A gift Fic for aph-mio on tumblr.
Based off of the movie "American Mary," which had its fair share of blood, violence, and adult content.
Body modifications and the works.
Every three days, Kiku would walk into the cheap super market down the street from his cheap apartment and buy an expensive turkey. The cashier would smile and attempt to flirt with him every time, ignoring the fact that Kiku would only nod politely.
When Kiku returned home, he would find his surgical kit, strip until he was just in his boxers and a ratty t-shirt, and put on his apron. Hours and hours were spent on the turkey, cutting the neatest, straightest lines he could manage. Then, he would sew them up.
Afterwards, Kiku would neatly take off his gloves and put the turkey in the fridge. Finally, he would study. He would study everything, surgically related or not. Medical school was a tough mistress, but Kiku was tougher. No medical book was left unread, no procedure left unpracticed.
Money was a different matter.
Professor Roberts continued his PowerPoint, looking over his shoulder to make sure his students were paying attention. Kiku was, but the Student Loan Service kept calling. It was the third time that his phone buzzed on the desk that Professor Roberts whirled on Kiku.
"Mr. Honda, would you mind telling me the purpose of hemoglobin in the blood, and what happens when the bloodstream is devoid of it?"
Kiku proceeded to rattle of the correct answer, Roberts' glare getting hotter and hotter.
"Very good, Mr. Honda. However, having your phone ring in the middle of class is very fucking rude. If you could refrain for a moment to pay attention to my lecture, that'd be fabulous," Roberts said loudly, the entire lecture snapping to attention.
"Of course, Sir," Kiku said, slipping his phone into his bag.
The lecture continued, Kiku tacking the occasional note he hadn't already read in one of his text books. He might not have any food in his fridge, but he sure as hell had all the required reading.
By the time the lecture let out, Kiku had two more missed calls. He sighed, walking toward his car and calling the Student Loan Service back, blessing the empty street. Roberts might have been strict, but his classes were always held late; Kiku preferred a deserted campus.
"Well, I put a payment in last Friday, and they told me it would be fine," Kiku leaned against his car, looking up at the cement ceiling. "Yes, please… Probably in two weeks." He sucked air through his teeth. "Three-hundred? Last month… Yes, alright, thank you."
"Money troubles, Mr. Honda?"
Kiku jumped, turning around to Roberts.
"No, Sir," Kiku said. How had he not heard the professor? When the parking garage was empty, a person could be heard from the floor below.
Roberts raised his eyebrows, a small, pitying smile on his face as he climbed into his car. Kiku watched as the slim racecar pulled away, engine echoing through the entire building.
On the ride home, Kiku had to stop for gas; he watched the price tick upwards, standing straighter and straighter. He only filled the tank half way. The off-brand car groaned when it started, the headlights flickering in the gloom.
However, not all was lost. The lights in Kiku's apartment turned on now, and he had heat. That was better than this morning, waking up in the freezing cold at four, frantically trying to turn on any light as he searched for spare blankets.
Something had to be done.
Desperation led to the Internet, lovingly hacked from the apartment below. Kiku went to the cheap site that had found him his previous job, though it had gone bankrupt last week. Desperation led to more and more pages over, stranger and stranger titles of the posts.
Desperation led to Kiku pulling up outside of a building with no windows, deep bass resonating through the ground. The bouncer by the door raised an eyebrow, looking Kiku up and down before opening the door.
Well, at least the place attempted to be classy. The walls were covered in leather, and there were tasteful plants scattered around. Some of the pictures almost didn't look forged. It didn't distract much from the raised stage and the naked person dancing there.
Kiku closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. He stood there for longer than he would have liked to admit, blocking out the music and the cat calls. Think about the money, the bills that could be paid, the—
"Excuse me, Darlin', but you're a long way from home."
Kiku whipped around, slapping away the stranger's hand. The man laughed, motioning for Kiku to follow him into a back room. The lights were brighter in this room, and the cheap paint and chipped wood was much more visible. The man collapsed onto a couch, throwing his arms around the back and grinning at Kiku.
Kiku hugged his coat tighter around himself. "I assume you're Mr. Jones?"
"Alfred, please," the man in question sat forward. "So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? What's this—a résumé? Well, I'll tell you this, we don't get many people giving résumés around here."
Electricity, water, heat, school, text books. Kiku repeated this to himself as Alfred read over his résumé, humming the tune of the song in the background. Water, heat, electricity, text books, his future.
"Lot of schoolin' on this old rés-u-mé," Alfred drawled, throwing the paper next to him. "What're you going for school for?"
"I'm becoming a surgeon," Kiku said softly, maintaining eye contact, as much as it pained him.
Alfred whistled. "Well, good for you. Unfortunately, this fine establishment only accepts the best of the best." Why did he sound so serious? "So, why don't you show me some of your dancing? Nothing big, just dance to the music, think of this like a test!"
It wouldn't have been so annoying if Alfred hadn't been genuine. Kiku took another deep breath, shrugging off his coat. He had nothing "sexy," so he had just planned to undress slowly. Judging by the look on Alfred's face, he was not doing a very good job.
"There's a problem."
Alfred ripped his eyes away from Kiku, raising an eyebrow at the blond bouncer that had entered. The man was huge, but he looked absolutely terrified as he stood in the doorway. He didn't even glance over at Kiku.
"Well, what is it?" Alfred asked, smiling apologetically at Kiku.
"Feliciano—Vargas—he, they…" The bouncer took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "He's in trouble. They caught him. We found him out back, screaming. I drugged him but—Yao said he wasn't going to come back after last time."
"Shit," Alfred hissed, eyes flicking over to look at Kiku. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, Doctor Surgeon."
Once again, it was just Kiku standing alone, listening to the pounding of the bass. Alfred's office was strewn with fast-food wrappers, various piles of money, and the occasional picture. They only seemed to be of one man—another blond with glasses. Was it a boyfriend or—
"Hey, how much more schoolin' do you have before you're…" Alfred stuck his head through the doorway, waving around his hand, "Finished?"
"Ah, well, I still have my residency, but most of the formal schooling is…" Kiku trailed off, eyes lingering on the bloodstains now covering Alfred's hands. "I think I should go, you seem busy, Mr. Jones."
Kiku went to move by Alfred, but he blocked the doorway, apologetic grin still on his face. "You want to make five grand?"
What?
Five thousand dollars.
Groceries for weeks. Decent groceries for weeks.
"What will I have to do?"
The grungy strip bar was replaced by a dank, disgusting cellar. Kiku grimaced as he walked down the stairs slick with slime and years of caked on dirt. Various illicit substances lined the walls in rusting cabinets. Alfred let Kiku to a small room at the back, equally as filthy, if brighter.
It took Kiku a full five seconds to realize that the man lying on the table was covered in blood. The bouncer from before was hovering nearby, looking distressed. Alfred, for his part, looked pretty calm as he handed Kiku a bottle and a rag.
"Just clean him up the best you can, alright, Doctor Surgeon? There should be some gauze or somethin' in that drawer—Ludwig, can you go and get some? Thank you."
Kiku was silently praying. How could he ever clean this man up? His hands were shaking so bad he nearly dropped the bottle twice untwisting the cap. This man was going to die. There was no way—
The bouncer, Ludwig, returned, handing Kiku some cheap bandages and a pair of gloves.
Kiku gritted his teeth and began to dab at the wounds, ignoring the man's whimpers. As soon as the cloth hit skin, Kiku felt a little calmer. He had been trained for this, for stress. At the back of his mind, he was panicking, rehearsing the 911 call, but his face was blank.
Time had never flown quicker.
"I can't save the eye."
"Will he live?"
"Clean the wounds regularly, get him to a doctor, and yes."
Alfred smiled, looking over Kiku's shoulder to where the man sprawled. "Alright! Well, here's the cash—You're good, right?" The money was just out of reach. "No cop callin'? You just saved a life."
Kiku's expression was neutral. "Of course not." The money was in his palm. "Have a good evening, Mr. Jones."
He held it together. On walk back through the basement, on the car ride home, on the way upstairs. Kiku turned on the shower, watched the water, then stepped in. He didn't bother to take his clothes off, and he stood there long after the hot water had disappeared down the drain.