FIC FOR ALIENASHI part 4
For: alienashi
From: scorch66
Title: No Sugar, No Cream
Pairings/Characters: Nakamaru/Kame
Rating: PG13
Warnings: AU, violence, cursing, mentions of euthanasia
Notes: Before anything else is said, I’d like to say: I know.
Summary: Nakamaru is a small town police officer who transfers to a branch in the city in hopes of making a real difference. He’s partnered to a senior officer whose methods fall outside the law and eventually, Nakamaru finds himself playing the good cop to Kamenashi’s bad cop. He’s determined to make their partnership work, if only to save Kamenashi from himself.
part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5
“Something happen between the two of you again?”
They’re seated in the lunch room and Nakamaru figures it doesn’t take a genius to notice how Kame enters the room, fills his mug, and leaves with a blatant cold shoulder. Nakamaru sort of wants to smack him upside the head for being such a jerk about it-for ignoring that Nakamaru had a point too before he went ahead and made him an outcast again.
Nakamaru shrugs, not wanting to get into the details of it. He wonders if Taguchi knows about the Shinigami or how Kame goes about getting information from suspects, and then he frowns. Taguchi’s a hacker who undermines the law on a daily basis. He probably wouldn’t see anything wrong with Kame’s methods. They’d make good partners.
“You look like you swallowed something bitter,” Taguchi says and passes him the jug of cream which Nakamaru pointedly ignores. Taguchi looks at him with sympathy. “Kazuya can be a bit of a handful but he means well. He’s headstrong and temperamental and can’t stand being wrong-and that’s just the tip of the iceberg of why Kazuya can’t keep his partners but-”
Nakamaru puts his cup down with enough force to make his coffee spill over the sides.
“He’s actually not that bad.” The aggression in his voice surprises him as much as it surprises Taguchi. He busies himself with mopping up the spill with a napkin and avoids meeting Taguchi’s eyes and the calculations running through them. His chair squeaks against the floor as he stands. “And you can stop calling him that if that’s what you think of him.”
“What?” Taguchi blinks up at him.
Kazuya. Nakamaru’s lips pucker distastefully.
“He’s still my partner.” Not yours.
He dumps his cup into the garbage and Taguchi’s voice carries after him before the door to the lunch room can swing shut. “I was going to say that I think he likes you.”
Nakamaru pauses outside the lunch room even though it’s something he already knows. He sees Kame come out of their office, a jacket folded over his arm and a Glock strapped at his waist, and he follows. If Kame didn’t like him, Nakamaru wouldn’t have lasted a week at the station and it’s been months now. He knows Kame’s habits better than his own-the good and the bad. It’s why he can’t leave.
Nakamaru doesn’t know when his priorities shifted from I’m here to protect the people of this city to I’m here to protect you. Maybe it was when he saw Kame lying in his bed with his ribs nearly kicked in. Maybe it was long before that, when he’d catch Kame sleeping at his desk with his head pillowed on paper work. It might have even been before he met Kame in person, when Kame was just a ghost of his empty office and it had taken Nakamaru a single glance around his desk to conclude that his new partner didn’t know how to take care of himself.
“What are you doing?” Kame hisses when Nakamaru slides into the passenger seat of his car.
Nakamaru buckles the seat belt across his chest and waits for Kame to start the car. He thinks his intentions are pretty obvious. “I’m coming with you.”
Kame stares. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”
“Nope,” Nakamaru replies smoothly, “but I’m guessing it’s going to involve some life-threatening danger.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, y’know,” he hears Kame mutter but the car starts to roll with Nakamaru still sitting inside it.
“Sounds like the feeling is mutual then,” Nakamaru returns and catches the twitch of a smile.
*
As far as stake-outs go, participating in one in real life is less heart-racing than the movies make it look. It’s been close to two hours since Kame parked the car a little ways away from a broken down building abandoned for reconstruction. The last streaks of sunset have long since left the sky and with the cover of nearby shrubbery and the dark of the night, the outline of two police officers sitting in a car can barely be seen.
“How did you know the drug exchange would take place here again?” Nakamaru asks.
They’re scouting for a drug dealer who goes by the name of Crow-“because he’s dressed in black?” Nakamaru had asked and Kame snorted, “Half of all criminals dress in black. ‘Crow’ is taken from crow’s nest, the highest lookout point on a ship. Crow is more than just a small fry drug dealer; he knows what’s going on in this city better than we do”-and who Kame is certain is connected to the Shinigami.
“I’ve been keeping tabs on all the hospitals and health care facilities and none of them have had their drug supplies mysteriously disappear,” Kame told him during the drive down, “which means the Shinigami is getting the ingredients for his lethal injection from underground. A coward like him won’t mess around with the bigger drug sharks so Crow’s our best bet.”
Now, in the dark and with his eyes focused on the abandoned building, Kame takes a long drag from his cigarette and the smoke leaves his mouth like a ghost.
“I keep my eyes and ears open. Sometimes I catch rats who squeak with the right persuasion.”
“Right,” Nakamaru says. “So you do this often then. Is that how you got those bruises from last time? The rat had sharper claws than you thought?”
“I guess you could say that.” Nakamaru watches Kame flick the ashes of the cigarette against the frame of the open window with a frown. It’s the same distracted answer Kame has been giving him all night, half-truths when he can’t skirt the question completely.
The night is warm and the car feels smaller with each passing minute. Across the street, the building is silent. There’s not even enough wind to rustle the leaves and mask the sound of footsteps.
“Are you sure your rat didn’t say what time it’d be happening?” Nakamaru asks and he doesn’t mean to sound accusing but the hours of nothing are getting to him. Sitting in a cramped space for too long isn’t doing anything for Kame’s temper either and Nakamaru regrets saying anything when Kame swivels around to send him a withering glare.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you expect this to be fun? Some entertainment to go along with a glass of wine as the criminals line up and handcuff themselves for you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Nakamaru grumbles. “Maybe your rat lied and gave you the wrong info.”
“Then be my guest and leave,” Kame snaps and stubs out the cigarette on the ashtray sitting on the dashboard. “No one invited you here to waste your precious time in the first place.”
“God,” Nakamaru scoffs, “has anyone ever told you how mature you are?”
“Says the grown ass man who keeps candy in his pocket.”
“I rather give myself a cavity than poison my lungs,” Nakamaru returns and makes a face when Kame pointedly reaches for another cigarette like he’s making some statement by spiting his own health. How edgy. “Do you even know what’s in that?”
Kame shrugs. “A bunch of toxins?”
Nakamaru snatches the cigarette from his fingers before he has a chance to light it and throws it out the window.
“What… did you just do?” Kame says numbly. He’s blinking at Nakamaru like he’s never seen him before. “You do know that’s not my last one, right?”
“I’m not going to sit here cooped in with a chain smoker,” Nakamaru explains and snatches Kame’s lighter and throws it out the window too. He might have just earned himself an early grave but Kame is still staring at him with that stunned look. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a caramel before Kame’s mind can catch up. “Here-try this instead.”
Kame eyes the caramel in his hand like it’s a grenade.
“You’re not even sorry, are you?”
Nakamaru shakes his head. “Take it. It tastes better and won’t give you awful breath.”
He’s surprised when Kame… does, and doesn’t throw it back at him. Instead, Kame unwraps the cube with a strange sort of care, his blunt fingernails tugging apart the wrapper without tearing it. He pops the caramel in his mouth and carries it in his cheek, smiling to himself in a way that makes Nakamaru ask, “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just a little funny,” Kame says around the caramel, “how the two of us ended up as partners. It’s a funny combo.”
Nakamaru tries not to frown. “Why?”
“Because,” Kame smoothes the wrapper between his fingers, “you’re sweet and I’m toxic.”
“I’m sorry,” Nakamaru says abruptly and rushes to clarify, “not about throwing out your lighter but what happened before. During the interrogation. I’m sorry I got in the way.”
“No you’re not,” Kame returns with a huff of amusement and there’s no real anger behind it. “You’d get in the way again if I tried to choke another suspect.”
Nakamaru blinks. He can’t even deny it. He remembers the way Ueda had managed to make the rapist confess without lifting a finger though and knows there’s another option out there that doesn’t involve him being a bystander while Kame gets blood on his hands.
“We can try something else,” he suggests quickly while Kame is still in a mellow mood and willing to listen. “Something like a good cop, bad cop intimidation tactic. It’s like you said: it’s all psychological. We only have to make them feel like their life is in danger not actually, er, put it in danger.”
Kame glances at him with the tilt of his head. “You’re a strange one, you know? I’m trying to decide whether you’re too nice or too stupid for worrying about the poor, misunderstood criminals who make our lives hell.”
“It’s not them I’m concerned about,” Nakamaru returns pointedly and Kame’s lips twitch in the dark.
“I’m touched.”
Nakamaru flickers his gaze down briefly to brush nonexistent lint off the sleeve of his jacket. “So you’ll think about it then. We can make them spill the beans by fear alone. There’s no reason to get physical.”
“Hmmm. Pity.” Kame rolls the caramel around in his mouth, filling the car with an obscene wet noise. “I like getting physical.”
The way he says it makes Nakamaru blush and look away again.
They lapse into silence and Nakamaru ends up banging his knee into the glove department when he tries to shift and relax the strain in his back. The night grows darker and the only light they’re granted is from far off street lamps. The building is as boring as ever and he feels a yawn build up behind his lips. Beside him, Kame’s limbs are drooped in drowsiness as well but his eyes remain alert.
“How can you stand to do this alone?” Nakamaru thinks out loud. “I mean, doesn’t it get mind-numbingly boring?”
“I know how to keep myself busy,” Kame murmurs and Nakamaru feels his face heat up again when he tries to think of what activity Kame could be doing alone in his car at night. Kame’s slow grin tells him that he’s noticed. “You have a surprisingly dirty thought process, Officer Nakamaru.”
“What happened with your last partner?” It’s a blatant topic changer but the question has been niggling at Nakamaru for a while now, ever since he stepped into Kame’s office and saw the empty desk. His talk with Taguchi had reawakened it.
Kame’s expression freezes for a moment before he snorts. “My last partner was Ueda and we gave each other a black eye. It was our couple’s accessory.”
“Wait-Ueda?”
“Ueda. And before him it was Taguchi and before Taguchi it was Koki.”
“You’ve partnered everyone at the station?” Nakamaru doesn’t know why he feels so annoyed. It’s not like anyone of them had managed to last.
Kame’s face scrunches in thought as he counts on his fingers before meeting Nakamaru’s eyes. “Almost. Kimura offered a promotion for anyone who could be my partner for more than a month. Ueda lasted less than a week.”
“And me?”
“You’re the current record holder.” Kame laughs as Nakamaru relaxes back in his seat, visibly mollified. So maybe he wants to gloat a little, so what?
There’s still a piece missing though because from what Kame told him, Kame has been stationed at the Central City branch for years and the combined partnership between Koki, Taguchi, and Ueda couldn’t have spanned even a full year. There had to have been someone before, someone whose gap they had been trying to fill.
“Did… did the Shinigami kill your first partner?” He winces when he hears his own question and tries to backpedal under Kame’s incredulous stare. “I mean. I only thought. Because of your obsession with him. The Shinigami I mean.” If he could start the car and run over himself, he would. “I’m sorry. I usually have more tact than this.”
“Usually,” Kame agrees, “but not much more. Speaking of obsessions, what’s with you and your obsession with my history of partners, hm?”
It’s hardly an obsession, Nakamaru wants to scoff. He just wants to know about all the people who’ve entered Kame’s life and left their imprints behind. He wants to know if Kame has always been this averse to teamwork or if a bad experience changed his mind and made him think he was better off on his own. Not even Kame could have been born jaded after all.
He doesn’t say any of this though; he just stares back stubbornly until Kame rolls back his neck with a crack. He looks through the windshield as he talks, a weary sigh escaping him.
“We were chasing down a kidnapper who had abducted the mayor’s three children. We were right on his heels when he turned and fired. My partner went down but it wasn’t fatal... and I chose to keep running.” Kame hunches over the steering wheel, seeing far beyond the building ahead. “My partner came out of the hospital convinced that I had ditched him to get a promotion and a spread in the papers-the mayor had offered a generous reward from the start-and then he ditched me in the end.”
The memories stew in the ensuing quiet until Nakamaru asks, “Did… you?” ditch him? The silence completes the question for him and he doesn’t even know where it came from, why he bothered asking when he already knew the answer, but the words have already dropped out and Nakamaru knows they were the wrong thing to say when Kame’s shoulders stiffen instantly.
Kame’s expression is shuttered when he turns to him, slowly like he doesn’t quite believe it.
“I left him bleeding on the pavement with a bullet in his shoulder, if that’s what you want to know.” Kame’s voice drops to an icy whisper. “It should make you reconsider this whole partner gig.”
Nakamaru is about to thrust out a hasty but earnest apology when he hears the sound of gravel crunching under tires and looks up to see two cars rolling in. They disappear under the roof of the parking lot but not before Nakamaru can read the license plates. Kame is already scribbling down the numbers on the side of an empty coffee cup.
“What do we do?” Nakamaru’s heart races and his hand instinctively rests on the Glock fastened to his belt.
Kame is staring out the window, so still that Nakamaru can hardly sense him breathing. He seems to be waiting for some sort of sign, his face tightened like the rest of his body, like a predator waiting for the right moment to lunge out behind a wall of tall grass. A soft breeze slithers into the car and tousles his hair.
A gunshot cracks through the night.
Kame leaps out of the car and Nakamaru scrambles to follow suit, his hands sweaty on the door handle.
“Stay close and follow my lead,” Kame orders over his shoulder before he sprints across the road with his Glock held to his chest. There’s no more word of instruction and Nakamaru does his best to keep up, wishing that, all the time they were in the car, they had discussed what would happen when they finally got out of it.
It would be pitch black in the parking lot if not for the illumination of the two pairs of headlights that make a pseudo stage where their beams intersect. They hide behind one of the cement pillars, close enough to see the pool of blood leaking from a fallen body that lies close to the feet of a bald man with a short beard that ends in a knot. He wears a long black coat that’s tattered at the hem.
“Hand over the goods, Crow,” calls a squawky voice from the dark. They watch as a man with blond streaks in his hair and a tattoo of a green dragon snaking up his arm steps into the light. Behind him stand two equally large and tattooed men, each equipped with a rifle.
“W-we had a deal,” Crow stammers and the Dragon grins from ear to ear.
“Did we? I don’t think you’re in any position to name a price.” The Dragon sneers at the dead body at his feet. “Wasn’t very wise of you to bring only one henchman, was it? But I guess it’s true what they say, you can’t afford any better.”
Nakamaru is pulled away from the scene with a rough tug at his arm. He stands with his body flat against the pillar and tries to look as put together as he possibly can under Kame’s scrutiny. He’s okay. He’s scared shitless but his aim is as good as Kame’s and he’ll have his back.
“We need Crow,” Kame whispers, “alive.”
“What about the rest?”
Kame gives him a hard look. “Aim to maim if you don’t have the guts to kill. I’m going to fire from that side and you take them down when they look the other way. The darkness is to our advantage.”
“What about Crow?” Nakamaru breathes. “He’ll get away.”
“Leave him to me.”
Nakamaru gives a tight nod and Kame is skating through the shadows to a pillar on the opposite side of the parking lot, but not before he pauses to give Nakamaru’s arm a tight, reassuring squeeze. It does wonders to straighten Nakamaru’s spine.
He has his gun ready as he watches Kame take aim.
You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone.
“If you’re not going to play, Crow, we won’t have any choice but to end the ga-”
A splintering crack and the Dragon hits the pavement.
Nakamaru’s first shot misses, skimming just above one of the tattooed men’s shoulder-shitshitshit. His next nestles right in the middle of a bulging bicep and a rifle drops to the floor. The other tattooed man releases a round of bullets in Kame’s direction and it only takes an angry pull of the trigger for the man to double over with a busted knee.
He sees Kame dart out of the shadows and run past the fallen men. He doesn’t have the time to call out a warning when he sees the one with the wounded bicep pull out a blade and swing it at Kame’s back with his good arm. Nakamaru’s bullet does the talking for him.
The blade cuts through Kame’s jacket as the man stumbles over, both of his arms now out of commission.
“Find Crow!” Nakamaru yells and Kame doesn’t linger. The thank yous can wait for later. Nakamaru runs forward and kicks the rifles far out of reach before he follows the direction Kame took, not sparing a second glance at the men bleeding on the pavement.
The sounds of a scuffle lead him outside the parking lot and a couple meters ahead, he can see a bundle of bodies tumbling in the middle of the road.
“Kame!” he calls but there’s no cue and Nakamaru can’t risk firing when he doesn’t know which shadow belongs to his partner. “Dammit,” he curses and runs at them with all he has.
When he’s close enough, he sees them pull apart, Kame being shoved back as Crow rises to his feet with Kame’s Glock in hand.
“I gotta thank you for getting me outta there,” Crow says with a breathless laugh. “I hope our dear lord repays you generously.”
There’s no time to think or aim. He lets instinct carry him as he jumps forward and tackles into Kame’s side, taking him down just as Crow pulls the trigger. Nakamaru closes his eyes, waiting for the pain to strike through him.
When it doesn’t, fear springs them open once more but Kame is solid and whole underneath him. He’s blinking up at Nakamaru with a dazzling smile and that’s when Nakamaru realises there was no sound of a gunshot.
Behind him, he can hear Crow curse as he repeatedly pulls the trigger of Kame’s empty Glock.
“That was sweet of you,” Kame says and when he leans up, his lips graze Nakamaru’s cheek. “I’m just going to borrow this for a moment.”
Nakamaru feels his Glock slip away from his grip into Kame’s and a second later, there’s another crack that’s punctuated by a howl of pain. Nakamaru turns around to see Crow fall to his knees with a hole in his thigh.
When he turns back to Kame, Kame is still wearing that brilliant smile.
“My hero,” he says.
Nakamaru just feels pretty stupid.
*
“Stop fidgeting,” Nakamaru snaps when he’s trying to bandage Kame’s arm. The blade had cut deeper than he thought and while the wound is still considered shallow, the amount of blood spilling from it makes Nakamaru queasy.
“You’d make a terrible doctor,” Kame observes. “No patience.”
“That’s a bit rich coming from you.”
They’re at Nakamaru’s apartment again because Kame refused to go to the hospital or be seen at the station with an injury. He’s perched on Nakamaru’s kitchen top, swinging his legs in the air no matter how many times Nakamaru has told him to stop.
“Whoops,” he says with an unapologetic smile when he nearly kicks Nakamaru in the side and Nakamaru places a disapproving hand on his knee.
“Don’t. Move.”
He dabs at the wound carefully with a swab, silently impressed at how Kame doesn’t flinch at the sting of alcohol. He can sense Kame watching him with an equal amount of intent and fails to hide the slight tremble in his hands.
“I’m alright, you know,” Kame says suddenly, softly. “You’ve never seen blood, have you?”
“I spilt a whole bunch back there,” Nakamaru reminds him, “but not on you, no.” Not on anyone I care about.
“But you didn’t kill anyone,” Kame reassures him with a frown, like he thinks Nakamaru’s guilt is the problem here when it’s the opposite. “You’re still a good guy, Nakamaru.”
He takes a roll of gauze and begins to unwind it, cutting off a strip that he begins to wrap around Kame’s arm. Kame is still watching him, trying to tease apart his guilt by boring circles into the side of his head. Kame is many things but a mind reader is not one of them.
Nakamaru keeps his eyes on the gauze. “How good of a guy would I be if the blade had gone through your chest because I was too much of a wuss to take down the thug on my first try? I was the one who gave him an opening.”
It could have been worse. It could have been so much worse.
He pins the gauze into place and drops his shaky hands. Kame picks them up and plays with his fingers.
“Do you regret it, not killing them?”
“I don’t know,” Nakamaru answers honestly, helplessly. “Back at the bar, you said my hands couldn’t kill, but if something happened-if you were in danger and I could do something about it-I think. I think I would.”
“I think so too,” Nakamaru snaps up to see Kame smiling down at him, “but you’d be the type to regret it, Nakamaru. That’s the difference between you and me, between good and bad.” Sweet and toxic. “All hands can kill but some aren’t meant to.”
“And yours are?” Nakamaru asks flatly.
Kame nods with feigned nonchalance. “I’ve had a lot of practice. More than you’re aware of.”
There’s that prickle again, the awareness that he’s being kept in the dark.
“You saw me out there today,” he begins, swiping at his lips. “I was useful. I could hold my own and I had your back.”
“And you were a fucking pain, throwing away my one good lighter,” Kame scowls at the memory. “Remind me to never bring you along for a stake-out again.”
“I saved your life in more ways than one today,” Nakamaru objects and Kame surprises him with a bubble of laughter. “Whatever it is,” he says more seriously, wishing that Kame would let him in, “you can count on me. For anything. I want you to know that.”
“I do.” The warm squeeze around his hands reminds him that Kame still has them. “Nakamaru is my hero after all.”
Nakamaru flushes. “I can’t believe you didn’t make sure your gun was fully loaded before we left.”
“It must have slipped my mind.”
“One day you’re going to get yourself killed and I’ll-”
“Rejoice,” Kame finishes with a grin. It droops into a worried frown when Nakamaru doesn’t reply. “Nakamaru…?”
“Why… would you say that?” Nakamaru asks with that queasy feeling returning in his gut. Kame couldn’t seriously think that, could he? That Nakamaru was that callous and hateful and didn’t -he takes a sharp breath when Kame falls forward, his forehead resting on Nakamaru’s shoulder.
Nakamaru can feel his heat, the tickle of his hair against his cheek. He can smell the smoke that sticks to his skin, the smell of the wind tucked in his hair, and the cool scent of aftershave. He can smell his sweat and the sweet undertones of his cologne. For a long moment, all he breathes is Kame.
“Fine,” Kame exhales with a petulant note Nakamaru somehow knows he has to force, “I’m sorry. You’re weird and you don’t hate me. I get it.”
Nakamaru smiles. “You know, normal people would be happy to know they’re not hated.”
Kame hums for a moment, his breath hot enough to seep through Nakamaru’s shirt and make his skin tingle. Nakamaru would miss his words if not for the fact that they’re mumbled right next to his ear.
“I rather be loved.”
Kame slides off the counter top and side-steps around him, heading into his living room without meeting his searching eyes.
“Let me borrow your couch for tonight,” he calls and Nakamaru has no idea what is going on anymore.
*
“So, I heard you saved Kamenashi.”
He’s met with inquisitive eyes and eager ears the second he steps into the station the next day. He’d had his best sleep in days despite last night’s exertions and when he had padded into the living room the morning after, the couch was empty. There were plates drying in the dish rack that hadn’t been there before he went to bed and a strange sort of comfort warmed him at the sight; at least Kame had welcomed himself to his fridge before taking off. A scribbled note sat on the counter top. See you there.
Nakamaru wonders if this is why Kame had come early, to spread lies and watch him squirm.
“Not really,” he says and tries to hedge past Ueda only to be trailed after by Taguchi.
“You’re practically his saviour.”
“Only there wasn’t any kind of saving involved.”
Koki sidles up to him with an earnest smile. “Thanks for saving our Kame-chan.”
Nakamaru stops and releases a pent-up sigh. He doesn’t want credit where it isn’t due and the truth of the matter is that Kame knew what he was doing when he let Crow steal his Glock. All Nakamaru had done was give the scene a dramatic flair that was embarrassing in hindsight.
“Honestly, all I did was save Kame from an unloaded gun. There wasn’t anything heroic about it.”
“I beg to differ.” He turns to see Kame stepping out of their office. There’s a languid pace to his movements that tells him that Kame had one of his better sleeps last night too, curled up on Nakamaru’s couch. He steps up to them and sends Nakamaru a smile. “It’s the thought that counts. And if I recall correctly, you also saved me from the poisonous clutches of tobacco.”
Nakamaru shifts on his feet, feeling warm in his chest, and tries to ignore the way Koki is looking between them-like he’s just managed to piece something together.
“Where’s Crow?”
“Straight to business then, huh?” Kame notes with a grin. “He’s already been brought to the interrogation room. I thought I’d wait for you here since you were sleeping like a big baby.”
Koki makes a choking sound. “Y-you were sleeping together?”
“No!” Nakamaru trips over himself to answer just as Kame calmly says, “In a manner of speaking.”
Nakamaru gives him a hard look and Kame shrugs innocently like he can’t be bothered to clarify a misunderstanding he intentionally provoked. Nakamaru clears his throat and waits until his flush dies down a bit before he explains, “He slept over. On my couch.”
“He had me take my shirt off,” Kame adds with a grin and yanks Nakamaru away before he can explain further. “Don’t be a spoilsport. You’re already taking away my fun with your oh so legal ideas.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t become a criminal,” Nakamaru snorts at his back as they walk down the grey-walled corridor, the familiar chill creeping up the hem of his pants.
“It takes one to catch one,” Kame rebounds with a lilt in his voice and Nakamaru has never seen him in such a good mood before. No one could guess he had been shot at and had his arm sliced by a blade the other night.
Nakamaru’s eyes flicker to the leather jacket that hides his wound. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“I was wondering when you’d ask. You don’t have any worry to spare for yourself, do you? This is a scratch, trust me.” Kame throws him a look over his shoulder. “How did you like my eggs?”
The abrupt change of topic makes him falter. Eggs. Right. The ones Kame had cooked and left for him on the counter.
“They were a bit cold.” In truth, Nakamaru had been too surprised to even remember what they tasted like. The concept of Kame not having time to spare outside of himself was slowly becoming more foreign to him than familiar but the homemade breakfast still threw him off. Like everything else about Kame-look into one direction and he’d be waving from another.
“You sure know how to lay it on,” Kame laughs. “I’m never cooking for you again.”
They stop outside the door of the interrogation room.
“They were the sunniest sunny-side up eggs I’ve had in my entire life,” Nakamaru says with an itching smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Kame returns with a smile of his own. “Now put on your game face.”
*
“I swear I don’t know anything!”
Behind him, he hears Kame punch the wall and winces. That’s going to sting later. He returns his eyes to Crow and gives him a grim look. He keeps his voice low and steady, entwined with a pleading note that he doesn’t want his partner to hear.
“Listen, I don’t want you to get hurt. No one’s saying that you’re to blame for all the people the Shinigami has killed but if you keep quiet, the vote will be against you.”
“I told you,” Crow shrieks, “I have nothing to do with him!”
“Just let me have at him-”
Nakamaru catches Kame around the waist and struggles to hold him back with his body, a slam of chest against chest, and finally manages to throw him off with a grunt. Kame is heaving, his eyes livid slits that stay pinned onto Crow. “You don’t know his type of scum like I do, Nakamaru. He’ll talk alright, but not until I rearrange his face nice and good.”
The sickly sound of bones cracking resound in the room as Kame kneads his fist. Nakamaru hears a whimper escape from Crow and almost pities him. Nakamaru knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Kame’s glower and the stomach-clenching dread that comes with it.
He turns around and leans over the table, closer to Crow’s chair.
“Now’s not the time to be thinking of your loyalties, Crow. You don’t know my partner like I do,” his voice drops into a whisper. “I’ve seen him kill and cover it as self-defense. He’s a loose cannon but he catches crooks like flies and has favour with the Chief so he gets away with it. No one in this city is going to miss a low-profile drug dealer or open a case to dig into what happened today in this room, Crow, but I’ve seen enough deaths and that’s not what I became a cop for.”
Nakamaru watches Crow’s pupils dart back and forth between them, beads of sweat beginning to perspire from his temples and the smooth skin wrapped around his skull. The chains of his handcuffs jangle in a panicky rhythm as his hands tremble on the table.
Nakamaru lowers his voice even further. “You don’t believe me, Crow? Trust me, I’m on your side. You’re running out of time and you don’t want to-”
“I-I know,” Crow stammers, his eyes suddenly wide and fixed onto Kame who’s pacing the other side of the room in unconcealed agitation. “I know. H-he’s dangerous. I’ve seen it.”
Nakamaru pauses, his frown deepening. “What-”
“I don’t have all fuckin’ day,” Kame spits and rounds on them before Nakamaru has time to take a step back. “If you can’t make him talk then I will.”
There’s a loud screech as Crow tries to slide back on his chair and it tips over with an even louder crash.
“Kame, don’t do this,” Nakamaru cries desperately, intercepting Kame’s path only to be knocked over by a swinging fist to his chin that sends him against a wall. He blinks furiously to recover from the startling pain and sees the flash of sharp silver in Kame’s hand that hadn’t been there before. A knife hidden in his jacket.
“Let’s cut you open and see what you’re hiding inside,” Kame says through a cruel tilt of his lips as he stalks forward and leans over Crow, dangling the knife above his neck.
“Kame!” Nakamaru yells so loud his throat feels raw. “You promised you wouldn’t do this!”
The edge of the blade barely nicks his throat when Crow screams, “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!”
The blade freezes but Kame keeps it pressed against his flesh. “Go on, then. And you’re warned not to disappoint me or…” A drop of blood streaks down the blade and Nakamaru swallows along with Crow.
“The Shinigami. I don’t know who he is-b-but I know him! Don’t kill me!” Crow licks his lips fretfully as Kame eases the pressure. “He’s a regular customer but I’ve never seen his face. He’s always wearing that mask when we make the trade.”
“How often do you see him?” Kame’s voice is dispassionate and merciless; there’s no trace of the humour Nakamaru had heard just a few minutes earlier in the hallway. He’s good. Frighteningly good.
“Once a month and no more. T-the drugs have a half-life you see. Their potency decreases with time and the Shinigami needs a fresh stock to make a quick ki-”
Kame lifts him up with a fist at his collar. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“T-three weeks ago.”
Nakamaru’s heart skips. Three weeks. That means-
“You’re next trade with him is scheduled for next week.”
“I won’t see him! I s-swear!” Kame lets go of Crow’s collar and let’s his head drop to the floor. He stands up and pockets his blade, hovering over Crow’s thin body as it quivers at his feet.
“But you will,” Kame enunciates as slow and razor-sharp as his smirk. “You’ll see the Shinigami just as you planned to… and you’ll take us along. You’ll do exactly what we tell you to and maybe then you’ll be less of a scum, isn’t that right?”
From the floor, Crow nods obediently.
*
“I was wrong,” Kame says when the door closes behind them. “That was more fun than I thought.”
When he turns to Nakamaru, there’s a cheerful smile stretching his lips and not a hint of the menace his face held earlier. His expression and everything down to the way he holds his body is recognizably Kame again, like an iron running over a wrinkled cloth. It’s both jarring and impressive. Nakamaru has to shake himself and take a couple lungfuls before he can drop the façade himself.
“It was intense.”
Kame quirks an eyebrow at him and sends a quizzing look. “Did I fool you?”
Nakamaru doesn’t fail to notice how his smile shrinks. It’s not like he doesn’t understand it because he does; he sees how Kame can be a mystery, how his intentions can be opaque and tangled so abominably that they can’t be teased apart without a pair of tweezers and a surplus of patience. He gets that what makes Kame so good at his job also makes him terrible at anything else outside it.
But Nakamaru also knows that, while Kame isn’t an open book, he’s still readable. A closed, dusty tome tucked away on the very top shelf, with sharp corners and a faded cover and a broken bridge that’s shoddily taped together. He’s written in some foreign language, but not gibberish. He’s only out of reach to people who don’t take the time to flip the page and read further.
Even after all this time, Nakamaru feels as if he’s just finishing the prologue. He can’t put him down.
“Not for a second,” he grins and watches Kame’s squinty-eyed smile crawl up again.
Their arms bump as they walk back up the corridor.
“Sorry about the swing earlier. Did it clip too close?”
“It’s just a scratch, trust me.” Nakamaru catches the laugh in Kame’s eyes and takes a breath before he bumbles, “I’m sorry about what I asked before. In the car. It was dumb because I already knew. Not about your partner but-you. I know you.” They stop by the door that leads back into the hive of the station and Nakamaru scratches at his neck. “It was a stupid thing to say.”
Kame blinks smiling eyes up at him.
“Well you’re a stupid person, Yucchi, so I guess it’s okay.”
“…Yucchi?”
Kame shrugs and pushes open the door. “Since you go around calling me Kame as you please, why not?”
Nakamaru hadn’t even noticed.
*
“So…” Nakamaru slides his sandwich to the side to make room for Koki as the messy haired cop drags his seat closer and crowds him, “what really happened that night?”
Nakamaru takes a bite of his sandwich and chews slowly, thoughtfully. He’s been pestered with the same question so many times that it no longer fazes him and fails to tinge his cheeks pink. He could give his usual answer-the clear cut truth that’s bland next to the overactive imagination of his colleagues-but why bother when all he’ll get is a perverse grin in return and a suuuure.
“What happened that night…” Nakamaru swallows some lettuce and bread and chicken, “…is none of your business.”
Koki’s eyes widen in a way that’s both predictable and comical and Nakamaru thinks he gets why Kame had so much fun with this earlier.
“Y-you mean you two really-”
“Sorry, that’s between me and Kame.” It amuses him how withholding the truth has such a drastically different effect than just saying it openly. Koki is gaping at him and he senses an interrogation coming when Ueda enters the lunch room and saves him.
“Here you are,” Ueda says and his breath is a bit short, like he had run around looking for Nakamaru. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and his hair is askew. His expression makes Nakamaru sit up, alert and anxious.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just finished interrogating that guy you shot in the knee,” Ueda says hurriedly. “He wasn’t too happy about that by the way; his knee is busted for good. You have my kudos.”
“It’s not a surprise if you’ve ever seen this guy shoot. He’s a whizz,” Koki beams and pats him on the back but Nakamaru doesn’t pause to gloat about the fact that he landed someone in a wheelchair for life. That’s not what Ueda came down here to tell him.
“What did you find out?”
“A lot. Or a little that will lead to a lot. That guy’s a member of a gang that smuggles in military grade weapons from overseas. I know my guns and that rifle you brought back was a Russian import.”
Nakamaru frowns in confusion. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“Remember that trade on the docks earlier between the Chinese merchant ship and the yakuza?” Nakamaru hadn’t been there personally but that was when Kame had allegedly chased down and caught Funaki. He nods and Ueda continues. “Well the bullets we confiscated from the scene match the rifle your dragon guy was carrying exactly. Turns out you handicapped a man who is going to be killed sooner or later anyway. The yakuza won’t be happy when they find out how he tried to strike up a private deal with Crow using the weapons they supplied him.”
“He’s a dumbass if he thought he could get away with a side-gig,” Koki adds. “He just kissed his life goodbye.”
“I told him as much,” Ueda says with a smirk. “He nearly shat himself when I said I’d give his yakuza buddies a heads up note. He told me everything as soon as I promised to keep silent-not that that’ll do anything.”
“What did he tell you?” Nakamaru asks, wishing Ueda would get to the point and a moment’s pause later, he does.
“There’s going to be another trade. Only problem is,” Ueda frowns, “I can’t find Kame. Trust him to go out and find a life when we need him here. The asshole won’t even answer his damn phone.”
Nakamaru doesn’t know he’s bristling until he feels Koki pat his arm soothingly. “Coming from him, it’s a term of endearment.”
Nakamaru shakes him off. Kame had been in their office when he’d left him for lunch, but it’s not like he wasn’t allowed to leave before telling Nakamaru where he was heading. It wasn’t like Nakamaru was his mom or anything; he was just his partner after all. Maybe Kame had a date. Or had gone to eat out after telling Nakamaru he wasn’t hungry. A lunch date.
“We can tell him when he gets back,” Nakamaru says, not really seeing the issue.
“The trade is tonight.”
“…Oh shit,” Koki interjects for him.
Nakamaru glances at his watch. It’s still a couple hours before sunset. “Let’s wait. He’ll probably call back soon.”
Soon stretches so long that it loses its meaning and after fruitlessly hunting about their office to check if Kame accidentally left his phone behind, he realises that whatever Kame is doing, he’s too preoccupied to bother glancing at his missed calls. There should be more than a dozen of them since Nakamaru can’t stop dialing his number every ten minutes. If the yakuza are going to be at the docks then chances are that the Shinigami will be involved too.
They have the information from Crow but who knows how that meeting will go, or happen at all if word gets out that Crow has been in police custody and the Shinigami starts suspecting. Whatever more information they can get to fall back on, the better.
It’s an hour past sunset when Nakamaru tucks his Glock into his holster and pulls on a jacket. Taguchi catches him sneaking out of the office and calls out, “They told me not to let you go alone.”
“Earlier this week, I took down two guys armed with military grade rifles,” Nakamaru returns. “I can take care of myself.”
“There will be more than two guys out there tonight, Nakamaru.”
He answers the worry in Taguchi’s expression with a firm nod. “I know. I don’t plan on fighting them, or getting out of my car even. I’m only going for recon-in and out, no harm done.” When Taguchi opens his mouth again, Nakamaru snaps. “Look, I need to be out there tonight and you’re not going to stop me.”
Taguchi blinks and gives him an appraising smile. “You should let me complete my sentences more often. I was going to say that you’ve become a lot like Kazuya after sharing that cozy little office. I guess insanity is contagious after all.”
“He’s not crazy,” Nakamaru says defensively and then rethinks it, “…mostly.”
Taguchi looks amused. “He’s just wired in a peculiar way.”
“Right. Wish me luck then.”
“I wish you a safe return… and if the others ask why I didn’t stop you, you snuck away while I was in the washroom.”
Nakamaru laughs. “Got it. This never happened.”
He slides into his car and thinks that Taguchi’s observation isn’t entirely without merit. If Nakamaru was still the same officer he was when he was back in his hometown, he wouldn’t be breaking his senior officer’s command to go off and investigate a smuggling on his own. He’d be in his office, watching the night pass as he’d wait for Kame.
He checks his cell phone again before pocketing it and starting the car. Still no answer. There’s a chance though that Kame got in touch with Ueda and is already there. Nakamaru hopes that’s the case because while what he said to Taguchi was true-that he’d keep away and well out of sight-his heart won’t stop pounding. Kame was reckless but at least there was the comfort that things somehow tended to fall in his favour, whereas with him… Nakamaru would rather not test his luck.
*
The water’s edge is windy, the docks shrouded by darkness, but there are enough lights on the anchored boat for Nakamaru to make out what’s going on. Nakamaru hunches in his car, low enough to give him a clear view without having his head spotted. The waves rock the boat to and fro and the people that emerge from inside the cabin look well used to it. They wear rifles strapped across their shoulders as they wait.
The cars arrive one by one, black and sleek like a serpent, and thankfully park away from Nakamaru’s own. Nakamaru had parked on higher ground, under the cover of a low hanging tree, and he has to duck behind his binoculars to see the members of the yakuza spilling out from the cars. They would appear as a band of businessmen if not for the various visible scars they wear with pride; the scars make even the scrawniest among them look menacing.
Nakamaru tries to commit the faces to memory but there’s too many. He finds one that is familiar though, thin and sharp with a long scar up the cheek. Funaki had been bailed out last week and it doesn’t surprise Nakamaru to see him returning to his usual business. He trails behind the wide shoulders of a man who shares his profile, cutting the way forward to the docks. His esteemed father.
Nakamaru’s hands tighten around the binoculars when he sees the Shinigami following at their backs. The Noh mask and its twisted features are unmistakable. The mask is red, not a bright red but a darker, dull shade-the colour of dried blood-and seeing it in person fills Nakamaru with a burst of disgust that the pictures in the black folder had failed to inspire. Before he could only feel terror; now he wants to rip off the mask and shame the face underneath to the entire world. Ladies and gentleman, I give you the sick bastard who dares to play god.
He’s so focused on the Shinigami that he misses the small shadow of the man walking near the tail end of the yakuza mob. He only notices by chance, when they file onto the docks and the boat lights encase them in an eerie glow-and it turns out that Kame had beaten him here after all.
The binoculars nearly slip from his hands.
He zooms in until Kame is all he can see and-it really is Kame, steep eyebrows, broken nose, and lips thinned together in an impenetrable poker face. It’s Kame standing on the docks with the Shinigami and Funaki and a dozen other men he had vowed to put behind bars.
Nakamaru feels his heart plummet before he can stop himself.
Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup, he thinks. You don’t know anything. Just watch. Don’t think. Just watch.
You know him.
He watches the exchange take place, Funaki’s father stepping up to hand over a briefcase and the Captain of the boat signaling his men to slide over two large crates. There’s talk and laughter-Nakamaru’s eyes instantly hunt for Kame but his expression remains impassive-and he watches Funaki Sr. share a drink with the Captain. A moment later, the Captain tips over, drugged with the Shinigami’s poison.
There’s chaos that’s brought under control in less than two minutes. The men on the boat are outnumbered and Funaki Sr. must have struck a tempting deal because they lower their rifles and step off the boat. The lone man who refuses is knocked over, betrayed by one of his fellows. They drag him in the center of the dock and Nakamaru sees Funaki whisper to his dad.
Nakamaru doesn’t know if it’s the effect of the lights or if Kame really has gone pale but his heart lurches anyway. Get out, get out.
Funaki Sr. issues an order and Kame is thrust forward in front of the rebel and handed a gun. Nakamaru can’t hear them but the instructions are clear: shoot him.
Fucking fuck fuck fuck f-just watch. You know him.
Kame’s face is a cold slab of ice as he pulls the trigger. Across from him, the rebel hits the floor.
I’ve had practice. More than you know of.
A second later, Nakamaru watches Funaki raise his own gun and shoot Kame from the back.
Nakamaru isn’t breathing anymore, just watching with his mouth open in a cry that’s too choked up to have a sound. From up in the safety of his car, he shouldn’t be able to hear Kame’s either but he does-it screams in his ears, sends pain shooting through him as if Nakamaru took a bullet too. He watches Kame land on the planks of the dock, braced on his knee. There’s blood spilling onto the wooden planks from where the bullet carved a hole through his shoulder.
Please. Please.
Funaki Sr. says something to his son that makes him redden in anger but the gun is being stripped away from his hand. There are more instructions and Kame is left bleeding as they clean up and inspect the crates. The rebel is tossed over the side and swallowed by the black waves.
He sees the Shinigami step close to Kame to say something and Nakamaru doesn’t know what to believe anymore.
He doesn’t have time to either, which is a blessing, because he needs to get away before the cars drive up and notice him. He’s on the road when his phone buzzes.
sorry smth came up. not feeling gud. don’t wait 4 me tmr
Nakamaru tosses the phone into the passenger seat and watches it bounce to the floor from the force. At least it wasn’t a complete lie this time.
<- part 3 II -> part 5
From: scorch66
Title: No Sugar, No Cream
Pairings/Characters: Nakamaru/Kame
Rating: PG13
Warnings: AU, violence, cursing, mentions of euthanasia
Notes: Before anything else is said, I’d like to say: I know.
Summary: Nakamaru is a small town police officer who transfers to a branch in the city in hopes of making a real difference. He’s partnered to a senior officer whose methods fall outside the law and eventually, Nakamaru finds himself playing the good cop to Kamenashi’s bad cop. He’s determined to make their partnership work, if only to save Kamenashi from himself.
part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5
“Something happen between the two of you again?”
They’re seated in the lunch room and Nakamaru figures it doesn’t take a genius to notice how Kame enters the room, fills his mug, and leaves with a blatant cold shoulder. Nakamaru sort of wants to smack him upside the head for being such a jerk about it-for ignoring that Nakamaru had a point too before he went ahead and made him an outcast again.
Nakamaru shrugs, not wanting to get into the details of it. He wonders if Taguchi knows about the Shinigami or how Kame goes about getting information from suspects, and then he frowns. Taguchi’s a hacker who undermines the law on a daily basis. He probably wouldn’t see anything wrong with Kame’s methods. They’d make good partners.
“You look like you swallowed something bitter,” Taguchi says and passes him the jug of cream which Nakamaru pointedly ignores. Taguchi looks at him with sympathy. “Kazuya can be a bit of a handful but he means well. He’s headstrong and temperamental and can’t stand being wrong-and that’s just the tip of the iceberg of why Kazuya can’t keep his partners but-”
Nakamaru puts his cup down with enough force to make his coffee spill over the sides.
“He’s actually not that bad.” The aggression in his voice surprises him as much as it surprises Taguchi. He busies himself with mopping up the spill with a napkin and avoids meeting Taguchi’s eyes and the calculations running through them. His chair squeaks against the floor as he stands. “And you can stop calling him that if that’s what you think of him.”
“What?” Taguchi blinks up at him.
Kazuya. Nakamaru’s lips pucker distastefully.
“He’s still my partner.” Not yours.
He dumps his cup into the garbage and Taguchi’s voice carries after him before the door to the lunch room can swing shut. “I was going to say that I think he likes you.”
Nakamaru pauses outside the lunch room even though it’s something he already knows. He sees Kame come out of their office, a jacket folded over his arm and a Glock strapped at his waist, and he follows. If Kame didn’t like him, Nakamaru wouldn’t have lasted a week at the station and it’s been months now. He knows Kame’s habits better than his own-the good and the bad. It’s why he can’t leave.
Nakamaru doesn’t know when his priorities shifted from I’m here to protect the people of this city to I’m here to protect you. Maybe it was when he saw Kame lying in his bed with his ribs nearly kicked in. Maybe it was long before that, when he’d catch Kame sleeping at his desk with his head pillowed on paper work. It might have even been before he met Kame in person, when Kame was just a ghost of his empty office and it had taken Nakamaru a single glance around his desk to conclude that his new partner didn’t know how to take care of himself.
“What are you doing?” Kame hisses when Nakamaru slides into the passenger seat of his car.
Nakamaru buckles the seat belt across his chest and waits for Kame to start the car. He thinks his intentions are pretty obvious. “I’m coming with you.”
Kame stares. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”
“Nope,” Nakamaru replies smoothly, “but I’m guessing it’s going to involve some life-threatening danger.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, y’know,” he hears Kame mutter but the car starts to roll with Nakamaru still sitting inside it.
“Sounds like the feeling is mutual then,” Nakamaru returns and catches the twitch of a smile.
*
As far as stake-outs go, participating in one in real life is less heart-racing than the movies make it look. It’s been close to two hours since Kame parked the car a little ways away from a broken down building abandoned for reconstruction. The last streaks of sunset have long since left the sky and with the cover of nearby shrubbery and the dark of the night, the outline of two police officers sitting in a car can barely be seen.
“How did you know the drug exchange would take place here again?” Nakamaru asks.
They’re scouting for a drug dealer who goes by the name of Crow-“because he’s dressed in black?” Nakamaru had asked and Kame snorted, “Half of all criminals dress in black. ‘Crow’ is taken from crow’s nest, the highest lookout point on a ship. Crow is more than just a small fry drug dealer; he knows what’s going on in this city better than we do”-and who Kame is certain is connected to the Shinigami.
“I’ve been keeping tabs on all the hospitals and health care facilities and none of them have had their drug supplies mysteriously disappear,” Kame told him during the drive down, “which means the Shinigami is getting the ingredients for his lethal injection from underground. A coward like him won’t mess around with the bigger drug sharks so Crow’s our best bet.”
Now, in the dark and with his eyes focused on the abandoned building, Kame takes a long drag from his cigarette and the smoke leaves his mouth like a ghost.
“I keep my eyes and ears open. Sometimes I catch rats who squeak with the right persuasion.”
“Right,” Nakamaru says. “So you do this often then. Is that how you got those bruises from last time? The rat had sharper claws than you thought?”
“I guess you could say that.” Nakamaru watches Kame flick the ashes of the cigarette against the frame of the open window with a frown. It’s the same distracted answer Kame has been giving him all night, half-truths when he can’t skirt the question completely.
The night is warm and the car feels smaller with each passing minute. Across the street, the building is silent. There’s not even enough wind to rustle the leaves and mask the sound of footsteps.
“Are you sure your rat didn’t say what time it’d be happening?” Nakamaru asks and he doesn’t mean to sound accusing but the hours of nothing are getting to him. Sitting in a cramped space for too long isn’t doing anything for Kame’s temper either and Nakamaru regrets saying anything when Kame swivels around to send him a withering glare.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you expect this to be fun? Some entertainment to go along with a glass of wine as the criminals line up and handcuff themselves for you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Nakamaru grumbles. “Maybe your rat lied and gave you the wrong info.”
“Then be my guest and leave,” Kame snaps and stubs out the cigarette on the ashtray sitting on the dashboard. “No one invited you here to waste your precious time in the first place.”
“God,” Nakamaru scoffs, “has anyone ever told you how mature you are?”
“Says the grown ass man who keeps candy in his pocket.”
“I rather give myself a cavity than poison my lungs,” Nakamaru returns and makes a face when Kame pointedly reaches for another cigarette like he’s making some statement by spiting his own health. How edgy. “Do you even know what’s in that?”
Kame shrugs. “A bunch of toxins?”
Nakamaru snatches the cigarette from his fingers before he has a chance to light it and throws it out the window.
“What… did you just do?” Kame says numbly. He’s blinking at Nakamaru like he’s never seen him before. “You do know that’s not my last one, right?”
“I’m not going to sit here cooped in with a chain smoker,” Nakamaru explains and snatches Kame’s lighter and throws it out the window too. He might have just earned himself an early grave but Kame is still staring at him with that stunned look. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a caramel before Kame’s mind can catch up. “Here-try this instead.”
Kame eyes the caramel in his hand like it’s a grenade.
“You’re not even sorry, are you?”
Nakamaru shakes his head. “Take it. It tastes better and won’t give you awful breath.”
He’s surprised when Kame… does, and doesn’t throw it back at him. Instead, Kame unwraps the cube with a strange sort of care, his blunt fingernails tugging apart the wrapper without tearing it. He pops the caramel in his mouth and carries it in his cheek, smiling to himself in a way that makes Nakamaru ask, “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just a little funny,” Kame says around the caramel, “how the two of us ended up as partners. It’s a funny combo.”
Nakamaru tries not to frown. “Why?”
“Because,” Kame smoothes the wrapper between his fingers, “you’re sweet and I’m toxic.”
“I’m sorry,” Nakamaru says abruptly and rushes to clarify, “not about throwing out your lighter but what happened before. During the interrogation. I’m sorry I got in the way.”
“No you’re not,” Kame returns with a huff of amusement and there’s no real anger behind it. “You’d get in the way again if I tried to choke another suspect.”
Nakamaru blinks. He can’t even deny it. He remembers the way Ueda had managed to make the rapist confess without lifting a finger though and knows there’s another option out there that doesn’t involve him being a bystander while Kame gets blood on his hands.
“We can try something else,” he suggests quickly while Kame is still in a mellow mood and willing to listen. “Something like a good cop, bad cop intimidation tactic. It’s like you said: it’s all psychological. We only have to make them feel like their life is in danger not actually, er, put it in danger.”
Kame glances at him with the tilt of his head. “You’re a strange one, you know? I’m trying to decide whether you’re too nice or too stupid for worrying about the poor, misunderstood criminals who make our lives hell.”
“It’s not them I’m concerned about,” Nakamaru returns pointedly and Kame’s lips twitch in the dark.
“I’m touched.”
Nakamaru flickers his gaze down briefly to brush nonexistent lint off the sleeve of his jacket. “So you’ll think about it then. We can make them spill the beans by fear alone. There’s no reason to get physical.”
“Hmmm. Pity.” Kame rolls the caramel around in his mouth, filling the car with an obscene wet noise. “I like getting physical.”
The way he says it makes Nakamaru blush and look away again.
They lapse into silence and Nakamaru ends up banging his knee into the glove department when he tries to shift and relax the strain in his back. The night grows darker and the only light they’re granted is from far off street lamps. The building is as boring as ever and he feels a yawn build up behind his lips. Beside him, Kame’s limbs are drooped in drowsiness as well but his eyes remain alert.
“How can you stand to do this alone?” Nakamaru thinks out loud. “I mean, doesn’t it get mind-numbingly boring?”
“I know how to keep myself busy,” Kame murmurs and Nakamaru feels his face heat up again when he tries to think of what activity Kame could be doing alone in his car at night. Kame’s slow grin tells him that he’s noticed. “You have a surprisingly dirty thought process, Officer Nakamaru.”
“What happened with your last partner?” It’s a blatant topic changer but the question has been niggling at Nakamaru for a while now, ever since he stepped into Kame’s office and saw the empty desk. His talk with Taguchi had reawakened it.
Kame’s expression freezes for a moment before he snorts. “My last partner was Ueda and we gave each other a black eye. It was our couple’s accessory.”
“Wait-Ueda?”
“Ueda. And before him it was Taguchi and before Taguchi it was Koki.”
“You’ve partnered everyone at the station?” Nakamaru doesn’t know why he feels so annoyed. It’s not like anyone of them had managed to last.
Kame’s face scrunches in thought as he counts on his fingers before meeting Nakamaru’s eyes. “Almost. Kimura offered a promotion for anyone who could be my partner for more than a month. Ueda lasted less than a week.”
“And me?”
“You’re the current record holder.” Kame laughs as Nakamaru relaxes back in his seat, visibly mollified. So maybe he wants to gloat a little, so what?
There’s still a piece missing though because from what Kame told him, Kame has been stationed at the Central City branch for years and the combined partnership between Koki, Taguchi, and Ueda couldn’t have spanned even a full year. There had to have been someone before, someone whose gap they had been trying to fill.
“Did… did the Shinigami kill your first partner?” He winces when he hears his own question and tries to backpedal under Kame’s incredulous stare. “I mean. I only thought. Because of your obsession with him. The Shinigami I mean.” If he could start the car and run over himself, he would. “I’m sorry. I usually have more tact than this.”
“Usually,” Kame agrees, “but not much more. Speaking of obsessions, what’s with you and your obsession with my history of partners, hm?”
It’s hardly an obsession, Nakamaru wants to scoff. He just wants to know about all the people who’ve entered Kame’s life and left their imprints behind. He wants to know if Kame has always been this averse to teamwork or if a bad experience changed his mind and made him think he was better off on his own. Not even Kame could have been born jaded after all.
He doesn’t say any of this though; he just stares back stubbornly until Kame rolls back his neck with a crack. He looks through the windshield as he talks, a weary sigh escaping him.
“We were chasing down a kidnapper who had abducted the mayor’s three children. We were right on his heels when he turned and fired. My partner went down but it wasn’t fatal... and I chose to keep running.” Kame hunches over the steering wheel, seeing far beyond the building ahead. “My partner came out of the hospital convinced that I had ditched him to get a promotion and a spread in the papers-the mayor had offered a generous reward from the start-and then he ditched me in the end.”
The memories stew in the ensuing quiet until Nakamaru asks, “Did… you?” ditch him? The silence completes the question for him and he doesn’t even know where it came from, why he bothered asking when he already knew the answer, but the words have already dropped out and Nakamaru knows they were the wrong thing to say when Kame’s shoulders stiffen instantly.
Kame’s expression is shuttered when he turns to him, slowly like he doesn’t quite believe it.
“I left him bleeding on the pavement with a bullet in his shoulder, if that’s what you want to know.” Kame’s voice drops to an icy whisper. “It should make you reconsider this whole partner gig.”
Nakamaru is about to thrust out a hasty but earnest apology when he hears the sound of gravel crunching under tires and looks up to see two cars rolling in. They disappear under the roof of the parking lot but not before Nakamaru can read the license plates. Kame is already scribbling down the numbers on the side of an empty coffee cup.
“What do we do?” Nakamaru’s heart races and his hand instinctively rests on the Glock fastened to his belt.
Kame is staring out the window, so still that Nakamaru can hardly sense him breathing. He seems to be waiting for some sort of sign, his face tightened like the rest of his body, like a predator waiting for the right moment to lunge out behind a wall of tall grass. A soft breeze slithers into the car and tousles his hair.
A gunshot cracks through the night.
Kame leaps out of the car and Nakamaru scrambles to follow suit, his hands sweaty on the door handle.
“Stay close and follow my lead,” Kame orders over his shoulder before he sprints across the road with his Glock held to his chest. There’s no more word of instruction and Nakamaru does his best to keep up, wishing that, all the time they were in the car, they had discussed what would happen when they finally got out of it.
It would be pitch black in the parking lot if not for the illumination of the two pairs of headlights that make a pseudo stage where their beams intersect. They hide behind one of the cement pillars, close enough to see the pool of blood leaking from a fallen body that lies close to the feet of a bald man with a short beard that ends in a knot. He wears a long black coat that’s tattered at the hem.
“Hand over the goods, Crow,” calls a squawky voice from the dark. They watch as a man with blond streaks in his hair and a tattoo of a green dragon snaking up his arm steps into the light. Behind him stand two equally large and tattooed men, each equipped with a rifle.
“W-we had a deal,” Crow stammers and the Dragon grins from ear to ear.
“Did we? I don’t think you’re in any position to name a price.” The Dragon sneers at the dead body at his feet. “Wasn’t very wise of you to bring only one henchman, was it? But I guess it’s true what they say, you can’t afford any better.”
Nakamaru is pulled away from the scene with a rough tug at his arm. He stands with his body flat against the pillar and tries to look as put together as he possibly can under Kame’s scrutiny. He’s okay. He’s scared shitless but his aim is as good as Kame’s and he’ll have his back.
“We need Crow,” Kame whispers, “alive.”
“What about the rest?”
Kame gives him a hard look. “Aim to maim if you don’t have the guts to kill. I’m going to fire from that side and you take them down when they look the other way. The darkness is to our advantage.”
“What about Crow?” Nakamaru breathes. “He’ll get away.”
“Leave him to me.”
Nakamaru gives a tight nod and Kame is skating through the shadows to a pillar on the opposite side of the parking lot, but not before he pauses to give Nakamaru’s arm a tight, reassuring squeeze. It does wonders to straighten Nakamaru’s spine.
He has his gun ready as he watches Kame take aim.
You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone.
“If you’re not going to play, Crow, we won’t have any choice but to end the ga-”
A splintering crack and the Dragon hits the pavement.
Nakamaru’s first shot misses, skimming just above one of the tattooed men’s shoulder-shitshitshit. His next nestles right in the middle of a bulging bicep and a rifle drops to the floor. The other tattooed man releases a round of bullets in Kame’s direction and it only takes an angry pull of the trigger for the man to double over with a busted knee.
He sees Kame dart out of the shadows and run past the fallen men. He doesn’t have the time to call out a warning when he sees the one with the wounded bicep pull out a blade and swing it at Kame’s back with his good arm. Nakamaru’s bullet does the talking for him.
The blade cuts through Kame’s jacket as the man stumbles over, both of his arms now out of commission.
“Find Crow!” Nakamaru yells and Kame doesn’t linger. The thank yous can wait for later. Nakamaru runs forward and kicks the rifles far out of reach before he follows the direction Kame took, not sparing a second glance at the men bleeding on the pavement.
The sounds of a scuffle lead him outside the parking lot and a couple meters ahead, he can see a bundle of bodies tumbling in the middle of the road.
“Kame!” he calls but there’s no cue and Nakamaru can’t risk firing when he doesn’t know which shadow belongs to his partner. “Dammit,” he curses and runs at them with all he has.
When he’s close enough, he sees them pull apart, Kame being shoved back as Crow rises to his feet with Kame’s Glock in hand.
“I gotta thank you for getting me outta there,” Crow says with a breathless laugh. “I hope our dear lord repays you generously.”
There’s no time to think or aim. He lets instinct carry him as he jumps forward and tackles into Kame’s side, taking him down just as Crow pulls the trigger. Nakamaru closes his eyes, waiting for the pain to strike through him.
When it doesn’t, fear springs them open once more but Kame is solid and whole underneath him. He’s blinking up at Nakamaru with a dazzling smile and that’s when Nakamaru realises there was no sound of a gunshot.
Behind him, he can hear Crow curse as he repeatedly pulls the trigger of Kame’s empty Glock.
“That was sweet of you,” Kame says and when he leans up, his lips graze Nakamaru’s cheek. “I’m just going to borrow this for a moment.”
Nakamaru feels his Glock slip away from his grip into Kame’s and a second later, there’s another crack that’s punctuated by a howl of pain. Nakamaru turns around to see Crow fall to his knees with a hole in his thigh.
When he turns back to Kame, Kame is still wearing that brilliant smile.
“My hero,” he says.
Nakamaru just feels pretty stupid.
*
“Stop fidgeting,” Nakamaru snaps when he’s trying to bandage Kame’s arm. The blade had cut deeper than he thought and while the wound is still considered shallow, the amount of blood spilling from it makes Nakamaru queasy.
“You’d make a terrible doctor,” Kame observes. “No patience.”
“That’s a bit rich coming from you.”
They’re at Nakamaru’s apartment again because Kame refused to go to the hospital or be seen at the station with an injury. He’s perched on Nakamaru’s kitchen top, swinging his legs in the air no matter how many times Nakamaru has told him to stop.
“Whoops,” he says with an unapologetic smile when he nearly kicks Nakamaru in the side and Nakamaru places a disapproving hand on his knee.
“Don’t. Move.”
He dabs at the wound carefully with a swab, silently impressed at how Kame doesn’t flinch at the sting of alcohol. He can sense Kame watching him with an equal amount of intent and fails to hide the slight tremble in his hands.
“I’m alright, you know,” Kame says suddenly, softly. “You’ve never seen blood, have you?”
“I spilt a whole bunch back there,” Nakamaru reminds him, “but not on you, no.” Not on anyone I care about.
“But you didn’t kill anyone,” Kame reassures him with a frown, like he thinks Nakamaru’s guilt is the problem here when it’s the opposite. “You’re still a good guy, Nakamaru.”
He takes a roll of gauze and begins to unwind it, cutting off a strip that he begins to wrap around Kame’s arm. Kame is still watching him, trying to tease apart his guilt by boring circles into the side of his head. Kame is many things but a mind reader is not one of them.
Nakamaru keeps his eyes on the gauze. “How good of a guy would I be if the blade had gone through your chest because I was too much of a wuss to take down the thug on my first try? I was the one who gave him an opening.”
It could have been worse. It could have been so much worse.
He pins the gauze into place and drops his shaky hands. Kame picks them up and plays with his fingers.
“Do you regret it, not killing them?”
“I don’t know,” Nakamaru answers honestly, helplessly. “Back at the bar, you said my hands couldn’t kill, but if something happened-if you were in danger and I could do something about it-I think. I think I would.”
“I think so too,” Nakamaru snaps up to see Kame smiling down at him, “but you’d be the type to regret it, Nakamaru. That’s the difference between you and me, between good and bad.” Sweet and toxic. “All hands can kill but some aren’t meant to.”
“And yours are?” Nakamaru asks flatly.
Kame nods with feigned nonchalance. “I’ve had a lot of practice. More than you’re aware of.”
There’s that prickle again, the awareness that he’s being kept in the dark.
“You saw me out there today,” he begins, swiping at his lips. “I was useful. I could hold my own and I had your back.”
“And you were a fucking pain, throwing away my one good lighter,” Kame scowls at the memory. “Remind me to never bring you along for a stake-out again.”
“I saved your life in more ways than one today,” Nakamaru objects and Kame surprises him with a bubble of laughter. “Whatever it is,” he says more seriously, wishing that Kame would let him in, “you can count on me. For anything. I want you to know that.”
“I do.” The warm squeeze around his hands reminds him that Kame still has them. “Nakamaru is my hero after all.”
Nakamaru flushes. “I can’t believe you didn’t make sure your gun was fully loaded before we left.”
“It must have slipped my mind.”
“One day you’re going to get yourself killed and I’ll-”
“Rejoice,” Kame finishes with a grin. It droops into a worried frown when Nakamaru doesn’t reply. “Nakamaru…?”
“Why… would you say that?” Nakamaru asks with that queasy feeling returning in his gut. Kame couldn’t seriously think that, could he? That Nakamaru was that callous and hateful and didn’t -he takes a sharp breath when Kame falls forward, his forehead resting on Nakamaru’s shoulder.
Nakamaru can feel his heat, the tickle of his hair against his cheek. He can smell the smoke that sticks to his skin, the smell of the wind tucked in his hair, and the cool scent of aftershave. He can smell his sweat and the sweet undertones of his cologne. For a long moment, all he breathes is Kame.
“Fine,” Kame exhales with a petulant note Nakamaru somehow knows he has to force, “I’m sorry. You’re weird and you don’t hate me. I get it.”
Nakamaru smiles. “You know, normal people would be happy to know they’re not hated.”
Kame hums for a moment, his breath hot enough to seep through Nakamaru’s shirt and make his skin tingle. Nakamaru would miss his words if not for the fact that they’re mumbled right next to his ear.
“I rather be loved.”
Kame slides off the counter top and side-steps around him, heading into his living room without meeting his searching eyes.
“Let me borrow your couch for tonight,” he calls and Nakamaru has no idea what is going on anymore.
*
“So, I heard you saved Kamenashi.”
He’s met with inquisitive eyes and eager ears the second he steps into the station the next day. He’d had his best sleep in days despite last night’s exertions and when he had padded into the living room the morning after, the couch was empty. There were plates drying in the dish rack that hadn’t been there before he went to bed and a strange sort of comfort warmed him at the sight; at least Kame had welcomed himself to his fridge before taking off. A scribbled note sat on the counter top. See you there.
Nakamaru wonders if this is why Kame had come early, to spread lies and watch him squirm.
“Not really,” he says and tries to hedge past Ueda only to be trailed after by Taguchi.
“You’re practically his saviour.”
“Only there wasn’t any kind of saving involved.”
Koki sidles up to him with an earnest smile. “Thanks for saving our Kame-chan.”
Nakamaru stops and releases a pent-up sigh. He doesn’t want credit where it isn’t due and the truth of the matter is that Kame knew what he was doing when he let Crow steal his Glock. All Nakamaru had done was give the scene a dramatic flair that was embarrassing in hindsight.
“Honestly, all I did was save Kame from an unloaded gun. There wasn’t anything heroic about it.”
“I beg to differ.” He turns to see Kame stepping out of their office. There’s a languid pace to his movements that tells him that Kame had one of his better sleeps last night too, curled up on Nakamaru’s couch. He steps up to them and sends Nakamaru a smile. “It’s the thought that counts. And if I recall correctly, you also saved me from the poisonous clutches of tobacco.”
Nakamaru shifts on his feet, feeling warm in his chest, and tries to ignore the way Koki is looking between them-like he’s just managed to piece something together.
“Where’s Crow?”
“Straight to business then, huh?” Kame notes with a grin. “He’s already been brought to the interrogation room. I thought I’d wait for you here since you were sleeping like a big baby.”
Koki makes a choking sound. “Y-you were sleeping together?”
“No!” Nakamaru trips over himself to answer just as Kame calmly says, “In a manner of speaking.”
Nakamaru gives him a hard look and Kame shrugs innocently like he can’t be bothered to clarify a misunderstanding he intentionally provoked. Nakamaru clears his throat and waits until his flush dies down a bit before he explains, “He slept over. On my couch.”
“He had me take my shirt off,” Kame adds with a grin and yanks Nakamaru away before he can explain further. “Don’t be a spoilsport. You’re already taking away my fun with your oh so legal ideas.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t become a criminal,” Nakamaru snorts at his back as they walk down the grey-walled corridor, the familiar chill creeping up the hem of his pants.
“It takes one to catch one,” Kame rebounds with a lilt in his voice and Nakamaru has never seen him in such a good mood before. No one could guess he had been shot at and had his arm sliced by a blade the other night.
Nakamaru’s eyes flicker to the leather jacket that hides his wound. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“I was wondering when you’d ask. You don’t have any worry to spare for yourself, do you? This is a scratch, trust me.” Kame throws him a look over his shoulder. “How did you like my eggs?”
The abrupt change of topic makes him falter. Eggs. Right. The ones Kame had cooked and left for him on the counter.
“They were a bit cold.” In truth, Nakamaru had been too surprised to even remember what they tasted like. The concept of Kame not having time to spare outside of himself was slowly becoming more foreign to him than familiar but the homemade breakfast still threw him off. Like everything else about Kame-look into one direction and he’d be waving from another.
“You sure know how to lay it on,” Kame laughs. “I’m never cooking for you again.”
They stop outside the door of the interrogation room.
“They were the sunniest sunny-side up eggs I’ve had in my entire life,” Nakamaru says with an itching smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Kame returns with a smile of his own. “Now put on your game face.”
*
“I swear I don’t know anything!”
Behind him, he hears Kame punch the wall and winces. That’s going to sting later. He returns his eyes to Crow and gives him a grim look. He keeps his voice low and steady, entwined with a pleading note that he doesn’t want his partner to hear.
“Listen, I don’t want you to get hurt. No one’s saying that you’re to blame for all the people the Shinigami has killed but if you keep quiet, the vote will be against you.”
“I told you,” Crow shrieks, “I have nothing to do with him!”
“Just let me have at him-”
Nakamaru catches Kame around the waist and struggles to hold him back with his body, a slam of chest against chest, and finally manages to throw him off with a grunt. Kame is heaving, his eyes livid slits that stay pinned onto Crow. “You don’t know his type of scum like I do, Nakamaru. He’ll talk alright, but not until I rearrange his face nice and good.”
The sickly sound of bones cracking resound in the room as Kame kneads his fist. Nakamaru hears a whimper escape from Crow and almost pities him. Nakamaru knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Kame’s glower and the stomach-clenching dread that comes with it.
He turns around and leans over the table, closer to Crow’s chair.
“Now’s not the time to be thinking of your loyalties, Crow. You don’t know my partner like I do,” his voice drops into a whisper. “I’ve seen him kill and cover it as self-defense. He’s a loose cannon but he catches crooks like flies and has favour with the Chief so he gets away with it. No one in this city is going to miss a low-profile drug dealer or open a case to dig into what happened today in this room, Crow, but I’ve seen enough deaths and that’s not what I became a cop for.”
Nakamaru watches Crow’s pupils dart back and forth between them, beads of sweat beginning to perspire from his temples and the smooth skin wrapped around his skull. The chains of his handcuffs jangle in a panicky rhythm as his hands tremble on the table.
Nakamaru lowers his voice even further. “You don’t believe me, Crow? Trust me, I’m on your side. You’re running out of time and you don’t want to-”
“I-I know,” Crow stammers, his eyes suddenly wide and fixed onto Kame who’s pacing the other side of the room in unconcealed agitation. “I know. H-he’s dangerous. I’ve seen it.”
Nakamaru pauses, his frown deepening. “What-”
“I don’t have all fuckin’ day,” Kame spits and rounds on them before Nakamaru has time to take a step back. “If you can’t make him talk then I will.”
There’s a loud screech as Crow tries to slide back on his chair and it tips over with an even louder crash.
“Kame, don’t do this,” Nakamaru cries desperately, intercepting Kame’s path only to be knocked over by a swinging fist to his chin that sends him against a wall. He blinks furiously to recover from the startling pain and sees the flash of sharp silver in Kame’s hand that hadn’t been there before. A knife hidden in his jacket.
“Let’s cut you open and see what you’re hiding inside,” Kame says through a cruel tilt of his lips as he stalks forward and leans over Crow, dangling the knife above his neck.
“Kame!” Nakamaru yells so loud his throat feels raw. “You promised you wouldn’t do this!”
The edge of the blade barely nicks his throat when Crow screams, “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!”
The blade freezes but Kame keeps it pressed against his flesh. “Go on, then. And you’re warned not to disappoint me or…” A drop of blood streaks down the blade and Nakamaru swallows along with Crow.
“The Shinigami. I don’t know who he is-b-but I know him! Don’t kill me!” Crow licks his lips fretfully as Kame eases the pressure. “He’s a regular customer but I’ve never seen his face. He’s always wearing that mask when we make the trade.”
“How often do you see him?” Kame’s voice is dispassionate and merciless; there’s no trace of the humour Nakamaru had heard just a few minutes earlier in the hallway. He’s good. Frighteningly good.
“Once a month and no more. T-the drugs have a half-life you see. Their potency decreases with time and the Shinigami needs a fresh stock to make a quick ki-”
Kame lifts him up with a fist at his collar. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“T-three weeks ago.”
Nakamaru’s heart skips. Three weeks. That means-
“You’re next trade with him is scheduled for next week.”
“I won’t see him! I s-swear!” Kame lets go of Crow’s collar and let’s his head drop to the floor. He stands up and pockets his blade, hovering over Crow’s thin body as it quivers at his feet.
“But you will,” Kame enunciates as slow and razor-sharp as his smirk. “You’ll see the Shinigami just as you planned to… and you’ll take us along. You’ll do exactly what we tell you to and maybe then you’ll be less of a scum, isn’t that right?”
From the floor, Crow nods obediently.
*
“I was wrong,” Kame says when the door closes behind them. “That was more fun than I thought.”
When he turns to Nakamaru, there’s a cheerful smile stretching his lips and not a hint of the menace his face held earlier. His expression and everything down to the way he holds his body is recognizably Kame again, like an iron running over a wrinkled cloth. It’s both jarring and impressive. Nakamaru has to shake himself and take a couple lungfuls before he can drop the façade himself.
“It was intense.”
Kame quirks an eyebrow at him and sends a quizzing look. “Did I fool you?”
Nakamaru doesn’t fail to notice how his smile shrinks. It’s not like he doesn’t understand it because he does; he sees how Kame can be a mystery, how his intentions can be opaque and tangled so abominably that they can’t be teased apart without a pair of tweezers and a surplus of patience. He gets that what makes Kame so good at his job also makes him terrible at anything else outside it.
But Nakamaru also knows that, while Kame isn’t an open book, he’s still readable. A closed, dusty tome tucked away on the very top shelf, with sharp corners and a faded cover and a broken bridge that’s shoddily taped together. He’s written in some foreign language, but not gibberish. He’s only out of reach to people who don’t take the time to flip the page and read further.
Even after all this time, Nakamaru feels as if he’s just finishing the prologue. He can’t put him down.
“Not for a second,” he grins and watches Kame’s squinty-eyed smile crawl up again.
Their arms bump as they walk back up the corridor.
“Sorry about the swing earlier. Did it clip too close?”
“It’s just a scratch, trust me.” Nakamaru catches the laugh in Kame’s eyes and takes a breath before he bumbles, “I’m sorry about what I asked before. In the car. It was dumb because I already knew. Not about your partner but-you. I know you.” They stop by the door that leads back into the hive of the station and Nakamaru scratches at his neck. “It was a stupid thing to say.”
Kame blinks smiling eyes up at him.
“Well you’re a stupid person, Yucchi, so I guess it’s okay.”
“…Yucchi?”
Kame shrugs and pushes open the door. “Since you go around calling me Kame as you please, why not?”
Nakamaru hadn’t even noticed.
*
“So…” Nakamaru slides his sandwich to the side to make room for Koki as the messy haired cop drags his seat closer and crowds him, “what really happened that night?”
Nakamaru takes a bite of his sandwich and chews slowly, thoughtfully. He’s been pestered with the same question so many times that it no longer fazes him and fails to tinge his cheeks pink. He could give his usual answer-the clear cut truth that’s bland next to the overactive imagination of his colleagues-but why bother when all he’ll get is a perverse grin in return and a suuuure.
“What happened that night…” Nakamaru swallows some lettuce and bread and chicken, “…is none of your business.”
Koki’s eyes widen in a way that’s both predictable and comical and Nakamaru thinks he gets why Kame had so much fun with this earlier.
“Y-you mean you two really-”
“Sorry, that’s between me and Kame.” It amuses him how withholding the truth has such a drastically different effect than just saying it openly. Koki is gaping at him and he senses an interrogation coming when Ueda enters the lunch room and saves him.
“Here you are,” Ueda says and his breath is a bit short, like he had run around looking for Nakamaru. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and his hair is askew. His expression makes Nakamaru sit up, alert and anxious.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just finished interrogating that guy you shot in the knee,” Ueda says hurriedly. “He wasn’t too happy about that by the way; his knee is busted for good. You have my kudos.”
“It’s not a surprise if you’ve ever seen this guy shoot. He’s a whizz,” Koki beams and pats him on the back but Nakamaru doesn’t pause to gloat about the fact that he landed someone in a wheelchair for life. That’s not what Ueda came down here to tell him.
“What did you find out?”
“A lot. Or a little that will lead to a lot. That guy’s a member of a gang that smuggles in military grade weapons from overseas. I know my guns and that rifle you brought back was a Russian import.”
Nakamaru frowns in confusion. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“Remember that trade on the docks earlier between the Chinese merchant ship and the yakuza?” Nakamaru hadn’t been there personally but that was when Kame had allegedly chased down and caught Funaki. He nods and Ueda continues. “Well the bullets we confiscated from the scene match the rifle your dragon guy was carrying exactly. Turns out you handicapped a man who is going to be killed sooner or later anyway. The yakuza won’t be happy when they find out how he tried to strike up a private deal with Crow using the weapons they supplied him.”
“He’s a dumbass if he thought he could get away with a side-gig,” Koki adds. “He just kissed his life goodbye.”
“I told him as much,” Ueda says with a smirk. “He nearly shat himself when I said I’d give his yakuza buddies a heads up note. He told me everything as soon as I promised to keep silent-not that that’ll do anything.”
“What did he tell you?” Nakamaru asks, wishing Ueda would get to the point and a moment’s pause later, he does.
“There’s going to be another trade. Only problem is,” Ueda frowns, “I can’t find Kame. Trust him to go out and find a life when we need him here. The asshole won’t even answer his damn phone.”
Nakamaru doesn’t know he’s bristling until he feels Koki pat his arm soothingly. “Coming from him, it’s a term of endearment.”
Nakamaru shakes him off. Kame had been in their office when he’d left him for lunch, but it’s not like he wasn’t allowed to leave before telling Nakamaru where he was heading. It wasn’t like Nakamaru was his mom or anything; he was just his partner after all. Maybe Kame had a date. Or had gone to eat out after telling Nakamaru he wasn’t hungry. A lunch date.
“We can tell him when he gets back,” Nakamaru says, not really seeing the issue.
“The trade is tonight.”
“…Oh shit,” Koki interjects for him.
Nakamaru glances at his watch. It’s still a couple hours before sunset. “Let’s wait. He’ll probably call back soon.”
Soon stretches so long that it loses its meaning and after fruitlessly hunting about their office to check if Kame accidentally left his phone behind, he realises that whatever Kame is doing, he’s too preoccupied to bother glancing at his missed calls. There should be more than a dozen of them since Nakamaru can’t stop dialing his number every ten minutes. If the yakuza are going to be at the docks then chances are that the Shinigami will be involved too.
They have the information from Crow but who knows how that meeting will go, or happen at all if word gets out that Crow has been in police custody and the Shinigami starts suspecting. Whatever more information they can get to fall back on, the better.
It’s an hour past sunset when Nakamaru tucks his Glock into his holster and pulls on a jacket. Taguchi catches him sneaking out of the office and calls out, “They told me not to let you go alone.”
“Earlier this week, I took down two guys armed with military grade rifles,” Nakamaru returns. “I can take care of myself.”
“There will be more than two guys out there tonight, Nakamaru.”
He answers the worry in Taguchi’s expression with a firm nod. “I know. I don’t plan on fighting them, or getting out of my car even. I’m only going for recon-in and out, no harm done.” When Taguchi opens his mouth again, Nakamaru snaps. “Look, I need to be out there tonight and you’re not going to stop me.”
Taguchi blinks and gives him an appraising smile. “You should let me complete my sentences more often. I was going to say that you’ve become a lot like Kazuya after sharing that cozy little office. I guess insanity is contagious after all.”
“He’s not crazy,” Nakamaru says defensively and then rethinks it, “…mostly.”
Taguchi looks amused. “He’s just wired in a peculiar way.”
“Right. Wish me luck then.”
“I wish you a safe return… and if the others ask why I didn’t stop you, you snuck away while I was in the washroom.”
Nakamaru laughs. “Got it. This never happened.”
He slides into his car and thinks that Taguchi’s observation isn’t entirely without merit. If Nakamaru was still the same officer he was when he was back in his hometown, he wouldn’t be breaking his senior officer’s command to go off and investigate a smuggling on his own. He’d be in his office, watching the night pass as he’d wait for Kame.
He checks his cell phone again before pocketing it and starting the car. Still no answer. There’s a chance though that Kame got in touch with Ueda and is already there. Nakamaru hopes that’s the case because while what he said to Taguchi was true-that he’d keep away and well out of sight-his heart won’t stop pounding. Kame was reckless but at least there was the comfort that things somehow tended to fall in his favour, whereas with him… Nakamaru would rather not test his luck.
*
The water’s edge is windy, the docks shrouded by darkness, but there are enough lights on the anchored boat for Nakamaru to make out what’s going on. Nakamaru hunches in his car, low enough to give him a clear view without having his head spotted. The waves rock the boat to and fro and the people that emerge from inside the cabin look well used to it. They wear rifles strapped across their shoulders as they wait.
The cars arrive one by one, black and sleek like a serpent, and thankfully park away from Nakamaru’s own. Nakamaru had parked on higher ground, under the cover of a low hanging tree, and he has to duck behind his binoculars to see the members of the yakuza spilling out from the cars. They would appear as a band of businessmen if not for the various visible scars they wear with pride; the scars make even the scrawniest among them look menacing.
Nakamaru tries to commit the faces to memory but there’s too many. He finds one that is familiar though, thin and sharp with a long scar up the cheek. Funaki had been bailed out last week and it doesn’t surprise Nakamaru to see him returning to his usual business. He trails behind the wide shoulders of a man who shares his profile, cutting the way forward to the docks. His esteemed father.
Nakamaru’s hands tighten around the binoculars when he sees the Shinigami following at their backs. The Noh mask and its twisted features are unmistakable. The mask is red, not a bright red but a darker, dull shade-the colour of dried blood-and seeing it in person fills Nakamaru with a burst of disgust that the pictures in the black folder had failed to inspire. Before he could only feel terror; now he wants to rip off the mask and shame the face underneath to the entire world. Ladies and gentleman, I give you the sick bastard who dares to play god.
He’s so focused on the Shinigami that he misses the small shadow of the man walking near the tail end of the yakuza mob. He only notices by chance, when they file onto the docks and the boat lights encase them in an eerie glow-and it turns out that Kame had beaten him here after all.
The binoculars nearly slip from his hands.
He zooms in until Kame is all he can see and-it really is Kame, steep eyebrows, broken nose, and lips thinned together in an impenetrable poker face. It’s Kame standing on the docks with the Shinigami and Funaki and a dozen other men he had vowed to put behind bars.
Nakamaru feels his heart plummet before he can stop himself.
Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup, he thinks. You don’t know anything. Just watch. Don’t think. Just watch.
You know him.
He watches the exchange take place, Funaki’s father stepping up to hand over a briefcase and the Captain of the boat signaling his men to slide over two large crates. There’s talk and laughter-Nakamaru’s eyes instantly hunt for Kame but his expression remains impassive-and he watches Funaki Sr. share a drink with the Captain. A moment later, the Captain tips over, drugged with the Shinigami’s poison.
There’s chaos that’s brought under control in less than two minutes. The men on the boat are outnumbered and Funaki Sr. must have struck a tempting deal because they lower their rifles and step off the boat. The lone man who refuses is knocked over, betrayed by one of his fellows. They drag him in the center of the dock and Nakamaru sees Funaki whisper to his dad.
Nakamaru doesn’t know if it’s the effect of the lights or if Kame really has gone pale but his heart lurches anyway. Get out, get out.
Funaki Sr. issues an order and Kame is thrust forward in front of the rebel and handed a gun. Nakamaru can’t hear them but the instructions are clear: shoot him.
Fucking fuck fuck fuck f-just watch. You know him.
Kame’s face is a cold slab of ice as he pulls the trigger. Across from him, the rebel hits the floor.
I’ve had practice. More than you know of.
A second later, Nakamaru watches Funaki raise his own gun and shoot Kame from the back.
Nakamaru isn’t breathing anymore, just watching with his mouth open in a cry that’s too choked up to have a sound. From up in the safety of his car, he shouldn’t be able to hear Kame’s either but he does-it screams in his ears, sends pain shooting through him as if Nakamaru took a bullet too. He watches Kame land on the planks of the dock, braced on his knee. There’s blood spilling onto the wooden planks from where the bullet carved a hole through his shoulder.
Please. Please.
Funaki Sr. says something to his son that makes him redden in anger but the gun is being stripped away from his hand. There are more instructions and Kame is left bleeding as they clean up and inspect the crates. The rebel is tossed over the side and swallowed by the black waves.
He sees the Shinigami step close to Kame to say something and Nakamaru doesn’t know what to believe anymore.
He doesn’t have time to either, which is a blessing, because he needs to get away before the cars drive up and notice him. He’s on the road when his phone buzzes.
sorry smth came up. not feeling gud. don’t wait 4 me tmr
Nakamaru tosses the phone into the passenger seat and watches it bounce to the floor from the force. At least it wasn’t a complete lie this time.
<- part 3 II -> part 5