Cipher
(AU, OT3 Tezuka/Fuji/Atobe, Bus Gamer Tribute) A dangerous game entwines the fates of a stoic insomniac, a helplessly bewitching boy, and an egotistical brat. "So...what kind of flowers do you want on your grave?"
A/N: As always, thanks for the lovely reviews! Now onto the rant...
Now I'm really wondering if I took too many liberties with both PoT and Bus Gamer, it's not like the original plot anymore and it's spiraled into some unknown dimension. Still, I'm glad that folks are really enjoying it. (I'm learning how to fiddle, on a random note, so excuse the country-ish mood.) I'm somewhat dissatisfied with this chapter because of how the fight scenes turned out. I mean, it's words on paper so it's kind of hard to see it as moving action in my head. And this is my first time writing anything action oriented, so hopefully didn't butcher it completely.
If anyone has any suggestions, let me know! Thanks!
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04
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Yuuta was on the verge of throwing a tantrum. Atobe was on the verge of running far, far away. Atobe watched Tezuka's face carefully, but the man just had to keep a stone face and Atobe, try as he might, could not figure out what Tezuka was on the verge of. If the other man had any sense of propriety, he'd agree with Atobe.
"But I don't want to stay with Yanagisawa! I can't sleep at his house because I can't sleep at his house!"
"Does he snore?" Fuji was smiling, Atobe was appalled.
Yuuta threw up his hands, looking very much like the world had just crashed down on him, "Worse. He kicks me."
"But I thought he slept on the bed and you slept on the floor...?" Fuji's mouth was twitching.
"Well, yeah, but he falls off. And then he kicks me on the floor. He steals my covers too."
Fuji sighed, "Yuuta, I can't leave you at home by yourself, you know that. It's either staying with Yanagisawa-kun or you're sleeping at the hospital." He didn't use the threat very often; but he knew that having a full blown argument with an already agitated Yuuta wasn't going to get him anywhere.
A look a fear immediately flitted across the boy's already pale face, and Yuuta promptly deflated, "Can't you call Atsushi and see if I can go there?" He said finally, after a long pause.
Fuji sighed once more, he got out his battered excuse for a phone again and held it out to his little brother. "Call him and see."
"Okay."
The trio watched as Yuuta ran off only to return a moment later with a grin, but the grin conspired against the solemness in his voice as he reported, "Atsushi says okay as long as you come and pick me up at eleven o' clock tomorrow. He has Judo lessons."
-
"I'm never having kids." Atobe restated firmly as he watch the two brothers hop off the car. Why did he have to drive them here again? Oh, right, because he wasn't driving. The moment they were off the car, Atobe lit a cigarette. If Tezuka insisted on commandeering his car all night, the least he could do was let Atobe smoke in peace – for once.
Tezuka being Tezuka, said, "...I wasn't aware that having children was an actual option for you. You astound me, Atobe."
Atobe opened his mouth and then closed it. "Fuck you." And for the first time in a long time, he meant the insult completely.
The passenger door behind him opened, as if his insult had served some sort of higher purpose, and for the first time, Atobe realized that the outside air was cold, or perhaps the boy breathing down his neck gave him chills.
"Saa, that's not very nice, oniisan."
Atobe rolled his eyes and inhaled smoke. "Like I care. Isn't midnight past your bedtime?"
"Oniisan really likes to pry, doesn't he?"
Tezuka ignored both of them and guided the car down the driveway, after touching a careful hand to his glasses. He heaved his own sigh, "...Where to?" He directed the question to the still fuming Atobe.
"That old supermarket lot that still needs to be torn down except the idiots that run the city still haven't found a chance to do so. Three streets over from where you work." Atobe blew smoke, "We're fighting Team Phoenix for the first round and we're the away team." Team, he wished there were some other word that didn't sound quite so companionable, he hated the word.
"The old supermarket lot on Miyagi Avenue?"
"Yeah."
And then there was silence. It was almost a reverent silence, Fuji decided from his place in the backseat, like everyone was waiting. The only reason that the silence failed to be reverent was that Atobe was breathing too loud. But he didn't voice the thought.
Fuji turned his attention to the luminous green numbers on the clock.
11:51
Nine minutes. Nine minutes and then he was going to plummet into a world he never knew existed. Although he was already no ordinary sixteen-year-old boy, who didn't worry about girls and chic cars. Fuji tucked his knees under his chin and leaned against the cool windowpane. He closed hiseyes.
"Are the two of you armed?"
Atobe again.
Fuji kept his eyes closed, he heard Tezuka reply, "No, I doubt that I'll need to be."
"Confidence much?" Even without looking at him, Fuji knew that Atobe was smirking.
"No," And Tezuka's reply was as bland as ever, "I'm cautious enough not to rely on weapons, they might malfunction if you're not careful."
Atobe laughed, "You're some piece of work. Ore-sama thought you'd say that." There was a pause, "In that case, Fuji, oniisan was kind and brought you a present. Here, take good care of it. It's a very grownup toy."
Fuji felt something hard and metal land in his lap. He was uncomprehending for a long moment, and then, "...Is this...?"
He had fully expected Atobe to make a wise crack, but none came, "Stay alive so I don't have to waste my strength to drag you back out." And then to Tezuka, "Can I have my keys now?"
There was another clink following the clink, and Atobe got out of the car.
Fuji realized that a gun felt heavier than he thought it would, because of what it implied, maybe. He opened the door to his side too and stepped out into the night air. It was cold and he instinctively shivered.
Tezuka saw him, "Are you cold?"
Fuji bit his lip, otherwise his teeth would betray him with their chattering. "Not really." He replied belatedly.
He felt a bundle of something warm land in his arms, pressing the cold metal of the gun further in his skin.
"Take it. I don't need it."
Tezuka's jacket. Fuji stared at it for a moment longer before he shrugged it on and offered the man a smile.
"Thank you, Tezuka-san."
-
The lot was abandoned, and it reeked of rust and human waste. An altogether acrid smell, Atobe decided as he wrinkled his nose. He looked around again; this place was abandoned. This whole thing was a scam. He was stupid to even buy into it.
"It's midnight." Fuji commented idly, "I wonder where they are." The boy sounded too cheery for his own good.
Tezuka said, "...They are already here."
"How do you know?" Atobe looked at him.
"I can hear them breathing."
"Well, at least we weren't duped, you can think of it that way." Atobe smirked. "Hone--"
"Atobe, left." Tezuka cut him off, his voice suddenly sharp.
At the last possible second, Atobe obeyed, veering his his body suddenly to the left, narrowly avoiding a dark, rather bulky shadow that Fuji had to admit he hadn't noticed until Tezuka had said anything. The only thing about the shadow that was not inconspicuous was the glinting blade of a knife that he held...
Atobe caught him with a swift jab to the ribs and the shadow immediately doubled over. But then he was up a moment later and lunged. Just barely managed to knock Atobe off-balance.
"Shit!"
There was that, and then a crack. A loud crack.
Fuji didn't realize that he had his eyes squeezed shut until he opened them. The shadow was on the ground again, this time writhing in obvious pain, and Atobe was standing above his conquest, with his foot poised to crush the guy's throat. Atobe's arm was bleeding, blood dripped steadily from his fingertips.
Fuji felt nauseated.
"Come here." Atobe beckoned to him with his good hand.
Fuji took a few hesitant steps forward, trying not to look at the mangled body on the ground, or Atobe's arm. Both the blood and the lifeless corpse made his head swim.
"Pat him down, look for the disk, come on, we don't have all day."
Gingerly, Fuji knelt and began to search the body. He lifted the man's shirt up with trembling fingers and after taking a deep breath, tried his pockets, all four of them. He looked up at Atobe and shook his head.
"It's not here."
"I thought so. If he had it, he wouldn't have just attacked like that." Atobe amused, "Give me the knife, we might need it later."
The knife had fallen a few feet away, and the blade was bloody. Fuji felt his stomach lurch, but he handed it over and Atobe wiped the blade clean. "Fuji, are you okay?"
"I"m fine." Nauseated, but fine. "Is your arm...?"
"My arm is fine." Atobe offered him a smirk, which was oddly reassuring, "Ore-sama's been through worse..." He looked around, "Where is Tezuka?"
Fuji followed suit, Tezuka was nowhere in sight. "I don't know. Oniisan should go look for him." And then he forced himself to look at the lifeless corpse and wondered if he was dead, "...I'll stay here to...make sure nothing happens."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
Atobe turned, "I'll be back. Call if you need me."
-
"Kunimitsu, all you have to remember is everything that I've taught you. That way you'll always come out standing."
As far as he could tell, Atobe was more than fine on his own, Tezuka had watched him before he ducked away. And it was safe to leave Fuji with him...provided that the boy didn't provoke Atobe too much. But then again, the boy had a gun. That, if anything, made the field even.
"You have to be very patient about this. Think of it like picking a lock, very delicate. This type of thing can't be forced."
Or perhaps his paranoia had finally climbed to a new high without him noticing. Tezuka could have sworn he had heard someone wheeze somewhere back around...maybe he had just imagined it? Now that he really was away from all the noise, the possibility seemed entirely sensible.
There was a step.
Tezuka turned swiftly, and caught a fat wrist, twisted it, until he heard something shatter and a yelp of pain. He let the wrist go, and the intruder stumbled backwards, uttering a string of guttural curses.
He waited.
After a moment, his adversary seemed to gather his wits again, not completely, but certainly enough to sway on his feet and launch a clumsy punch with his good hand as he charged at Tezuka without reserve.
Tezuka smelled the familiar fumes of alcohol and winced. He could have easily caught that hand and crush the wrist too, but a man with two broken wrists in one night was too pathetic even for a man like Tezuka to behold. So instead, he walked measured steps and ducked the punch, and slammed his own fist into the man's stomach.
Thump. There was blood, splatters of it got on his shirt.
Ignoring that for the time being, Tezuka quickly knelt and checked all of the man's pockets. The disk was tucked in his jacket. It was almost hard for Tezuka to believe that for this...whatever it was, people risked all. He pocketed it.
Another step.
He turned, and like before, caught a wrist, this one was surprisingly slender, he twisted--
"Ow, ow! What the fuck?"
Startled, Tezuka dropped the wrist. Looking twice, he realized that it was indeed Atobe. His mouth twitched, "I didn't know it was you. Don't do that to me."
"Yeah well, you didn't have to go and crush my wrist." Atobe spat, but then he saw the body on the ground and grew silent. "...Did you get the disk?"
"Yes."
"That's good." Atobe said awkwardly.
"What...happened to your arm?"
Atobe smirked, "The bastard had the nerve to stab me. It's all right." He gestured, "Let's get back to Fuji."
"You left him?" Tezuka's tone was accusing.
"He's sixteen, he has a gun. He should be fine. He worried about you. Might I remind you that you were the one that ran off in the first place." Atobe was quick to come to his own defense. "Besides, I didn't come here to babysit."
Tezuka glared at him, "I didn't ask you to follow me around either. You're impossible, let's just go."
Atobe glared right back, except Tezuka's back was turned and he hadn't seemed to notice. "Prick."
-
The blood in Fuji's veins turned to ice, when he felt the cool blade press against his throat. There was no pain yet, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut. Waiting, Fuji decided, it was the worst part. And that was saying a lot because it seemed that he was always waiting.
"Pretty brats like you shouldn't be out so late at night." A husky voice breathed right next to his ear. "Something bad might happen, you know."
Fuji stayed still. No need to aggravate his captor any more than he absolutely had to...but he couldn't resist a small taunt, "Ojiisan, you might get arrested if you're not careful about accosting pretty brats like me."
"Oh, yeah? It seems that you don't know what kind of situation you're in." The blade pressed harder against his neck, and there was just a slight prickle of pain. "If I were you, I'd probably cry for help."
"Wouldn't matter much if he did. We got what we came for, so if we left him, it wouldn't matter."
Fuji started. His eyes betrayed him, for a moment, he was hopeful. Atobe, Tezuka.
But in their gazes, Fuji detected nothing at all. Tezuka withdrew a thin case from his pocket, "I suppose you want this in exchange for the boy."
Boy. As if he wasn't even a person to begin with. Fuji's face flushed darkly despite himself. But he held still. Tezuka wasn't that kind of person, Tezuka wouldn't just leave him, if it was Atobe with the disk, that that was an entirely different story but...Tezuka wouldn't.
"You catch on quick. Give it here."
"No. I'm assuming that you want this—" Tezuka held up the case, "--more than I want the boy. So it's only fair that you listen to my conditions. First, you'll put the knife down. You may keep your hold on him, but put the knife down."
"I can't trust you!" Fuji's captor spat near his ear, and he winced.
"No, you can't. Knife down. Or I leave."
Fuji kept his eyes squeezed shut. His throat was suddenly constricted, as the man threw a heavy arm around his neck. He couldn't breathe. But at least he heard the clink of the knife dropping. He didn't know what to feel. Relief? More panic?
But at least, Tezuka seemed to know what he was doing. That, at least, was promising.
"Give me the disk."
Tezuka held it out. "Walk five steps." He said calmly.
"Walk, kid."
Fuji walked. One. Two. Thr--
A nauseating pain shot through the back of his head without warning, and Fuji collapsed.
-
When Fuji came to, his head was still pounding, and his vision was blurry. He stared up into a hazy outline of Atobe's face. "...Oniisan." And he tried to move his neck and winced. "Did we win?"
"Of course we won." Atobe said.
Fuji smiled, "That's good. Where am I?"
"My place."
"Oh." Atobe's place. It looked nothing like Fuji's own cicada infested apartment. There were nice classical paintings on the walls, and the living room smelled warmly of vanilla and cinnamon. And it was clean, the couch was very comfortable. Fuji closed his eyes again. "Where is Tezuka-san?"
"He's washing up in the shower." Atobe told him, "Don't move around so much, okay? You might start bleeding again and Tezuka will yell at me."
That wasn't surprising. What was, however, was the fact that Atobe consented to being yelled at by someone like Tezuka. If he wasn't in so much pain, he would have laughed. Fuji shifted, slightly, "...What...happened?"
"I knocked him out from the back, but I guess the impact hit you too...I didn't mean to hit him that hard." Atobe gestured casually with his good hand. Looking at his good hand eventually led Fuji to examine Atobe's bad arm. It was wrapped up completely with clean linen. And then he started, as if remembering something, Fuji was still wearing Tezuka's coat.
He got out the gun.
"I don't want this, oniisan. Please take it back."
"Why?" Atobe looked at him, "You're helpless without it." Fuji was also pretty much helpless with the gun in his possession. But it seemed a bit cruel to break the bad news to the kid all at once.
"I don't want to know that I have the power to shoot and...kill people just like this." Fuji said, "I don't."
But Atobe merely took the gun, and laid it on the coffee table. He stood up, "Get some sleep. You must be tired."