A/N: I do apologize for the long wait which took place between the first posting and this one. My occupation normally doesn't hinder me but it seems this last case took much more time than expected.

Disclaimer: X owns nothing.

NEVER TELL

CHAPTER 2: MISSIONS

Raito entered a vast home of white furnishings and glass coffee tables, snidely wondering how everything maintained a glowing glean of cleanliness if there ere bloody hand prints everywhere. With a regal stride, he approached the farthest seat from the entrance, a white loveseat in view of the western-style parlor, and took a seat. The home was one of the more extravagant homes he'd visited before, the girth of it looking as if it had been refurnished as of recent, the new silk cushions and Siberian fur throw Raito's main clues signifying the details.

Raito's skin felt luscious against the silk and fur. Prior to arriving, Raito had prepped himself for his meeting. After buffing and moisturizing, his skin glowed once again and now as his refreshed flesh was lavished with the riches of his future suitor, he couldn't help but internally sigh. He wouldn't be able to enjoy the commodities very much after this point. From then on out, it would be all business mixed with his lover's pleasure.

Crossing his legs and leaning back comfortably, Raito unbuttoned the first four buttons of his shirt, purposefully grazing his fingers against the bare skin beneath his silk shirt. It was likely that there were cameras here to monitor the house while its owner was away. Raito put on a bit of a show, licking his lips seductively while passively staring just past an air vent, one that, if Raito were to remove the metal vent, hid a camera as it recorded him.

Though he could have done it himself, Matt had offered to find the blueprints of the establishment; his offering rally just consequence for the bills Raito paid for him. Besides, while Raito was good at hacking and tracking, Matt was a technology-knowledgeable prodigy that surpassed Raito's own skills just enough to make Raito admire him. Barely.

"What the fuck?" someone whispered from outside. Raito was prepared though, smiling his casual smile as footsteps neared from the doorway to the parlor. Raito first saw the barrel of a gun before a hand was revealed, then an arm attached to a torso. The man Raito was gazing at with mischievous eyes was young, nineteen to be exact, and had smooth looking skin and dark hair, his hands practically shaking as he held the gun out. He looked around nervously, his sight grazing Raito has he rapidly looked around only to shoot back at the body on his loveseat.

"Who the fuck are you?!" he yelled, aiming his gun at Raito quickly, his hand still shaking. Raito smiled as kindly as he could, internally smirking at the young boy. Raito wasn't any older than him but he knew much more, was much smarter than this young man, Gunma Taro.

Raito languidly stretched with the knowledge that a gun was pointed directly at the throw pillow next to him at the back of his mind.

"Aichi Kato, at your service," Raito stood, bowing low before rising again to see the gun lowered just a few degrees. Perfect.

"W-What are you doing here?" Taro stuttered, his brown eyes wide and his jaw hanging. "How…how did you even get in?!"

"I've come to offer my assistance," Raito continued without a hint at the boy's last question. It wouldn't do to tell him he'd broken in so quickly. Maybe later, when he trusted him a bit more.

"Anything you need, I offer my life up to you." Raito allowed his eyes to graze over the boy's body, slowly taking in his mediocre form before lustfully gazing into the brown eyes again, "Anything you need." Taro gulped and his hand fell even more.

With Taro, Raito had plotted out the entire thing with a different aim. Of course Taro wouldn't have to die quite yet, not when he was so innocent. Had Raito been dealing with a murderer or rapist from the beginning, he would have taken to an immediate annihilation of the boy. However, Taro was as innocent as someone running a large group of the yakuza could be.

The truth was, Taro's role had been inherited from his father whom had been murdered by police just weeks ago. Now, Raito had to guide him through a few steps, observe and see if the boy would make the right choice and leave this place or if he would be as his father was, cruel and vile. With someone as young as Taro, it could go either way, which meant Raito would need to be exceptionally close to gather all the information he needed. Seduction was as good a method as any when it came to siphoning information from someone.

Raito's weeks of observation previous to his breaking and entering of the Gunma household had revealed that, 1) Gunma Taro was unsure of his position as his father's heir, 2) he needed guidance desperately if he didn't wish to fall into the wrong path and end up being killed by the men who had once so loyally obeyed his father, and 3) he had no known sexual preference. Never before had he dated and as far as Raito knew, he was a virgin. Lovely; it was a new experience that Raito desperately wished to have, taking a virgin for the first time. His own virginity, the only thing that Raito had taken with him that was pure as he walked willingly into the cave of crimes and drugs, had been taken roughly and lovelessly. Raito wasn't cruel, though, and he would show mercy on Taro. He would top though, a rare treat that he was seldom rewarded.

"I-y-you shouldn't be here. You need to leave," Taro stuttered uselessly. Raito hid a smirk and walked forward gracefully, a languid smile on his face.

"Oh Taro-kun," he sighed, a touch of sadness in his tone. "If only you could just begin to understand the draw I have to you. My wish to ease your suffering," he stepped close enough that he could hear Taro's every loud breath like a heartbeat. It stuttered. "To ease your wariness so you may succeed in all you wish to accomplish, as was the wish of your mother and father." Taro's eyes widened infinitesimally as he realized what Raito was saying.

"My parents?" Raito nodded and leaned forward and ducked his head slightly until his lips were inches away from Taro's. He'd wooed men before, and Taro was taking to his advances with naivety, leaning forward unconsciously.

"I will do anything for you, Taro." He lifted his hand and cupped Taro's cheek, rubbing his thumb along the skin. "Anything."

Taro leaned into the touch and Raito knew his mission was as good as done.

--

Yagami Soichiro was used to being called into the NPA Head Director's office. As chief, it was his duty to stick up for all the men who had never applied themselves to doing their jobs, those who uselessly came to work only to leave eight hours later with no difference having been made other than the reigning anger of someone who received a ticket for some sort of traffic violation. Yes, he represented the bored, useless, middle-aged men who wanted a thrill in their boring, miserable lives.

He was feeling rather pessimistic today, as it was.

As he walked forward and knocked on his boss's door, he knew that whatever it was he was about to talk about, it didn't involve the men on the force…not directly, anyway. No, this had to do with him and something he'd done. Maybe he was being fired for shouting at the men for not doing their jobs, or maybe he was being written a demerit for smacking Matsuda over the head too hard with his ticket book, not quite a major crime but morally wrong nonetheless.

"Koreyoshi-san," Soichiro greeted as he entered the room. From the severe look on the man's face, he knew this was more serious than the fake concussion Matsuda was pulling back in the main office.

"Sit down, Yagami-san. There is much to discuss and very little time to do it." He nodded and sat cautiously, a "habit of humanity" Raito had said once, he remembered. Shaking darkness from his thoughts, he returned to the present.

"It has come to my attention, Yagami-san, that the NPA has taken in more Yakuza members in the past few months than they have in the past ten years." Soichiro nodded, unsure. This was a good thing and a bad thing, according to the other members of the NPA. It meant that the Yakuza was getting clumsy, which was good, but the clumsiness was probably due to inexperience and youth, which was bad. If young children could do the tasks that the Yakuza would require of them, no matter how badly they were done, it meant that it gave people less time to save their children before they became victim of the tragedy that followed people as they entered a life of crime.

"And you've been head of the Yakuza investigations," Koreyoshi continued, "which, to me, signifies that you are doing your job. However, it has come to the attention of other crime units throughout Japan that perhaps there is something more to this case than we are letting on. They believe that you are doing some dirty dealing underneath the table to get these leads, which has led them to seek answers where answers aren't to be found."

Yagami nodded, immediately understanding. It was unfair of them to so quickly assume that he'd done anything other than his job of taking leads and using them to stop the criminals in Kanto. If he'd been doing anything more than that, how would he have been able to go home every night at six for the past couple of months? Sure, he did extra work at home, but at least he was home! He'd learned his lesson the moment that Raito, his only son and his first supply of pride and joy (Sayu was his second), had disappeared from his family's life. He had been there now, and he knew that he couldn't continue living as he had.

"Would it be beneficial for me to remove myself from the Yakuza cases? If others feel that I'm not acting accordingly…"

Koreyoshi shook his head and folded his hands atop his desk, sighing. "Yagami-san, you are the Chief of the Force, and one of my best men. I know that you're going through a hard time right now, and I sympathize. I'll deal with the accusations and if they continue, I will require some evidence from the accusers." Soichiro nodded, hardly relieved. One less problem meant the weight of another was even more strongly pressed into his shoulders and neck. As he left the room, he looked over his shoulder at Koreyoshi.

"Has the other team come up with any leads to finding him?"

"I'm sorry, Yagami-san. There's been nothing." He nodded in response and left the room. That night, he left the office early and sat with Sachiko, the only woman he could ever love, holding her closely as she listened to him talk about his day.

--

Matt was a pretty simple guy with simple wants and needs. He required food (breakfast cereals, bread, luncheon meat, and ramen noodles because he knew Raito hated them), he required cigs, he required a place to sleep (which Raito kindly provided) and he required his video games, they being the only things he brought with him from his old life. See, simple things, things easily taken advantage of.

That being said, he thought that maybe it wouldn't be too much to ask that his roommate be home a bit more often. Not only did Raito normally keep the place clean but he also answered the door, dealt with the landlady, and flirted with the woman next door so she would give them freshly baked goods. Raito was the charming one, the one people wanted to see when they knocked on a door. Matt was…not Raito. He looked like a crazy gamer guy who smoked too much and wore goggles to hide the fact that he was probably high (though he swore that he never did drugs).

Matt refused to believe that he wanted Raito here because he missed him. Feelings were beyond Raito, so Matt was pretty sure he could be beyond them too. Besides, Raito was a real bitch sometimes and the last thing Matt wanted was to be nagged again about smoking in the room without at least opening the window. Matt didn't feel comfortable with the window open—years of mental conditioning that the outside world was unsafe hadn't stopped him from leaving his home but it did hinder him from being able to open a window.

Shots were fired and StripedShirtAndGogglesGuy was murdered on the screen only to be reborn. Matt sighed, wondering why the hell he even bothered worrying so much. It's not like he had really died. There would be more lives as long as Raito kept on paying the bills and making sure the electricity stayed on. Maybe that's why he was so worried; if Raito died, where could he possibly go? Back to England? No way. The only person he really wanted to be around would be gone, so what would be the point in going to an empty home?

The soldier on the screen was shot again and Matt's brow raised from beneath the goggles. Since when had he gotten so bad at protecting himself? He wondered if Raito was protecting himself alright…not that he cared or anything. Seriously though, had Raito finally bitten off more than he could chew? Raito had told him he wouldn't call for approximately two weeks but Matt would know after one week that everything was going well. How the fuck Raito planned on contacting him without the phone or email was beyond him but he figured, what the hell, Raito could do whatever the fuck he wanted. It was no skin off his nose if Raito was raped or murdered or drugged up or whatever the hell risks came with his new job.

Another shot came his way, a sniper shot. "What the fuck?" he said aloud, watching as the scene of his character's death played out. He'd been between some destroyed cars when suddenly he'd been shot out of nowhere, totally unsuspecting. There was no one to be seen with that kind of sniping equipment. Curious, he climbed the virtual stairs and entered the building closest to him, armed and ready to kill the shit that kept on murdering him behind his back.

However, before he could doing anything drastic like running around shooting out the entire top floor, a click resounded in the game, making Matt freeze. His character turned and found another soldier with a handgun. From the stance, he could see the cockiness of the puppeteer and the way he held the gun…obviously a sniper. Above the character's head, the name read 'Kira'. On that character, Matt imagined brown eyes and hair with a smirk planted on that face that said, "I'm a freakin' God". He cursed.

"Mother fuckin' bitch."