A peal of laughter from one of the backrooms caused Yamazaki's heart to nearly fall out of his ass. That was distinctly Rock's voice but tonal, loud, and shrill. It sounded all wrong. Like someone else had taken over his body. Something had happened. And sure enough, there he sat with three other people, one of whom Yamazaki immediately recognized.

"Oh, hello," the vocal cords to White's gross existence said and Yamazaki wished he still had the gun so he could shoot the slimy fucker dead. Out of all the criminals he knew, White was by far the most annoying and the most menacing for those mind control techniques. He had been unable to subject Yamazaki and thank the god that probably didn't exist for that. Rock on the other hand…

"Yamazaki, where the hell have you been?" he waved like a child. The kid looked absolutely awful. "Come and have fun with us! You should stay."

Not half-naked and covered in semen, alcohol, sweat, and vomit, granted but still terrible; dilated pupils and bloody nostrils mixed with a coat of white powder on his philtrum. His eyes were redder and his cheeks damp as if he'd been crying but he was smiling like a madman. Considering what he had been dealing with, it wasn't a shock. This however was a really bad fucking scenario that could only break the unlucky wolf even further.

Without a word, Yamazaki entered the room and grabbed Rock by the arm, forcing him to stand up. He wobbled a bit and giggled, waving goodbye to White and his two mind-controlled whores. Yamazaki continued to drag him out of the club; he had gotten what he came for so there was no loss over having to leave early although he'd like to have a drink or two afterwards.

Fuck it, didn't matter anyway. There were bigger, more pressing issues to take care of.

Outside, the air was cool and crisp, a nice reprieve from the constant giggling and endless stream of word salads that flew from Rock's impure cocaine-addled brain to his mouth with no filter. Gibberish about his mom, Terry, their mutual friends, people called Jenet and Hotaru. Happier memories – apparently. Rock was usually a mellow, reserved person. Probably a little less when he wasn't on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Easy company; Yamazaki wasn't into the peppy, happy-go-lucky types like Terry. But when coked out of his mind, Rock's presence was unbearable. Slightly absurd when he rambled about the time, he met a girl with a whip and how he then asked Terry about BDSM. He just had to do it while latching onto Yamazaki's arm like a jungle vine. Their bodies were pressed together to the point where walking was bit of a struggle.

A few gurgling noses came from Rock as they stopped by the car and Yamazaki had to load his ass in the backseat before he hopped in behind the wheel. The plan had been to dump the kid at the self-righteous loser's abode after this but the poor man would get a heart attack if he saw Rock all fucked up on his doorstep. Yet given what was waiting for him after the drug high, going back to the safehouse wasn't an option either.

Rock needed people, he even said so himself. Someone needed to pull him from the descent once the downer period came. Fine, whatever, Yamazaki thought and ignited the engine. He'd pay Kim a little visit anyway. It occurred to him that there'd immediately be another battle waiting for them; the battle of explaining things to Kim while preventing a disoriented Rock from falling flat on his face or something.

Time passed in a blur as he sped off and drove down the streets of the city again with an air of urgency. Kim happened to live in National Park so it was a relatively easy ride to his residence, especially with the obnoxious sign at the top of its closed gate.

Hopping out of the car, Yamazaki circled the vehicle to fetch the slurring Rock and maneuvered him around until he could wrap an arm around his waist and drag him to the gate and kick at it. Either the hinges had to give out or the ruckus would awaken Kim from his slumber.

Eventually, there was a spill of light from the other side of the gate and a click moved it open. Kim Kaphwan in the flesh stood in the opening, looking like he had just woken up. His face was situated in a deep scowl before the situation dawned upon him.

"Rock?!" his eyes stretched wide when he recognized the head of blonde hair occasionally twitching with garbled words spilling out – only for his evil sensor to go off. He snapped his stare to Yamazaki with indignation and a little bit of curiosity. "Did you come to be rehabilitated of your evil?"

Yamazaki wasn't sure if Kim was as dense as he looked or if he was being negligent in his pursuit of justice or whatever the hell. For a moment, it made him forget about the pretty little blonde in his arms so he could focus his energy on cussing out the creep with a hero complex.

"Did you get dropped on your head as a child? The fuck do you think I'm doing here?" Yamazaki bit back to watch Kim squirm. Part truth, part being an asshole. Both felt incredibly good.

"Uh-" Kim tried and failed to come up with an adequate response that didn't contain the word justice. Suppose insults were not his strong suit.

As fun as it would be to verbally tear him to shreds, it was also the middle of the night and very late autumn so Yamazaki cut right to the chase, lightly shaking Rock about to make a point. "Look, fella. Spare me the riot act and help me help him."

"Uh-huh. right," Kim deadpanned and moved aside to let the pair inside. The residence consisted of three buildings; a dojang, another building that was probably private housing, and a smaller one that looked like a cottage. He made a beeline to the cottage thing, unlocking the door with a key from his pocket.

When they stood in the doorway, Rock gurgled again, confusion and what else shining in his unfocused gaze. "Should I puke?"

"Not unless you can puke up your entire bloodstream," Yamazaki answered and got a goofy giggle in return. It wasn't even that funny.

Kim froze and stared at them wild-eyed, at this esoteric exchange confusing and concerning him. Time moved again and he began to putter around while he strung together a response that didn't belie his inadequacies. He flicked on a light on and ordered Rock to lay on the bed there. An honest-to-God bed and not a mattress dumped on the floor.

"I'll ask what happened in the morning. Get some rest," he said instead.

Yamazaki simply nodded while he poured Rock onto the bed, watching the kid lay there still tripping in and out of his mind, staring into the ceiling. Rock's red eyes now looked black with how diluted their pupils were, but he had thankfully stopped gurgling. It seemed he had gotten accustomed to the drugs in his system. From the club to here, there was half an hour driving.

The gun sale took half an hour because the gangbangers talked about arranging a shipment of more weapons in the future. All in all, Rock must have taken the drugs an hour ago which meant they should wear off after half a day. Maybe. If memory served right, there were four or five lines of coke being snorted. Trash like that hit harder than injections — especially pure cocaine as opposed to crack off the streets.

Oh great, this was going to be a very long night, huh?

"…I think we should call an ambulance," it came from Kim who was still lingering about like an irritating moth.

"He's junked up, not gunned down. He'll be fine after the high dies," Yamazaki took off his coat and tried to wring Rock's jacket off. "Might want to get a bucket if you don't want this entire place to smell like death and ass in the morning."

"Drugs?! Rock would never-" Kim huffed, then sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and vanished from the room for a while, then returned with a bucket and put it by the side of the bed. "I'll take it with you tomorrow. Please make sure he's alive by sunrise."

"I just said-"

"I know what you said. And I'll stick by what I said," Kim interjected and left for the night, thank god.

Yamazaki had gained the amazing and not entirely useless ability to go for three days without rest. He also happened to be a light sleeper; he needed those skills to avoid enemies and nosy cops. Now, he found out he needed those skills to look out for Rock and the gibberish that came from him through the night. He slept in the common room on some pillows snatched from the bed and now tossed across the floor. Quietly, he stood up and flung the door open to a bizarre scene. On the floor, he saw Rock flailing his arms about and singing garbled songs.

Yamazaki groaned and went searching for a switch, turning on the light. The sudden glare did nothing to deter this burst of energy. What in the accursed name of Hotei's asshole was in that cocaine? Considering it had been made by White, the answer must have been trace amounts of every single drug in existence for extra effect. Everyone reacted subtly differently to the influence of cocaine. No one acted like Rock. Whatever he had been snorting, it wasn't just cocaine.

When he spotted the older man, he waved him over. Annoyed at the very sight and the ruckus the kid was making, Yamazaki stormed over to him, ignoring his flailing arms, and grabbed him by the shoulders to pull him to his feet. He was thankfully rather light so dragging him to bed wasn't much of an issue. That way, an eye could be kept on him. In this state, Rock's body was warmer than what was healthy, and his clothes were somewhat damp from sweat.

Once back in bed, Rock opened his mouth. A tidal wave of slurred nonsense and gibberish came from him between feverish giggling as Yamazaki tried to lay him down on the mattress and get his clothes off when they weren't amid needles wrestling. After enough flailing, Rock finally lay still and passed out like a candle getting snuffed.

And the room fell quiet.

Morning came far too quickly for any normal person to be rested. Yamazaki fluttered his eyes open, trying to discern where he was for a minute. It had been one of those nights, the ones where he wasn't in a good mood when he fell asleep and had fucking dreams without remembering them. Nightmares so vivid, it knocked his sense of reality out for a while.

He breathed in deeply, breathed in the smell of cleaning product and unfamiliarity, and remembered that he was in bed with someone on someone else's property. Slowly, he turned his head and stared right into the dazed, confused gaze of Rock, now awake and quiet. Mostly sober.

For a while as the silence stretched, neither spoke a word. Maybe someone should actually say something but what would that be? Nothing it was, so Yamazaki sat up and was about to roll out of bed when a hand wrapped its fingers around his wrist, new scratch lines and all. He looked down and saw Rock staring at him, wet-eyed with his brow scrunched up in melancholy.

Fuck. Already off to a wonderful start, huh?

Suppose most people would never rid themselves of their humanity. Not even Yamazaki. He was not and never would be a sentimentalist. But he couldn't quite bring himself to just ignore the plea if he was also going to keep the kid under his thumb. It was sometimes terrifying how far even a slither of solidarity could morph you into a whole host of unspeakable forms that made you do good things – even for selfish reasons.

Yamazaki had never thought about the fact that he still had some humanity in him. Not until he allowed himself to lower his guard and let a single wolf pup inside the dragon's den. Well, too fucking bad. The damn mutt was already making its bed in the corner. Before the end of the day, it'd probably piss on the carpet.

And now Yamazaki's humanity made him stay on the bed, although he did shift until he sat with his back against the wall. No amount of keeping watch on lost boys could ever mitigate a lifetime of crime but he didn't care much about hell anyway. The road to damnation had already been paved. Still, he asked; "What happened?"

"He brainwashed me," Rock answered into the depths of his blanket.

"Yeah, White does that. Fuck me, had no idea he'd be there."

"…I told him everything," Rock uttered. He shrunk into the sheets. "Things I don't want to talk about. I-I feel like I've lost my mind."

Not much of a shock that the experience of having his entire brain strung through a truth serum under the watchful eye of a sadist with a microscope was far more upsetting than being forced to snort drugs. It made Yamazaki hate White a little more.

"It should be fine as long as you never see him again. Think it'll be the last time I take you to a place like that."

Silence came once again but his wrist was still clung onto. Rock tensed up and tightened his grip. "Are you abandoning me because I'm disgusting, and everyone knows?"

A bad habit almost compelled Yamazaki to curse at the kid for the constant self-depreciation treated so seriously instead of as a joke. That was another bullet point on the to-do list, which was getting pretty long all things considered. Too early to review it again and Yamazaki wasn't geared for that kind of brain dump in the morning. He was still fucking recovering from his heart beginning to grow back out at a rapid rate.

"Not unless you want me to. I'll come and go if the asshole in charge lets me. If he says no, fuck 'im, I'll come anyway," he answered at last as he slid down to lay on the bed again.

And he turned to face Rock and watched those vibrantly scarlet eyes flicker back up at him. Still wet, still desperate. Not crying anymore though. Still so very sad. Rock sat upright, came out of his cocoon of blankets, and reached out his trembling hands to touch Yamazaki's face, tracing his jawline in a way that was too anatomical to be affectionate. His hands were warm like the color of his blotchy cheeks. It was over in the blink of an eye.

This type of touching was…new. Not unfamiliar aside from who was on the other side. Different. Soft. hesitant. Gentle. Dangerous. Toxic. This would spell the beginning of the end for Ryuji Yamazaki's heartlessness. Well, maybe he never truly was sociopathic, just delightfully and unashamedly violent. Helped stop feelings and shit.

Until now apparently.

When he was done fighting against his habitual reactionary aggression, he'd have to catalog whatever the fuck this was. So far it was not horrible until he felt teardrops on his face. Hot and salty. Not really worth getting uncomfortable with. Good thing he didn't discriminate between eating pussy and sucking dick, though women were easier to have as bedwarmers.

But this wasn't it, was it?

"I'm sorry I'm awful and dirty and worthless…I deserve the worst…" Rock deadpanned and slowly pulled his hands back again, gaze tired yet intense like he was in a trance, spewing such mindless lip service; possibly a sign of the downer period at play.

So it wasn't a sign of attraction earlier. A plea for…something or another to feel tethered to life again.

Yamazaki sighed deeply through his nose. "Where the hell did that come from? White? He can eat shit and die. Kain? He can get hit by a bus. Kain's pet horse? Literally who?"

"Grant," was the reminder.

"Yeah, he's welcome to exit stage left, followed by a bear and Geese Howard?"

Rock flinched.

"…He abandoned my mother so he can fuck off too."

Sounded about right and maybe not about Geese. The man was ruthless in his ambitions so killing men as well as women didn't make him hesitate once so long as they stood in his way. But he always had an explanation for why a life had to be taken. And shit unfortunately tended to make sense. Threat this, enemy that. Message whatever. Always with a reason or a backstory or something attached. Never just because. Given Kain was Rock's uncle, there was probably a big, fat juicy story behind this as well. And well, it made another thing obviously clear.

"Heh, that's kinda funny because you look a hell of a lot like 'im," Yamazaki mused and saw active anger turn a pair of scarlet eyes blood red.

"…I am related to him in blood, yes. Calling him a father would be an insult to fathers everywhere. He's nothing to me," Rock elaborated, bitterness edged into his every word. He wiped his eyes dry and looked a little less bloodthirsty, that earlier fury dissipating. "I feel like crying constantly. I bet you're sick of it."

Moreso pleased at the suspicion being proven right. Made sense why they looked so similar but quite different from Kain. Things were gonna get very awkward if Geese Howard ever had a need for mercenaries again.

Yamazaki sat up and half-heartedly waved him over. "It's the aftereffects of the drugs. It'll take a bit before it passes so get your ass over here already. You already fuckin' came onto me so might as well cry on me some more, kid."

He wasn't sentimental. The fact that he made that offer was a bit disconcerting, even if he dressed it up as a necessary chore when it was really a challenge for himself. Separating him and Sorimachi was that inability to comfortably and outwardly connect with the human condition called empathy.

It was his hamartia or whatever the fuck Hon Fu had called it during their latest encounter. He had then said something along the lines of a fault confessed was half redressed to entice Yamazaki to the prestigious luxury of police custody and fixing said fatal flaw. Where was that idiot anyway? Oh, whatever, if Yamazaki was to confess all his bullshit, he'd be doing nothing else all day. It didn't matter anyway. He got jobs, he got money, he got things to do.

His extensive and hypothetical list of flaws was thrown into the ether when he felt Rock's fingers brush against his chest with the thin layer of a black t-shirt blocking full skin-on-skin contact. Hesitant, slow gestures that evolved into the form of two arms wrapping around his ribcage, accompanied by a head resting on his shoulder.

And they sat there for a bit.

Fuck. The kid was a bundle of warmth, and his occasional shaking got a lot more pronounced once he seemed to notice the older man's exterior shift. He radiated something quite different than the corruption, he liked to mention. Much more potent, much stronger. He felt so weak to the touch, that it was almost unbearable. All it took was a shuddering sigh and that part of Yamazaki's brain with the vestiges of humanity got hotwired, spitting out a demand he wasn't sure he had any room to make.

"Try not to scratch yourself bloody again. Got it?" The hold on him tightened at the command and he felt Rock quietly nod into his shoulder.

His breath hitched. Oh shit.

No, he didn't care much about the kid beyond an underling. Not much. Not yet. Maybe not.

Maybe a little.