Disclaimer: The characters within this story all belong to Yukiru Sugisaki-san.
Warnings: Clean.
Summary: Satoshi sneaks up on Daisuke. AU.
Completed: February 19, 2010
Samaritan
by: Kagome-reincarnation
Cold metal pressed against the skin of his throat and Daisuke froze, willing himself not to move. He felt the air behind him warm – he was behind him.
"Set the knife down," a voice ordered and Daisuke obeyed, setting the knife down in the sink and going so far as to turn off the sink water as well, not wanting to run up his water bill for the month for something senseless.
The coolness of the thin blade against his neck did nothing to make him comfortable, but there was little he could do about it. He was afraid to speak lest he cut himself on it – and how foolish would that make him?
"Turn around," the voice came again. It was, Daisuke thought to himself, a voice used to being obeyed. Still, he did as he'd been told, turning slowly – as the knife was still there, though not as tightly pressed against his throat.
"Hello, Hiwatari-san," he said politely, taking advantage of the razor sharp metal's distance. He couldn't help but be a little unnerved. "Is there something I can do for you?"
The boy before him glared at him, eyes flashing. "Who are you?"
"Daisuke," he replied, his voice still admirably even. "Is there a reason you're intent on slitting my throat or is this a personal hobby for you?" he asked dryly.
"What's your rank?" his attacker demanded, ignoring his question.
Daisuke frowned at the question. "What rank?" he asked back, confused. "I'm a student."
Satoshi's eyes narrowed, obviously attempting to see through any possible lies Daisuke might have spun. Daisuke personally wished him good luck – he hadn't said anything untrue yet.
"You're lying," he hissed at him, obviously not happy.
Daisuke shrugged. "Look," he said, his voice slightly more commanding, "We all have problems and you don't have to be mine." He stepped away – sideways, because the sink was behind him – from both Satoshi and the knife. He motioned towards his front door. "The exit's that way. If you hate the place so much, then leave, but I've got other things to do."
He couldn't help but be irritated. Try to help a man and he turns on you. Bah – he'd been stupid to think the man would thank him and get out, but he certainly hadn't been expecting to be threatened before even being greeted.
Daisuke turned towards the cabinet. He was thirsty – and he still had to do the dishes he'd been about to start washing – and though every rule in the book told him he had no need to be kind to a man who'd just threatened his life, he nodded towards him. "Do you want some water?"
The other man looked surprised, perhaps slightly shocked, before shaking his head, his expression growing even more suspicious. Annoyed, Daisuke shrugged. "Suit yourself," he muttered, grabbing a cup and setting it down as he stepped towards his refrigerator.
As he did, he suddenly felt a body colliding with his own and before he fully understood what had happened, he found himself lying face down on the ground, his arms held uncomfortably behind his back with an obvious weight seated on his lower back.
He cursed, fed up with the treatment. As both of the man's hands were holding him down, he knew he didn't have the knife on him. He bucked, jerking his hips as he twisted his body to turn. His attacker was unbalanced – surprised, too – and was easily toppled. Daisuke clambered to his feet, his face red and angry.
"Look, I don't know how you grew up, but where I come from, we don't attack the people that help us!"