Series: s.CRY.ed (Scryed)
Notes: Your honor, I'd like to say in my defense that I was railroaded into this. The culprits know who they are Anyway, this is a Ryuhou/Kazuma fic which means SLASH YAOI ... all kinds of good stuff. I think you should be able to decide whether or not you can handle that neh?
Chapter 1: Obey
Her French was getting better. She had a very fine, subtle accent-- hardly detectable when she was speaking carefully. They say the French don't care what you say as long as you pronounce it correctly, he could probably vouch for that. He had a heavy and obvious accent; French words were still difficult and frustrating to him. The phonetics were so different from his native Japanese and he had yet-- and perhaps never would-- to pick up the finer points of the language. People sneered at him every where, highly insulted every time he opened his mouth and mutilated their beautiful language. But he didn't really care, at least not enough to disturb the peace she has found here. He was used to people looking down on him, he's used to people sneering it him. He's not used to speaking and having people unable to understand him, or unwilling to try, and that's a new pain he'd have to grow accustomed to.
He works odd jobs around the small town where they have settled down. Kanami likes small towns. She likes to get to know everyone intimately and be social and communal with the people that live around them. As usual everyone adored her and welcomed her into their homes and families. Also as usual, everyone thinks she is such a saint for opening her heart to the gruff, good-for-nothing, troublesome man who spoke such horrible French.
But it's not Japan... As much as Kazuma hated it here, as much as he was not accepted and perhaps never would be. It's not Japan. It's not the Lost Ground and it's certainly not the mainland. That alone makes it so much better than his other options.
"Kazu-kun," she called. He could see her clearly from where he stood on the roof as he was trying to repair the water damage their home endured. The work was just as frustrating as the fight against the incomprehensible language. For a moment he considered pretending he couldn't hear her, if only because she insists-- aside from the nickname he despises-- on speaking to him exclusively in French and his inability to answer her back with any clarity embarrasses him. The embarrassment leads to anger ... and he didn't want to make her upset by snapping at her.
"Yo," he growled, drawing her attention up to him. "What's wrong?"
She smiled and gently nudged him with her words, "dinner is ready." She wanted him to try, she says that she knows he can do it if he just tries his best ... she believes he can. It's not Doshita? it's Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?.
He frowned and murmured a thank you in the language she was favoring. The language barrier only served to make him more laconic than before. He had never been one for words over actions, but now it seemed that they offered him nothing but rejection and more scorn from the population.
Kazuma sat back a little, wiping the sweat away from his forehead as he tried to finish up what was left of the job. The work here was hard and it was not the kind he preferred. Labor like this made him feel dead, like stagnate water in a pond. Eagerly he waits for someone or something to send ripples through the pond and make him feel alive again.
He knew he shouldn't wish for this. They had a good life here as far away from the Lost Ground as they could get. They are safe, they have security, they have food and shelter and good odds that neither will be snapped up in a moment, they have the best quality of life they have ever had ... why should he become so excited at the thought of ruining that?
The only answer he could come up with is that he really is a horrible person, but Kanami doesn't believe there's any truth to that. She tells him that there are other ways to fight in life.
He wants to believe her ... but he just couldn't find the same passion pounding nails into wayward shingles and wrestling with French that he did with the Shell Bullet.
Kazuma pressed his hand down a bit and gently fused the nails in place. He promised Kanami no more Alter ability, but this doesn't count does it? It's just a little Alter use ... certainly not enough for any trouble.
Besides, he's no handy man, if he had to rely on trades alone this house would have fallen down around them a long time ago.
He smiled and turned to make his way back down the ladder, and it's like this-- standing on the roof of his home, carrying the sun heavily on his back, high above all other things-- that he saw the man standing at their gate, one hand grasping a dull wooden picket, looking up at him.
It's not as easy to spot a foreigner in France as it is to spot one in Japan. People here look so different and vary so much. The features of the man suggested deep Asian roots, but that's not how Kazuma knew this was not an ordinary Frenchmen staring.
He knew because it was Ryuhou at his gate.
At first all Kazuma could do was stare back. So many feelings bubbled up inside of him at once he didn't know what he should do. There was instant and recognizable anger, maybe not enough to make him bring out his alter and pounce as he would have years ago, but still ... hot burning anger. Only Ryuhou could inspire that in him without cause. Even if by all logic the man should be more his ally, but he could never convince himself of that.
However, there's also longing. Not longing for Ryuhou himself, but for the situation they once had ... that time a few years ago when Kazuma felt most alive. Even in the mists of incredible suffering, the excitement of fighting with everything he had was intoxicating. He lusted for it.
Kazuma managed to convince himself that the first thing to do in any case is to get off the roof. He decided to forego the ladder altogether and just jumped, landing soundly on his feet, little worse for wear. Although his knees protested a bit at the unnecessary shock, the ladder would have taken too long. Somehow, though he and Ryuhou have little reason to be enemies anymore, he's always felt like he had to be ready for an attack. The thought of turning his back to slowly work his way down a ladder seemed reckless.
Without even a greeting Ryuhou held up a small plastic computer disk and glared.
Kazuma laughed, the man's distaste for him had not changed at all. "Took you this long to figure it out eh?"
"No," Ryuhou corrected. "It took me this long to find you."
"I made a point of making it impossible for anyone from Japan to track us down ... I hope you didn't leave a mile wide trail behind you when you came here."
"I cleaned up after myself, yes. I also took the liberty of tying up some of your loose ends."
Kazuma snorted. Of course he wasn't about to deny that his cover up job had been less than perfect-- he did not have resources like Ryuhou did-- but he figured the destruction and confusion that consumed all of Japan before they left made their tracks harder to find. "We don't want any trouble."
So he lied. He did want trouble, but his conscience would not let him risk Kanami's happiness.
"I don't want to bring Kanami any problems."
Not surprising. He didn't care if Kazuma got run over by two or three tanks that might have followed him here, but he didn't want Kanami to get caught up in it. Well he suppose that was a comfort, Kazuma didn't care for himself either.
"Well then you'll be leaving."
Ryuhou pushed the gate open and let himself into their yard before reaching out and grabbing Kazuma roughly by the shoulder as he tried to move away. Kazuma didn't knock him back as he might have years ago for the touch, but he raised an eyebrow at the intrusion. "I don't recall inviting you in Ryuhou."
"Where is it? Just tell me and I'll be on my way."
"Che, you'll be on your way now."
The years had not improved Ryuhou's temper any; he grabbed Kazuma's collar and pulled him forcefully towards him when the other man tried to walk on. "Listen, I didn't work for two years to hunt you down just to deal with your cocky bullshit. Now, where is it?"
Kazuma was definitively disinterested, verging on downright apathetic. Where as once he would have punched Ryuhou right in the face for even looking at him wrong, now he seemed somewhat disappointed that Ryuhou wanted to play nice and leave them in peace. "I forget," Kazuma drawled.
The dark haired man sighed, even in frustration his features were elegant and refined. His manner was too controlled for Kazuma's liking, and his mind kept being drawn back to the memory of those few fleeting moments where he had been able to knock Ryuhou from his pedestal and drive him to the depths of a barbaric, tyrannical madness. He did not pride himself in the consequences of it that had befallen them, but he still found enjoyment in getting under Ryuhou's skin.
The man seemed inhuman far too often. Kazuma wanted to see the Ryuhou buried under all that law and civil order. Occasionally he got a peak at it, but not enough to satisfy him.
Ryuhou dropped him. If he had learned anything it was that Kazuma was not going to respond to force. The man was stubborn to the point of stupidity and the more authority one threw in his face, the more he resisted giving in. "Do we have to go through this again?"
It is a common held fact that the form of an Alter User's Alter reflects their personality and thinking. So then it's really no surprise that Kazuma's Alter is a solid metallic claw. The Shell Bullet, or so he calls it, is a simple and obnoxiously persistent weapon. There is no strategy to it, no method to its use, no versatility in its design. He releases a bullet to give his attack the required force and punches his target. Should they evade the attack or defend themselves, he simply hits harder.
The Shell Bullet only has three bullets and Ryuhou was almost curious as to what Kazuma would do if a fight ever out lived his anmo.
Almost ... and perhaps if Kazuma wasn't a constant destructive pest Ryuhou might have been sincerely curious. But he hated him too much to care about anything like that.
The Shell Bullet was the weapon of a wild and violent vermin. It could serve no purpose other than to destroy everything in its path. Yes, this man who called himself Kazuma was wild, useless ... like an animal but without the dignity of an animal. Animals are at least logical, they hunt, they stalk, they have a definitely goal in mind. Ryuhou could respect that, but not this. Kazuma wasn't just rebellious, he was caustic.
"Where's the disk?"
He had only seen Kazuma without his Alter a handful of times, and rarely this close. His first assessment of the man had not been flattering, and when Kazuma proved to be a little more than the lowly, pathetic Native Alter he had assumed he was ... Ryuhou had wondered if perhaps he had missed something in his beaten and nearly broken body.
But no, despite relying on his brute strength to use his Alter, the real Kazuma was quite scrawny. Even that arm which he routinely butchered to form the Shell Bullet hardly had enough muscle to make him an effective fighter. Strength could be deceptive, hiding its self in the most unlikely of places and the most pathetic of forms, but Ryuhou was having no problem keeping Kazuma pinned to the wall.
Of course restraining the Native with his own body could quickly become a fatal mistake if Kazuma took out his Alter. Despite the inherent inferiority of The Shell Bullet it would have no problem ripping off his arm.
Fortunately it didn't seem that Kazuma intended to form his Alter as long as Ryuhou didn't take out his own. Unusual for Kazuma who seemed so satisfied with living only to fight, obviously he had some invested interest in not destroying the building they were in. Perhaps this was his home, even the most ruthless of animals are protective of their dens. To Ryuhou this place was nothing but a ruin of a public building in a town that had been swallowed up by the desert and wasteland of the Lost Ground, a school ... or perhaps a hospital-- it was difficult to tell-- practically falling apart and not worth the time to be conscious of it's preservation. But it was obvious from the various artifacts organized neatly and homely, and the shabby mattresses left on the floor, that someone had been living here.
Kazuma didn't strike him as the type to hold on to anything ... but perhaps there was something or someone of sentimental value here that the Native Alter was protecting by avoiding fighting with him.
Well, all the better for Ryuhou. Kazuma was nothing more than a nuisance that he could crash easily if his orders permitted such a thing. But no ... HOLY did not allow the execution of even the most dangerous Native Alter criminals.
"Find it yourself," the other man spat back. He was struggling, but probably not trying his hardest to escape. He was buying his time, trying to give his accomplices and associates time to reach safety? Perhaps, but it was of no matter ... at the moment Ryuhou was only here for one thing.
He raised his free hand, "if we can't recover that information I'll hold you personally responsible."
Kazuma wasn't the slightest bit threatened, if anything he seemed to prefer the seething hatred Ryuhou held for him. He lashed out in about the only way he could, sharp and painfully.
The HOLY officer didn't recoil far enough from being bitten to give Kazuma a chance to escape, but it certainly made him angry and that was a reward unto itself. The bitten hand grabbed a fist full of Kazuma's dark reddish hair and slammed his head against the wall-- not hard enough to injure, just hard enough to make a point about who was in control here. His knee came up sharply and knocked the wind out off the Native Alter's lungs, leaving Kazuma's body weak and struggling for breath.
"Now ... the disk."
Kazuma laughed weakly, "Idiot ... you're wasting your time, stealing the damn thing wasn't my part of the job."
Ryuhou knew as much, someone of Kazuma's personality couldn't be useful for anything more than causing chaos. "So you're saying you don't know?"
"Not that I'd tell you if I did."
"Who hired you?"
"Don't know that either," Kazuma grinned. He was mocking him, but given the urgency of the situation Ryuhou didn't have time to teach Kazuma better manners.
"I don't believe you," he hissed, his grip tightening on Kazuma hair.
"Heh, too bad for you then. I have an agent who finds the jobs, I don't know who's paying. Nor do I care."
"I want this agent's name, or don't you know that either?"
The throaty noise could have been a chuckle, but it was too soft and pained to tell for sure. "If you think for a moment I'd tell you that, you really are stupid."
Kazuma looked him in face to face, his bright gold eyes burning with excitement-- the kind of lust for battle and destruction Ryuhou had only seen at this intensity in the one before him. The gesture was clear, this interrogation was to continue with Alters. Kazuma was not going to give up his connections, nor was he going to endure any punishment without a fight.
So be it...
Ryuhou began to pull away to form his own Alter when his radio went off. Such an inopportune time for HOLY headquarters to try to contact him.
They were silent for a moment, Ryuhou trying to decide whether he could trust such a monster like Kazuma to not attack and unarmed opponent. He had seen the man hold a restrain against a weaker attacker and that could be construed into some bizarre sense of honor, but he has also known him to be ruthless and attack at any available opening.
Kazuma's eyes glanced at the radio strapped to Ryuhou's hip. He clicked his tongue in an almost cocky and amused gesture. "You going to get that or you going to stay and fight with me?"
It only took a quick, graceful moment to knock Kazuma's feet out from under him and let him fall unceremoniously to the ground. "I'll come back for you.."
Kazuma sighed as he leaned his back up against the wall. He was a little sore, but otherwise remarkably unharmed for an encounter with the HOLY officer. Normally every meeting lead to a fight and they both ended up at least a little bloody, their dispute having yet to be concluded with a definite loss for either one of them. He inhaled sharply, cherishing the cold air flooding his lungs with a new found appreciation for the simple action of breathing alone. "Asshole," he muttered.
"Who was that?" Kanami poked her head out from the stairwell. He would have to send Ryuhou's superior at HOLY a thank you card, he doubted he could have fought Ryuhou's Zetsuei and kept the building from caving in on top of Kanami at the same time.
"No one important."
She frowned, "you're not in trouble are you Kazu-kun?"
He really hated lying to her, but the truth was the less she knew about the way he earned money, the better. "No of course not. But you know those bastards at HOLD don't care to make nice with the locals."
Kanami looked out the door that Ryuhou had left from, as if she was tracing the path of his memory. "What did he want?"
"Just some information on a robbery."
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing, I didn't know anything." He threw his arms back behind his head and winked at her. He was hoping to look casual enough to convince her that Ryuhou's little visit had just been a routine patrol, even if HOLD's presence in this part of the Lost Ground wasn't strong enough to make that very plausible.
If she questioned his story in her mind, she did not speak these concerns. She remained quietly reflective for a few more moments, knowing that even if she knew the worse she could do little to help him in this. "Will you come to work tomorrow?"
"Of course I'll be there," he grinned, still trying to set her mind at ease.
"You said that yesterday too," she pointed out. "Then you disappeared last night with Kimishima-san."
"Well today I mean it, I'll definitely be there."
He rubbed the back of his neck, scratching the raised bumps of skin just below his skull. His fingers traced the letters 'NP3228' masochistically. Kazuma had thought about finding some way to remove the tattoo a few times before. It was tricky since it was burned on to his skin with a technique specifically designed to brand Criminal Alter Users, but Kimishima had seemed optimistic about finding someone who could do it.
In the end though, he always came to the same conclusion ... and that was to keep it. True it was the label HOLY had given him, an empty serial number that meant to them he was just a thing ... a piece of shit without an identity or a name. Just NP3228, easily confused with NP3282 or NP2238 ... or a dozen other individuals that HOLY thought were exactly like him. To HOLY all Native Alters were the same.
And when he thought about that he wanted to scratch the tattoo out with his bare hands. No matter what the tyrannical hand of HOLD did in the future they couldn't take away his identity. They couldn't make him be NP3228...
However, in a strange way the mark was also a badge of pride. It was a tattoo given only to Native Alter criminals once they were captured by HOLY and sentenced to a lifetime of imprisonment and slave labor. No one escape HOLY once they were caught, no one.
Except Kazuma.
He had become a bit of a legend in the Lost Ground since then. The Native Alter who had smashed his way straight out of the heart of HOLY headquarters. The tattoo was proof of who he was, NP3228 ... Kazuma the Shell Bullet. By itself it was a significant point of pride, together with his history of encounters with both HOLD and HOLY since then it was almost an honor.
So in a way it was a double edged sword, it disregarded his identity but it also exulted it.
He stared vacantly at the trail of hostility Ryuhou had left in his wake, literally hanging in the air like a bad stench. Although he hated exposing Kanami to even a hint of his dark abnormality, he could not help smiling. If he had no other victories over the other man he had at least made him learn his name. He had made Ryuhou know him through hate. He had ceased to be as simple and faceless as 'NP3228' to that man a long time ago. He was somebody to him, an enemy ... no not just an enemy, the greatest of enemies.
Couldn't say he'd have it any other way himself.