When Cashiers Will Carry Guns (3/3)

[danishpinkcess]

It was raining in Osaka and Ryo remembered the sun of the clearing and the warmth of the stove. He hadn't looked back when the small car had passed the gate, hobbling and spluttering; he hadn't looked at anything else than Jin on the seat next to him, Jin and the smile Ryo was so in love with. They had left early, just when daylight had started brushing the edge of the house, when it was still cold and quiet. Ryo hadn't looked back. Now Yoro was far away, and the house lost in its mountains. He doubted it was even on a map - it didn't matter. It hadn't mattered until now, so why would it change? Rain was just rain.

The car had taken them back down the valley, they had sunk progressively in the dense fog and Ryo hadn't understood where they were headed until he recognized the familiar landscapes, after five years. A brief stop at a conbini, two words exchanged with the cashier, and there, they were in Kansai. Ryo tried to mask his accent as much as he could - it wasn't shame, he reasoned. It was precaution. He didn't want anyone to recognize him.

It had started raining as they had passed the sign that told them “Kansai wished them a warm welcome”. The first drops had matched Ryo's sight almost perfectly, and the following would have too if Jin hadn't turned towards him and thrown his smile as a life buoy. It was so desperately easy to forget all that was wrong in his life when Jin smiled at him - but Ryo still didn't want to forget. It was more decent, and decency was a thing he lacked, if he thought well. Though guilt wasn't the problem, surprisingly enough. He had more or less subconsciously expected to feel- he didn't know, like he was a real bastard, towards Jin or towards someone else. It wasn't the case. That, at least, was quite reassuring. Maybe because Jin was so faraway from the memory he had of Tegoshi, Ryo could believe he was hurting neither of them.

He was a bit of an emotional mess and going to Osaka.
Sometimes, Ryo couldn't understand himself. He patted Jin's knee; they had reached the suburbs and he was struggling with the roadsigns. (“Ryo! If they say, 'no entry', does that mean I can still try a U-turn?”)
“Were are we headed?” he asked when the third policeman scolded Jin for being in the wrong way.
Jin fumbled with something in his pocket and extracted a folded piece of paper; he handed it to Ryo: “Hotel Chiba?” Now Ryo was open-minded, but having lived twenty years in Osaka, he knew that was definitely a love-hotel.
“Jin, I'm not sure if...”
Jin waved his question away: “It's only temporary, until they decide for the teams and stuff...”

He guided the car through the streets, to the cheap love hotel he remembered. (He had dragged Shige there, once, when he was in an exploratory phase and Shige in a follow-Ryo phase - nothing really happened.)

The building was still the same (blind windows and dirty paint), but the owner had changed. It was now a short man in his thirties with an awkwardly shaped faced, extravagant clothes - that probably suited the place, Ryo wasn't really an expert in that domain - and the most spacey and detached attitude Ryo had ever witness. The fact that two young men asked for a shared room in his hotel didn't seem to disturb him the slightest.

The room they got was at least clean, albeit dark and smelling of cold cigarette. Ryo unpacked their few possessions while Jin tried calling his contact, without much success: when Ryo was done, “Aiba” still hadn't picked up his phone. He sat on the nearest bed, felt the mattress and took off his shoes. He observed Jin pacing across the room (“Dammit, answer, you fucker...”) and swallowed. It was over, wasn't it? He probably wouldn't get any chance to, well. It was over. Things had changed and they weren't in Yoro anymore. Ryo should be doing something useful, like impregnating himself with the unique atmosphere of his home-town, instead of fantasizing about his future illegal-job-collaborator.

Jin listened one last time to the voice-mail, but his eyes didn't leave Ryo who had nonchalantly - he hoped - started taking off his shirt. It wasn't seduction, no. Merely making himself comfortable. He would go take a shower, and then give Jin a proper view of the Osakan hot districts, and...
Jin's thumb caressed his lower lip. Ryo opened his mouth and tasted soap and salt on his skin. Osaka would wait.

It was as intense and pleasurable as the first time and Ryo felt slightly relieved - maybe he had thought the effect would be somehow lessened out of the mountains where they were alone. But, apparently, it was Jin and him, the two of them together, that created this special thing. It surprised him, amazed him a little, how Jin was, not skilled, but able to instinctively guess what Ryo wanted and how he wanted it, and able to give it without restraints or misplaced shame. He triggered Ryo's reactions, too, easily, by being himself responsive and alive.
Ryo had the feeling that he had found a partner who was his match, on so many levels. They fucked on a precarious balance of power, with enough affection that the subtle opposition heightened their respective pleasure.

The phone rang after Jin's third cigarette, when he was placing slow and unhurried kisses on Ryo's chest. He got up with a frown and Ryo leaned back on his pillows to watch his body, so pale in the shadowy light, as he picked up the phone.
“Aiba-san, hello.”
Ryo couldn't make out the voice of the interlocutor, he was probably speaking too low.
“Oh... Well. Nice to meet you.”
Jin looked a bit surprised, but he waved a hand at Ryo.
“We'll be there. Yes?”
He covered the phone with his hand: “he wants to talk to you”. Ryo motioned for him to bring the phone and straightened his back:
“Nishikido speaking.”
The man at the other end laughed, somehow silently, and Ryo shivered a little.
“So you're Ryo, right? Nishikido Ryo.”
He had a strange, unsettling voice, and an unmistakable Kansai accent. Was he someone who knew Ryo from before and wanted to blackmail him, or whatever those people did? Ryo tightened his jaw.
“Yes. It's me.”
“Great,” said the voice. “Well, keep yourself safe, Nishikido Ryo.”
He hang up on that and Ryo stared at the phone for a long time, trying to figure out the reasons of that conversation. Jin laid back on the bed next to him and pressed his face to Ryo's belly; his nose was slightly cold and his hair soft under Ryo's finger. When he talked it tickled:
“They want to see us this afternoon at four.”
His tongue circled Ryo's bellybutton and didn't help the understanding of that information. It was a bit too good.

It was strange that outlaw meetings were held in the lobby of a great hotel, Ryo thought. Strange but it was probably meant to impress, to spread that feeling of uneasiness and danger Ryo was already sensing, tingling at his back. Everything was neat, scrupulously clean, like the nails of the waitress who welcomed them inside. Their feet made no sound on the marble floor, and the crimson carpet muffled their steps when they walked into a small salon. Two men were already waiting for them.

The first one was probably tall, had he been standing up. He had an elegant face with regular features; the well-cut, probably expensive, suit, led Ryo to think he was probably the superior of the other man: this one was tall as well, taller than Ryo in any case, but that never had been incongruous regarding roughly half of the world's masculine population. He had a slightly boyish, yet pleasant face, that contorted in an expression of utter delight when he saw them enter the room. The man jumped from his seat and flung himself in Jin's arms - Jin who laughed, unusually loud, and hugged him back.

Ryo stood aside during this disconcerting exchange. The first man smiled at him and motioned him towards the couch. Strangely enough the smile tarnished his features, but it did make him look more human, more accessible, and Ryo felt himself smile back; he bowed and introduced himself.
“I know,” the other answered. “I’m Takizawa. And the idiot here is Yamashita.”
So this was him, Jin’s best friend - he interrupted their effusions to turn towards them and exclaimed, in an oddly chanting voice: “Takki-senpai is so mean!”. He smiled at Ryo and plopped down next to him. Jin quietly sat in front of them, and Ryo noticed how his smile was more true, more vibrant, as if he had held back all that time before. But his gaze caught Ryo’s and held it, and they stared at each other for a long time; Jin finally bowed his head, very slightly - Ryo felt the corners of his mouth raise, almost despite himself.
There was a hand on his arm, and he was brought back to reality, where Yamashita was eying both Jin and him successively, as if trying to figure something out; Takizawa gave a knowing smirk when Ryo looked at him.
“So,” he said after silence had settled. “Teams.” Without leaving them the time to interrupt he went on:
“Jin, you’ll be Ueda’s partner. He’s waiting for you in the outer lobby. Ryo can work with Pi.”
The use of his first name didn’t even shock Ryo, but the realization that he wasn’t teamed up with Jin, that he probably wouldn’t see Jin every day as he had hoped? What was that?
He didn’t know. For the first time since the beginning of the entire thing, he felt lost, he felt unsure of his future. When he looked up, that was right into Jin’s eyes, and he believed what he saw there, that everything would be okay, that would remain together - as much as they could. That time he really smiled back.

Takizawa dismissed them quickly. As he did that, Ryo couldn’t help but notice all the details that made him look so clean, so polite. He would have liked to stay and ask him all the questions that were already on the tip of his tongue: why had he chosen that business, when it was obvious he was well-educated, scrupulous and neat? Why was he still in it? And, overall, Ryo would have liked to ask for support, for someone older to guide him and give him advice. It wasn’t surprising that Yamashita called Takizawa “senpai”. If Ryo had been given the opportunity, he would have done the same. He was the kind of man, with his dorky, crooked smile, whom Ryo trusted - maybe because he felt the same latent irony, behind the easy facade, as his own.

They passed through the deserted salons again, but the solemn echo of their footsteps was muffled by Yamashita’s incessant chatter. He talked about everything and nothing, wanted to know what they done and where they had gone together, had wormed his way between Ryo and Jin and clung at their arms like a child, asked if Jin had eaten properly (“Of course,” he answered. “Ryo cooked.”), and gave news of people neither of them new. Ryo felt his frustration slowly melt and he let himself believe that maybe he wouldn’t miss Jin too much if Yamashita was around.

Ueda was a short man, scrupulously polite, with pristine clean nails. He greeted Ryo with a small bow and a discrete scrutinizing glance, before promptly ignoring him by engaging Jin into a practical conversation about who was to carry the gun when they would be on a mission together. Ryo didn't feel that guilty to develop a tremendous hatred towards him. On the contrary Yamashita - “Yamapi, everyone calls me Yamapi” - was phlegmatic and exuberant, and he promised they would have fun together. All the while eying Ryo like he was Jin's special present to Yamapi, which made him feel at the same time embarrassed and very glad. He was a bit dumb, and pretty okay.

They got to stay together for the rest of the day, and by some sort of unspoken communication, Jin had understood and stayed close to Ryo, when they got out of the hotel to a nearby bar, their hands brushing now and then. Ryo was about to grab Jin’s fingers, totally out of impulse, he wanted to feel them between his, but Ueda who was walking ahead turned back and Ryo let his hand fall at his side again. He'd have to cope until they were out of that guy's sight.

Sitting, cramped next to Yamapi in a booth, Ryo understood, with painful awareness, that he would hate every second he would spend away from Jin - he was already dependent on his presence next to him, and in love with his every gesture, terribly so. He watched at Jin drank, as he talked, the movement of his lips, and desire, sour, desperate desire was starting to tingle in his fingertips - he wanted to have Jin - now - and there was something, in the way Jin's eyes met him and flickered away and came back, always, that told him he was equally wanted, something-

“Jin”, he growled, low, sensual warning, “Jin, Jin.”
It was low, that moan he heard then, low and Jin was trembling with the intensity of it. He was so beautiful, so alive, that Ryo couldn't stop trying to feel him, in every possible manner, inhaling the strong tinge, just behind the ear, or planting his teeth into the firm flesh.
Earlier he had felt so empty, so painfully sad, when Ueda had dropped: “Well, see you,” casually, like it was nothing. Ryo had thought he was never going to see Jin again and the idea had almost blinded him, made him almost cry with relief and lust when he had know it wasn't happening yet, the parting, whatever.
He had immediately pressed himself to Jin, in the small, decayed lift, had seized his face between his palms and finally kissed him, pushed his tongue between the lips he had been watching - finally - it had been possessive, dominant, more than Ryo had ever been - Jin had whimpered, folded himself against Ryo and now he was submissive, entirely surrendered to Ryo saying goodbye.
Was he sad too, Jin who had a smile so bright? He had to be, because his thighs were so tightly wrapped around Ryo's waist, and he had tears in his eyes, even when Ryo was being gentle. They were fucking, yet he had never loved someone so much. It heightened his every sense, as he moved into Jin, and triggered some kind of connection.
When Jin came, mouth slack and eyes shut close, Ryo brushed his hands all over his body, tried to imprint the sense-memory of- it, through his mind, something of the hot, shivery skin and the muscles tight underneath. He wanted to remember this. Always.

…

“Ryo-chan?” Pi called him. “Are you ready?”
Ryo jerked away from his thoughts and detached his gaze from the rain falling on the grey shapes of Nagoya.
“Yeah,” he shouted back. “I'm coming!”

Time had passed. Rather quickly, maybe. He didn't really now. His life with Yamapi was all he had and he tried to hold on that kind of things, now. He hadn't much choice. His partner was present in every moment Ryo needed him, and thinking back - which he never did - it was obvious Ryo couldn't have done half of, well, what he had done, without Pi beside him.
He didn't dream of dripping blood anymore, not since the other had told him he had done what he had to do at that time.
“I would have died, Ryo.”
And he had showed the scar on his abdomen, red and tearing at the pale flesh around.
“If you hadn't killed this guy, I would have died.”
It was simple logic, all simple logic.
So, Pi was his support. Of Jin, they never talked.
Ryo had sneaked out of the flat, one night, under the rain, and let it wet him to the bone. He had come back at dawn, with his clothes weighting tuns, and had decided to stay when Yamapi had said nothing, just held him in his arms for a long moment, like it was suddenly right to do that - and they needed each other.

It had been a long, empty winter - it came after autumn like it was supposed too, but it stayed and each day Ryo woke up, looked at the bare trees, and though Osaka was weighting on his nerves like hell - but it didn't matter. Because, he had finally some place to be. Someone to stay with, even if it was Yamapi and his weird ways. At least Ryo could eat and sleep in a warm place, and he wouldn't get kicked out of this job anytime soon, and it was enough.
Crappy novels could never imagine such a life. It was devoid of any glam, any sparkle, and there was no lit candelabras or four-pillars beds, just greyish, dusty rooms and hard mattresses - Ryo couldn't bring himself to care. There was no handsome prince charming either.

“Say,” Ryo asked. “This guy we're supposed to meet, do you know him?”
Yamapi laughed.
“Turtle? Yeah, I've met him quite a while ago. He's okay.”
Okay never meant anything with Yamapi. He said that about the guy from the ramen stand and the super yakuza big bosses Imai hanged around with.

Yamapi let his hand linger on his shoulder, pushed him lightly through the café. That Turtle guy was seated at a counter facing the window, his back turned to them. He didn't move an inch when they sat next to him. Ryo studied his profile. As always in the mob, he didn't look the slightest bit like what he really was - thin features, dyed, longish hair, plain clothes - but he had the thing. That air they all shared, and Ryo suspected he had it too himself, it was exactly that, the indefinite impression that they no place to fit in: Turtle couldn't be a student, couldn't be a rich kid, couldn't be a NEET, nothing - what was he?
“Hey,” he greeted them. “Coffee?”
“Caffe latte,” Yamapi answered. “It's nice to see you.”
“Thanks,” the guy answered. His voice was strange as well, slightly creaky - not really charming. When he talked his mouth barely moved, and his lips were thin, curled downwards.
They waited for the drinks to arrive before discussing serious business.
“So,” Yamapi said after sipping a gulp. “What's the deal?”
Turtle fiddled with the grains of sugar scattered around his cup.
“Boss wants you two out of here.”
He shuddered, looked by the dirty window pane. Yamapi frowned.
“Why?”
“Says he's closing the Osaka branch.”
His fingers were tight around the handle of the mug.
“No big loss,” he muttered. Shook his head. “I'm sorry,” he said, turning to Ryo. “I know it's your hometown and everything, but I really hate this place. It's...
Ryo forced himself to smile. “It's fine.”
“Yeah.”
Yamapi's hand grasped his elbow and squeezed lightly. “When are we leaving?”
Turtle stretched his mouth into some kind of pale smirk. “Tonight. Got a meeting tomorrow at eight with Sakurai. In Nagoya.”
Ryo would have wanted to close his eyes - he was going back north. He was leaving Osaka. Finally. And even if he didn't really know himself what he was expecting, he knew there had to be some change, in a way or another.
“Tell me,” Yamapi was saying. “How are you handling the hard work?”
Turtle smiled, somehow more real. “It's fine,” he replied. “Same way you do.” Yamashita looked at him and said: “I see”, and Ryo felt a pang of unexpected, unsettling jealousy at the fondness in his tone.

“Do you know him well?” he asked later, when they were waiting the customary thirty minutes in the café before leaving too. “Turtle?”
Yamapi nodded. “Well, if anyone really knows him, you know. He's kind of a weird guy.” He swiveled on his chair to watch the students gathered there. It was late in the afternoon, and the nearby universities were emptying.
“Nice place,” he pointed out. “No wonder he set the appointment here.”
Ryo hummed back. “It is. I didn't know that café before.”
Yamapi chuckled. “We hardly go out and when we do, well, we stay away from the fancy places, right?”
“Yeah,” Ryo answered. “We do.” His cup was empty, and the yellowish foam was drying on its edges. “Are you happy to leave?” he asked.
“I don't really care,” the other answered. “To me, Nagoya is just the same as Osaka. But, well, I know more people there, so I guess I'm happy about it.” He nodded to himself, and Ryo felt lonely, suddenly - why was he so nonchalant about it?
“Let's go,” Yamashita said. “It's time.”

Just when they were heading out of the café, Ryo felt a hand on his arm, and he was ready to spin back, knock whoever it was out and run, but someone called his name: “Ryo!”, and he was frozen on spot. The guy who had grabbed him released his arm and came to face him.
“Ryo!” he said again, and at that point Ryo knew who he was.
“Shige,” he answered. He was hyper-aware of Yamapi next to him, probably ready to pull out his gun if anything suspicious happened.

“Kato was a friend of mine. We parted ways quickly, though.”
“I guess it's a good thing we're leaving tonight,” Yamapi answered.
“It is, indeed.”
Ryo had seen Shige again. That was rotten in every possible way, Murphy Law in action. He had dreamed of it it Tokyo, heck, even in Iwadaira. Shige walking into the tiny shop, buying crosswords of something. And then he would take Ryo with him, away from this life. In a way, it wasn't surprising that Jin could drag him along so easily.
But now.
Now Ryo didn't want Shige to see him, not like this. Nishikido Ryo was dead to the world. He had been dead to the world since the day someone told him he wasn't allowed near the one he wanted to be with anymore.
His life was a grotesque repeat of events.
But he was leaving Osaka.

Pi drove in the same focused way Jin did, though now and then his gaze fluttered to Ryo.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing. Yes. Are you okay?”
He had fixed his eyes back on the road.
“I'm fine,” Ryo answered. “I just feel a bit tired.”

Sakurai wasted no time in delivering them a new 'appointment'. Ryo frowned. Yakuzas were surprisingly frightened of words. Sometimes it reminded him of paperback novels.
“So who is it?” Yamapi asked.
The man in the salary-man suit smiled and shrugged. “I don't know. You're not supposed to know either. Some guy who betrayed us, it seems.”

Why did crooked runaways always hide in seedy rooms above seedy bars? That was stupid, in Ryo's opinion. They had less chances to get 'terminated' in fancy hotels. Or cabins in the middle of the forest.
But it wasn't his business, or it made it easier in any case, so Ryo didn't complain. He just walked into the place with Pi, trying to avoid the puddles of puke on the floor and ordered two bottles at the counter. Asked if Tarou was in his room, while he was at it. He wasn't.
“Right. Well, we'll come back.”
Oh they would. They'd come back as many times as necessary.

Fourth time was lucky. Yamada Tarou was in his room. That guy didn't look like the sharpest pencil in the box, if his fake name was any indication, and that was why Ryo and Pi didn't bother walk all ninja-like in the dimly lit corridor.
They politely knocked and pasted themselves to the wall, waiting for the answer.

It didn't come.
Ryo saw Yamapi count to five under his breath, then reach for the handle and pull slowly. The door opened with a slight creak. They held their breathes.
Routine, it was just routine, Ryo reminded himself. No real danger.
The room was dark and whoever was in there had pulled the curtains. They walked in, or rather slid, still glued to the wall.
An indistinct mass on the bed and Ryo felt something clench in his chest. That was it. He nodded at Pi.
Even with the muffler, the detonation sounded deafening to him and his first impulse was to cover his ears.
“You go check.” Yamashita always managed to keep his voice even. Ryo didn't know how he did it.
With a hand that trembled only the slightest, he pulled on the sheet.

Oh fuck.
ohfuckohfuckohfuck.
“Hey,” he called, “come here, quick.”
Ueda. Already cold dead.
“Fuck,” Pi said.
Indeed.
If Ueda was here, it meant that Jin-

Only instinct made Ryo push Yamapi off the bed in time. The bullet brushed above their heads and they landed halfway on each other. He reached for Yamapi's gun, screamed: “Jin, it's us!”
Three seconds of silence. Then Jin's voice said: “Ryo?”, and his heart was going to burst for Jin, JinJinJin.
“Jin,” he said.
He might have dropped the gun, scrambled to his feet and threw himself at the figure standing in the bathroom's doorway.
What a needy slut.
He didn't care.
He had lived in squishy goo during months and months, they could at least give him that.
Jin was warm, solid, very much there, not some kind of ghost in the rain.
“Love you,” Ryo heard himself say. Hell yeah. Jin held him tighter and breathed in his ear, said: “Ryo” again.
“Wait.” Pi said.
They all froze.
“I can't let you go. I just can't.”
“Pi,” Jin said.
“I'm sorry, Jin, but you go and then you're here, and I can't- No.”
“Let us run away,” Ryo said. “Tell them we're dead.”
“Burn the place,” Jin added.
“I can't,” Yamapi repeated. He did hold the gun, too.

…

This story does not have an end.

The hotel MASATO, Nagoya, was burnt to ashes. Several corpses were found.

The police arrested Kitagawa 'Johnny''s gang. It was mainly composed of young, rootless men.

Kamenashi Kazuya, twenty-five years-old, declared that “this job was the only thing [he] could do”.

Akanishi Reio became a salary-man.
Koyama Keiichiro took over his family's ramen place.
Kato Shigeaki was hired as a lawyer's clerk.
Tegoshi Yuuya moved to San Francisco, USA.
Yamashita Rina married a young man from her university.

Gloria Goldensand published other novels, amongst which: In Love With An Assassin and Eternally With You. None of these were good.

The security guard of the Iwadaira service area retired, he was replaced immediately.

These are the facts.