny replied, distracted. "Toppo will be here soon."
The idea of sitting around even more grated on Hina's nerves. It was one thing to wait in between takes or be on stand-by, that was just part of the job. But he couldn't stand the idea of lazing about, being useless - especially when there were plenty of things that needed to be done. "Doesn't the floor need mopping?"
"I guess?"
Hina smiled and rolled up his sleeves. Before he started, he rubbed his nose and asked, "Hey, Tatsu. Do you have any cigarettes?"
Johnny gave him a look. "Why do you keep calling me Tatsu? Besides, you hate smoking. You constantly lecture Ace about how it ruins the flavor."
"Of course I do," Hina replied, looking around at the walls behind him. The director had to yell "Cut!" at some point.... "Of course I do."
Tuesday nights weren't generally the most popular and so The Eight operated on as small a staff as possible. Toppo came in to set up a playlist, saving his live DJing for the weekends. Johnny manned the bar and Hina kept himself busy by serving drinks, a task which he did enthusiastically. Almost too enthusiastically. Cleaning up tables was almost like a race to be won and if anyone showed the slightest opening to it, Hina would start up a conversation, pushing for more drinks and dropping hints about how good the food was. As expected, the night died down early and as the customers left, Gum arrived, quietly but cheerfully helping with the clean up, stopping once or twice to say, "Feeling better, Jacky?"
The building emptied out and once Toppo had locked the door, he turned to the rest. "Mac back yet?"
"No," Johnny answered. "He told us to go ahead." With one last quick glance around the club, he opened the back door to let the others out. They went one by one, Gum grabbing his staff on the way. Outside, Johnny paused to lock the door and asked, "Jacky, are you okay to drive?"
Hina responded with a shrug. "Sure. Where are we going?"
"You were the contact," Johnny said. "Don't you know?"
Suddenly they were all looking at him. "Nope!" he replied, confidently and with a wide smile.
"It's okay," Toppo interrupted. "I know where it is, I was there earlier - Mac wanted me to scout out the security." He paused and looked over to his side where Gum stood, a smile creeping on his face as he finished with, "Dogs."
"Dogs," Gum repeated, one hand tightly gripped on his staff and the other adjusting the mask on top of his head. "Yay."
Toppo pulled a small spray bottle out of his pants pocket, flipping it in his hand as the group walked out to their VW bus. "Don't worry about them. They'll be out long enough for Jacky to copy the hard drive and get out of there."
"I'll go in, I think Jacky should wait in the van," Johnny replied.
"I can copy computer files, it's not that hard," Hina insisted.
"Do you know what we're looking for?"
Hina nodded. "Computer files."
Toppo gave Johnny a worried look.
"Like, secret plans or tax returns, or something, right?" Hina continued. "Ah, does one of us have to go in dressed like Sailor Moon?"
Johnny met Toppo's gaze. "They got into trouble last night and he got hit pretty bad. He's been kind of out of it all day."
Gum stuck his face in, just over Toppo's shoulder with a grin. "He thinks the cat's name is Maru."
Toppo nodded. "I'll drive then."
Hina sighed and dropped his shoulders, letting his head roll to the side in annoyance as he climbed in to the back seat. "Your name is Maru, not the cat's."
Gum piled in next to him, taking care to lay his staff down on the floorboard where it wasn't in the way. In the front, Johnny started asking Toppo a number of questions - he was usually on the setup side of things, not having to worry about stuff like security cameras and alarm trips. Gum was humming quietly to himself with his eyes closed. He made small moves with his arms, acting out a number of strikes in his head.
The melody sounded familiar, like one of Hina's favorite Shounentai songs. "Odoro, odoro," he sang quietly, prompting, expecting the other to finish the rest of the line like he always did. Instead, Gum continued to visualize moves - no lyrics. And the longer he hummed, the less it sounded like Kamen Budoukai.
Hina slumped down in the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the van. His eyes traced along the perimeter, catching little drops in the lining where the fabric had started to sag over time - so noticeably he could tell even in the dark. He followed it to the front, where it met the windshield - flashes of light from the road as they drove along illuminated the skewed rear view mirror. It looked like it had fallen off a couple of times, carelessly stuck back on the glass with glue. "Hey, guys," he said. Toppo and Johnny didn't listen - they continued to quietly discuss details. Hina poked at the ceiling, smushing the spongy fabric with his finger, most likely making the sagging condition worse. "Guys?"
"Yes?" Gum finally said next to him.
Hina continued to poke around the ceiling. "Afterward, do you want to go to that place in Hamamatsucho?" He turned to look at Gum, unable to read the expression in the dark. "Get your favorite drink?"
Gum mulled it over. "Johnny doesn't make White Russians very well. Hmm, yeah, maybe, Jacky."
Hina let his head fall to the side and he puffed out his cheeks. "No, a Godfather, your favorite- why aren't you calling me Shin-chan?"
"Because your name is Jacky?"
"Shingo. Shin-go." He sighed. He felt like he had been up forever, his head still slightly aching from before - and while the act was starting to irritate him, there was something else that was at play. "There's no need to keep going when they've stopped rolling the cam-" Hina tapered off and turned back toward the window, starting to poke at the glass and inspecting around the seat.
"We're here," Toppo announced. The van came to a jumpy stop underneath a burnt out street light a block down from their target's house. "Once I take care of the dogs, you can go in."
"Let's go," Johnny suggested, getting out on the other side.
Hina wasn't listening - he was too busy fumbling with his belt, feeling around the back of it. When he couldn't find anything there, he started checking the pockets in his shirt, his jacket, feeling around the sides of his tie. Next to him, Gum slid open the side door and hopped out. He turned to pick his staff off of the floor when Hina yelled, "Wait a minute!"
He jumped out next to the group and turned each of them around, patting around their ties and lifting the back of their jackets to check around the belts. After going over Gum last, Hina looked up at him with a drained expression. "Nothing."
"Keep it idling. We'll be back in a minute," Johnny reassured him, heading toward the house.
Hina watched as the three of them quickly crossed the street. Gum and Johnny held back as Toppo approached the gate, whistling and shaking the spray bottle in his hand. A few quiet yelps could be heard and then Toppo waved the other two over, holding the gate open for them while he stayed outside and stood watch.
As he stumbled backwards, Hina quickly found the open door to the side of the bus and sat down on the step. He took one last look around the inside. "There are no microphones." He rubbed the side of his cheek again, cringing when he pressed in too hard and aggravated the growing bruise. A prank was definitely out. Filming was too, and he rolled his eyes, annoyed at how long it had taken him to realize that the very idea was somewhat absurd. Which left only one real possibility: Maru had hit him much, much harder than he had realized. That, or...
Hina's thought process trailed off as something caught his eye down the street. Toppo was facing him, looking out for signs that the owner was coming home. Every so often he glanced over his left shoulder to check on the dogs, to make sure they were still incapacitated. But he never checked over his right.
Hina wasn't too sure, but he thought he caught the glimpse of something shining around the corner of the stone fence. He had mostly tuned out Johnny and Toppo's conversation earlier, much too distracted by his own evolving thoughts - but something did stick out in his mind: if the guy had a lot to hide, why was his only protection a couple of guard dogs? Especially if he was such a powerful politician?
Hina bolted from the side of the van, not even thinking. "Yasu!" he yelled, as he ran.
Toppo gave him an annoyed face, motioning for him to stay back and keep quiet. Their entire plan would fail if the whole neighborhood woke up. He sighed, ignoring the fact that Hina was pointing at something as he ran.
He got there just in time. Behind Toppo, someone - probably a hired guard - was about to strike, arms raised. If he could connect with a blow to the back of his head, Toppo would be out and Johnny and Gum would be clueless about what was coming their way. Hina charged in and ran shoulder first into the guy, knocking him back and to the ground. After the impact he found himself pinning the guard down and seconds away from being kicked off. He wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to, but instinct kicked in and Hina thought, "What the hell."
With three strong, clean punches, the guard was unconscious - and Hina's hand was bloody and aching. "Son of a-"
"Come on," Toppo said, grabbing his shoulder as he ran by. "I doubt he's alone."
Hina stumbled, following after him up the stairs and shaking out his hand as he went along. "Okura! Maru!" he yelled out.
They slid, almost crashing into the doorframe of the study. Both Johnny and Gum looked up from the computer. "I think they know we're here," Toppo said between breaths. Gum nodded and jumped around the desk, pulling down his mask and heading outside. Johnny tapped his hand on the desk, chanting, "Come on, come on."
"Just grab the whole thing," Hina complained.
"Then they'll really know we were here," Toppo replied.
Johnny looked around the study and found a cabinet with glass doors, inside a number of antique guns - old, unusable, but worth some amount. He grabbed the lamp off of the desk and threw into the door, smashing the glass. He took the first two he could reach and tossed them at Hina and Toppo; by the time they had them in hand, the files had finished transferring. Johnny ripped out the travel drive, hoping it'd be okay, and shut down the system. Toppo had already started for the door, taking the other antique gun from Hina and rubbing off their prints with his shirt.
"Maybe he'll think it was just a robbery," Johnny said as he caught up to Hina. The two rushed outside. The one guard was still splayed out on the walk - now joined by two others. Toppo had thrown the guns off to the bushes and was sliding into the bus, throwing open the driver's door; Gum stood over the unconscious guards, looking around. He pulled up his mask when he saw Johnny and Hina emerge. "Hurry up," he said, "I think the dogs are coming to."
Toppo pulled up just in time for the three to jump in. Gum got in last and Toppo peeled out, almost stripping the gears trying to shift too fast. They slid the side door shut as they zoomed away.
Some distance out, Hina realized he had been holding his breath. He let go in a very audible exhale, the burning pain in his hand swelling up as he did. He held it gingerly and looked over at Johnny, who double checked his pocket to make sure the travel drive was there. Toppo's grip was tight on the wheel, so much so that he had to keep shaking out his hands to get the blood flowing again. Gum merely pulled out a stick of chewing gum, popping it in his mouth and sitting back. "That was fun," he said.
When they got back to The Eight, Ace was at the bar, pulling out bottles. He jumped when he heard them come in, scrambling to put everything back - until he realized who it was. With a half-cocked grin, he popped open the whiskey bottle. "I thought you were Mac."
"He's still out?" Toppo asked.
"What are you doing here?" Johnny asked, walking by and taking the bottle out of his hands, recapping it.
"Nothing," Ace answered, taking the cigarette out of his mouth in order to gulp down another shot.
Toppo removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose where they sat and grimacing. "I'm going home." He started to undo his tie, take off his jacket - unbutton the stiff white shirt - as he headed for the closet. Once he pulled his bag out, he stuffed the discarded clothes in it - opting to go home in just his trousers, a white tank top, and a cap he put on sloppily.
"Sounds good," Johnny agreed. "I'll leave this in the office for Mac," he said, pulling out the travel drive.
As Toppo was about to leave, he walked over to Hina. In a low voice, he said, "Thanks, Jacky."
Hina waved it off. "It was nothing." He crossed his arms, biting back the urge to scowl at his hand as he watched Toppo nod to the others, more out of expectation than politeness. Hina wrinkled his nose up at the thought - it hadn't been a big deal at all, because who cared about things that weren't real. Hina's legs had simply kicked in on automatic - but even still, he couldn't recall once feeling his heartbeat skip or a sweat break as he had charged in to take out the guard.
He looked over at Gum, who was putting his staff and mask in the same closet Toppo had been in. Hina wandered over to the bar and gestured for Ace to hand him two beers; he popped the first one and grabbed the other one in his hand. He motioned to Ace's cigarette. "Got another?"
As Gum came by, Hina sat there with his good hand out, offering the beer. He held the unlit cigarette in his mouth. He didn't say anything, instead just catching Gum's eyes and giving a small little inquisitive squint - one that he had perfected over a number of years. There was no nod back. Gum merely said, "No, thanks," and, with a cheerful wave good night at Ace, left.
Before, it had simply pissed Hina off. Now, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, rubbed his eyes and audibly groaned in frustration. "Well, it's just a dream, right?" he muttered.
"What's your problem?" Ace asked.
"You," Hina snapped to attention, "why are you drinking straight out of the bottle?!"
"I'm going home," Johnny announced, pulling off his jacket as he emerged from the office. "Jacky, do you think you can get home by yourself?"
Hina quickly patted through all of his pockets. "I still don't have my keys." He blinked. Dream or no, he wasn't familiar with the neighborhood, or even where they had gone on the mission. Keys were the least of his worries - he wasn't even sure where he lived anymore.
"Come on," Johnny said, "you can stay at my place tonight. I'll take care of you."
"I bet you will," Ace muttered, voice sharp even through the blanket of another shot.
Johnny gave him a look. "Get out of the bar."
Hina followed him outside of the club, out onto the wet, humid streets. Johnny led him down a series of blocks, most of which he had seen earlier that morning when he had tried to jog to work. The buildings became increasingly rundown and the alleys less inviting. "I don't live far," Johnny said, already a sense of apology creeping in his voice. Hina yawned - it was probably 4 am again. Even he needed to sleep sometime.
They walked up a rusty set of stairs, each step creaking as they went. Johnny went to the furthest door down the walkway and pulled out his keys. He wrestled with them a little bit, the lock jamming; he had to push his shoulder into the water-damaged door to get it open. "It's a little cramped," he warned.
As Hina walked in, stopping to take off his shoes, Johnny flipped on the lights. The entrance was pretty much the kitchen, which opened into a bedroom that barely fit a bed, with a bathroom off to the side. The sink in the kitchen was old, the faucet wet from a bad leak that would probably never be fixed. Johnny didn't have much, but what he had he kept neat and organized, tucked away so it stayed nice even in the rundown apartment. Still, Hina couldn't help but look amazed, his mouth open in a disgusted frown.
Johnny started to put away his jacket and hummed quietly while Hina slowly walked into the bedroom. He had been in apartments this bad before, and in general they didn't bother him - but he had a hard time reconciling the person with the place. Okura didn't live in a rust-stain of an apartment - even when they had struggled to make a name for themselves as Kanjani8, Okura had access to better options. He looked over at Johnny, his face still somewhat disgusted.
"For now," Johnny answered, anticipating the inevitable, "You live here?"
Hina shook his head. "It's fine."
"I'll sleep on the floor," Johnny said, pulling out a blanket from his closet. "The bath leaks a little bit, if you don't mind waiting until morning?"
"That's fine," Hina said, sitting down. He watched as Johnny continued to move around, heading into the kitchen for something and then into the bathroom. The younger man was humming again. Hina laid back and stared up at the ceiling. "Honde motte sonde maido ari," he sang quietly, in time to Johnny's humming.
"What's that?" Johnny asked, sitting down next to him with a tray.
"Just a song," Hina replied.
"This will sting a little," the other said, taking his hand. He had a bowl of ice water on the tray, and several washcloths. He took the first cloth and dunked it, using it to wipe away any dried blood left on the skin. Then he dipped a swab in the capful of alcohol he had already poured. Hina grimaced a little when the chemical made contact, but let him continue to work. He watched as Johnny concentrated, leaning his face in closely, attentively cleaning the wounds. When he was done, he put gauze over Hina's knuckles and wrapped it lightly with a cloth bandage. "Works better than bandaids," Johnny explained. "Let me look at your face."
Johnny took Hina's chin in his hand and turned it to the side. He grabbed a new washcloth and dipped it in the bowl of ice water before gently applying it to Hina's cheek. He leaned in closely, just as he had with Hina's hand, and looked at the bruising carefully - his mouth close enough that Hina could feel his warm breath on his face.
Something suddenly flashed in his mind - the snurled expression Ace had when he commented, "I bet you will," earlier.
Hina suddenly pulled back, looking Johnny in the eyes.
"Sorry, I must have pressed down too hard," Johnny apologized.
There were a lot of small details that had come out when they filmed the 8Uppers movie, some that floated outside of Hina's mind as his work schedule got busier and busier. This one he was shocked that he had forgotten. "You're gay."
"Yeah," Johnny said, uninterested. He raised the cloth again. "Let me-"
Hina pulled back a little more, his eyes wary.
"I'm not trying to make a pass at you," Johnny grumbled. "And I wouldn't need to do this if you had only kept the ice on there like I told you to earlier."
Hina laughed, somewhat embarrassed - it was a full laugh, the kind that wrinkled his face and showed all of his teeth. "Sorry." He leaned forward again and Johnny quickly finished cleaning off his cheek.
"You really should let me take you to the hospital."
"It's fine, it'll be fine in the morning when I wake up," Hina replied.
"Okay," Johnny said, putting the cloth back on the tray and picking it up. "There's an extra pair of sweatpants you can use in that drawer."
Hina looked over at the drawers built into the bottom of the bed and pulled one open as Johnny dumped the tray in the kitchen. "The other one," he said, in passing, as he grabbed something out of his closet and walked into the bathroom to change.
"Okay," Hina replied, still looking through the first one. There weren't any clothes in there, just papers and notebooks, a few scattered objects. He was about to close it when something caught his eye - a picture. It was a snapshot of some kids, maybe in elementary school, certainly no later - all wearing different clothes indicating that it wasn't a class picture. One kid was squinting at the camera, exaggerating what looked like already impossibly thick lips. Another kid looked more put together than the rest, despite gawky limbs and teeth. One was hidden behind the rest, shorter than the others but also drowning in his own mismatched, bright clothes. And another...
"That's me," Hina said.
"Hmm?" Johnny asked, coming out of the bathroom in a shirt and sweats. "The clothes are in the other drawer."
"That's me," he repeated, holding out the picture - what was eight year old Murakami Shingo, puffy young face and big round eyes. "This was when I was little."
"Ah," Johnny said, sitting on the floor next to him. "That was from the orphanage."
"No you don't understand," Hina replied. "I didn't know any of you then. I didn't meet Yoko until I was 14!"
Johnny looked confused. "You were at the orphanage before I got there. I think you'll feel better in the morning." He reached over to open the second drawer and pulled out the sweatpants. After he handed them over, he took the picture out of Hina's hand and carefully tucked it back into its resting place.
Hina stood, holding the pants in his hands, unmoving. "Tats- uh, Johnny?"
"Hmm?"
"What about Eito?" Hina asked.
Johnny paused for a minute, thought reflected in his face.
"I don't mean the baby," Hina quickly said.
"Baby?"
"Yeah the...Eito, the baby we found that was actually the illegi-" Hina shook his head as Johnny looked more and more lost. "Nevermind, this must be before that. I mean Kanjani8."
Johnny shrugged. "That's a weird name. Is that a comedy group?"
It wasn't long before Hina had changed and crawled into Johnny's bed, the padding thin and worn down. Johnny switched off the light and curled up on the floor, insisting that it was like old times when he used to sometimes have bad dreams and sneak into Jacky's room at the orphanage to be by his side.
Hina stared up at the ceiling, blowing out puffs of air. He was starting to get the feeling in the pit of his stomach that this entire fantasy land, dream or delusion, was much more real than possible. He took a deep breath - the answer wasn't going to come before morning, so there was no sense in lingering on it any longer.
With the last few blinks of consciousness, Hina looked over the side of the bed to see Johnny underneath a thin, brown blanket, barely enough to cover him, surrounded by dingy, beat up walls. He slipped into sleep with one last thought drifting in - the whole reason Johnny had joined the 8Uppers in the first place was due to a massive, crippling debt from being ripped off.
The next morning, Hina's eyes fluttered awake and before his brain caught up with him, he sat up and said, "I'm never letting you come over again, Maru."
"Morning."
Hina stretched and rolled over, greeted by the image of Johnny crouched in front of his small refrigerator with a sour look. "So it wasn't a dream," Hina said.
"I'll have to make breakfast at the club," Johnny groused.
When they got there, Gum was already in the middle of his practice routine, with Ace off to the side, shoving in snack after snack. "Just one?" he said. Gum ignored him, instead spouting out grunt-filled nonsense noises with every pose.
"Just one," Ace repeated.
"You're here early," Johnny commented. "Or you never left last night." Ace was still in the same clothes, but it was hard to tell - he often wore the same thing two days in a row.
"Just one, what?" Hina asked, leaning up against the bar, holding onto one side of his pants. One day in his 8Uppers suit was enough; he had borrowed clothes from Johnny before they left the apartment. Unfortunately, Johnny's smallest were still a touch too big.
"Sparring match," Ace said, barely glancing over.
"Gum's just going to beat you again," Johnny said, not looking up from the sink at the bar.
Ace shook his head. "Not this time. Your face looks better."
Hina put an unconscious hand to his cheek. "Oh?" As he rubbed it, he saw Gum take a deep breath and put his weight back on one foot. He put up his arms in a block in front and raised the other leg, slowly, keeping balance. When he felt steady, he started kicking in succession, never putting down his left leg. "Gum?" Hina finally called out.
"He won't listen, he's practicing," Ace muttered. "I've been telling him how much he sucks all morning and he still won't fight me."
"There's something wrong with you," Johnny commented.
"Gum?" Hina asked, walking over to him. "Gum. Gum!" He even tried singing out the name, jumping up and down shaking his hands. The other continued to concentrate on his kicks.
"What the hell," Hina muttered. He took a few steps back and pushed up against the wall. At first, it wasn't an issue, then it was just annoying. Hina looked over at the room, three faces he knew, but three people he only vaguely knew about. True, three people he had no problem getting along with, but Hina rarely met someone he didn't like. It wasn't so much being suddenly stranded with strangers, but strangers that looked like someone else - like friends. There were things he knew about the three faces in the room, things he had learned over years, that no longer applied. And no matter what, despite the same shape and some similar tendencies, it wasn't the same. No matter what, he thought, looking ahead, Gum wasn't Maru.
For the first time in the past 24 hours, Hina exhaled deeply with a sense of resignation and, if he had to admit it, sadness in his chest.
"You're lucky he didn't accidentally punch you," Johnny commented, bringing over a glass with orange juice in it, holding it out.
"Hm?"
"Gum," he replied. "Sometimes he gets so focused on workouts, he could have accidentally hit you and never notice."
Hina's eyes lit up. "That's it."
"What's it?"
"I'm such an idiot," Hina continued. He walked over to where Gum was, who had taken a break and was dabbing his neck with a towel. Hina grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him over, looking around the room as they moved. Until... "Here," he said. "Now, punch me."
"Not you too," Gum replied.
"I knew you could hear me!" Ace bellowed.
"It's not a dream, right?" Hina said. "This is where I was so there has to be a door, right? You punched me and, bwah, I ended up in this world, so you just have to punch me to send me back."
Johnny set the orange juice back down. "I'm getting the keys and taking him to the hospital."
"Just trust me," Hina said, looking Gum in the eyes. "It won't hurt. One punch."
Gum shrugged, pulled back and -
Hina blinked, waiting for the hit. It was taking forever to connect, time slowing down in a haze, lights burning bright. He blinked again, realizing that Gum was no longer in front of him - he couldn't see the club, just a mess of colors, and he couldn't turn his head. He couldn't move save to blink and breathe. Clarity washed in like the tide, objects suddenly taking shape, and closely behind it came the pain, the other side of his face swollen and stinging. Gravity released its hold on his good hand and he was able to rub his chin, feeling a trickle of blood there. "Maybe not that hard," he mumbled, suddenly realizing he was on the floor.
"It was an accident."
Hina smiled. "It's okay, Maru." He took another deep breath and tried to sit up - above him were three peering faces.
"He's still calling the cat Maru," one remarked.
"This one isn't my fault, do you hear me? Mac's not blaming me for this one," said another.
The third sighed, holding out a hand. "We're going to the hospital."
Hina took Johnny's hand and stood up. "Huh," he said. "That didn't work."
He hopped into the passenger side of the van, looking for a seatbelt that wasn't there when Johnny got in on the driver's side. Gum had landed a good shot - Hina was already having trouble seeing out of his left eye over the swelling. He started poking around in his mouth, just to be sure that it hadn't taken out any teeth too.
Johnny got in and started the engine, letting it sit for a moment before pressing down on the brake. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a breath. Hina hadn't noticed it that morning, but the shirt he had borrowed was nicer looking than the one Johnny had on - the tail of which was starting to fray and a thinness apparent under the arms. "I'll drop you off at home later so you can rest. I'll take care of prep."
"You worked last night," Hina pointed out. He took a moment to look at Johnny, really look at him. The kid was pushing himself to make everything work - he couldn't help but admire it.
"I work every night," Johnny answered. "I bet your landlord will let you in."
The sound of the engine took over the conversation and Johnny put the car into first gear, looking over his shoulder before pulling out. As they started to drive down unfamiliar streets, the radio playing unfamiliar songs, Hina nodded and finally admitted, "I don't know how to get home."
"That's okay," Johnny replied. "You can stay with me until you figure it out."
Pairing/Characters: Hina-centric. You can read it as gen or with a number of pairings, mostly centered around Hina, depending on what you like.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: swearing, some mention of drugs
Notes: Dear rockthecliche - I hope this will be to your liking! ♥♥♥ It's sort of AU and sort of isn't (which will make sense as you read). Your sign up asked for Hina and Yasu or Jacky and Toppo, but I've heard you like a number of Hina's relationships with his bandmates. I tried to base my fic on that - I hope I didn't skew it too much in any one direction. Dear beta and my two assistants, thank you! Mods, you are lovely people who shouldn't have to put up with me. ♥
Summary: Did you know that Kanjani8 plans to shoot a prequel for 8Uppers this year? Don't feel bad, neither did Hina. Nor did the 8Uppers. It doesn't matter who Hina's playing - Jacky or himself - the most important thing will always be the group.
It came during a break, a moment of silence when Yokoyama quietly slid it across the table with a knowing look - the kind of look that Hina assumed could mean only one thing. "Porn?" he asked, unfazed, as he picked up the unlabeled disc.
"They're putting it out as an extra for the next release," Yoko replied.
"Porn?" Hina repeated, a slight laugh at his own joke.
"Just watch it."
That's the way it worked - somehow or another Yoko always got details from the higher ups to pass along to the rest of the group. Although, he usually had a little more information to spare, or at least a pre-emptive, "They didn't tell me anything else." If he knew more this time, he didn't say - and Hina didn't get the chance to ask. Breaks were short and the producers had already started to signal that they were back on the air. Hina leaned forward to welcome the listeners and as Yoko added his greeting, he quickly turned around to toss the disc into his bag.
By the next break, they were sidetracked by a completely different conversation.
And by the time the show ended, both had forgotten about the disc entirely.
"Need a ride?" Yoko asked.
Hina waved him off. A ride from Yokoyama was usually a genuine offer to take someone home - but mostly a subtle suggestion to go out and eat. Given the chance, Hina rarely declined. But every man must have his secrets and Hina's was a hole-in-the-wall place, a five minute walk from their studio, so nondescript that the only people who ever showed up were regulars who had been coming for the past thirty years. He couldn't remember how he had found it or what prompted him to go in in the first place, but it was one of the few things Hina preferred to do alone. Just a couple of times a year - around 1 am - relax and unwind with a few drinks and some food in perfect anonymity and oblivion. The year was already half over and he hadn't been by even once - it was past time to stop in.
Outside, the air was humid and warm, an atmosphere not too unpleasant for walking. Hina slung his bag over his shoulder and headed in the opposite direction of most of the staff, the slap-slap sound of Hina's geta ringing out on an otherwise silent street. He could already taste the cold beer and salty food; it caused a smile - wide and full - to break out. It stayed on his face until he stepped through the doorway with a greeting halfway out of his mouth.
The problem with secrets, he quickly realized, is that they don't work when you tell other people about them.
"Oh, Shin-chan!"
Hina scrunched up his face a little as he took an empty seat at the bar. "What are you doing here?"
Maru looked a little surprised. "I was in the area...."
Hina sighed and dropped his bag on the floor. "I never should have told you about this place."
"We were filming around here, it's a coincidence." Maru had a drink in one hand and used the other to push a cold beer toward Hina. "Complete coincidence."
He smiled, gladly taking it. "Well, it's been awhile since we've been out drinking, right?"
"Right." Maru smiled back and raised his hand to get the bartender's attention. "Master!"
"That term's so lame," Hina muttered. "Sake, please. Dry."
"Best way to end a night," Maru replied, with a small nod.
One drink turned into two, then two more, and the next thing Hina knew, he was trying to fit the right key into the lock at his place with an unsteady Maruyama hanging onto his side. "Just this one night," Maru asked, face apologetic. Well, it had been awhile since he had last stayed over, too.
With the door open, Hina kicked off his shoes and Maru headed straight for the couch. Maybe once, when they were much younger, Hina would have felt the need to tell him to make himself at home - but at this point it was no longer necessary. Hina dropped his bag onto Maru's lap en route to the bathroom. Maru could take care of himself; Hina's bladder could not.
"What's this?" Maru asked when he came out, holding up the unlabeled disc.
"Ahh, an extra for the next release," he answered. "Yoko gave it to me earlier." He grabbed a pack of cigarettes off of his counter and two beers out of the fridge before plopping down on the other side of the couch. He held out one of the cans, which Maru waved off, and then looked at his friend with inquisitive eyes. Maybe once upon a time he would have had to ask out loud too - Maru gave a slight nod back and Hina knew that was all the permission he needed, grabbing his lighter off of the coffee table and lighting the cigarette.
Maru crouched in front of the television, loading the unlabeled disc. "The next single?" He handed Hina the remote.
"He didn't say."
By the time Maru was perched back on the couch, grabbing one of the pillows to hold in his lap as he pulled up his legs, they were both greeted by the image of Yokoyama's face - lips parted and eyes slightly squinting. In other words, Yoko's serious look.
Text quickly filled up the screen. "Welcome to The Eight," it said.
"8Uppers?" Maru asked, with a slight cough, looking at his friend. "We're doing that again?"
Hina stubbed out his cigarette and shrugged. "I haven't heard anything about it."
Maru ran his fingers through his hair - it was shorter than usual, completely straight to comply with drama filming - and browner - a far cry from the curly, long mess that had characterized Gum. "Maybe for next year?"
"My name's Mac," the text said on the screen. Yoko's image was unmoving, unblinking, set in silence. It was a little unnerving, but mostly funny to Hina, as the space underneath Yoko's face scrolled with information about the 8Uppers and finally ended with, "We don't have a lot of time."
"Walk in the front, look for a window, go through the next building or stay in the car," Maru read out loud. "Oh." He grabbed the remote and clicked through the options until 'Stay in the car,' was highlighted.
"We've already staked the place out, we should go in," the text said.
Hina grabbed the remote back and chose 'Walk in the front.' "This isn't...?"
"There's a guard at the door," the screen read. "What do you do now?"
Hina laughed. "This is an extra?" he said excitedly, pushing Maru in the arm. "Choose your own adventure DVD game?"
"Those are kind of old fashioned," Maru replied. "Wait, no, don't 'Send Gum in!' Go back and try-"
"The guard has a gun."
Maru made a reach for the remote. "Gum walks away, Gum walks away!"
"Gum punches," Hina said out loud, clicking the remote with one hand and keeping Maru away with the other. "There, see? You knocked him out, what were you worried about?"
"Ten more guards show up," Maru read out loud.
Hina paused. "Punch worked well last time...."
"You're going to get me killed."
"I don't think you can get killed in this, that'd b- oh, Gum has been captured."
Maru grabbed the remote away from him, clicking through the next screen. "Send the rest of them in! Where's 'Drop everything and go save Gum?'"
"Go home, send in Ace, have Toppo throw a smoke bomb, or," Hina read, "have Johnny mix a drink?"
"Maybe they haven't worked all the bugs out yet...."
"Game over. Why did you pick mix a drink?!"
"Well, I thought...it'd work, wouldn't it?! It'd work!"
"Gimme that," Hina said, taking back the remote and then sliding off the couch onto the floor, his back against the cushions. "It changed." The mission was completely different and instead of invading a target's house, they were supposed to send someone in to get information. "Send Johnny in as a waiter, send Arsenal in as a janitor, send Jacky in as Ultraman, or send Mac in as Sailor Moon. Are you kidding me? What is this?!"
"That's a tough choice," Maru mused.
"Ultraman, right? It has to be Ultraman." Hina clicked through the answers, torn between annoyance that clearly there were too many bugs for it to be included on the next release and a small excitement that his character had the best option. He started rapidly picking the answers that sounded the best, sure that he could beat the game easily.
The second mission ended with the team going broke, the third had Toppo thrown off of a pier, the fourth got the kidnapped victim accidentally shot, and the fifth, inexplicably, ended with everyone magically turning into turkeys. "Who wrote this?" Hina groaned. The screen flickered back to the second mission again and his eyes settled on the option of sending Mac in as Sailor Moon. "Hey," he said to Maru, not looking away as he selected it, trying his hardest not to imagine his coworker in a tiny blue skirt and red-heeled boots. "You don't think this is part of the script do you?"
There was no answer. Maru was fast asleep, stretched out on the couch and his cheek smushed up against his hand. Hina figured he had probably drifted off halfway through the second round. He reached over to the end of his couch, grabbing a brown throw he kept on the arm, before hitting the power button on the remote to turn off the tv.
A quick glance at his watch told him it was 4 am and Hina quickly realized that he had underestimated how tired he really was. In the dark, he blinked several times to keep his eyes open, scooting toward the other end of the couch while unfolding the small blanket. He spread it out over Maru. "Night," he said, yawning, not even bothering to whisper - he knew that when Maru was out, he was out for good.
Hina then put a hand on the couch cushion to help himself off of the floor. He later figured that the motion must have somehow startled his friend, as Maru gave a small grunt in his sleep and reflexively punched out, hitting Hina in the face with his fist and sending him back into the coffee table.
"Maru," Hina grumbled, rubbing his cheek, stumbling to get up. It wasn't worth waking him just to chastise him. Instead, Hina headed toward his bedroom. Halfway there, he had to stop - he hadn't thought that Maru had hit him that hard, but his head was suddenly swimming. Reason told him the smart thing to do was stop by the bathroom and take something to minimize future swelling.
But Hina could barely keep his eyes open, almost falling asleep where he stood. Reason lost out. He mentally shrugged - if his face swelled up, then he'd have something to talk about the next time they were on air.
Hina took a few more steps, barely making it to the threshold of his bedroom before he tumbled forward, hitting the door on his way down.
When he came to, he couldn't quite open his eyes all the way. His head was killing him - the light above way too bright and the voice over him way too loud. He was still on the floor, that he was sure of, feeling every bit of the cold, hard wood in his back.
"Way to go, idiot."
Hina blinked and tried to say, "Maru?" but nothing came out.
"Me? It's not my fault, I was busy taking out the guards! ...it wasn't my fault! What about you, huh?"
Hina could hear a crunching sound and he scrunched up his face. "Don't eat my stuff, Maru," he managed to mumble.
"It's his fault for not paying attention, he wouldn't have got hit in the he- hey, where are you going? Hey!"
"I'm heading home."
"And what you think's gonna happen when they come in later and he's still on the floor, huh?"
There was a pause, filled only by the sound of crunching. Finally, "If you're worried, take him to the hospital."
"I'm not taking him."
Hina slowly sat up, trying to rub his cheek without causing too much pain - it was ginger to the touch, definitely a little swollen. "How annoying," he muttered, blinking his eyes open. "You're really loud, you know that?" he said.
When his sight finally adjusted, he realized he wasn't in his apartment and Maru wasn't there eating his snacks. He was in what seemed like a familiar room - where the walls were covered in signs and posters and the atmosphere a little hazy - and before him stood a stunned pair: Ryo, with a stick of pocky precariously hanging out of the side of his mouth, and Subaru, with a cigarette hanging out of his.
Hina blinked. They were both in suits. "How did you-" The minute he realized Subaru had long hair and a goatee, he sighed and flopped back on the floor. "Another dokkiri?"
"...maybe you should take him to the hospital."
"How did you get Maru to go along? He's so bad at keeping secrets," Hina said, pulling himself off of the floor and brushing off his sleeves, noticing that he was in a suit too. "Did you really have to take my pants off?"
"Jacky, are you okay?"
Hina made a face. "Okay, Yoko, come out. He's in the next room, right?" He quickly glanced at his watch - different from the one he sometimes wore. "Ah, I have to be at the studio in an hour, sorry," he said, waving them off as he walked toward the door. It really did look like their old set, but he couldn't remember it well enough to tell which door was the closet and which was the exit.
"Jacky!"
"It's okay," Hina replied, finding the right one by chance on his first try. He stopped short. "This is the extra, isn't it? This is going to be on the DVD?"
The other two looked at each other, expressions confused.
"This probably isn't any good then," Hina said to himself. "They'll have to set it up again. Pick a day when I don't have to be somewhere, huh? See-"
"J-jacky, your face!"
Hina rubbed his cheek again. "It's okay, makeup will figure out something."
As he shut the door, Ace turned to Arsenal and punched him in the shoulder. "Mac is going to kill us."
Arsenal shrugged. "At least he's not still on the floor?"
Outside, Hina jogged, glancing around. The sun was already up, the first shreds of daylight peeking out. His head still hurt and as he hurried down the street, he kept his eyes open for a convenience store, a stand - anything where he might be able to grab a bottle of water before he headed into work. But everything looked closed, a little run down. After about three blocks, Hina slowed his pace to a walk. Another block more, nothing looked remotely familiar. He stopped. It was hard to get somewhere else when he didn't know where he was to begin with.
He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. At least the managers could probably pick him up at the nearest landmark.
No phone.
Hina continued to feel around in his pockets. No phone, no keys, not even a wallet. He wandered a bit more, just in case he stumbled upon someone he could ask for help or a taxi he could promise to pay for once they were at the studio. But it became very apparent that the further he went, the less populated the area got - nothing but run down buildings, chain link fences, and a river stained by industrialization. Even if he found a taxi, he didn't know if it'd get him to the studio in time.
"Guys," he sighed to himself. "You could have at least left my phone." With another deep breath, he looked at the buildings and started jogging again. He didn't know where he was, but he could at least figure out how to get back to a known starting point: the club. With only a few wrong turns, that he quickly corrected, Hina arrived at the front - to a welcome sight.
Crouched in the alley, with his mass of curly, bright hair shining in the sunlight and a stray cat at his hand, was a familiar face.
"Maru," he said, giving the other a light swat to the shoulder. "What was that about last night? You punched me, really punched me! You weren't asleep at all, were you? And then I wake up here."
The other quietly smiled, picking up a dish off of the street and heading toward the door. Hina followed closely behind. "You didn't have to hit so hard," he continued. "You're paying our tab next time, you know. Hey, your hair - what is that, a wig? So it is the next release? Part two? Ah, are we actually filming today, is that why? I'm not supposed to be at the studio this morning? I should probably call anyway, do you have your phone? You know, for our tenth anniversary, I'm switching it on him - I should get started now and then by the time our tenth anniversary comes, bam, Yoko won't know what hit him. Do you have your phone?" He paused for a minute. "Hey, Maru? Maru."
The other man stopped and turned around, a polite but somewhat detached smile, slightly towering over him.
"You're awfully quiet this morning," Hina commented. "I need your phone. Are you listening?" He reached out to smack him on the head.
...only to have his wrist grabbed before he made contact.
Gum let go and smiled more. "I thought you didn't like cats."
"What?"
"You named it - Maru, right?"
Hina's mouth parted and he squinted, his face the reflection of dumbfounded irritation. "Your name's Maru! Ma-ru! Ma-ru-yama."
Gum shrugged and with a cheerful demeanor walked inside the club. "You're acting weird today, Jacky."
Hina sighed. "Not you too."
***
Later that night, Mac was unhappy.
Ace reached out with an expectant hand, waiting for Arsenal to part with a cigarette. "I told you he'd be pissed off," he muttered.
"Ace wanted to leave him on the floor," Arsenal answered, nonchalant, handing one over.
"Aw, fuck you dude, come on - don't tell him that!"
"Why didn't either of you take him to the hospital?" Mac inquired, standing in front of them as they lounged in chairs on the main floor. "Gum told me he was talking to that stray cat all morning."
"Gum does that every morning," Ace pouted.
"I mean Jacky."
Behind the bar, Hina stood with his arms crossed, a bag of ice in one hand. He had zoned out on part of the conversation, looking around the room for hidden cameras. He had spent most of the day sitting around until, one by one, some of the other members had shown up - each of them keeping a strange distance as Hina insisted that the joke was over. It wasn't like Yoko to go this long without declaring some sort of victory. So he had moved on from the most obvious explanation, a prank, to the possibility that they were actually shooting the sequel which, for budget reasons, was going to be completely ad-libbed. "I'm fine," he said, holding up the bag of ice. "This is enough." Even still, everyone needed a break now and then. "Sorry to stop the scene, but can I get my phone back?"
Mac looked over at the other two. Ace shrugged.
"You dropped this last night," Arsenal replied, fishing something out of his pocket and tossing it Hina's way.
He had to lean over the bar to catch it, just barely getting there in time. "What the- oh, the butterfly knife!" Hina dropped the bag of ice on the bar and started playing with the small weapon. "I think I remember how to do th- ah, no, that's not it."
Mac's eyes were as wide as they could be, his mouth in a straight line, as he glared at Arsenal and Ace. "Idiots."
"Got it!" Hina declared, holding up the exposed knife. "Ah, where's the fork? That was funny."
"Put the ice back on your cheek, it's still swelling," said a gentle voice next to him, one that had been content to stay quiet while their leader berated part of the team. "Maybe he shouldn't go tonight, Mac," Johnny said.
"You're probably right."
"I'm fine," Hina replied. "I still need my phone back." No one made a move to offer it. He shrugged. "I must have dropped it then. It'll turn up."
"Ace, you're going instead."
"Can't," Ace said, hands up, standing up from the table. "Previous engagement." He headed for the door before another word could be said.
Arsenal followed suit. "I worked last night so I'm off tonight." He nodded his head toward the bar. "He's fine."
"I can't go, I have to meet with another client in a few hours," Mac replied. "I'm not sending Gum and Toppo alone."
"I'll go," Johnny offered.
"No offense, Johnny," Mac said, face apologetic. "I was looking for a little more muscle in case there was trouble."
"Ah," Hina blurted out, "don't send Gum in the front door, there are ten guards there, right?"
"Maybe he can just drive tonight," Mac sighed. He tapped his fingers on his pants as he thought. "Go with them if I'm not back at closing." He pulled his pocketwatch out to check the time. "Think you can handle it tonight?"
"It'll be fine," Johnny answered. "We're almost done with the prep. Go."
Hina watched as Mac nodded and quickly left. "Prep?" he asked. "Oh that's right, Jacky likes to cook, doesn't he?" He clapped his hands together and started to poke around the bar, repeating the word "prep" as he finally fished out a cutting board and knife. But once he had them placed on the bar, he was at a loss for what he was supposed to be cutting. "Cooking's more your thing, Tatsu."
"Just make the usual," Johnny replied, washing his hands before pulling out glasses.
"The usual. I just remember cutting up cucumber," Hina said to himself, finding one in their small bar refrigerator. He looked it over, shrugged, and chopped off the ends before making a series of cuts lengthwise. There were a number of things that Murakami Shingo was skilled at, a number of tasks one could throw at him that he'd complete successfully. The cucumber pieces were uneven, mostly too thick and a little ragged in places. He stuck his bottom lip out as he nodded, satisfied in the work. Good enough, another task conquered. Next.
Johnny stepped over, glancing at the slices before taking the knife out of his hand and putting it down on the cutting board. "Why don't I cover that tonight?"
"I can chop things up," Hina insisted. He didn't push it - Johnny had already pointed for him to get out of the bar area, picking up one piece of cucumber that was about a fourth of the whole vegetable's width and eyeing it in disbelief. Hina nodded again. "Well, cooking is more your thing."
"Why don't you rest on the couch in the office," Johnny replied, distracted. "Toppo will be here soon."
The idea of sitting around even more grated on Hina's nerves. It was one thing to wait in between takes or be on stand-by, that was just part of the job. But he couldn't stand the idea of lazing about, being useless - especially when there were plenty of things that needed to be done. "Doesn't the floor need mopping?"
"I guess?"
Hina smiled and rolled up his sleeves. Before he started, he rubbed his nose and asked, "Hey, Tatsu. Do you have any cigarettes?"
Johnny gave him a look. "Why do you keep calling me Tatsu? Besides, you hate smoking. You constantly lecture Ace about how it ruins the flavor."
"Of course I do," Hina replied, looking around at the walls behind him. The director had to yell "Cut!" at some point.... "Of course I do."
Tuesday nights weren't generally the most popular and so The Eight operated on as small a staff as possible. Toppo came in to set up a playlist, saving his live DJing for the weekends. Johnny manned the bar and Hina kept himself busy by serving drinks, a task which he did enthusiastically. Almost too enthusiastically. Cleaning up tables was almost like a race to be won and if anyone showed the slightest opening to it, Hina would start up a conversation, pushing for more drinks and dropping hints about how good the food was. As expected, the night died down early and as the customers left, Gum arrived, quietly but cheerfully helping with the clean up, stopping once or twice to say, "Feeling better, Jacky?"
The building emptied out and once Toppo had locked the door, he turned to the rest. "Mac back yet?"
"No," Johnny answered. "He told us to go ahead." With one last quick glance around the club, he opened the back door to let the others out. They went one by one, Gum grabbing his staff on the way. Outside, Johnny paused to lock the door and asked, "Jacky, are you okay to drive?"
Hina responded with a shrug. "Sure. Where are we going?"
"You were the contact," Johnny said. "Don't you know?"
Suddenly they were all looking at him. "Nope!" he replied, confidently and with a wide smile.
"It's okay," Toppo interrupted. "I know where it is, I was there earlier - Mac wanted me to scout out the security." He paused and looked over to his side where Gum stood, a smile creeping on his face as he finished with, "Dogs."
"Dogs," Gum repeated, one hand tightly gripped on his staff and the other adjusting the mask on top of his head. "Yay."
Toppo pulled a small spray bottle out of his pants pocket, flipping it in his hand as the group walked out to their VW bus. "Don't worry about them. They'll be out long enough for Jacky to copy the hard drive and get out of there."
"I'll go in, I think Jacky should wait in the van," Johnny replied.
"I can copy computer files, it's not that hard," Hina insisted.
"Do you know what we're looking for?"
Hina nodded. "Computer files."
Toppo gave Johnny a worried look.
"Like, secret plans or tax returns, or something, right?" Hina continued. "Ah, does one of us have to go in dressed like Sailor Moon?"
Johnny met Toppo's gaze. "They got into trouble last night and he got hit pretty bad. He's been kind of out of it all day."
Gum stuck his face in, just over Toppo's shoulder with a grin. "He thinks the cat's name is Maru."
Toppo nodded. "I'll drive then."
Hina sighed and dropped his shoulders, letting his head roll to the side in annoyance as he climbed in to the back seat. "Your name is Maru, not the cat's."
Gum piled in next to him, taking care to lay his staff down on the floorboard where it wasn't in the way. In the front, Johnny started asking Toppo a number of questions - he was usually on the setup side of things, not having to worry about stuff like security cameras and alarm trips. Gum was humming quietly to himself with his eyes closed. He made small moves with his arms, acting out a number of strikes in his head.
The melody sounded familiar, like one of Hina's favorite Shounentai songs. "Odoro, odoro," he sang quietly, prompting, expecting the other to finish the rest of the line like he always did. Instead, Gum continued to visualize moves - no lyrics. And the longer he hummed, the less it sounded like Kamen Budoukai.
Hina slumped down in the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the van. His eyes traced along the perimeter, catching little drops in the lining where the fabric had started to sag over time - so noticeably he could tell even in the dark. He followed it to the front, where it met the windshield - flashes of light from the road as they drove along illuminated the skewed rear view mirror. It looked like it had fallen off a couple of times, carelessly stuck back on the glass with glue. "Hey, guys," he said. Toppo and Johnny didn't listen - they continued to quietly discuss details. Hina poked at the ceiling, smushing the spongy fabric with his finger, most likely making the sagging condition worse. "Guys?"
"Yes?" Gum finally said next to him.
Hina continued to poke around the ceiling. "Afterward, do you want to go to that place in Hamamatsucho?" He turned to look at Gum, unable to read the expression in the dark. "Get your favorite drink?"
Gum mulled it over. "Johnny doesn't make White Russians very well. Hmm, yeah, maybe, Jacky."
Hina let his head fall to the side and he puffed out his cheeks. "No, a Godfather, your favorite- why aren't you calling me Shin-chan?"
"Because your name is Jacky?"
"Shingo. Shin-go." He sighed. He felt like he had been up forever, his head still slightly aching from before - and while the act was starting to irritate him, there was something else that was at play. "There's no need to keep going when they've stopped rolling the cam-" Hina tapered off and turned back toward the window, starting to poke at the glass and inspecting around the seat.
"We're here," Toppo announced. The van came to a jumpy stop underneath a burnt out street light a block down from their target's house. "Once I take care of the dogs, you can go in."
"Let's go," Johnny suggested, getting out on the other side.
Hina wasn't listening - he was too busy fumbling with his belt, feeling around the back of it. When he couldn't find anything there, he started checking the pockets in his shirt, his jacket, feeling around the sides of his tie. Next to him, Gum slid open the side door and hopped out. He turned to pick his staff off of the floor when Hina yelled, "Wait a minute!"
He jumped out next to the group and turned each of them around, patting around their ties and lifting the back of their jackets to check around the belts. After going over Gum last, Hina looked up at him with a drained expression. "Nothing."
"Keep it idling. We'll be back in a minute," Johnny reassured him, heading toward the house.
Hina watched as the three of them quickly crossed the street. Gum and Johnny held back as Toppo approached the gate, whistling and shaking the spray bottle in his hand. A few quiet yelps could be heard and then Toppo waved the other two over, holding the gate open for them while he stayed outside and stood watch.
As he stumbled backwards, Hina quickly found the open door to the side of the bus and sat down on the step. He took one last look around the inside. "There are no microphones." He rubbed the side of his cheek again, cringing when he pressed in too hard and aggravated the growing bruise. A prank was definitely out. Filming was too, and he rolled his eyes, annoyed at how long it had taken him to realize that the very idea was somewhat absurd. Which left only one real possibility: Maru had hit him much, much harder than he had realized. That, or...
Hina's thought process trailed off as something caught his eye down the street. Toppo was facing him, looking out for signs that the owner was coming home. Every so often he glanced over his left shoulder to check on the dogs, to make sure they were still incapacitated. But he never checked over his right.
Hina wasn't too sure, but he thought he caught the glimpse of something shining around the corner of the stone fence. He had mostly tuned out Johnny and Toppo's conversation earlier, much too distracted by his own evolving thoughts - but something did stick out in his mind: if the guy had a lot to hide, why was his only protection a couple of guard dogs? Especially if he was such a powerful politician?
Hina bolted from the side of the van, not even thinking. "Yasu!" he yelled, as he ran.
Toppo gave him an annoyed face, motioning for him to stay back and keep quiet. Their entire plan would fail if the whole neighborhood woke up. He sighed, ignoring the fact that Hina was pointing at something as he ran.
He got there just in time. Behind Toppo, someone - probably a hired guard - was about to strike, arms raised. If he could connect with a blow to the back of his head, Toppo would be out and Johnny and Gum would be clueless about what was coming their way. Hina charged in and ran shoulder first into the guy, knocking him back and to the ground. After the impact he found himself pinning the guard down and seconds away from being kicked off. He wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to, but instinct kicked in and Hina thought, "What the hell."
With three strong, clean punches, the guard was unconscious - and Hina's hand was bloody and aching. "Son of a-"
"Come on," Toppo said, grabbing his shoulder as he ran by. "I doubt he's alone."
Hina stumbled, following after him up the stairs and shaking out his hand as he went along. "Okura! Maru!" he yelled out.
They slid, almost crashing into the doorframe of the study. Both Johnny and Gum looked up from the computer. "I think they know we're here," Toppo said between breaths. Gum nodded and jumped around the desk, pulling down his mask and heading outside. Johnny tapped his hand on the desk, chanting, "Come on, come on."
"Just grab the whole thing," Hina complained.
"Then they'll really know we were here," Toppo replied.
Johnny looked around the study and found a cabinet with glass doors, inside a number of antique guns - old, unusable, but worth some amount. He grabbed the lamp off of the desk and threw into the door, smashing the glass. He took the first two he could reach and tossed them at Hina and Toppo; by the time they had them in hand, the files had finished transferring. Johnny ripped out the travel drive, hoping it'd be okay, and shut down the system. Toppo had already started for the door, taking the other antique gun from Hina and rubbing off their prints with his shirt.
"Maybe he'll think it was just a robbery," Johnny said as he caught up to Hina. The two rushed outside. The one guard was still splayed out on the walk - now joined by two others. Toppo had thrown the guns off to the bushes and was sliding into the bus, throwing open the driver's door; Gum stood over the unconscious guards, looking around. He pulled up his mask when he saw Johnny and Hina emerge. "Hurry up," he said, "I think the dogs are coming to."
Toppo pulled up just in time for the three to jump in. Gum got in last and Toppo peeled out, almost stripping the gears trying to shift too fast. They slid the side door shut as they zoomed away.
Some distance out, Hina realized he had been holding his breath. He let go in a very audible exhale, the burning pain in his hand swelling up as he did. He held it gingerly and looked over at Johnny, who double checked his pocket to make sure the travel drive was there. Toppo's grip was tight on the wheel, so much so that he had to keep shaking out his hands to get the blood flowing again. Gum merely pulled out a stick of chewing gum, popping it in his mouth and sitting back. "That was fun," he said.
When they got back to The Eight, Ace was at the bar, pulling out bottles. He jumped when he heard them come in, scrambling to put everything back - until he realized who it was. With a half-cocked grin, he popped open the whiskey bottle. "I thought you were Mac."
"He's still out?" Toppo asked.
"What are you doing here?" Johnny asked, walking by and taking the bottle out of his hands, recapping it.
"Nothing," Ace answered, taking the cigarette out of his mouth in order to gulp down another shot.
Toppo removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose where they sat and grimacing. "I'm going home." He started to undo his tie, take off his jacket - unbutton the stiff white shirt - as he headed for the closet. Once he pulled his bag out, he stuffed the discarded clothes in it - opting to go home in just his trousers, a white tank top, and a cap he put on sloppily.
"Sounds good," Johnny agreed. "I'll leave this in the office for Mac," he said, pulling out the travel drive.
As Toppo was about to leave, he walked over to Hina. In a low voice, he said, "Thanks, Jacky."
Hina waved it off. "It was nothing." He crossed his arms, biting back the urge to scowl at his hand as he watched Toppo nod to the others, more out of expectation than politeness. Hina wrinkled his nose up at the thought - it hadn't been a big deal at all, because who cared about things that weren't real. Hina's legs had simply kicked in on automatic - but even still, he couldn't recall once feeling his heartbeat skip or a sweat break as he had charged in to take out the guard.
He looked over at Gum, who was putting his staff and mask in the same closet Toppo had been in. Hina wandered over to the bar and gestured for Ace to hand him two beers; he popped the first one and grabbed the other one in his hand. He motioned to Ace's cigarette. "Got another?"
As Gum came by, Hina sat there with his good hand out, offering the beer. He held the unlit cigarette in his mouth. He didn't say anything, instead just catching Gum's eyes and giving a small little inquisitive squint - one that he had perfected over a number of years. There was no nod back. Gum merely said, "No, thanks," and, with a cheerful wave good night at Ace, left.
Before, it had simply pissed Hina off. Now, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, rubbed his eyes and audibly groaned in frustration. "Well, it's just a dream, right?" he muttered.
"What's your problem?" Ace asked.
"You," Hina snapped to attention, "why are you drinking straight out of the bottle?!"
"I'm going home," Johnny announced, pulling off his jacket as he emerged from the office. "Jacky, do you think you can get home by yourself?"
Hina quickly patted through all of his pockets. "I still don't have my keys." He blinked. Dream or no, he wasn't familiar with the neighborhood, or even where they had gone on the mission. Keys were the least of his worries - he wasn't even sure where he lived anymore.
"Come on," Johnny said, "you can stay at my place tonight. I'll take care of you."
"I bet you will," Ace muttered, voice sharp even through the blanket of another shot.
Johnny gave him a look. "Get out of the bar."
Hina followed him outside of the club, out onto the wet, humid streets. Johnny led him down a series of blocks, most of which he had seen earlier that morning when he had tried to jog to work. The buildings became increasingly rundown and the alleys less inviting. "I don't live far," Johnny said, already a sense of apology creeping in his voice. Hina yawned - it was probably 4 am again. Even he needed to sleep sometime.
They walked up a rusty set of stairs, each step creaking as they went. Johnny went to the furthest door down the walkway and pulled out his keys. He wrestled with them a little bit, the lock jamming; he had to push his shoulder into the water-damaged door to get it open. "It's a little cramped," he warned.
As Hina walked in, stopping to take off his shoes, Johnny flipped on the lights. The entrance was pretty much the kitchen, which opened into a bedroom that barely fit a bed, with a bathroom off to the side. The sink in the kitchen was old, the faucet wet from a bad leak that would probably never be fixed. Johnny didn't have much, but what he had he kept neat and organized, tucked away so it stayed nice even in the rundown apartment. Still, Hina couldn't help but look amazed, his mouth open in a disgusted frown.
Johnny started to put away his jacket and hummed quietly while Hina slowly walked into the bedroom. He had been in apartments this bad before, and in general they didn't bother him - but he had a hard time reconciling the person with the place. Okura didn't live in a rust-stain of an apartment - even when they had struggled to make a name for themselves as Kanjani8, Okura had access to better options. He looked over at Johnny, his face still somewhat disgusted.
"For now," Johnny answered, anticipating the inevitable, "You live here?"
Hina shook his head. "It's fine."
"I'll sleep on the floor," Johnny said, pulling out a blanket from his closet. "The bath leaks a little bit, if you don't mind waiting until morning?"
"That's fine," Hina said, sitting down. He watched as Johnny continued to move around, heading into the kitchen for something and then into the bathroom. The younger man was humming again. Hina laid back and stared up at the ceiling. "Honde motte sonde maido ari," he sang quietly, in time to Johnny's humming.
"What's that?" Johnny asked, sitting down next to him with a tray.
"Just a song," Hina replied.
"This will sting a little," the other said, taking his hand. He had a bowl of ice water on the tray, and several washcloths. He took the first cloth and dunked it, using it to wipe away any dried blood left on the skin. Then he dipped a swab in the capful of alcohol he had already poured. Hina grimaced a little when the chemical made contact, but let him continue to work. He watched as Johnny concentrated, leaning his face in closely, attentively cleaning the wounds. When he was done, he put gauze over Hina's knuckles and wrapped it lightly with a cloth bandage. "Works better than bandaids," Johnny explained. "Let me look at your face."
Johnny took Hina's chin in his hand and turned it to the side. He grabbed a new washcloth and dipped it in the bowl of ice water before gently applying it to Hina's cheek. He leaned in closely, just as he had with Hina's hand, and looked at the bruising carefully - his mouth close enough that Hina could feel his warm breath on his face.
Something suddenly flashed in his mind - the snurled expression Ace had when he commented, "I bet you will," earlier.
Hina suddenly pulled back, looking Johnny in the eyes.
"Sorry, I must have pressed down too hard," Johnny apologized.
There were a lot of small details that had come out when they filmed the 8Uppers movie, some that floated outside of Hina's mind as his work schedule got busier and busier. This one he was shocked that he had forgotten. "You're gay."
"Yeah," Johnny said, uninterested. He raised the cloth again. "Let me-"
Hina pulled back a little more, his eyes wary.
"I'm not trying to make a pass at you," Johnny grumbled. "And I wouldn't need to do this if you had only kept the ice on there like I told you to earlier."
Hina laughed, somewhat embarrassed - it was a full laugh, the kind that wrinkled his face and showed all of his teeth. "Sorry." He leaned forward again and Johnny quickly finished cleaning off his cheek.
"You really should let me take you to the hospital."
"It's fine, it'll be fine in the morning when I wake up," Hina replied.
"Okay," Johnny said, putting the cloth back on the tray and picking it up. "There's an extra pair of sweatpants you can use in that drawer."
Hina looked over at the drawers built into the bottom of the bed and pulled one open as Johnny dumped the tray in the kitchen. "The other one," he said, in passing, as he grabbed something out of his closet and walked into the bathroom to change.
"Okay," Hina replied, still looking through the first one. There weren't any clothes in there, just papers and notebooks, a few scattered objects. He was about to close it when something caught his eye - a picture. It was a snapshot of some kids, maybe in elementary school, certainly no later - all wearing different clothes indicating that it wasn't a class picture. One kid was squinting at the camera, exaggerating what looked like already impossibly thick lips. Another kid looked more put together than the rest, despite gawky limbs and teeth. One was hidden behind the rest, shorter than the others but also drowning in his own mismatched, bright clothes. And another...
"That's me," Hina said.
"Hmm?" Johnny asked, coming out of the bathroom in a shirt and sweats. "The clothes are in the other drawer."
"That's me," he repeated, holding out the picture - what was eight year old Murakami Shingo, puffy young face and big round eyes. "This was when I was little."
"Ah," Johnny said, sitting on the floor next to him. "That was from the orphanage."
"No you don't understand," Hina replied. "I didn't know any of you then. I didn't meet Yoko until I was 14!"
Johnny looked confused. "You were at the orphanage before I got there. I think you'll feel better in the morning." He reached over to open the second drawer and pulled out the sweatpants. After he handed them over, he took the picture out of Hina's hand and carefully tucked it back into its resting place.
Hina stood, holding the pants in his hands, unmoving. "Tats- uh, Johnny?"
"Hmm?"
"What about Eito?" Hina asked.
Johnny paused for a minute, thought reflected in his face.
"I don't mean the baby," Hina quickly said.
"Baby?"
"Yeah the...Eito, the baby we found that was actually the illegi-" Hina shook his head as Johnny looked more and more lost. "Nevermind, this must be before that. I mean Kanjani8."
Johnny shrugged. "That's a weird name. Is that a comedy group?"
It wasn't long before Hina had changed and crawled into Johnny's bed, the padding thin and worn down. Johnny switched off the light and curled up on the floor, insisting that it was like old times when he used to sometimes have bad dreams and sneak into Jacky's room at the orphanage to be by his side.
Hina stared up at the ceiling, blowing out puffs of air. He was starting to get the feeling in the pit of his stomach that this entire fantasy land, dream or delusion, was much more real than possible. He took a deep breath - the answer wasn't going to come before morning, so there was no sense in lingering on it any longer.
With the last few blinks of consciousness, Hina looked over the side of the bed to see Johnny underneath a thin, brown blanket, barely enough to cover him, surrounded by dingy, beat up walls. He slipped into sleep with one last thought drifting in - the whole reason Johnny had joined the 8Uppers in the first place was due to a massive, crippling debt from being ripped off.
The next morning, Hina's eyes fluttered awake and before his brain caught up with him, he sat up and said, "I'm never letting you come over again, Maru."
"Morning."
Hina stretched and rolled over, greeted by the image of Johnny crouched in front of his small refrigerator with a sour look. "So it wasn't a dream," Hina said.
"I'll have to make breakfast at the club," Johnny groused.
When they got there, Gum was already in the middle of his practice routine, with Ace off to the side, shoving in snack after snack. "Just one?" he said. Gum ignored him, instead spouting out grunt-filled nonsense noises with every pose.
"Just one," Ace repeated.
"You're here early," Johnny commented. "Or you never left last night." Ace was still in the same clothes, but it was hard to tell - he often wore the same thing two days in a row.
"Just one, what?" Hina asked, leaning up against the bar, holding onto one side of his pants. One day in his 8Uppers suit was enough; he had borrowed clothes from Johnny before they left the apartment. Unfortunately, Johnny's smallest were still a touch too big.
"Sparring match," Ace said, barely glancing over.
"Gum's just going to beat you again," Johnny said, not looking up from the sink at the bar.
Ace shook his head. "Not this time. Your face looks better."
Hina put an unconscious hand to his cheek. "Oh?" As he rubbed it, he saw Gum take a deep breath and put his weight back on one foot. He put up his arms in a block in front and raised the other leg, slowly, keeping balance. When he felt steady, he started kicking in succession, never putting down his left leg. "Gum?" Hina finally called out.
"He won't listen, he's practicing," Ace muttered. "I've been telling him how much he sucks all morning and he still won't fight me."
"There's something wrong with you," Johnny commented.
"Gum?" Hina asked, walking over to him. "Gum. Gum!" He even tried singing out the name, jumping up and down shaking his hands. The other continued to concentrate on his kicks.
"What the hell," Hina muttered. He took a few steps back and pushed up against the wall. At first, it wasn't an issue, then it was just annoying. Hina looked over at the room, three faces he knew, but three people he only vaguely knew about. True, three people he had no problem getting along with, but Hina rarely met someone he didn't like. It wasn't so much being suddenly stranded with strangers, but strangers that looked like someone else - like friends. There were things he knew about the three faces in the room, things he had learned over years, that no longer applied. And no matter what, despite the same shape and some similar tendencies, it wasn't the same. No matter what, he thought, looking ahead, Gum wasn't Maru.
For the first time in the past 24 hours, Hina exhaled deeply with a sense of resignation and, if he had to admit it, sadness in his chest.
"You're lucky he didn't accidentally punch you," Johnny commented, bringing over a glass with orange juice in it, holding it out.
"Hm?"
"Gum," he replied. "Sometimes he gets so focused on workouts, he could have accidentally hit you and never notice."
Hina's eyes lit up. "That's it."
"What's it?"
"I'm such an idiot," Hina continued. He walked over to where Gum was, who had taken a break and was dabbing his neck with a towel. Hina grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him over, looking around the room as they moved. Until... "Here," he said. "Now, punch me."
"Not you too," Gum replied.
"I knew you could hear me!" Ace bellowed.
"It's not a dream, right?" Hina said. "This is where I was so there has to be a door, right? You punched me and, bwah, I ended up in this world, so you just have to punch me to send me back."
Johnny set the orange juice back down. "I'm getting the keys and taking him to the hospital."
"Just trust me," Hina said, looking Gum in the eyes. "It won't hurt. One punch."
Gum shrugged, pulled back and -
Hina blinked, waiting for the hit. It was taking forever to connect, time slowing down in a haze, lights burning bright. He blinked again, realizing that Gum was no longer in front of him - he couldn't see the club, just a mess of colors, and he couldn't turn his head. He couldn't move save to blink and breathe. Clarity washed in like the tide, objects suddenly taking shape, and closely behind it came the pain, the other side of his face swollen and stinging. Gravity released its hold on his good hand and he was able to rub his chin, feeling a trickle of blood there. "Maybe not that hard," he mumbled, suddenly realizing he was on the floor.
"It was an accident."
Hina smiled. "It's okay, Maru." He took another deep breath and tried to sit up - above him were three peering faces.
"He's still calling the cat Maru," one remarked.
"This one isn't my fault, do you hear me? Mac's not blaming me for this one," said another.
The third sighed, holding out a hand. "We're going to the hospital."
Hina took Johnny's hand and stood up. "Huh," he said. "That didn't work."
He hopped into the passenger side of the van, looking for a seatbelt that wasn't there when Johnny got in on the driver's side. Gum had landed a good shot - Hina was already having trouble seeing out of his left eye over the swelling. He started poking around in his mouth, just to be sure that it hadn't taken out any teeth too.
Johnny got in and started the engine, letting it sit for a moment before pressing down on the brake. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a breath. Hina hadn't noticed it that morning, but the shirt he had borrowed was nicer looking than the one Johnny had on - the tail of which was starting to fray and a thinness apparent under the arms. "I'll drop you off at home later so you can rest. I'll take care of prep."
"You worked last night," Hina pointed out. He took a moment to look at Johnny, really look at him. The kid was pushing himself to make everything work - he couldn't help but admire it.
"I work every night," Johnny answered. "I bet your landlord will let you in."
The sound of the engine took over the conversation and Johnny put the car into first gear, looking over his shoulder before pulling out. As they started to drive down unfamiliar streets, the radio playing unfamiliar songs, Hina nodded and finally admitted, "I don't know how to get home."
"That's okay," Johnny replied. "You can stay with me until you figure it out."