Warning – this chapter contains a mild sex scene.
A Romeo and Juliet Story
Chapter 9
Cold like ice, hoops of imprisonment around tiny wrists, as if he were really capable of fighting them off. He was still so small compared to the adults around him. Nothing more than a sharp-fanged little mouse. Six broken ribs and a fractured arm and they still felt it necessary to use handcuffs. How was it that they should be afraid of something as pathetic as he?
So the police had come back for him finally, six days after he'd been confined at the hospital. Beaten, they said, to within an inch of death. He himself… didn't really remember. No one had come to visit him in that time. Perhaps they hadn't been allowed.
Isolated and confused, he stared up at of the single window set high on the wall which already made his hospital room seem more like a prison cell. What was he expected to do now? He'd never been told what to do in such a situation as this…
...
Kaede closed his eyes to the sight of the stars looking down through the windscreen of the car. He felt himself falling into a listless doze, made more pleasant by the unfamiliar warmth pressing him down, keeping him so willingly imprisoned. There was an ache in his neck where his head leant against the window and an unpleasant hardness digging awkwardly into his leg. It was uncomfortable but he didn't move. He didn't want to move. Not even an inch.
Crack. The sound of a distant gunshot lit his mind like a flash of lightning and the world was flooded with a future.
...
Four men came to him some days later. He wasn't too sure when since the passing of time was difficult to keep track of now this new room didn't have a window.
"You'll plead insanity and claim that you acted independently" Myagi informed him and showed him a piece of paper upon which a statement had already been drafted. "You have thirty minutes to memorise this."
...
Thirty minutes ago he'd run his hands across the rumbling dashboard, tested the knobs and buttons on the sophisticated music centre on the main panel and felt the luxurious fabric of the passenger's seat beneath him. Lastly his fingers had hooked the clasp of the glove compartment and opened it in curiosity. He'd held back an exclamation of surprise as an empty crisp package and a deluge of empty candy wrappers had fallen into his lap.
"Crap…" it was the first time Kaede had ever heard Akira curse as he attempted to shove the offending rubbish back inside the cubby hole with one hand still on the steering wheel and his eyes still on the road. "I'm sorry, my brother is a slob."
Amusement had prickled the corners of Kaede's lips and he'd turned away to hide it, even though Akira probably wouldn't have seen anyway.
He'd realised then that he was sitting in Hanamichi's place. That the world he'd seen only in a few photographs was his and all around him, suddenly entirely tangible. He'd wanted to touch everything he saw, just to know what it was like from this other side.
...
The child didn't read the paper but peered through the bars of his cell at his father, at the wisened face of the lawyer Yoku Myagi accompanying him and at the two other men he didn't recognise.
"This is Masaya Aida," Yoku introduced one of the two men in response to his curious stare "and this…"
...
"…is beautiful, right?" Akira had taken a long breath through his mouth as if breathing the city in. They'd come to the top of a hill that overlooked the starry metropolis laid out below them like a map of possibilities. Looking down everything had seemed changed, so far away, so unimportant.
Akira had turned to him in seriousness and asked something odd. Kaede had been expecting any number of questions about his past, what he'd done, why he'd done it. But none of them came. Instead;
"Have you ever thought of the possibility of ending the rivalry?" Just like that. As if it were not only possible but easy.
Another day, another time, another Kaede, and it would have been ridiculous. Hisashi would never give it up. The house was the rivalry and the rivalry was the house. But now, everything was weirdly different, as if he'd been taken out of himself. It felt so real, like he could reach out and touch it, and Akira's eyes so close by offered so much but could promise nothing.
...
Yoku eyed the other distastefully "…and this is Taoka Sendoh."
Kaede stared openly at the man who was responsible for this. The man who'd brought about this end; this wheezing pain in his bruised chest and an eight year old girl shot in the face.
Perhaps he, the child, already realised that this already foul beginning would soon pollute and spread like a virus let loose in his blood - disinheritance, two years in prison and the rest as Hisashi's dog. And nothing to see beyond tomorrow but killing and killing and killing. No wonder then, as he stared Taoka down, that his eyes were already old and silent and cold like death.
...
He'd sat and listened to Akira's warm words patiently. Akira's world, Akira's mind, was so very unlike his. Glowing. His vision was of a future Kaede had never had the audacity to assume was even there. It had always seemed safer, somehow, to look only downwards, neither forwards nor back, but only at his own trudging feet. Better not to stare too hard at the blood red footsteps behind him, or the impenetrable darkness before.
But Akira saw the world in a brilliant technicolour of possibilities. An infinite rainbow of tomorrows. And as he gazed at Akira talking with such animated passion about something as insubstantial as the future he realised he felt.
He felt.
...
Masaya was muttering away nearby, apparently to himself; "We knew that the kitsune was a Rukawa… but I'd never dreamed it was the boy…"
"This is a goddamn mess" Taoka hissed.
A mess of your making" Anzai pointed out icily.
"You do realise that if he lets slip that the killings were an assassination you'll be brought down for making him do it and I'll be brought down for hiring him!"
"He will do as he's told."
...
Naivety.
Optimism.
An utter failure to see the dark crawling festerings of the world. A way of looking that eventually left you bleeding and alone among fear and pain. Kaede all along had thought that this was all weakness. That this was Sendoh Akira's weakness. But now, high above Yokohama, his comprehension of such things was becoming irrevocably skewed.
This close and still not a single inch of Akira smelt of vulnerability. It was a strength that defeated him – he; a broken twisted child of violence - utterly. Defeated. By this. Even as he found himself pushed against the window with gentle but insistent force, hands in his hair, heat wet and luring at his lips and at his throat, he knew it. And it suddenly seemed so obvious.
Strength that didn't hurt or destroy. Something sure and certain in everything he did. Every smile, every word, every inch of understanding was gilded with such confidence. Such power. And then he realised that it was precisely because he'd never seen what Kaede had seen. Because he'd never done what Kaede had done. That is was his naivety, his bare-faced optimism that made him strong and whole while Kaede crumbled and broke beneath his hot fingers.
Kaede was overtaken by a never-before-known desire to protect it, that innocence, to see it flourish. To keep him away, far away from violence, from pain, from the splutter of blood that stained skin and blinded eyes. Not to allow even a spot of dirt to sully those firm and gentle hands.
But to be a… protector? One such as he? How ostentatious to even think of such a thing. To even dream that these hands could do anything but destroy. How foolish.
In the end it didn't matter what he wanted. He soon found there was nothing, nothing he could do. The crippling temptation to just give up, to be overcome, paralysed him. He could only sigh, an insubstantial spirit lost in the night as he felt himself stolen away. Murmuring, not even his whole name but only the first trembling syllable of it. This man. This flawless man.
"A… a… a…."
…Akira.
I know not how to tell thee who I am
He could kill me.
The thought kept rising in his mind, refusing to stay submerged.
He could kill me.
It made him angry, the two feeble hands against his chest in a half-hearted effort to push him away; this wasn't Kaede at all.
He could kill me. It would probably be nothing for him to kill me right now.
"This…" he grabbed the thin wrists that pressed against him and slammed them on either side of Kaede's head, bruising his own knuckles against the window in the process, "…why are you hiding?"
Kaede's lowered eyes didn't lift. He was a vehement blazing ruin. A scarred and blackened soul which nonetheless burned, burned, burned like it could set the world on fire. His eyes were lowered only to hide the fact that he could never be defeated. A pretence of surrender. It was as if he were asking; why am I cursed to be able to keep walking when every step is agony?
"Kaede…" the name tasted like knives on his tongue as he saw him, understood him, for the very first time "…don't you understand? I know what you are."
It wasn't a criticism but a revelation. Kaede was trembling, his whole body wavering, even his wrists that Akira was still gripping so hard that his knuckles were white.
"I can release you from this. I want you to be weak…only with me. I want you to be…"
...
"…mine?" Taoka squinted at Masaya as they left together.
"Anzai is acting out of necessity to protect himself, but the fact remains that he'll lose a son over this."
His seriousness caused Taoka to pause in his stride.
"An eye for an eye?"
"…precisely."
...
"Let me…" he leaned forwards until their noses were pressed together and Kaede's fierce gaze could avoid his no longer. "...let me see you."
He wet the boy's lips with an easy open-mouthed kiss, feeling the shape of them tenderly until they parted for him. Then he pulled back and smiled at him.
Kaede's face was full of indignity at being pressed so helplessly up against the window, hands pinned there and strands of midnight hair sticking to the collecting condensation. And yet amongst his anger was something which nevertheless invited Akira to continue. Perhaps even demanded him to do so. Such a perfect contradiction that Akira couldn't help grinning foolishly.
Akira released one of the wrists and brought his hand instead to that elegant white neck. He ran his thumb over the smooth throat in enticing circles, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his fingers. In curiosity he applied some experimental pressure.
Kaede moaned so richly that Akira's entire body pulsed with the sound. He couldn't resist but to push forward and claim that mouth again with a more rough and desperate fervour. Kaede made use of his free hand to clench his fist hungrily in Akira's hair, arching his back to bring their bodies into a more flush contact.
...
"You think he'll go after Akira?"
"Well…"
...
They parted, gasping.
Akira just couldn't stop running his hands over him; rustling up the thin black shirt and pressing sweat-sticky fingers against every inch of his body, strong but sleek. Kaede watched him move, exploring his skin, in curious suspicion.
Akira put his tongue against the oscillating chest and tasted salt, then he brought his hands down to grasp at the waistband, seeking blindly for the button and fly. At once two concerned hands gripped his forearms in nervous caution.
"Don't worry…" Akira remembered himself enough to pause and gave a reassuring smile "…just let me give you this."
Just for a moment to take him to that cool sanctuary of the mind, letting eyes flicker closed and tides carry consciousness away. To close down the higher echelons of the brain and accept a simpler world.
Here, now, let him, please god just let him forget.
"You don't have to do anything" he persuaded sweetly, "a gift, that's all."
Meeting the two confused eyes looking down at him, seeing that they were anything but dark, he knew that in itself was nearly enough.
"Trust me."
Just a moment longer, hesitation reluctant to be exorcised, but finally two thawing eyes closed and a tired head leant back against the window as if not wishing to see what was about to happen. Akira tweaked the button open and parted the two flaps of fabric, the firm stomach trembling under his fingertips.
Then love-devouring death do what he dare -
It is enough I may but call him mine.
Fingers curled down, around, careful and supple around the smooth heat, finger by finger taking it into a comfortable fist. Kaede hissed and Akira smiled. The air of the car laboured, laden with a lulling sexual smell, real and masculine that Akira could feel settling pleasantly over him like a warm mist. Hungry and dreamy he took a flicking-tongue taste which slid past him and through him and into him and made him hum deep in his throat in both protest and adoration. The ragged, gasping, don't-stop-now breathing above him became his entire focus as he rocked back and forth.
The medley of gasps and moans changed pitch when Akira's other hand moved down and under the trembling body.
Kaede felt a single probing finger enter him, piercing him unkindly. His eyes opened in panic.
Humiliation.
He was at once deluged with bitter, burning shame that lit up his cheeks and froze his breathing. Such crippling defencelessness and everything he'd thought his own laid out to view. It was as if not a single dark secret could remain, as if there was not a shred of himself that Akira couldn't touch. His pride, so fierce and conceited, was distorted and hurt and subjected to such indignity that he wriggled to escape in horror.
No… no… he gasped silently, knowing he couldn't possibly let this happen. A firm hand held him down.
Resentful with shame he realised that for once there was nowhere; nowhere in his mind or without where he could hide. He could no longer avert his eyes or withdraw his consciousness to protect himself. It was as if Akira had dragged Kaede's secretive soul out and pinned it down only to laugh and disgrace him beyond measure.
But the overriding ignominy was how fiercely he wanted it. How terrible and wonderful it felt to give himself up to this. To feel so out of control, so pathetic, so defeated under these hands. Under this man.
Akira gave a long, low hum from the back of his throat as if in sympathy and drew the degrading finger languidly out.
The sensation and embarrassment was too much and with a quick panicked gasp, his mind recoiling with gorgeous horror, Kaede's disgrace spilled over.
...
"Well… perhaps not Akira, but…"
...
Kaede closed his eyes to the sight of the stars looking down through the windscreen of the car. He felt himself falling into a listless doze, made more pleasant by the unfamiliar warmth pressing him down, keeping him so willingly imprisoned. There was an ache in his neck where his head leant against the window and an unpleasant hardness digging awkwardly into his leg. It was uncomfortable but he didn't move. He didn't want to move. Not even an inch.
Crack. The sound of a distant gunshot lit his mind like a flash of lightning and the world was flooded with a future. Crack. Two more followed in quick succession, waking him violently from his doze. But he didn't wake out of Akira's strange warm world. Not yet. But rather he woke from his other dream eight years long. Suddenly he understood the pain he'd felt. Suddenly an end seemed possible.
Before he'd recovered enough of his senses to move Akira had already leapt back from him and started the car. Kaede straightened himself dazedly while, with little more than a flashing glance behind him and a loud curse, Akira slammed the gear stick into reverse, sending the wheels skidding violently as the car hurtled backwards.
Kaede sat silently; staring at the vision of what could be which had glinted unfocussed yet so perfectly formed into his mind. All around the whirlwind of a world spun carelessly around his steady form.
His mind clear he carefully put all the tiny pieces into place like pawns in an imaginary chess game. Hisashi, Hanamichi, Akira, his father, Taoka, himself. He could see it all coming together so clearly as the future he could make flickered brighter and clearer with each sound of distant gun-thunder.
Just one more piece and the stage would be complete, but he couldn't help hesitating over it, rubbing his mind's fingers over the ivory surface in calm contemplation as the world skidded violently past his window.
...sempai.
The rest he knew he could achieve, but this would perhaps prove, at the final moment, to be too difficult. Yet he couldn't afford to hesitate, there would be one chance and one chance only. He sighed inwardly and looked out at the blurred passing world. There would be a price to pay; there always was.
"Let me out over there," he pointed to a corner some two blocks away from the hall. Akira brought the car over to the kerb in a stench of burning rubber and Kaede reached for the door handle.
"Akira…" he trailed off, knowing he'd never be able to find any words. That it would be impossible to explain this new window in his mind "…try and stay out of my sight."
Akira nodded wordlessly.
Kaede didn't hesitate longer but opened the car door and stepped out. Akira's sudden call of his name made him pause but not turn, not sure if he could bear to look at him now.
"When will I see you again?" the concern in Akira's voice forced it to Kaede's attention that Akira was not so entirely oblivious to what must soon come between them. To the path they would be forced to walk.
"The Miura beach," he replied without turning. "Look for me at the beach."
He couldn't bear to wait for a reply and so slammed the door behind him before he could lose all resolve and darted into the night like a shadow, vanishing from Akira's sight in moments. He sprinted towards where he knew Hisashi would be waiting, wind lashing his exposed skin, blowing away the final remnants of Akira's warmth and reminding him of the jacket he'd left crumpled on the library floor. Reminding him finally of just what he was.
I live dead.
Akira revved the car and took off in a squeal of tyres, knowing regretfully that he didn't have any time to spend worrying about Kaede. The sound of the nearby gun fight commanded the entirety of his attention.
He rounded the corner with his foot to the floor and scattered a small group of Rukawas who had been standing nearby. With a deft grip on the handbrake he sent the car drifting into the parking lot in a trail of heavy white smoke. A line of bullets immediately peppered the side of the car. The rear wheels fish-tailed behind him as he accelerated aggressively out of the turn, eyes flying left and right, looking for a glimpse of red hair. He finally spotted his brother over by the side of the building and quickly drew up beside him.
"Get in!" he shouted, leaning over to open the passenger door and Hanamichi immediately filled the space Kaede had so recently vacated.
Crumpling into the seat Hanamichi wiped a trickle of blood out of his eyes. "We won the contract," he explained conversationally.
"Great," Akira replied through gritted teeth, wheeling the car violently around and gunning it back towards the road. A bullet shattered the rear passenger window behind him. "Where's Dad and the rest?"
"Long gone. Only Yohei and the gang stayed back."
"Why didn't you leave too?"
"I didn't know where the fuck you were, moron!"
"Oh" Akira had the grace to feel guilty as they wove with dangerous speed through the midnight traffic. Police sirens sounded in the distance.
"Will Yohei be okay?"
"Of course, just go!"
Akira skidded through a red light onto the road that would take them home. They hurtled onwards at high speed for a short way until Hanamichi suddenly sat bolt upright, spotting something in the near distance. There were a number of motorcycles in the centre of the road, seemingly waiting for them.
"Fuck" Hanamichi said, peering intently forward, having to rely on the weak street lights to make out the figures.
"What?"
"It's Hisashi."
"Fuck."
"Some kind of ambush – they must have realised we'd take this road. You'd better try and mow them down before they can shoot."
Akira gritted his teeth and followed Hanamichi's advice by pressing the peddle down as far as it would go. The car immediately responded with an aggressive growl, within seconds the needle of the speedometer had danced up past 100… 150… 180… 200…
In response to the car's loud approach the gathered bikes scattered left and right to the sides of the road except for one of the number who remained alone and eerily still in the centre.
"Oh, no…" Akira groaned under his breath. He felt suddenly as if he daren't even blink, he was utterly incapable of looking away from the fast approaching disaster.
Hanamichi lent out the window and fired several wild shots forward but hit nothing but air.
In response to the gunfire, the lone boy moved, drawing two identical guns from the holster at his back and levelling them at the car – one at Akira, the other at Hanamichi.
"Duck!" Hanamichi screamed.
No… don't move! Akira thought as he pressed his back into the seat firmly, not lifting his foot from the floor as they hurtled closer and closer.
Trust him… trust him… trust him… trust him…
Kaede didn't fire until the last possible second, two simultaneous shots. They were close enough to see the blue in his eyes before Akira reflexively closed his own as the windscreen in front of his face shattered. He felt the wind of the bullet pass his ear and slam into the headrest just beside him.
He opened his eyes in time to see Kaede leap out of the way, rolling into the grass at the side of the road as the Veyron thundered wildly past, mere inches away.
Through the rear-view mirror Akira saw Hisashi and Tetsuo run forwards to Kaede's side, and he let out a long rush of breath in relief as they vanished rapidly into the distance. He realised that his hands were gripping the steering wheel hard enough to hurt and he tried to force himself to relax a little but it was impossible. Every nerve in his body and brain felt like it had been set on fire.
He allowed himself moment to savour the relief of having survived another encounter with the professed kitsune when a weird gurgling sound beside him brought his world to a sudden brutal stop.
Nothing but one of your nine lives; king of cats.
Looking sideways he was horrified to see Hanamichi slumped forwards, clutching a rapidly growing blossom of red on his shirt.
"That bastard…" Hanamichi managed to gasp, two trickles of blood leaking from either side of his mouth, "…that fucking bastard shot me."
...
"Then if not Akira… you think he'll attack Hanamichi?"
Masaya pursed his lips, "There's a sick kind of symmetry about it, right?"
Taoka tutted impatiently as if the whole thing was ridiculous, and didn't reply.
...
~tbc
Notes:
Wow ~ I changed the character of my Kaede-uke! For years I've always envisioned him as outwardly strong but inwardly broken. Then when I came to edit this chapter I finally realised I wanted him to have a bit more credit. He is awesome after all. So – fall under Akira's spell, yes, and be deluged with feelings of inadequacy, yes, but pathetic and weak – no! Fighting, burning, go Kaede go! Woooo!
I was supposed to put Kogure and Kaede's history into this chapter but in the end it just didn't fit, and there won't be any space for it in the following chapters, doh! So now I'm thinking of sticking it in an appendix. Yeah I'll just leave it to a last footnote for those few who are interested.
Please leave a review if only to say; "No, don't kill Hanamichi, noooooo!", "Yeah, kill that stupid Hanamichi, woohoo!" or "You call that a sex scene!? It's only like 600 words damnit!"