Hey, everyone! This is the first fanfiction on this account. It is actually a collaboration between me RCris123 on Tumbr! Check her out when you get the chance!
Water from the leaking pipe dripped onto the table rhythmically. To most, it was just a leaky pipe but it drove Jiro Yume nuts. How was he supposed to talk his way out of wearing the ol' concrete shoes if the infernal pipe wouldn't keep quiet?
"Hey, do you think you could tie a rag around that pipe? I can't think when it's dripping like that." The Yume asked, wincing as his interrogator gave him a hard glare.
The man across from Jiro sat down, folding his hands. "Cut it out Jiro. You're in deep trouble. Releasing a subject is grounds for exile, death isn't out of the question either. If I were you, I'd take this a little more seriously."
Jiro rested his elbows on the table nonchalantly. His questioning couldn't be over sooner.
"I'm taking it seriously. It's just the pipe, I don't like the dripping." He replied monotonously.
His interrogator shook his head irritably, not willing to put up with Jiro's poor excuses.
"You understand the weight of what you did, don't you?"
Much to his surprise, he got no reaction at all from Jiro, only an uncharacteristically cold glare. He waited another minute or so before Jiro's frosty expression melted. The persecuted man's lips peeled back into his usual impish grin.
"Of course sir, I understand completely what I did. Wouldn't take it back either." Jiro raked his nails hard across the wooden surface of the table,
"She was a little girl. What harm would letting her escape do?"
Now the room began to heat up. Between the two were starkly different ideas of what constituted as "right" and neither was willing to lose ground.
"She's seen too much Jiro! She knows about the Yume clan, and everything we've done. You've sent her out in the world with our secrets and you're going to pay for it!" The man declared angrily.
Jiro gave a short chortle at the man's awful temperament and certainty in Jiro's downfall. Like he'd let anyone screw with him.
"About that, I'm not paying for what I did in any capacity." He said slyly.
His interrogator grimaced at the perplexing reaction. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Jiro clasped his hands together in brief amusement.
"I have 40 masks at 20 distribution points across this great city of ours. You touch one hair on my head and see how the public handles eating off of trees and walking on all fours."
The other Yume nearly sprung at his infernal clan mate but managed to restrain himself. If what he was saying was true, care needed to be taken to ensure the Yume secrecy.
"Are you mad Jiro? You'd endanger all our secrets to keep yourself out of trouble? Assuming you aren't lying, you need to consider what this means for all of us. You could life for all of the clans."
Jiro shot him a condescending look.
"Oh, I'm mad, not in the way you'd think, though. And I am very aware of what I have done. But you know, if you contact your superiors and have them waive all charges, we'll all walk away in one piece. I promise to never free another subject and we won't have 40 moropus wandering the streets and every Yumes head on the chopping block."
The other man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't believe you could do something like that." He snapped
Jiro shrugged in response. "It's a wonder what I can do being a top researcher eh? Got a lot of fun stuff at my disposal. As I said, we don't have to go through a thing. Waive my charges and it all ends here."
For a moment, only the constant dripping of the pipe could be heard.
"All the clans rely on each other. We collectively keep the masks from the public. Make the wrong choice and every clan suffers, guess who they'll turn to as the culprit? Maybe they'll even find out about our little science project."
Slowly, the man rose from his seat and reached for the phone.
"Get out of here. I have some phone calls to make. You better keep your promise or I'll find you and crush your head like a grape." He growled loudly.
Calmly, Jiro got up and bowed to his interrogator. "Thank you, sir. I hope you comply. I have 35 people on standby as we speak."
The interrogator stiffened. "Leave." He commanded.
With that Jiro left the man alone to make his calls. In the silence of the room, all he could hear was the maddening drip of the pipe.
Jiro entered his small family home, recently emptied of everyone but himself. Sadness still clung to every solitary part of the room.
The Yume's throat burned as he passed down the hall to get to his room at the end. Before he reached his own, he stopped at his brother's room. All of his possessions were as he'd left them, almost as if he were coming back anytime. Daitaro chose his tragic fate, though. Poor Daitaro couldn't handle the guilt of what he did on a daily basis. Jiro sniffed once and kept walking. Project Nocturne ruined so many lives. How could he not rescue at least one person?
It was only when he got his room that the burning in Jiro chest subsided. The man took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts before sitting in his father's sturdy old desk and harshly grabbed a piece of paper off the top of a thick stack. Using a pen, he began to scribble idea for a next move. Jiro didn't expect to get anything from his scrambled mess of words. Getting his thoughts on paper did help to clear his mind
Despite figuratively vomiting words into the page, he still couldn't think up a working plan, or anything at all for that matter. Frustrated with his lack of progress, Jiro crumpled the piece of paper up and threw it at the wall. Goddamn, his clan mates would be hot on his trail any time now and more than ever he needed to be one step ahead of them. The Yume huffed and got up to walk around his room. Before his brother's demise, the two would keep each other busy with chores. Now he was alone with no stimulation. None that he wanted, more accurately.
While restlessly pacing back and forth in his room, he caught a large object in his peripheral vision, his own mask. The torturous feeling of desolation overwhelmed the purple haired man, yet he couldn't stop inspecting it.
At one point it meant something more to him. He knew his mask as a source of power, an outlet for all his fears and his problems. The pleasures of the mask have without warning, been expelled, becoming a heavy burden and a painful reminder of his clan's desire to understand their world unconditionally.
Jiro glowered at his horse faced mask. How it mocked him for his inability to save his brother. It's frowning visage mimicked his brother terrified last moments of life.
The masks frown only seemed to deepen the more he stared in its cold white eyes. Sharply, Jiro turned from it, knees locking and heart racing. He should have helped Daitaro. Such a considerate man wasn't going to last long breaking innocent people.
Soon the burning in his chest returned with a vengeance.
He had to keep on living for his brother. There was no other choice. Jiro clenched his fists and sat back in his chair. Yes, he would keep going, no regrets, no running.
Late into the night, Jiro toiled away on a plan, something to ensure he stayed one step in ahead of his clan. What he needed to make it happen were men, living breathing people. Given his shrewd nature, not even one truth passed his lips during the questioning he was given. But they'd all have to be truths now.
Right now, his best chance to wrap the clan around his proverbial finger was the Akatsuki. Not one low life hadn't heard of the Akatsuki. They were brutes, con artists, and assassins of the worse Akatsuki were effective- very effective.
Jiro caught word of them long ago, as well as how expensive they were to hire. Money concerned Jiro least of all at the time. He wanted to put up a facade for the clans to find in his midst. That's all.
Normally he'd think of the Akatsuki as a last resort, but he was desperate for their help. The Akatsuki were his best hope, he concluded. Now he needed to find them and pay a visit.
A foul odor wafted in the air causing Jiro to scrunch his nose. Damn, he hated the southernmost edge of town. Nothing but scum lived within its crumbling walls, and on its deteriorating streets. But the Akatsuki were said to hide here, so grimy city it is.
Vagrants passed him on the streets, whispering among each other, likely about how a Yume was walking alone on the south side of town. They could go screw themselves. He was here for the Akatsuki. nothing more.
Before long, he encountered a man walking his way who caught his interest. He wasn't like the other low lives laughing at him from the crumbled sidewalk, No, he was better dressed, and held himself higher. Above all, he had fiery orange hair and a wild aura about him. Jiro could sense it, this guy had used a mask at least a few times. Using one changes a man unconditionally. So much so that another mask user could effortlessly point out another. If he was correct, only the most prestigious people of the underworld could get their grubby paws on even one. Meaning this guy was powerful in his sphere. Maybe even in the Akatsuki.
Jiro went in for the man, catching up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. Big mistake. The man turned to him, death in his eyes. Jiro, startled by his reaction and staggered backwards.
"Sorry for the forwardness sir, I'm not the business type," Jiro said, making sure to put even more space between them.
"Who are you and what do you want?" The orange haired man growled, lessening the space between them.
The Yume drew in a large breath, he had to keep it together. "Jiro Yume, I'm here for the Akatsuki. I got a big deal for them."
Orange hair raised an eyebrow. "A deal you say?
Jiro nodded, regaining his confidence. "One they can't pass up, please mister, could you point an old, crushed soul to the gangsters?" He requested.
"And possibly not maul me while you're at it?" He added.
The man scrutinized him for a brief moment before gesturing for Jiro to follow.
Their base of operations was pretty impressive considering the location. It was a large, abandoned warehouse with scrap metal piled up to the ceiling. Periodically he'd see food scraps and bones.
Once they arrived at the heart of the warehouse, the man stopped abruptly, causing Jiro to briefly collide with him.
"Don't try anything clever. You're surrounded, Yume." He growled, Ignoring the impact.
He gestured upwards, prompting Jiro to look for himself. Six figures watched the two of them from above. He could tell they were waiting for him to make a false move.
"Akatsuki I'm gonna guess. That makes you…"
"Pein, their leader." The newly dubbed Pein told him.
"Ah, then it's nice to meet you Pein!" The man beamed, extending his hand to the wild looking man.
Pein was motionless as Jiro continued to hold his hand out before giving up on a handshake.
"Oookay, well Pein, tell me what you think of big jobs?"
"What do you have in mind?" Pein asked.
"Outwitting the Yume clan."