Gaining Your Love: a Heisei Kumi fanfic (6/14)
Author: ryosukekoibito
Pairing: Ariyama
Rating: PG-13
Genre:Romance
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone, c'mon guys.
Summary:Long before the Heisei Kumi knew Keito Daiki makes it his mission to make the stunning Yamada Ryosuke fall in love with him, and it's going to be much harger than Daiki expected. So! For anyone who read my Heisei Kumi fic, this is the Ariyama spinoff I said I'd write! And if you didn't read it, please go check it out. The first chapter can be found here.
A/N: Um, so...what do you think of the banner?
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
NO! "RYOSUKE!" He burst through the door, frantic. There, in the center of the living room floor Hikaru and a Wakaba member were rolling around, fighting over a handgun. A small round hole was still smoking in the living room wall over Yabu’s head. Daiki seized the chance to kick the enemy boy in the head and neck a few times, and he leaned down, Hikaru wrenching the gun from the other boy’s fingers, Daiki's eyes still searching frantically for Yamada.
"RYOSUKE!?" He yelled again, and this time he saw the boy, fighting with Wakaba Katsumi. Daiki rushed over, grabbing Katsumi from behind and getting him in a headlock, pulling him away from Yamada. He threw the boy to the ground, and pulled Yamada behind him, protecting him. He wasn't going to let Yamada get hurt. Yuto passed them, in a fight with a Wakaba member a couple of years older than himself. Yamada made a move to go help him, but Daiki blocked him from getting by, keeping him behind him. Safe. Yamada yelled something at him, but Daiki didn't quite catch the words. Ryuya rushed them, and Daiki slugged the older boy in the ribs, using his other hand to push Yamada back, up onto the staircase. Ryuya caught Daiki while he was preoccupied, and slashed a cut across Daiki's stomach, the blade of his knife whipping through Daiki's clothes in one fluid motion. Daiki whipped around, blood seeping through his purple tanktop, and grabbed the knife blade, jerking the weapon out of the bigger guy’s hand, the pain just making him angry. He saw red, and the next thing he knew he had Ryuya on the ground, pinning him there with one foot, his fists dripping with the mixed blood if his opponent and blood from his own knuckles. Ryuya made a run for it, and Daiki let him go; the fighting was already dissapitating, the last few Wakaba members on their way out the door.
Then it was quiet. The only sound their heavy breathing as the Heisei Kumi members looked around at each other, in that state all humans are in after they survive a life threatening event. Then Hikaru leaped forward as Yuto fell to his knees, catching him just before his torso hit the ground. Yamada too had made to go help Yuto, but Daiki-still in protection mode-pushed him back. A split second later Daiki found himself knocked to the ground by a painful thwack to the back of his knees, and he looked up startled, into Yamada's face. The littler boy was angry, tears of frustration and hurt running down his face as he glared down at Daiki, his katana raised.
"What the HELL was all of that?!" Yamada asked, shaking slightly, as he stands there, waiting for Daiki to respond. Daiki was dumbfounded, and as he found his mouth forming unintelligible attempts at speech.
"I....I..."
"I-I'm not your toy, Arioka-kun. You can't do with me whatever you wish. I'm not anyone's toy...not anymore." Yamada's voice was raw, and tear after tear slipped down his cheeks, but he stood tall, not defeated or scared, sending one last look Daiki's way before turning and running to Yuto's side.
Daiki's mind went numb. He didn't know how he ended up sitting on the steps, or what anyone else had done in the time that had lapsed. It was as though his body had decided it didn't want to feel anymore-didn't want to think anymore-and was shutting down. When Ryutaro walked up however, he became wary. It must have shown on his face because Ryu sent him a little smile, and said in a voice like those people use to keep wild beasts calm
"Don't worry, I'm just going to sew up your stomach." Huh? Daiki looked down automatically, fingers searching his midsection until they came in contact with the opened flesh, and he winced as a pain ran through his stomach. Damn it. Gingerly he pulled off his tank top, surprised by how torn it was, and examined his wound properly. It was a clean slice; running from the left side of his bellybutton up diagonally to the right edge of his ribcage. He sighed, and opened up his arms to give Ryutaro a clear shot with the needle, but Ryu hesitated,
"I'd like to be able to use the table..."
Daiki glanced over at their huge kitchen table, and found it surrounded by Hikaru, Yabu, Yamada, and Takaki, all talking in hushed calming tones, and when Takaki ran off Daiki was able to see what was so important on the table. Yuto. His face was screwed up in a pained growl, and his leg stuck out at an odd angle, tears streaming from his eyes and dripping past his ears onto the tabletop. There was no way Ryu was going to be able to use the table. The littler boy too realized this, and he was silent for a second, pondering, his eyes tracing over Daiki's wound as he thought.
"Lay down." What?
"Here?" They both looked down at the space, right in the doorway to the kitchen, at the foot of the stairs. Daiki's body would be right in the way.
"By the couch." Ryutaro decided, and Daiki stood up, gingerly making his way over to the couch, using the armrest to lower himself to the ground. He realized as soon as he relaxed on the floor that he could still see everything going on in the kitchen from this angle. He barely had time to register this however, before his focus was occupied by the sudden weight on his thighs.
"Shit!" He cursed quietly in surprise, head jerking back up to see Ryu sitting on his legs, the boy busy threading his needle with nimble fingers.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Daiki asked quietly, not wanting to draw the other boys’ attention to their awkward position. Ryu looked down and Daiki could have sworn he almost blushed, but it was gone in a flash, and he let one side of his mouth raise in a faint smirk.
"This way I have a good angle, now hold still." The younger boy leaned down, hunched over Daiki’s wound, before carefully slipping the needle through his raw flesh. Daiki had been expecting the spike of pain that the needle carried with its thread, and he arranged his face in a calm mask, tilting his head to watch the boys in the kitchen, trying his best to ignore what was happening to his own body. His eyes landed on Yamada who was standing on the left side of the table, hand cupping Yuto's face, talking to him; keeping him calm. Hikaru was bent over Yuto's wonky leg, his hands gripping the limb firmly. Then, without warning he moved, and with a loud crack the limb returned to its intended position. Yuto screamed, the sound raw and painful to listen to. Ryu winced, pausing in his meticulous knotting of the third stitch with a pained expression. Daiki watched Yamada's shaking hands as the beautiful boy caressed Yuto's cheeks, wiping away tears with his thumbs and letting his fingertips dance soothingly over the skin and through Yuto's feathery black hair. His breath caught in his throat when Yamada leaned down, his perfect, rose petal-lips only a centimeter or two from Yuto's own-
"He cried last night you know." Yamada pulled back from Yuto's face, and Daiki turned, relieved, to Ryutaro.
"What?" Ryu motioned to where Daiki had been looking.
"Yamada. He cried last night. He had nightmares again." The littler boy flicked his bangs out of his eyes and slipped the needle through Daiki's flesh. His offhand act being thrown off by the way he glanced at Daiki's face, eyes serious and a little challenging.
"It's your fault." He said as he tied the knot in the fourth stitch, clipping the string with a zinging sound. Daiki waited to see if he would say any more, as he tried to ignore the pain and anger-the frustration and self hatred that was building in his stomach the more Ryutaro talked.
"He asked for you, begging for you to save him right before he woke up."
Ryu's words cut across Daiki's chest like an axe, and they left behind a burning open wound that made Daiki's eyes water. He refused to cry.
"So, Dragon-san," Ryutaro said Daiki's nickname with disdain "you'd better get your act together fast, because everyone, and I mean everyone" He glanced pointedly at the Kumi-cho. "is getting fed up, and you're the bad guy here." Daiki's eyes glazed over unfocused, as he processed Ryutaro's words. If the boy kept talking, Daiki didn't hear him. He shut himself up in his mind, his conscious went to sleep, and his body went on autopilot, his subconscious at the reins. His emotions were released, unhindered by words. The problem was that he didn't know what they were.
It's late into the night, and Daiki can't fall asleep. He's in his pajama pants, and his midsection and right hand are wrapped in gauze, the layer protecting his stitches. Bruises have formed on his knuckles and jawline, and his body is exhausted. He finds himself sitting in the hall, head against the wall, his eyes seeing nothing as he stares blankly ahead. Then one noise washes over him, breaking through the blurry emotions that had built up in his brain. The muffled sound of his name, called in a whimper. As though woken from a dream, he realized that he had brought himself to Yamada's bedroom door, and he froze, as a muffled pleading shriek came from the room, and a light flicked on. He jumped up, good hand on the door knob, but Ryutaro's voice stopped him.
"Yama-chan! Shit. Yamada! Wake up! Wake-" There was a moment of silence, and then-sobbing.
"Oh....crap. It's okay." Ryutaro whispered. Daiki listened as Yamada cried, his despairing cries accompanied by Ryutaro's low voiced, smooth, calm attempts to soothe him.
"D-daiki...Dai-ki..." Yamada's weeping was reduced down to the sound of shaky breaths and weak mutterings, until all noise was extinguished, and Daiki stood there listening to the silence, frozen with his hand on the doorknob. A quake ran through his body, and he jerked back, startled when the door creaked open. Ryutaro froze, and they stared at each other for a moment, before Ryutaro brushed past with a muttered
"You have something on your face, bastard." Daiki put his hand to his cheek after Ryutaro had turned the corner, and found a tear trail running to his chin. He rubbed at it, confused slightly, and peeked through the doorway into the room Yamada and Ryutaro shared. All he could make out was the dark form of the bunk beds, and a lump on the bottom mattress that even in the poor lighting he could tell was Yamada. He thought about going in, but when he tried to move his feet the part of his soul that controlled his actions shunned that will away, and he found himself unable to go forward. He pivoted around and wandered back to his own bed, tossing and turning for hours before falling into a poor version of the peace called sleep.
The next night he once again found himself at Yamada's bedroom door, listening as the boy cried and yelled for him, powerless to help. He always froze at the door, unable to go in, only able to listen as Yamada's nightmare tortured his mentality. He could never remember crying, but the tear lines he went to bed with, and puffy eyes he woke up to proved that he was. He was torturing himself, by denying himself the ability to help the one he loved he was punishing himself. He could have prevented this. This was all his fault.
Apparently he wasn't doing a good enough job at the punishment thing, because four nights into this routine Chinen called him into his office.
"You have been causing a disturbance, Arioka." The little Kumi-cho spoke in solid serious words, big eyes watching Daiki over the edge of his desk. A messy little ball of fear tried to form in the back of his throat, but he snuffed it out, and his face remained blank.
"So," Chinen sat back in his chair and opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out a red velvet drawstring bag, about the size of a small melon. "I had this prepared for you. It's yours to keep, but you're only to use it when I deem it necessary." Daiki's mind shot to one dreadful explanation, and in that moment he convinced himself that there was a knife in the bag, and he was going to have to cut off his pinky. Yubizume. He'd never really contemplated it before, but now that he was he realized why it was so effective as a punishment. Just the thought made him feel as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice into his stomach.
The Kumi-cho passed the bag across the desk, and Daiki gripped it with slightly shaky fingers. Chinen watched his face and said
"You'll know what to do." Daiki nodded, and realizing that the conversation was over he stood and left the room, hastily escaping out the front door to the alley, where he slipped his hand inside the bag, pulling it back out with its contents gripped tightly in his grasp.
The gun glinted menacingly in the dim light from the street lamps. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked down at the murder weapon. What did the Kumi-cho want him to do with it? Awful possibilities cluttered his mind, and he shoved them aside, trying to calm himself by examining the-his-new gun. His inspection revealed that it was a fully loaded Glock 23, a .40 caliber Smith & Wesson that fit eerily well into his hand. He wanted to throw it, to get it away from him. He carefully slipped it back into the bag, and shut his eyes. Shit.
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