Gaining Your Love: a Heisei Kumi fanfic (10/14)
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 harder 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: The plot returns! Sorry guys, trust me, the relevance of it all will tie in. So, anywho, enjoy!
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
The next morning Daiki had a date with one of the girls he was manipulating, but he was back before lunch and he spent the next two and a half hours determinedly attempting to beat Yamada at chess. His attempts however, were futile. The boy had become an unstoppable force, mentally calculating and always sixteen steps ahead. Then Yamada left to go on a date, and Daiki wandered the house, eventually grabbing Yabu, Takaki, and Hikaru as they left the Kumi-cho's office, getting them to agree on a game of poker. The game wasn't a serious one, they teased each other the whole time, and it ended with them rolling around on the floor in a mock argument, faking punches and even tickling. Yabu tackled Daiki to the floor, pinning him to the ground with his knees, slipping wiggling fingers under his shirt, giggles escaping the bigger boy’s lips. Daiki cursed, laughing and writhing, trying to slip out from under Yabu. In his mirth he felt his handgun shift in the waistband of his pants. The Glock slipped, falling to the floor and getting kicked under the coffee table, unnoticed by the others. Daiki felt a spike of panic, and he scrambled for it. Hikaru however, picked it up first, his eyes meeting Daiki's own, and in that moment Daiki knew. Hikaru understood. He knew everything. Hikaru jumped on him, pretending to tickle him as he slipped the handgun back into the waistband of Daiki's pants, his lips grazing his ear as he whispered
"It's coming. The Kumi-cho's punishment is coming." His words made Daiki's blood run cold. Suddenly, he didn't want to be there. He felt ill, nauseous. He pulled away, excusing himself to the bathroom, instead running upstairs to his bedroom where Inoo was flopped on his bed, back resting on his sheets, arms up, a book in hand. Daiki immediately crawled up next to him, resting his head on one of Inoo's skinny biceps. Inoo put his book down, glancing at Daiki in surprise.
"What's up?" Inoo was already shifting, pulling Daiki closer. Daiki let out a shaky breath, Hikaru's words ringing in his ears. It's coming. The Kumi-cho's punishment is coming. It's coming. It's coming.
"Inoo-chan...I..." The gun was digging into Daiki's back, as if reminding him that it wasn't going away. He knew Inoo could tell how he was feeling, his friend murmuring a gentle "Shh, its okay." and taking Daiki's hand, intertwining their fingers, his thumb making comforting circles on the back of Daiki's own. It had always been like this. Inoo had always been there when Daiki needed comfort most, had always been trustworthy, the one person Daiki could let his walls down with. Inoo sighed, his breath tickling Daiki's eyelashes.
"Will you tell me what's wrong?" Daiki pursed his lips, shutting his eyes, and in image of the Kumi-cho's stern look flooded his mind.
"I...I can't." Daiki could sense Inoo's shocked disappointment. Daiki didn't keep anything from Inoo.
"Maybe one day...I want to..trust me Inoochii, I do, but..." Inoo shifted so that he was lying on his side, and stroked Daiki's cheek with a long feminine finger.
"Okay Dai-chan. Just, cheer up. I hate to see you sad." Daiki nodded, wiggling closer, pushing his head into Inoo's side, and he listened as Inoo's breathing became calm, and Daiki knew he had fallen asleep. There was a soft knock on the door, and Ryutaro pushed it open, freezing when he saw Daiki and Inoo curled up together in Inoo's twin size bed. Feeling his heart sink in embarrassment Daiki sent a glare Ryu's way, wiggling out from between Inoo's arms and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and dragging the young boy out of the room.
"You're lucky Yamada didn't see that, you fucking idiot." Was the first thing out of Ryutaro's mouth. Daiki didn't really want to hear it.
"Inoo's just my friend."
"Hey, you don't need to tell me." Ryutaro’s words came out defensively, and he smiled a crooked smile.
"Anyway, dinner's ready. Do you want me to wake up Inoo, or just leave him be?" Daiki glanced back at the door unconsciously.
"Let him sleep." Ryutaro shrugged turning and walking back down the hall, a hand in his pocket. Daiki sighed, falling into step behind the younger boy, slipping into his seat at the dinner table. Dinner was as usual, everyone talking about the interesting points of their day, weird dreams they had, or jokes they'd heard. They all teased each other, laughing and joking. Daiki enjoyed it, completely forgetting Hikaru's warning. The meal ended, and the moment was ruined when Chinen stood up from the table, announcing
"Daiki, come see me in my office." The little Kumi-cho sauntered into the aforementioned room, and Hikaru and Takaki caught Daiki's eye. Yabu, who was standing nearby, put a hand on Daiki's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The bottom dropped out of Daiki's stomach, but he kept his face void from any reaction. The others hadn't noticed the tension in the air, chattering on, Yamada among them. Daiki pulled out of Yabu's grasp, pretending he didn't need the comfort, and strolled in after Chinen, shutting the door behind him. The Kumi-cho was sitting at his desk, hands ominously folded in front of him. Daiki took the seat on the other side of the desk, and he leaned forward, hands on his knees.
"Do you have the item I gave you last time you were in here?" Chinen was cold, and Daiki nodded, putting the Glock on the desk. Chinen nodded, leaning back in his chair.
"Good. The time has come for you to carry out your punishment for provoking the Wakaba into a surprise attack. You are to be in the alley behind love hotel Hotel Charmed Mitsuko tonight at midnight." Daiki nodded, putting the Glock away.
"What is my task?" The Kumi-cho pulled one of his desk drawers open, pulling a photo out of it and slapping it down on the table.
"This is the problem. It needs to be eliminated." Chinen announced, and Daiki picked it up, slipping the picture into his pocket without looking at it, and standing.
"It will be done." Chinen nodded, and gestured to the door. Daiki bowed, and exited the room without another word. The rest were surrounding the kitchen table, a seven way poker game in progress. He sat himself down on the stairs, pulling the polaroid out of his pocket, examining the image. Immediately Daiki's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't been prepared for this. The photo was taken without the subject’s awareness, he was smiling, grocery bags in his hands. Daiki had seen him before. The cashier at the coat shop. But what had he done to deserve the wrath of their Kumi? He had seemed like an innocent katagi, happy with his quiet little life. A life that was about to end. Daiki slipped the picture back into his pocket, and checked the time. He had two more hours. He sighed leaning his head against the wall, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling churning in his stomach. There was a creek, and he looked up to see a bleary eyed Inoo stumbling down the stairs. When Inoo caught sight of Daiki he smiled, plopping down next to him and burying his face in Daiki's neck, eyes drooping shut.
"I'm so tired, Dai-chan..." Inoo sounded as though he was still half asleep. Daiki swallowed his internal hurricane of emotions, patting his friend on the head.
"Then go back to bed."
"I can't. I'm too hungry. My tummy won't let me." Inoo declared. Daiki sighed.
"Inoochii, you're supposed to be a badass yakuza; badass yakuza don't say 'tummy'." Daiki's words were met with giggles.
"C'mon, go get some food then." Daiki said, poking Inoo repeatedly until his friend stood up, making his way down the last few steps and disappearing into the kitchen. Daiki followed behind him, making sure his friend found the leftovers before making his way over to the couch, not feeling social, his stomach churning. He was only there for a minute or two however, before he felt the heat of a warm body next to him, the couch cushion compressing as the person sank down into it. The scent of roses drifted over to him, and he knew who it was.
"What did the Kumi-cho want?" Yamada asked, head tilted toward Daiki. Daiki looked back at him, and his eyes caught on the deep warm brown orbs that were searching his face. He had to blink, and look away, forcing down the urge to do something stupid, like kiss him.
"He..." There was no way Daiki was telling him. "He just asked me to do something for him tonight." His nerves must have shown through in his voice, because Yamada didn't ask any more questions, instead giving Daiki a simple smile, his fingers gingerly making swirling patterns on Daiki's closest arm, the action a wonderful attempt at soothing him. They fell into silence, but Yamada's touch remained, and it smoothed the passage of time, until Daiki looked up, and found that it was time to go. His insides clenched up, and his throat prickled unpleasantly. Dread made him nauseous, and he stood, Yamada giving him a questioning glance. The younger boys face was filled with concern, and he said
"I'll go with you, Daiki." Yamada stood, and Daiki immediately felt a fresh wave of horror wash through him.
"NO!" He couldn't think of anything worse than Yamada accompanying him tonight. Anything but that. Yamada looked taken aback, eyebrows furrowing, and his eyes hardening slightly at the yell. Daiki took a deep breath, and he took in the perfection that was Yamada one last time, wishing that there was some way that he could just stay.
"Just...can I have a hug...before I go?" He felt awkward saying it, and Daiki knew that it wasn't a realistic request, but then Yamada stepped forward, tentatively putting his arms loosely around Daiki's shoulders. Daiki could feel him shaking, could sense how uncomfortable Yamada was with this, but he pulled him close anyway, feeling the toned body under his arms, the sweet scent of his hair, and he reveled in it for a moment, before pulling away and exiting the house, and leaving his heart behind in Yamada's arms, refusing to look back.
He made it to the alley ten minutes early, and he leaned against the back of the building, listening to the pulsing club music that was echoing from the night club two buildings down. His mind went numb as he waited, and time stood still, until he heard footsteps, and he looked, squinting in the dim light from various neon signs as a figure made its way down the alley. It was him. He took a deep breath, and Daiki pulled the gun from his waistband, releasing the safety. Before the man even saw him, he let off a shot. It missed, catching the man in the leg. He let out a curse, and began attempting to run, back the way he had come. Daiki couldn't let him get away. Detached from the situation he watched, unable to stop himself, as his body ran after the man, as his hands grabbed him, slamming him against the wall, right next to the trash bins. The man begged for him to stop, screaming and crying, tears running down his cheek. Daiki saw himself raise the Glock up to the man’s forehead, and pull the trigger, the man going limp, a scream frozen on his lips, as his blood splattered across Daiki's raised arm, chest, and face. He tasted the blood on his lips, and the raw rusty liquid pulled him back into his body, and he looked down at the gun in his hand, at the man’s blood, sticky and wet and warm, and nausea overtook him, and he found himself emptying his stomach on the grimy pavement of the ally. His ears were ringing, deafening him, and he felt dirty. Disgusting. He tried to wipe his hands off on his clothes, but it just smeared the blood around, and the scent of metal hit his nostrils, nauseating him once more. He swallowed the feeling, and ran, blindly, back into the deep thicket of abandoned buildings that hid their home. He doesn't realize that he's crying, harsh hot tears streaming down his face, and he wants to hide himself, bury himself and die. He runs until he hits the ocean, and almost frantically he scoops the water up, washing himself, washing away the blood. But no matter how hard he scrubs the imprint of the splatter still leaves a ghost upon his skin, burned into his retinas. No matter what he does, he can't come clean.
Finally, he calms himself, logic takes over for a moment, and he slips the Glock back into his waistband, walking silently back home, his body exhausted. He doesn't know how he makes it there, all he knows is that he's pushing the door open as silently as possible, and that no one is awake. He creeps up the stairs, pulls off his clothes and his body gives out, everything finally becoming too much, and he collapses to the floor, where he falls asleep before he can even register what had happened.
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