Disclaimer: Kazuya Minekura owns Wild Adapter. I do not.
Warnings: Language, violence.
Note: I think I may have managed to develop a plot. If I didn't then I apologize. There's a damned good reason why I normally stick to one-shots. Please review or PM me and let me know what you like, what you don't, or just send me suggestions for the plot. I suck at this.
Beretta 3
brkstrtrcr
June 2009
Morning comes with a rush of disorientation and mild panic as you open tired eyes to find walls the wrong color and Tokitoh's warmth missing.
It takes a moment for you to squint through the hazy light filtering in from the barred and curtained window above your makeshift bunk and remember that this is not your apartment. You fumble blindly for your glasses on the wooden floor beside the mattress and shove them up the bridge of your nose to scan the tiny room for your cat, but you and your Glock are alone.
The rickety, narrow stairs groan in protest to the speed with which you descend them, skipping the last three to fall into a crouch at their base and your loaded gun precedes you out of the cluttered back room of the Toukohan and into the main shop. Kou arches an elegant eyebrow at you before you swivel to scan the storefront and your sights land on Tokitoh.
He's sitting cross-legged on the small couch in the lobby of the shop, hunched down over... something. You lower the barrel of your weapon and slip it into the waistband of your jeans at the small of your back. You hate yourself for the sense of relief that floods your mind as you turn away from your roommate and approach your employer.
The blinds are all drawn on the storefront's windows today, and you know that he's closed. The Toukohan normally stays open well past the hour of night when respectable citizens are at home with their families, but today it will not deal in drugs and weapons and information. It actually brings a wry smile to your lips that Kou would rather lose business than risk your safety.
"Good morning," he smiles, but there is no mirth in his voice. It's the cold, hard edge of your favorite serrated boot knife. You sit down across the counter from him.
"Had any visitors, today?" you ask casually, but the dangerous flash in your eyes speaks volumes to him. You knew damned well that Sanada would look for you here, because it wouldn't have been the first time that he went through your Chinese friend to get to you.
"No visitors," he sighs. "But I did receive a gift."
Your own eyebrow arches and you watch him reach under the counter. He places a cell phone on the glass case beside your elbow and slides it over to you. It's small, compact, and lightweight--the sort of device you normally avoid because of the hazards associated with your job. When you open it your name is printed across the top of the digital screen and a picture of a cat adorns the background.
A picture of a very dead cat.
Your insides churn like meat through a grinder as you open the phone's contact list and find a single entry with your former boss' name, and something ignites in your chest, explodes in your mind. Tokitoh almost died last night, struck down by a well-aimed bullet meant for you, for Komiya, for any of the other disposable and faceless ghosts that haunt the streets of Yokohama after dusk. You deserve to die with your guts splattered across cold, dirty asphalt under an impersonal grey sky; Tokitoh shouldn't have to die that way.
It infuriates you beyond measure and sense, and you turn from Kou and the counter and rational thought and slam the phone down against the wooden floor beneath your bare feet while choking back an enraged curse. Tokitoh jumps at the unexpected noise and whips around, staring over the back of the couch at you, and for a long moment all that you can hear is your elevated heartbeat, your ragged breathing, and all that you can see are his beautiful violet eyes.
The tangled emotions warring with your intellectual mind make you want to break bone, to burn buildings to their foundations, to murder indiscriminately. You think in that brief moment that you could kill Sanada with your bare hands and you still wouldn't feel satisfied. Torture and terror aren't good enough anymore, and maybe the only thing that could do justice to the living hell that he's made your lives into would be to beat, rape, and murder his loved ones in front of him.
But Sanada doesn't love anyone other than himself. He doesn't understand how much it hurts, the tricks it plays on your otherwise logical thoughts, the monster you've become because of it. You're at your most lethal and dangerous where that damned cat is concerned, and Sanada won't be content until he kills it.
You know deep in your heart, in places that you normally ignore with all of your will, that if Tokitoh died tonight you would kill every Izumo in this wretched city and then yourself. This has become a mutually-assured destruction, this little dance between you and Sanada. And you doubt that he's realized just how deadly this game has gotten.
"Kubo-chan?"
His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, and you raise your hazel eyes from the metal and plastic at your feet to his face and wonder why the fuck you picked this kid up and brought him home and fell in love with him, with his contagious smile and stupid laugh and razor-sharp claws. Why does your stomach knot when he breathes your name? Why do you feel so content when you sit beside him in front of the TV and run your fingers through his hair? Why does it become exponentially easier to pull the trigger when you're threatened with losing him?
"I need to call Kasai," you tell no one in particular and take a deep, shaking breath to calm yourself. You head into the back room to find Kou's store phone. The only way to survive this--all of you--is for you to remain calm and rational and--
Your train of thought derails and crashes in a fiery burst of what-the-fuck as Tokitoh's scrawny form collides with yours and shoves you unceremoniously into the wall, pinning you with hands on either side of your head and bruising pressure against your lips.
And you can't formulate a plan of attack when he's touching you. He sneaks up on you constantly, and you're fairly certain that he isn't stealthy on purpose considering how accident-prone he can be. You don't protest as he forces your head back against the wall and takes your hips hard enough to leave bruises and presses you together from your locked lips to your buckling knees.
It isn't desperation fueling his almost violent claiming of you. It's something stronger, something that tastes like reckless confidence in your mouth, feels like alpha dominance against your hips, sounds like the last of your resolve crumbling as he mutters into your ear, "It isn't me that he wants, is it?" But it isn't a question. He's showing you that he understands what's been happening for the last few weeks a hell of a lot better than you first assumed, and at the same time Tokitoh is telling you where he stands on the matter. You belong to your cat, always have, and he'll fight spitting and hissing, claws extended and fangs barred to maintain his sovereignty over you.
At the end of the day you never had control over your life once you took him in. And if you swallow your pride and get really dirty and honest with yourself then you lost your free will in this lifetime the day that Ark Royals gained a new meaning to you, mutated from cigarette brand to subtle, deceptive mortality. The Yakuza, Komiya, Sanada, Tokitoh control your life like the moon dictates the tides, and what you do now doesn't matter. What matters is that you do it.
It's a fatalistic approach to a life for which you never asked, but you don't pretend to know how it's going to play out. You know that you'll fight the good fight, shed your criminal skin and step into the role of defender, protector, but the fierce creature pinning you against this wall never really needed your knight-in-shining-armor ass to begin with, did he? Tokitoh just needed someone to show him how to use those angry kitten claws and point him in the right direction. That knowledge doesn't make this surrender to the inevitable--to your guts strewn across the sidewalk and your heart laying in pieces at his feet--any easier.
Your hands find his shoulders, thin and sharp, and you push him away. The flash of bruised ego in his eyes isn't lost on you but it isn't as important as the way his nails dig into the well-worn denim covering your hips. He smiles at you in a sad, wry kind of way that you aren't accustomed to seeing on his handsome face and shoves you bodily against the wall. You shoulders hit the wood paneling with a loud thud and he rests his forehead against yours. "Mine," he hisses softly, biting into your lower lip.
You've never seen this side of him before, but then again he's never killed anyone before; the only constant in your life, besides Sanada's relentless pursuit, is change, and that means that the comfortable undefined relationship that you two have shared up until now has shifted. Tokitoh is growing up. The thought brings a mirthless smile to your lips.
"What's funny?" he asks quietly. His lips are inches from yours but you resist the urge to close that distance.
"Who's the pervert now?" you chuckle, and the automatic blush that tints his face a creative shade of red widens your grin. He rolls his eyes and shoves away from you and mutters 'Stupid Kubo-chan' under his breath before circling around to glare at you.
From the main room of the store you hear Kou rummaging through boxes. Tokitoh leans against the table opposite you, folds his arms over his narrow chest, and sighs. "So what's the plan?" You shake your head and gaze back at him.
"I'm out. Any suggestions?"
"Yeah, you two are leaving the country if you know what's good for you."
Tokitoh's hand is reaching to the small of his back as fast as your own, but you recognize Kasai's prematurely grey hair and face before either gun is aimed in his general direction. You reach out and take your partner's wrist carefully, pushing him back and away. Your uncle shakes his head in exasperation and leans against the doorway, lit cigarette hanging from his frowning mouth, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow before turning to Tokitoh. "You okay, Toki-boy?"
Your cat nods and stuffs the Beretta back into his belt before running a hand through his hair. You note with mild concern that his hands are shaking. Kasai's tired grey eyes pivot to you and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. After the little falling out that you two had in this very room three days ago--your jaw is still fucking sore from that right hook--you're positive that he knows about the oil tanker and the dozens of corpses you made there. You don't feel an ounce of regret.
"Makoto, you guys are in some deep shit. I got called to your apartment an hour ago to identify a body." You nod and ignore the wide eyes that Tokitoh turns on you. As a former Yakuza you expected this. Sanada probably had his men ransack your place for any shred of information they could find before torching the place. As far as the body...? "Someone must have noticed them breaking in and shot him, because the stiff we found isn't Yakuza. He's one of your neighbors. These bastards really don't care about staying under the radar anymore."
Kou has drifted quietly to stand behind Kasai and you're glad that he's listening. These three people are the only ones breathing in Yokohama that you trust, and you know damned well that it will take your combined efforts to come up with a plan of action here. "You need to get the hell out of here while they're still scrambling to find you," your uncle stresses.
You chuckle darkly. "They already know where we are."
"Sanada sent a package here for Kubota-kun this morning," Kou confirms.
Kasai sighs and rubs his temples wearily. "Should I even ask what it was?"
You glance sideways at Tokitoh before responding. "A joke in poor taste."
No one asks you to clarify that cryptic statement, and that's probably just as well. "What can I do to help?" your uncle asks. He's never openly offered his assistance before. It helps to put your plight into perspective for you.
You understand several things in that moment of awkward silence. First, there really isn't a damned thing that a police inspector can do, now. You don't want to involve him anyway. Second, leaving the city, or even the country, won't change your situation. As sure as you are that Tokitoh would follow you to hell and back you know that Sanada has virtually inexhaustible resources and a possessive streak to match your cat's, however misguided. He'll track you down and bring you back, and you've never left Yokohama. Shadowy and decrepit it may be, but this city is your playground.
You cannot wipe out the entire Izumo, as tempting a prospect as that might seem. You cannot hide out in the tiny attic over Kou's shop indefinitely either. Sanada will come for you eventually, Triads be damned. So your only remaining viable options are to hand Tokitoh over or sacrifice yourself the way that Komiya did for his mother. Rejoin the Yakuza to protect Tokitoh.
You smile grimly at your uncle. "Arrest Tokitoh."
Kasai looks at you like you've announced your intentions to join the Catholic priesthood. Beside you your cat looks mutinous. "Makoto, have you lost your fucking mind?"
Kou smiles silently in understanding. He's followed your train of thought precisely. He always does. "It's the only way to keep him safe," he says quietly. "The Yakuza will come here when they grow impatient of waiting for Kubota-kun to leave, but they aren't stupid enough to break into a police station."
Your uncle glares at you incredulously. "And while I've got Toki-boy under lock and key what are you going to do? Skip town?" He rubs his palm over his eyes and fumes. "I'm a detective, not a babysitter."
"I don't need a fucking babysitter! Kubo-chan, what the hell are you planning?!" Tokitoh rounds on you angrily and hits you hard in the chest with his good hand. "I've been through hell the last three days and you're shipping me off to jail?!"
You wrench Tokitoh's arms behind his back and drop him bodily to the floor, ignoring his swearing and rather graphic threats and turn to Kasai. "He just committed misdemeanor assault in your presence. Arrest him."
Kasai stares at you incredulously, his brain processing this new line of reasoning. This is the favor you've never asked of him, and now it really fucking matters. If ever he had a chance to atone for not being the best parental figure, it would be now. You don't look away from him; you need him to understand just how god damned important this is. Tokitoh has to be protected, because behind his loud mouth and cocky attitude and claws and fangs, Sanada would break him without hesitation.
Please, you mouth to him as Tokitoh thrashes under you on the floor, testing the limits of your strength, and you're so very fucking tired. This is the end of the line. If this doesn't work...
If this doesn't work then you'll kill Tokitoh yourself, because that heinous crime would be more merciful than whatever fate the Yakuza would mete out to your stray. And at the end of the day, Kasai has grown very attached to this little cat. You all have.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," he sighs, but he pulls his handcuffs from his belt and the metallic clink around both of Tokitoh's thin captive wrists sounds like hope. He hauls your roommate up and mutters at him to stop struggling because you all know those flimsy steel cuffs can't contain him.
Tokitoh's violet eyes are angry as he stares at you, his arms locked behind him and his lips set in an angry snarl that you can't bring yourself to kiss. Not here, not now. You've put him through so much just to keep air in his lungs and life in his body. Maybe he would have been better off dead, you think. Maybe.
"Be good," you smile weakly at him.
"Fuck you!"
Kasai raises his eyebrows at you over Tokitoh's shoulder and sighs. "Don't get yourself killed, Makoto," he warns. Then he's dragging your enraged cat out of the shop and to his unmarked cruiser, muttering something that sounds like 'I'm too old for this shit.' You follow him to the threshold of the Toukohan, peering through the blinds at his taillights disappearing down the street and Tokitoh frowning back at the store from the backseat.
Kou is pulling weapons from boxes when you turn away from the window. "When will you meet with him?" he asks quietly, all-business. You smile. Good old Kou.
"Tonight."
Your employer nods. "And what if he won't take you back into the Izumo?"
"He will. I heard they're recruiting a new Youth Gang because their old one was lost at sea." This witty, playful exchange is helping your mind back into the frame it will need to handle Sanada. It's been a very long time.
"And if he gives you his word that Tokitoh won't be harmed? How can you trust him?"
Your smile is dangerous and cold. "I can't." You pick up one of the new weapons on the case in front of your Chinese friend and examine it carefully. 'Sig Sauer .40 cal' shines up at you from the slide. It's lighter than your Glock, heavier than the Beretta. You slide it into your back pocket. "But at least I'll be able to keep a good eye on him."
"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?" Kou laughs. "Kubota-kun, what will you do I wonder if Sanada asks for more from you than you can give?"
Your smile widens. Take my life, you think to yourself. Take my home, my friends, my freedom. Sanada consumes everything in his path like a ravenous beast. A monster. But you have faith in your own abilities, confidence in your own ingenuity. The only other thing that he could ask for now belongs to someone else. And you're fairly certain that you would much rather Tokitoh stand vigilant guard over that aspect of yourself than let Sanada's filthy presence near it.
"I'll deal with that as it comes, I suppose," you reply after a moment. Then you sit down and begin the therapeutic process of cleaning your gun.