The morning of Takumi's third day with the Yakuza was largely uneventful.
He and Kai had been given time to recuperate from their driving on the first night, and they'd spent most of yesterday sleeping or staring at the ceiling, sometimes chatting but mostly bored out of their minds.
Takumi found himself laying on his bed, alternating between staring up at the ceiling and nibbling on a piece of cheese he'd managed to snag from the kitchen.
"So Tak- where did you race?" Kai spoke up from where he was sprawled on his own bed, picking at a thread in the bedsheets idly.
"Hmm?" Takumi looked up, surprised. He and Kai hadn't spoke about driving since they'd been forced to be get-away drivers two days ago.
"You're obviously a streetracer. Maybe you're even as good as me." Kai said simply, looking over at Takumi calmly.
"Oh. Akina. I drive on Akina." Takumi admitted. "I'm from Gunma."
"I drive Irohazaka, mostly. I'm from Tochigi." Kai admitted.
Takumi nodded, trying to take note of the information- since they were still being held captive, it appeared he'd be spending a lot of quality time with Kai, hiding in their room. It;d be best to at least get to know his roomate.
"So- how long have you been racing?" Kai asked, eyes lighting up with a spark of curiosity. He was starting to wonder if the boy across the room was worthy competition….
The door of the room swung open, and Saiko-komon stood in the doorway, a skinny, sinister figure. "Come." Was all he growled, before he was striding into the hallway, not waiting to see if the boys followed.
Kai and Takumi exchanged hesitant glances before they were hurrying to their feet, not wanting to be punished for disobedience.
Takumi jogged to catch up with Saiko-komon, falling into step behind the man, and Kai trotted alongside him.
"Any idea what this is about?" Kai whispered.
Takumi shook his head rapidly, tongue darting out to moisten his dry lips anxiously.
They were led into the yard- on two rusted steel drums sat a pyramid of beer cans. A slight breeze whistled through the grass, tickling the senses and tussling Takumi's hair. The teen quickly reached up to brush his bangs from his eyes, taking in the scene before him with some trepidation. He realized it'd been awhile since he'd been outside, and he tried to take in as much of it as he could….
Kumicho sat on a nearby chair, arms crossed, watching them ghoulishly.
Saiko-komon pulled a pistol from his waistband, extending it to Takumi, barrel first.
"Shoot it."
"Eh?" Takumi blinked, looking as though he wasn't sure he'd heard him right.
"You heard me. Take it." Saiko-komon ordered, brows furrowing, thrusting the pistol in his hand forward.
Takumi hesitantly stopped forward, fingers closing around the barrel of the pistol hesitantly. As he did so, Saiko-komon stepped in so he was right beside Takumi, warm breath tickling Takumi's ear.
"If you try to use this gun against me, I will eviscerate you and Kumicho will kill you where you stand." He whispered happily, his wolfish smile never leaving his face and the bloodlust glinting in his beady eyes like the sunlight on the metal of the gun.
"I understand, Saiko-komon." Takumi managed to keep his voice level, and he quietly took the gun, holding it awkwardly in both hands.
Saiko-komon nodded to Takumi. "Shoot those cans." He ordered.
Takumi blinked, nodding, before he was fumbling, pointing the gun at the cans, staring down the barrel before hesitsantly pulling the trigger….
Crack!
The recoil sent Takumi's bodyh backwards, and he dropped the gun, surprised, falling onto his ass and blinking, making a grunt of surprise….
Saiko-komon laughed. "Pathetic. But you'll learn. Come on, stand up-" Saiko-komon dragged Takumi to his feet by the upper arm, thrusting the pistol back into his hand.
"Shoot it again. Here- you'll need to cock it again, and aim better… you missed the cans entirely.
"It's loud…." Takumi blinked, surprised.
Saiko-komon grinned. "Yeah, it is. Get used to it. Don't lock your elbows, the recoil will hurt your arms prepare yourself. Focus."
Takumi nodded, raising the gun again and taking a deep breath, before he steeled himself for what was to come, pulling the trigger….
The bullet pinged through the rusted oil drum- the beer cans remained untouched.
Saiko-komon smiled slightly. "Not bad. Maybe we'll make something out of you yet, kid."
Takumi felt relief wash over him. He'd pleased his superiors- he didn't have to fear retribution for failure, now….
The gun was taken from his hands, and Takumi blinked, stepping back, watching as Kai was handed the gun and instructed on how to use it.
Kai was struggling- his hands shook, and sweat beaded on his brow. He didn't manage to get anywhere near his target, but he stayed on his feet when he fired off his rounds. Still, Saiko-komon frowned before he took the gun back, waving the boys away from him. "Enough, both of you. Back inside."
Kai looked decidedly pale and shaky as they strode back into their rooms.
"I can't believe this. Shooting guns…." He muttered. Takumi nodded grimly. While target practice didn't bother him, it was unnerving that he was Kai were partaking in yet another illegal activity.
Takumi nodded, looking troubled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, trooping up into his room and falling onto his bed, wrinkling the sheets even further, trying to figure out how to get his mind off everything.
Kai let out a shaky breath. "I want to race you, Tak." He said calmly. "When we get out of here- you'll owe me a race."
"Alright." Takumi nodded slightly, offering Kai a wane smile before rolling over, wrapping himself in the sheets and trying to get some sleep. How long had he been here again? Two… no, three days since he'd been taken, now- this was the very end of the third day.
Takumi felt a hollow ache in his chest as he thought of his father- how was his old man taking his absence?
While Takumi would never admit it himself- he ached for home, for the familiar company of his father, and the familiar security of his own bed.
I hope you're doing alright, Dad. You can probably run the shop without me. I'll be home soon, anyways. Probably.
It was nearly 4am when Keisuke strode back into the Takahashi residence, smelling of stale smoke and cheap booze.
"Keisuke?" Ryosuke asked, concerned.
"I'm not drunk, Aniki. I got a little beer spilled on my coat." Keisuke said calmly, peeling off his coat with enough coordination to convince Ryosuke he was telling the truth. Still, he glanced quickly at his brother's knuckles, finding the skin unmarred, revealing he hadn't been in any fights.
"So- did you discover anything?"
"Nothing about Fujiwara or Kogashiwa. My old friends are in an uproar- apparently there was a break among a major branch. One of the sons declared himself independent from their leader- struck out on his own, declared himself Kumicho. Took a bunch of lesser members with him, as well." Keisuke said with a sigh.
Ryosuke raised his eyebrows. "That's quite the coup." He knew enough about the structure of the gangs from what Keisuke had told him when he was younger. "But it does little to help us find out Fujiwara's whereabouts."
"I know- unfortunately, there are still some resident hostilities- some groups are still hostile, and if anyone seeing the offshoots, they have orders to fire. So any news of Fujiwara will likely be drowned out by the uproar over this, for now."
Ryosuke sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. It appears we've hit a dead end." He stood, heading for the stairs.
"Aniki? Where are you going?" Keisuke asked, confused. "You can't be giving up."
Ryosuke stopped mid-way up the stairs, hand on the railing, and turned, giving his brother a tired look. "I'm not giving up, Keisuke. I'm going to get some sleep. I have clinical in four hours, and I suggest you get some sleep, as well. We'll continue our investigation tomorrow night." Was all the dark-haired brother said, before he turned, finishing his rather slow climb of the stairs and disappearing down the hallway.
Keisuke sighed, frustrated they hadn't been able to get anywhere.
He strode into the living room- he was far too awake to sleep, and he threw himself on the couch, turning on the TV and watching nothing in particular, letting the voices be a dull background noise that dragged him closer to sleep.
Damn it, Fujiwara. He thought sleepily. Wherever you are- you'd better be alright. You owe me a rematch, after all. Were his last thoughts, before the dull oblivion of sleep pulled him under.
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