A/N: So my sister is in love with the movie Bunraku. She's so in love that I saw the movie five times in a week as she had each new friend who came over to hang out watch the two hour film. I'm not seriously complaining. It's a great movie... but five times in a week? Right?
Anyway, my friend also loves it now and has created a livejournal for it, bunrakuslash if you're interested. Her and my sister were discussing pairings to put tags for an they came up with Nicola and Killer 2, but weren't sure if any stories would be posted for it for a long time... so I wrote one for them. Please Enjoy.
No one in the world knew Nicola the way Number 2 did. No one knew anything about Nicola when they were compared with Number 2. Number 2 knew his boss so well that no one ever had to tell him what the boss wanted or was thinking. He'd known their leader longer than anyone, including and especially the whore.
When the gang first started, long before the reign of the Woodcutter, Nicola came to him first. Number 2 had been an orphan by his own choosing, killing his parents before he was ten years old. He'd tied them to their kitchen counter and set fire to the house with the stove. Even at ten he'd experienced the thinness of the air, before he even knew how to call it.
"Wasn't very nice of you," Nicola had said when he found out, or when he said he'd found out. He'd undoubtedly known since their first meeting three months prior. Number two had jumped up from his seat and tried to stab Nicola in the arm, but the older man was stronger than him.
"Ya don't judge me, Woodcutter," Number 2 had said. Nicola pushed him away easily.
"I wasn't," he said. "I was going to ask if you wanted to help me out with a little project of mine, little dragon."
Number 2 had never been called that before, but he definitely liked it. The power and ferocity and danger associated with a dragon made his heart beat with pride. The way Nicola watched him for an answer with his big, serious eyes and killer's hands made Number 2 shiver with delight. It was like not getting enough air, like the point of dying.
He had been the first to join up. That's why he was number 2, second only to Nicola and he didn't mind at all. Number 2 had been fifteen at the time. Nicola had been twenty five.
For five years they did nothing but train. Nicola owned a house in the mountains, hidden from the rest of the world. Number 2 thought they'd be alone forever, just the two of them beating each other up and living together, just them and the one serving girl. But Nicola's thirst for battle was as bad as Number 2's thirst for power, and the peace couldn't last.
They got number 3 during the sixth year, like a stale Christmas present in a perfect bread basket. Nicola left Number 2 to train by laying the foundation of a secondary home for their future comrades while Nicola tested the new guy. Number 2 had never felt jealousy as burning as that day. He took his frustration out on the house, slamming pieces into place with more efficiency and more quality than anyone else could dare try. He was the one Nicola should be training. He was the first. He was number 2, but it just felt like being replaced. He just wanted to murder the new guy, but he knew Nicola would never let him come home if he did, and he couldn't be without Nicola.
He didn't remember slipping over the falls and smacking his head on a rock, but when he woke up, he was in Nicola's room. His ear was bleeding, he could feel it. Someone had made a valiant effort to clean him up, but he was still healing.
Nicola had come to see him, but he didn't talk much. Number 2 had fallen over the cliff and busted his left ear on a rock. Nicola had found him and brought him home. It was something about that word 'home' that got to the dragon. Nicola had called it 'home', their home.
"I hate 'em," Number 2 had spat, unable to lift himself up. The dizziness was too much.
"I'm putting you in charge of any new men," Nicola had said, ignoring him.
"I'll kill 'em," Number 2 threatened. Nicola sighed.
"He'd kill you first, in your condition. Right now I'm the only thing between you and a quick dagger," he said.
"Let 'em do it, then," Number 2 said. "Better than bein' your charity case cripple."
"Someone's in a bad mood," Nicola had scorned. "Watch your tongue or I'll break your other ear. If you turn into a cripple, I'll put you out of your misery myself. I expect you to be up and training by tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Because you're a dragon," had been Nicola's response, as though that should have been obvious.
Number 2 had been up before dinner. His equilibrium might have been far off, but he held his own and stared down Number 3 so bad during that meal that the new man had offered to work on the house instead just to stay out of his way.
What followed was a year of hard training to overcome his new disorder. Harsh sounds grated on his brain, like the smashing of a hammer to a nail or a car horn on a deserted street. His right ear grew more powerful, both adding to the inability to handle loud noises and helping him fight attackers without the use of his eyes. Nicola helped him develop his skills personally and found training fodder for when he was otherwise occupied.
The bump to the head may have knocked a few screws loose, and Number 3 may have been dead by Autumn, but his skills as a fighter and a killer were nothing short of brilliance and perfection. He lost an ear but gained insanity and desire in its place. For not only was he a more brutal killer, but his shivers around Nicola became internal earthquakes. He wasn't stupid, he knew what it meant.
It was a year before they took on the city that everything truly changed. Nicola had a gang of ten men, including Number 2, and he was making his plans. One night he'd called Number 2 in for a visit to hear his ideas about a bartender who was causing problems. Things didn't stay on topic for long. As soon as Number 2 said to kill the bartender, Nicola had asked him what his obsession with death was.
"It's because of how thin the air is at the point a' dyin," Number 2 had said. "It don' matter if the death isn't your own. I can smell it. Can you smell it? A good fight reeks of it."
He got right up in Nicola's face with his new fighting cane and ran his hand down its length. Nicola's eyes never left his. Number 2 ripped out the dagger in the end and held it up to Nicola's throat.
"Can you smell it?" he asked again. Nicola took a deep breath into his large form. Number 2 didn't stand a chance, not that he'd much have fought back regardless.
His dagger had been disabled and his cane tossed away with it. It was a lot of shoving and cursing and ripping and thrusting from there, but Number 2 got what he wanted. He'd thought at the time that it had been what Nicola wanted too… until the next day when they went to take care of the bartender and Nicola had met the whore.
He only knew her name because Nicola said it so often, in conversation and in the bedroom. Number 2 would stand outside of the room and run his fingers down his cane, teasing where the dagger was held as though he would ever burst in and ruin Nicola's fun… no matter how much he wanted to slit that woman's throat.
No one understood Nicola like Number 2 did. They were the Woodcutter and the Dragon, the first two and the most powerful. He knew more about Nicola than anyone in the world. Nicola put him in charge and he ran things so Nicola could occupy himself with other ventures… but Nicola only grew morose over the years, and Number 2 grew prickly. He found service with the other women, but he always thought of that one night on Nicola's tatami floor. That woman shared Nicola's bed. But that was fine… Number 2 enjoyed a good fight. He'd fight for Nicola.
And he would lose. Even when he knew the camp had been set aflame and all the men killed, Number 2 felt like a loser. Even though Nicola had kept him nearby and safe for a moment longer, the killer knew his leader was thinking of his woman. She had probably survived, because women were always well cared for by the heroes.
"Why didn' you want me in the camp?" Number two had asked just before the end. "I could have killed them all, as I always do. You wouldn't have to dirty your hands."
"No. Leave the other men and the women to fend them off," Nicola had said.
"You trust your whores to distract them?" Number 2 laughed sourly.
"You are more than a whore to me," Nicola growled, angry with the Dragon's attitude.
Number 2 had watched Nicola for a long time, wondering when Nicola had changed. Nicola had thought for a moment, possibly years, that Number 2 wanted to kill him, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Nicola had been the first to accept a psychopathic child and give him a purpose in the world. Number 2 didn't take that gesture lightly. He was loyal to Nicola till the end. He loved Nicola. Being with Nicola was like nearly dying, feeling the intensity of the thin air pressing in on you. He would never give that up.
So even when he was pinned to a tree by a sword, he fought back – because he was the first, because he was the dragon, because if he could kill even one of these radicals maybe Nicola would give him what he really wanted… them alone in a house in the mountains, living with just one maid and expressing their feelings with punches and axe swings.
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