Notes: This chapter carries a content warning for drug mentions and verbal/emotional/physical abuse. As a final note, while the monetary gain described in this chapter might sound extreme, remember that the amount would be much lower in USD (and Canadian dollars, Great Britain pounds, et cetera). I used a currency conversion website to find out what the currency conversion would be in September 1996 for this chapter.
Whispers in the Dark
Part IX: Time For Lies and Empty Fights
'Change of plans. We'll meet at my house instead.'
'k'
Jounouchi had long since determined that trying to figure out Hirutani's logic was more difficult than deciphering a trigonometry textbook written entirely in English given how batshit crazy he was, but in this case his reasoning had seemed pretty clear. If Hirutani wanted to meet at his house, obviously that meant he was already there and couldn't be bothered to make the trip to the coffee shop. There was no other reason to change the plan so suddenly, as far as Jounouchi could tell.
Hirutani wasn't there, though, and after a few minutes Jounouchi carefully lowered himself onto the porch steps to wait. Another few minutes more and he pulled out his zippo lighter to fiddle with it, trying to determine whether or not smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves was worth worsening the lingering pain his throat.
His entire life aside, there was nothing wrong, he knew—no reason for him to feel so antsy. The deal at Seigo High had gone over well enough. Seigo was a school for wealthy kids, the sons and daughters of prosecuting attorneys and corporate executives—rich snobs that already owned the world even though they knew nothing about it. They were easy targets for people like Hirutani—and like Jounouchi himself, he supposed, with another agitated flick of his zippo—because they were desperate to prove themselves as something more than pampered princes and princesses, yet they lacked the life experience to stop themselves from stumbling straight into danger. Case in point, he'd made 44,152 yen off two seniors alone, all for a half-filled bottle of ecstasy that, knowing how these rich kids were, probably wouldn't last them two weeks. Hell, two weeks was probably generous; Jounouchi would give them one before they were crying to Hirutani for a refill. No doubt they'd share what little they had just bought with their friends, which would not only cause them to run out faster, but would have the added "bonus" of scoring Hirutani some new customers. Meanwhile, other kids at the school would notice what was going on, would become curious about Hirutani's "business," would want in and would gladly offer up their services . . .
Jounouchi snapped his zippo shut with more force than necessary. Seigo High was easy. Grunt work, really. Kids who went to Seigo were all a bunch of silver spoon sucking, naïve little idiots who were practically begging to throw their lives away. It was sickening.
But even so, he'd done his job. Everything was fine on that front, which was why he didn't understand why he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. Hirutani hadn't said when he would meet Jounouchi at his house, Jounouchi supposed, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check again. No, there was no time given—just a message that plans had changed. Jounouchi had assumed that meant that Hirutani would already be there waiting for him, but then, it was wrong of him to assume that Hirutani would do anything other than what he explicitly said he was going to. Even then, there was nothing to stop him from lying.
All the same, he felt restless, like there was a reason why he was left there to wait while Hirutani was off doing god-knows-what, and a bad one at that. He waited another five minutes before he reached for his phone again, and was about to shoot Hirutani a text (something along the lines of 'wtf its ben lyk 30 mins' or 'r u fukin w/ me rn' or 'fuk this bs im out,' he thought) when Hirutani finally rounded the corner at the end of the street. Jounouchi snapped his phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket with his zippo, and reached in his other pocket for Hirutani's money as he stood up.
"About fucking time," he grumbled when Hirutani was within earshot. "Why didn't you just have me meet you wherever you were instead of sending me here if you were going to—" Jounouchi cut himself off as Hirutani drew to a stop in front of him, and though Hirutani raised his eyebrows, Jounouchi's attention was focused more on blood smeared across his chin. "Did you get in a fight?"
"I had something I needed to take care of. It had nothing to do with you," Hirutani said coolly.
Jounouchi doubted it. Before, he'd had a nagging sense that something was wrong—an anxious feeling that caused him to bounce his leg as he waited, his stomach twisting in on itself. Now it was more like a steady, low-key alarm buzzing in his head; his heartbeat sped up, and adrenaline made every one of his senses sharper so he could fight his way out of a bad situation if need-be. Hirutani said it had nothing to do with him, but like every other word that came out of his mouth, that felt a whole hell of a lot like a lie.
"What did you do?" Jounouchi demanded.
"Didn't I just say it had nothing to do with you?" Hirutani said. "It's been less than fifteen seconds and you're already pissing me off. Don't push me, Jounouchi."
"You looked pissed when you walked up," Jounouchi retorted, but then he sighed, and bit back a wince as his ribs smarted. Had he known he was going to spend a stupid amount of time waiting, he would have stopped by his dad's place to take another painkiller. "Fine, whatever. I've got your money, so—"
"Not here," Hirutani said, and he held up a hand as Jounouchi pulled the thick bundle of yen from his pocket. "Let's go inside."
Jounouchi frowned. "Why? I'm just handing this over and then we're done, right? What do we have to go inside for?"
Hirutani had already turned to head up the steps to his front door, but when Jounouchi spoke, he went still. After a moment, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, he said, "I told you to come here for more reasons than just the money. We're going inside to discuss them. Now do as you're told, and don't question me again."
Jounouchi couldn't help the mutinous glare he sent Hirutani's way, but he did bite his tongue—and with it, the 'fuck you' response that would have led to another fight. He shoved the money back in his pocket and bit his tongue a little harder to help fight the urge to wrap an arm around his aching ribs as he made his way up the steps. There was no need to telegraph the fact that he hadn't wrapped them with bandages, after all. Hirutani followed after at a casual pace, and didn't once look at Jounouchi as he pulled his keys out of his pocket to unlock his front door.
Hirutani's house had two floors, but in all honesty was not that big. The stairs that led up to the second floor (which was really more of a landing with two bedrooms and a bathroom) were directly in front of the door, so close that when Hirutani opened the door, it brushed against the banister. In lieu of a foyer, the entrance opened on the living room, and diagonally across from the door Jounouchi could see wide opening that led to the little dining area and kitchen. It was cleaner than Jounouchi's apartment, at least (not that that was hard to accomplish), but Jounouchi figured that if it was all on the same floor, it probably wouldn't be that much bigger.
The television in the living room was on when they entered, and as Hirutani shut the door behind them, a middle-aged man—Hirutani's father—twisted around on the sofa to look at them over the back. Jounouchi glanced at Hirutani in time to see a look of surprise flicker across his face, replaced quickly by a scowl.
"Oh, Kimio," Hirutani's father said, and though his tone was pleasant enough, Jounouchi thought he looked a little nervous. "Good, you're home. We need to talk." Hirutani's father glanced over at Jounouchi and smiled a little. "Jounouchi-kun, good to see you."
Jounouchi gave a curt nod in response, but didn't return the smile. Hirutani's father blinked, as if surprised by Jounouchi's reaction, but Jounouchi couldn't see why. It wasn't as if Hirutani's father had ever given him a reason to be friendly.
"What are you even doing home right now?" Hirutani demanded, but before his father could answer, he huffed a sharp sigh. "Fine, I'll humor you. Jounouchi, go wait in my room. I'll be up in a minute. And leave your shoes down here. I shouldn't have to tell you that, but . . ."
"Yeah, whatever." Loath as he was to look like he was following any order, Jounouchi ditched his shoes by the door before he made his way up the stairs, automatically reaching for the railing as he did so. This served two purposes: One, it gave him something to squeeze so he could further resist the urge to squeeze his ribs every time they throbbed in protest at his movement, and two, it gave him an excuse to stick close to the sides of the steps, avoiding the squeaky spots in the middle. He gritted his teeth so that he could move quickly and lightly, on the balls of his feet, and with this and the way he avoided the creaking centers, he was able to move silently enough that neither Hirutani nor Hirutani's father seemed to notice that he'd stopped near the top of the stairs, crouched low so he could listen.
"He's a moody one, isn't he?" Hirutani's father said, and Jounouchi scowled, particularly as he heard Hirutani's response.
"He's always like that. What do you want?"
"I got a call from Officer Tanikawa down at the precinct," Hirutani's father said. There was definite trepidation in his voice now, Jounouchi was sure of it. "He said you got in a fight a little while ago, down near the station plaza."
"And? He should have told you I didn't start it."
"He did—"
"Then are you asking if I'm pressing charges?" Hirutani snorted. "I might. Haven't decided yet."
Jounouchi frowned. Since when would Hirutani care about doing something like that? If anyone had pissed him off enough to actually fight them himself—something he rarely did nowadays, with so many obedient little helper monkeys ready and raring to do it for him—it was more like him to want them to deal with them personally, rather than pawn them off on the police. At the least, if he was going to bust someone, usually he framed them for something bigger.
". . . not that," Hirutani's father was saying. Jounouchi shook his head a little and forced himself to focus. "You know I'm—you need to stay out of trouble, Kimio. Trouble like this, trouble like—I can't exactly explain it away if you do something in front of an officer. And there will be a day when I can't make all your problems—"
"I don't have problems aside from you wasting my time with this," Hirutani cut in coldly. "I also don't remember asking you to do anything for me recently. Not like you asked me to get you a list of names of the high ranking members of Kamenashi's gang."
"Kamenashi's gang?"
"Your suspects in the train muggings." Hirutani walked the rest of the way out of sight, and Jounouchi heard him scoff. "It's been two weeks and you still don't know their leader's name? Did you even try, or were you just waiting for me to get the information for you?"
"I just didn't put it together right away, what you were talking about," Hirutani's father said. The defensiveness in his voice was pathetic.
"Sure," Hirutani said. The smugness in his voice was disgusting, too. "Well, there's your list, old man. I did your dirty work for you. Again. You can thank me by staying out of my business, and—if it's really necessary—getting your little cop friends to do the same." There was a pause. "Though I suppose Officer What's-His-Face helped speed things up today. Maybe I'll send him a pastry basket as thanks."
"There's no need for that," Hirutani's father said, in a tone that suggested he couldn't tell if Hirutani was joking or not. "And—see, Kimio, it's not that I'm not . . . grateful for your help, it's just that you make things harder when you do things like—"
"It was one little incident in the plaza," Hirutani said, and all amusement was gone from his voice now. "It wasn't even an actual fight. It was more of a skirmish—an annoyance."
"You seem to get in an awful lot of—"
"Name the last time I received a call home from one of your little friends. I won't even ask for a list, I just want one other time."
"They aren't my 'friends'—"
"That doesn't sound like an instance of me upsetting them enough to get a call home."
Hirutani's father sounded frustrated. "The frequency isn't the issue, it's the—the thing itself. You do a lot of things, and I let you get on with it because most of the time you keep it to yourself and I'm sure it's just something you're—you'll grow out of it, plenty of boys your age do—"
Hirutani laughed, cold and loud, and Jounouchi was glad for it, because it masked the sound of his forehead hitting the staircase railing.
"The only thing I'm 'growing out of' is wasting my time in the little leagues," Hirutani said. "Speaking of which, I have business to attend to. Make sure you don't disturb us."
"Wait, Kimio—" Hirutani's father began, but the rest of what he said was lost on Jounouchi. Not wanting to deal with fallout of being caught eavesdropping, Jounouchi turned and bounded silently up the rest of the steps. Hirutani's room was the first door off the landing, and while it was shut tight, Jounouchi twisted the handle and pushed it open to slip inside and flick on the light with the same level of stealth he'd used to get up the stairs.
Hirutani's house was, for the most part, clean, but his bedroom was so pristine it felt sterile. It started with his bed; there was nothing wrong with making it up, and knowing Hirutani he probably did each morning, but it was made with such meticulous care that it looked like something out of a furniture magazine rather than a bed someone actually slept in each night. At the least, the comforter was stretched so tightly over the mattress Jounouchi thought he could bounce a coin off it. He was almost tempted to try.
The bed was pushed up against the back wall, flipped opposite from how Jounouchi kept his. A wicker laundry basket was positioned at the foot of the bed, and though the lid was closed, Jounouchi figured that the basket was the reason why there were no stray clothes on the floor or any of the other furniture in the room. Well, that, and the dresser and closet; a wooden dresser was to the right of the door, and the closet—complete with wooden sliding doors—was built into the right wall. There was nothing on top of the dresser, not even a single loose yen. Nothing remarkable about it at all.
The walls were bare and painted white. The carpet was cream colored, and felt plush under Jounouchi's feet despite how old it had to have been. Despite Hirutani's cigarette addiction, the room didn't smell like smoke, nor was there an ash tray anywhere in sight. The only piece of furniture that had anything on it was the desk to the left of the door, and even then, it only had the bare minimum: a computer monitor, a keyboard, and a mouse that was positioned dead center of the mouse pad, too perfectly to be anything but deliberate. A low, steady hum from the computer tower told Jounouchi that Hirutani had left it on, even though the screen on the monitor was dark. The top shelf of the desk had things on it, too—books, specifically. They were lined up in a neat row, held in place by a metal bookend like the kind used in libraries, and—Jounouchi rolled his eyes—sorted by author.
Despite it sounding as though Hirutani had ended the conversation with his father, he didn't come up right away, so Jounouchi assumed that whatever Hirutani's father had said to stop him had worked. Jounouchi carefully lowered himself into the desk chair to wait, and after a second or two, felt his attention drawn back to the computer. It felt like a trap, really. Jounouchi wondered if Hirutani remembered that he'd left his computer on when he ordered Jounouchi up the stairs—if he'd thought about it, or if he'd been too distracted by his father to care. Regardless, the temptation to see what Hirutani had been doing the last time he was on it was strong, even though he knew that Hirutani would be pissed to find Jounouchi going through his computer regardless of what he'd been doing last. Then again, Jounouchi mused, as he reached for the mouse to wake the computer out of sleep mode, Hirutani was always pissed, so what was he risking, really?
"What are you doing?"
Jounouchi jumped, his hand on the mouse and a barely restrained yelp in his throat as pain spiked through his ribs at the sudden movement, and looked to the doorway to see Hirutani there, apparently having entered just as soundlessly as Jounouchi did before. Jounouchi pulled his hand away from the mouse to fold his arms loosely across his chest, more in an effort to look casual and hide his labored breathing than anything, and shrugged.
"Nothing. Thinking about downloading some porn, maybe."
Hirutani regarded him for a half second more before he snorted and shut his bedroom door. "Cute," he said. "You're wasting your time. You don't know my password."
"I could guess," Jounouchi said, and he hated how relieved he felt that Hirutani was letting the subject drop so easily.
"No, you couldn't," Hirutani said. He set his schoolbag on the foot of his bed—and even that he positioned carefully, perfectly lined up against the laundry hamper—before he turned to Jounouchi. "All right, hand over the money. Let's see what you got."
Jounouchi pulled the bundle of yen from his pocket and slapped it into Hirutani's outstretched palm. Hirutani quickly sifted through it, and his eyebrows knitted together over a frown after his second count.
"This is it?" he asked. "Did you sell the second bottle?"
"No," Jounouchi said, and when Hirutani gave him a suspicious glance, he pulled the second bottle out of his pocket for proof before he set it on the corner of Hirutani's desk. He didn't like touching it any longer than he had to. "Couldn't get a buyer."
"Really," Hirutani said, and it was clear from his tone that he didn't believe a word of it. Considering that he was lying, Jounouchi couldn't fault him for this.
"Really," he said all the same.
The truth was, as Jounouchi knew Hirutani suspected, he could have sold it. Even now he could picture the girl who'd been interested—could remember the way she'd held her books close to her chest, the way she'd chewed her lip because she knew she was doing something she wasn't supposed to, but was summoning all her courage to do it anyway. She'd barely looked old enough to be in high school, to be honest—Jounouchi would have pegged her for middle school at most—but time spent around Yuugi had taught him that appearance wasn't everything when it came to age. Still, no matter how old or interested she was, Jounouchi couldn't—wouldn't—sell to someone like her. Not when she looked at him with those wide, innocent eyes. Not when she kept having to tuck her long, reddish hair behind her ear because of the way it kept falling into her face. No, he wouldn't—couldn't—sell to someone who looked like her.
So he'd told her that he was out, that he had nothing for her. She'd been disappointed, but years later when her mind and body weren't destroyed like those of her classmates, she'd be glad for it. It was the one halfway decent thing he could do among all of the other disgusting things he did.
Of course, Hirutani wasn't happy with him for it, but it also seemed like he wasn't willing to push it. Instead, he huffed a sigh and shook his head before he walked over to his closet, and slid the door back just far enough to reveal a little safe in the bottom. Jounouchi tilted the desk chair back on two legs to try and see, but Hirutani's back was too broad for Jounouchi to be able to see what code he entered before the door was open.
"You can go back tomorrow," Hirutani said, without turning. "See if you can get someone to buy it then. If Seigo fails, try Musashi public."
Jounouchi let the desk chair fall on all fours again. "Musashi's a junior high."
"I know that," Hirutani said, as he closed the door to his safe and stood up.
Jounouchi glared at him. "I'm not you. I don't sell to middle schoolers."
"You do if I tell you to. But if you really don't want to sell at Musashi, then you'd better make something work out at Seigo," Hirutani said, and after he closed his closet door, he walked back over to Jounouchi. He didn't seem bothered at all by the way Jounouchi was willing him to drop dead with a look alone. "More importantly, I have a job for you."
"Another one?" Jounouchi asked, and this time his tone elicited a glare from Hirutani.
"Yes, another one. Is that a problem?"
"Depends on what it is."
Hirutani scoffed. "As if you have a choice either way." He paused a moment as if to let his words sink in—as if he needed to, when Jounouchi was already well aware that was the case—before he said, "I got a call from Matsumoto last night. He didn't tell me the details, but apparently the yakuza have been working on an overseas acquisition for the past few months on behalf of a wealthy client. They're about ready to make the exchange, and he wanted to know if I had someone who could do it for him. I volunteered you."
Jounouchi raised an eyebrow. "Sounds important. Don't the almighty yakuza want to do it themselves?"
"It'll look less suspicious if they can get someone our age to make the actual trade, for whatever reason. You'll be giving the money straight over to Matsumoto once the deal is done, of course." Hirutani paused a moment, and then said, "You realize I'm not asking you, right? I'm telling you that you're doing this."
Jounouchi rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. So, when does this go down? Who's this 'client' I'm meeting?"
"Didn't I just tell you I don't have the details?" Hirutani asked. Jounouchi was about to point out that he couldn't do jack without them when Hirutani said, "You're meeting Matsumoto next week to go over them. I gave him your number, so he'll be in touch."
"Awesome," Jounouchi said flatly.
"I'm glad you agree," Hirutani said, his tone just as flat. It was clear that he didn't appreciate Jounouchi's lack of enthusiasm. As with all things Hirutani, Jounouchi didn't care. "But that said, we need to talk about what you're going to wear."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Hirutani said, as Jounouchi continued to stare at him in disbelief, he went on, "If Matsumoto wants to meet you in a public place, you can't go dressed like that. Given his age, it'll look weird if he's out with a high school student, and that uniform makes you stick out like a sore thumb."
"So I'll go in normal clothes, whatever," Jounouchi said.
"No, not 'whatever,'" Hirutani said sharply. "I've seen your 'normal clothes,' Jounouchi. You're a mess. You need to wear something decent when you're meeting with a man like him—something nicer. Business casual, if you can swing it."
This time, it was Jounouchi's turn to scoff. "Yeah, you know me, I've got nice clothes just pouring out of my closet."
Hirutani looked as if this physically pained him. Jounouchi wished that was the case. "Then we'll have to get you something presentable," he said. "I'd lend you something, but anything I have would be too big on you. It'd be counterproductive."
Usually, Jounouchi would let this go. He'd say "fine" or "whatever" and leave it up to Hirutani to, he didn't know, shove a bag of clothes into his arms at some point before his meeting and tell him to go change. But the idea of being lent clothes riled Jounouchi, because two and a half months ago, he would have been able to borrow something suitable from Honda. It was what he'd done when they'd gone to Ayumu's high school graduation, after all. Jounouchi didn't have anything suitable for a graduation himself, but once he'd hit his growth spurt he and Honda were within centimeters of each other's heights. Borrowing something nice had been easy.
But he couldn't do that now. He couldn't even talk to Honda now, and the primary person to blame for that was standing right in front of him. It made him more than just a little bitter.
So even though he knew he shouldn't, even though he knew it was just as much of a wrong choice as the one he had made back at Tayzr's, he said, "Great, we get to go shopping. That's just how I like to spend my afternoons. Think we could maybe get our nails done after, Hiru-chan?"
His mockery came at a price; he didn't have time to react before the back of Hirutani's knuckles slammed against his mouth hard enough to cut the inside of his lip against his bottom teeth. As he was still seated in the desk chair, Jounouchi at least wasn't knocked to the floor, though he did have to hook his foot around a bar at the bottom of the desk to keep the chair from toppling over backwards. He tasted blood, but even as his neck throbbed at the sudden bout of whiplash it received, he still felt it was kind of worth it.
"Damn it," Hirutani swore, and he laughed softly. Jounouchi looked up to see him shaking out his hand. "You made me lose my temper after all."
"Yeah, I made you," Jounouchi said, and he massaged his jaw. He knew he kind of did bring this on himself, but he still never liked it when he was blamed for things Hirutani did.
"Yeah, you did," Hirutani said, and his tone was accusatory. "As you always do. I'm starting to think you like pain."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jounouchi asked. Hirutani didn't reply. After another beat of silence between them, Jounouchi said, "Well, if that's everything, then I think we're done here. See ya."
Jounouchi pushed himself up and crossed over to the door, but he didn't manage to get it open more than a crack before Hirutani reached over his head and slammed the door shut, his fingers splayed flat against the wood.
"I don't remember dismissing you," he said coldly.
Jounouchi took his hand off the door handle and took a couple steps back. He hated when Hirutani got in his space like that. "What more do you have to bitch at me about?" he demanded. "I gave you the money, we already went over your stupid job for the stupid yakuza—how are we not done?"
"We're done when I say we're done," Hirutani said, and he turned to stand in front of the door much like he had at Tayzr's. Just like the room at Tayzr's, Hirutani's bedroom had no windows, which meant there weren't any alternate escape routes Jounouchi could take advantage of. "But it's funny you should bring up the question of what I have to bitch at you about, because your attitude would be at the top of the list."
"This again," Jounouchi said, and he took the sacrifice of a stab of pain in his ribs to heave an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah, yeah, I need to watch my mouth, stop mouthing off, shut up and do my job, yadda yadda, I got it. So can I go now?"
"It's not just that, though that would help your case," Hirutani said. "It's your lying I'm more concerned about."
"My lying?" Jounouchi asked incredulously. "What the Hell have I lied to you about?" A lot of things, to be entirely fair, but it wasn't as if Jounouchi was going to own up to any of them that easily.
Hirutani didn't answer at first, and after a few beats of silence Jounouchi was about to ask him if he even had an answer, or if he was hoping that Jounouchi would confess to some imagined crime on his own. But before Jounouchi could say anything of the sort, Hirutani lunged forward and slammed the palm of his hand against Jounouchi's chest with enough force to throw him backwards.
For the first few seconds—minutes?—Jounouchi wasn't sure what he'd hit, if he'd hit the floor, or the bed, or—or something else, he didn't know. White hot pain splintered through his already fractured ribs, sudden and violent enough to make his head spin as he gasped and wheezed for air. He rolled over to brace himself on his forearms, head bowed, and it was only then that he realized that whatever he had landed on was soft. The bed, then—he'd hit the bed. He coughed, and the resulting agony in his chest caused nausea to roil in his stomach.
"You didn't get those wrapped like I told you to, did you?" Hirutani asked mildly.
"Fuck y—" Jounouchi tried to say, but his throat felt choked and his words died in a strangled wheeze. He coughed again, and shut his eyes to try and fight against the bile he could taste in the back of his throat. "I'm gonna puke on your bed," he gasped out at length.
"Do it and I'll kill you," Hirutani said, in the same mild tone he'd used before. "What did I say before? I said I wanted you to heal quickly so you could get back in the game. I told you to get your ribs taken care of specifically for that reason. Do you want to be on the drug beat forever? Do you want to spend the rest of your life on the bench?"
Six weeks of rest. That was what Ayumu had said. Six weeks of rest, but Jounouchi couldn't even go one day without getting hit in the chest twice. Jounouchi pushed himself up on his hands, and finally turned to level a scathing glare at Hirutani.
"You don't know that I didn't," he spat. "Anyone with broken ribs is gonna hurt when they get hit in the chest, asshole. And for someone who wants me 'back in the game,' you really seem to like hitting me there."
"Fair enough," Hirutani said, and he nodded toward Jounouchi. "Let me see it, then."
"What?"
"If you got your ribs wrapped like you say you did, then you should have no problem letting me see the bandages. So take off your shirt and jacket. Let me see."
For a few seconds, they sat in silence. Jounouchi had one arm wrapped around his stomach, held loosely, but enough so that he could at least block another strike if Hirutani decided to hit him again. But as the seconds passed, and Hirutani seemed intent on waiting for Jounouchi to follow through with the command to strip, Jounouchi said, "I . . . can't."
Hirutani looked like he'd expected this. "Because—"
"My doctor said not to."
That brought Hirutani up short, and he gave Jounouchi a dubious look. "Your doctor told you not to show me your bandages?"
"He said it could, uh, cause them not to heal properly. You know, better to keep the bandages from getting exposed to air—"
"You're a fucking idiot," Hirutani snapped, and Jounouchi knew that, but he still hated to hear Hirutani say it. He scowled. "Take off your jacket and shirt or I'll do it for you, and considering the state you're in, you are really not going to like it if we have to go that route."
"I wouldn't like it even if my ribs weren't broken," Jounouchi said. Hirutani said nothing. Jounouchi heaved a sigh through gritted teeth. "Fine, I didn't—I didn't wrap them. Happy?"
"No," Hirutani said bluntly. "I'm not happy that you disobeyed me again. Why would you think that would make me happy?"
"I meant are you happy I owned up to it," Jounouchi bit out. "Look, my doctor said that he couldn't wrap them because it's bad to wrap broken ribs. It makes it hard to breathe and stuff. Believe it or not, I like breathing. Big fan of it, actually."
Hirutani narrowed his eyes in a suspicious stare. "Who's your doctor?"
"Uh—ah, Takada," Jounouchi said, blurting out the first name that came to mind. When Hirutani raised his eyebrows, he added, "Hayate. Takada Hayate."
Hirutani was quiet for a moment before he said, "That's really his name? That's the name of the guy you saw about your ribs?"
"Yep."
"So if I looked him up, I'd be able to find him? I could make an appointment for myself if I wanted?"
"Well," Jounouchi said, "maybe not. He's a family friend. Doesn't really like to take on patients he doesn't already—"
"So in other words, you were lying to me again just now," Hirutani said, and Jounouchi snapped his mouth shut. "See, Jounouchi, that's the problem we run into when you lie to me. Now I'm going to assume everything you say is a lie. Tell me, are there any other lies I should know about? Anything else you want to own up to? If so, now would be the time to do it. This is the last chance I'm giving you for leniency."
It was so obvious what Hirutani wanted Jounouchi to say that Jounouchi would have laughed if it wouldn't have felt like driving an ice pick into his chest. "No," he said. "I don't fucking lie all the time, or whatever it is you're implying. I haven't lied about anything else."
"Hmph." Hirutani closed his eyes and shook his head, and there was something that was almost pitying about his expression that made Jounouchi's blood run cold. He couldn't already know—there was no way he could know, but for him to look like that— "Fine. Have it your way."
"I will," Jounouchi said, but at this point he wasn't sure what "his way" was—or at least, he wasn't sure what Hirutani thought "his way" was. There was no way Hirutani could know about the meeting in the park. The only people who did know were Jounouchi and Yuugi, and given that Jounouchi wasn't about to admit to it and Yuugi probably couldn't pick Hirutani out of a line-up (and would have no reason to talk to him even if he could), there was no way Jounouchi could think of that the information could have gotten back to him. So he was bluffing in an attempt to get Jounouchi to trip and fess up. He had to be. There was no other explanation. But—
"But that doesn't let you off the hook for your other lies," Hirutani said, and Jounouchi forced himself to focus. He could worry about what Hirutani did or didn't know later. "I told you to get your ribs wrapped. You said you were going to do it. You lied. So take off your jacket and shirt; I'll do it for you this time to make sure it gets done."
"No," Jounouchi said, and as Hirutani's eyes narrowed into a livid glare, he continued, "I already told you, my doctor said you can't wrap ribs because it stops you from breathing. Somehow I don't think not breathing is going to help me heal any faster."
"We already established you were lying about your doctor," Hirutani said.
"You established that. I never said a thing about it. In fact, I'd say the opposite considering he's a very real doctor who not only exists, but also told me he wouldn't wrap my ribs because he didn't want to kill me." Jounouchi raised his eyebrows in a challenging look. "You looking to kill me, Hirutani? Is that it? 'Cause let me tell you, there are faster ways than making my lungs collapse, or giving me pneumonia or whatever." Jounouchi lifted one hand so he could start ticking the ways off on his fingers. "You could shoot me. You could stab me. I know for a fact you gave a handful of your little helper monkeys police issued stun guns a few months ago."
"Our little helper monkeys," Hirutani said, and the vomit Jounouchi felt in his throat didn't have anything to do with the pain-induced nausea this time, "and I've considered it, but it'd be a waste right now. I have so much more to teach you."
"Right," Jounouchi said caustically. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I'm sick of learning for today." He pushed himself to his feet, and swallowed down the bile that, this time, was caused by the tenderness in his ribs. "So since we've sorted all this bullshit out, I'm going home."
Hirutani blocked the way. "We still haven't taken care of your ribs."
"And we're not going to. They'll heal on their own," Jounouchi said. As he had been outside when he realized that Hirutani had lied to him and that whatever he had been doing previously was probably nothing good, Jounouchi felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him. It eased the ache in his ribs just enough to make it easier for him to concentrate. Fighting his way out now probably wouldn't do much good in the long run, but at least if he could get himself out of this one situation— "Get out of my way."
"Don't tell me what to do. You don't have that right," Hirutani said. He nodded toward the bed. "Sit down and do as you were told."
Jounouchi glanced at the door before he looked back to Hirutani. Making a straight run for it wouldn't work, but maybe—
"Jounouchi," Hirutani said, a note of warning in his voice, and in that second Jounouchi made his decision.
He stepped around Hirutani as if he expected to make it in a straight shot to the door, and when Hirutani pushed him back toward the bed—just as Jounouchi knew he would—Jounouchi used the newly created distance between them to immediately launch himself forward so he could throw his entire body weight behind a punch aimed straight for Hirutani's solar plexus. Whether it was because Jounouchi's attack was too sudden or because Hirutani didn't expect him to attack like that when his ribs were broken, Jounouchi wasn't sure, but either way, Hirutani didn't anticipate the attack quickly enough to block it. He doubled over, swearing a blue streak through wheezing breaths, and Jounouchi took advantage of both Hirutani's temporary incapacity and the adrenaline rush he still had to bolt toward the door, wrench it open, and all but fling himself down the stairs.
Hirutani's father was still in the living room, but he didn't have time to say more than, "Hey, is Ki—?" before Jounouchi yanked the front door open and threw himself through it. He didn't even bother to shut it all the way behind him. Adrenaline would only get him so far, and he needed to take advantage of it and get as close to home as he could before it wore off. Preferably he could get inside his apartment, though since his dad still thought Hirutani was a cop, probably that wouldn't be enough to stop Hirutani from going in after him anyway. Then again, he wasn't sure what Hirutani would really be willing to do there, given that Jounouchi's dad couldn't be counted on to sit around and do nothing like Hirutani's could.
It didn't matter, anyway. Hirutani didn't seem to be chasing him, and despite living so close by, Jounouchi only made it halfway before he had to stop, his ribs throbbing so badly he felt dizzy. He wrapped both arms around his chest and sank to his knees, fighting against the urge to throw up, or pass out, or throw up and then pass out. The last thing he needed was for someone to find him in a pool of his own vomit.
God, but this was pathetic. He'd stopped in the middle of a sidewalk three streets over, and he leaned against a fence that lined someone's yard. Since when was he this weak? It wasn't like this was any less than he deserved, but just two nights ago he'd been able to give Hirutani a solid beating before he made the mistake of going for the knife. Now he could barely run two blocks without being rendered completely worthless. Well, more worthless than he already was, anyway.
Jounouchi was about to push himself to his feet again—because no matter how useless he felt, he still had to get home—when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Dreading that it was probably Hirutani with an order to go right back (that he would ignore, of course, because seriously, he was fucking done for the day), Jounouchi pulled his phone out of his pocket, and frowned at the unknown number that was splashed across the screen. No one but Hirutani had his number, except . . .
Jounouchi flipped his phone open, and after he swallowed to make sure he could talk without puking, he said, "Hello?"
"Joutou-kun!" Matsumoto said warmly, and Jounouchi sat back against the fence and put his elbow on one knee, his forehead braced against his open palm. "I'm glad I reached you. Is this a good time to talk?"
