Murder III Chapter 27
(A\N: Ok so the chapter numbers are off...this IS actually chapter 27, I believe. I repeated a chapter a few chapters back and that's what threw everything into confusion. Hopefully I will get on that this summer...and fix everything. :D Anyway, enjoy!)
---
Title: Murder III
Rated M for violence and mature scenes
---
Chapter 27
---
“Mika-chaaan.” Renjiro smiled playfully, “You’re so forceful.”
A giggle.
“I think I’m going to bruise. I’m a fragile man, you know.”
Kang-Dae rolled his eyes, looking over at the other man, ignoring the soft pressure on his own back. He reached over and grabbed his Gin and Tonic and took a sip. The rim was frigid, and it made the warmth of the room that much more apparent, almost as much as the musky incense.
Why Renjiro had a massage parlor within his home was unknown to him. He supposed that it was something Renjiro’s mother had put in. From what Renjiro had described, she was a woman who flaunted her wealth whenever she could, and spared no expense for her whimsies.
The two had spent the afternoon there. Now that Kang-Dae thought about it, they hadn’t left the house at all since they’d arrived. The drive from the airport had been long and there had been no stops. Kang-Dae hadn’t seen anyone at all in the house except for the guards, Renjiro, and a few maids.
And also the masseuses.
A knock on the door, and Renjiro turned as soon as two men in suits walked in. “Bosu.”
“Mm?” He asked, but through the carefree façade, Kang-Dae knew he was listening in all seriousness. It was a part of Renjiro that Kang-Dae had respected. His playful attitude was a ploy, hiding a hard, tactical man that separated work and pleasure with a definite line.
“Some men have come to see you. They claim they have an appointment.”
“An appointment?” Renjiro sat up on the massage table, waving off ‘Mika-chan’. The woman bowed, and the woman beside Kang-Dae did the same, leaving the room quietly. Renjiro stood, making sure the towel that hung low on his hips stayed in place as he walked over to where his clothes hung neatly on a hook.
“Yes. They say they’re from the Ryuuseikai.”
Renjiro stilled, fingers brushing against the fabric of his slacks. He turned to quickly see Kang-Dae’s reaction. Kang-Dae had frozen, eyes widening for a moment, before they went back to the same size as usual. His gaze went slack, and this was what Renjiro had worried about. Through all of the therapy in Seoul, Kang-Dae had become numb to the world. Renjiro had at first been glad to see that Kang-Dae had let go of his emotional attachment to Shun Izaki and all that his obsession with him had entailed.
But the inability to care at all, this desensitization, was unnatural. Renjiro would have preferred Kang-Dae’s fury.
“Tell them I will be down in a few moments.” Renjiro finally commented, taking off the towel and beginning to change. “You are dismissed.”
The suited men nodded, heading out of the door.
Kang-Dae slipped off of his table and headed to where his own clothes were hanging, but was stopped by Renjiro’s voice.
“It’ll be best if you stay here. I don’t want anyone to recognize you.” And then Renjiro left the room, buttoning up his shirt as he went.
Kang-Dae stared at the closed door, and his face twisted. He simply slumped back against the chair sitting near the clothes rack. He dragged a hand through his hair.
To say he was unaffected would be a lie. It was impossible to never care again, and he had already been shaken emotionally by the assassination-attempt back home in Korea by his own men.
Genji was the head of the Ryuuseikai now. Izaki loved Genji. Could Izaki be there? His throat seemed to tighten, along with his chest, and he slunk lower in the chair.
---
Tamao whistled as they walked into a lounge where they were told to wait for Hamaguchi-san. “Damn…” He sat down on the couch. “This place is nice.”
“Would you like anything to drink?” A maid asked timidly, bowing to the two.
“Nothing at the moment.” Atasuke answered back coolly, sitting down as well, looking completely at ease in the large, expansive home.
Tamao had to admit he was a little intimidated. Most of the places they’d frequented were mahjong parlors, bars, clubs, and warehouses. He wasn’t used to places like this. High class was something Tamao was not comfortable with.
And that was when his phone went off. Atasuke shot him a cold look but Tamao merely waved him off, flipping the phone open and standing, walking to the other side of the room. It wasn’t like this Hamaguchi-san guy was even there yet, so why was Atasuke getting his panties in a wad, huh?
“Tamao?” It was Tsutsumoto.
Tamao grunted, “What is it? Have you found anything else out about the attacks?”
“The Armored Front has been looking for the bastard that did it. At first Bando got some leads that looked like they were coming from Housen but we tracked ‘em down and it was nothing major. Just some boys trying to play copycat.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But some Suzuran kids have been getting involved and that damned Trio thinks that it’s their job to settle the score. They won’t leave me alone!”
“Yeah.” Tamao was looking around the room, focused, but not entirely so. Tsutsumoto wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already heard.
Someone was coming down the stairs. Tamao turned to the door and frowned, “I’m kind of busy, I’ll call you later.”
“…listen, I have a judo tournament in a few days so-”
“Good work, just keep at it.” And Tamao hung up before Tsutsumoto could say anything else. The moment he stuffed the phone back into his pocket, the door opened and Hamaguchi-san walked in, flanked by two bodyguards.
Tamao stared in shock.
The other man spoke first, a cold smile on his face. “Serizawa. We meet again.”
“Bastard-” Tamao lunged forward but Atasuke grabbed him, throwing him down onto the couch. Tamao looked up at Atasuke angrily, ignoring the fact that all the men in the room were now pointing weapons at him. His eyes locked with Atasuke’s and a chill ran down his spine. Atasuke’s gaze was frigid.
“I hope you will forget your past animosities with Hamaguchi-san, Serizawa.” Atasuke drawled, and his voice was dark with warning even as he smiled wanly. “Currently, Hamaguchi-san and Bosu are partners, so refrain from any violent behavior.”
“I had hoped we’d meet under better circumstances.” Renjiro drawled, sitting down on the couch opposite Tamao, waving a hand at the guards in dismissal. The guards didn’t want to leave their boss alone but they did as he wished, leaving Renjiro with Atasuke and Tamao.
Tamao knew that the men were standing just outside the door, waiting for any sign of aggression or an attack. They would burst in the moment they sensed any danger. Tamao knew this, but that didn’t stop him from glaring at Renjiro, even as Atasuke sat down beside him.
Atasuke cast Tamao one last, warning look, before he turned back to Renjiro. “Hamaguchi-san, I am sorry that Takiya-san or our current Boss could not come to this meeting.”
“It’s alright.” Renjiro shrugged, “I didn’t expected Genji-san to come anyway.” He smirked, “The two of us aren’t on good terms as you…may have already guessed.” His gaze went to Tamao and then down to the cups on the table. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No thank you.” Atasuke shook his head. “We won’t stay long.”
Renjiro nodded. “Have you found out any information on Tadao-san yet?”
Tamao’s eyes narrowed in rage at the name of the man who had shot Tokaji. “What the hell is going on here-”
“Refrain from speaking, Serizawa.” Atasuke snapped, “You are only here because I didn’t have time to take you back to the office. Think of it as a privilege and reflect on it quietly.”
“It’s alright.” Renjiro continued smirking, his gaze locking with Tamao’s. “We’re currently looking for Tadao as well, with the help of Genji-san’s father. Tadao-san has done a lot that he needs to be held responsible for, along with Dong-yul.”
Tamao leaned back further against the couch. “So you’re…not with them anymore?”
Renjiro’s eyes sharpened angrily. “The yakuza has always belonged to me, Tamao-san. I merely lent them out.”
Tamao knew he’d touched a sore spot, and he also knew that he was this close to insulting a yakuza boss and getting shot over it. So Renjiro was helping Genji’s father. That meant that he couldn’t be all bad. Not that Tamao cared. Renjiro had sided with Kang-Dae and that made him the enemy.
And he’d stay the enemy.
“I can’t believe you’re behaving like such a good little dog. I figured you would have jumped up and bitten him by now.”
Renjiro froze, eyes widening a bit in shock as he turned around to look at the person standing in the doorway, smirking.
Tamao stood, his leg hitting the table and shoving it aside, causing the glasses to fall off and shatter.
“Kang-Dae!”
He lunged.
---
Izaki didn’t know where he was at first. He blinked a few times, staring at the stained ceiling. This wasn’t his house. He pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring the ache that was beginning to filter through his body and the dizziness that came with it. Not again…
He looked around the room and realized he was in the back of the shop. He was sleeping on a cot, the one his dad usually occupied. It wasn’t rare for his father to sleep at the shop and not come home. There was a coffee machine, a fridge, a microwave. It was like a small apartment.
Izaki had always hated it because it meant his father was always away. He loved the store more than he loved his family. Just the thought made him sick. How could someone care so much about something material when he had a family to take care of?
“I brought you here and took care of the guys in front. They went home a few hours ago.”
Izaki looked up to see his father in the doorway.
“What about mom?” Izaki questioned tiredly, as his father walked over and sat in a chair beside the cot. He was drinking coffee. The smell made Izaki nauseous but he didn’t say anything.
“I told her you were coming home late.” A pause. “Are you sick again?”
Izaki wondered how his dad even knew he was sick in the first place. All he ever did was work.
I never got better, he wanted to say, but he didn’t. He shrugged, “It’s probably just a cold or something.”
His father nodded, taking the lie at face value. He stood, walking to the fridge. “Want something to drink?”
“Water.”
“No beer?” His father sounded surprised.
“I don’t drink anymore.” Izaki answered, stretching. He wouldn’t mention that he’d live longer if he didn’t drink or smoke, because he figured his father didn’t believe him that he’d stopped drinking in the first place. His father seemed to forever believe his son would be a delinquent. The kind of person that lied.
The kind of person that got his sister crippled.
His dad grabbed a chilled bottle of water and tossed it at him. Izaki almost didn’t catch it. That shocked him, because he’d thought that his reflexes had been improving since his time out of the hospital. He held the bottle weakly, staring down at the label. Was he really deteriorating this quickly? He swallowed, before lifting a hand and unscrewing the cap on the bottle. He took a sip, and the water felt cool, washing away the lingering taste of vomit.
His father had grabbed a beer, and took a sip. The smell made Izaki want to vomit again, but he focused on the bottle of water and it kept the feeling of nausea at bay. He wondered if his father even knew he wasn’t supposed to smoke or drink around him. Probably not. He never listened when Izaki’s mother talked to him.
“Where are those three idiots you always hang out with?”
“Huh?” Izaki looked up from the bottle.
“The three from the hospital. Your mother told me that a few of your friends stayed there with you. I wondered why they haven’t come by to see you.” His father didn’t know their names, not that he’d expected them to.
Izaki shrugged.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve gotten over all of this. Now you can continue working at the store with me.” His father took another sip of beer. “Things like this…show you how easy it is for people to disappear. You never know when life will take you, so you should secure everything before you go.”
Izaki turned to his father, because his voice was oddly quiet. It was the first time he’d really looked at his father in a long time. He seemed so much older now. His hair was completely gray, and thinning rapidly. His face was a myriad of wrinkles and his gaze was weary.
His dad cleared his throat. “I know you’ve never agreed with the way I work, but I hope you’ll understand it now that you’re older. It’s my job to provide for you, your mother, and Aki. It’s all I’ve ever wanted and strived to do, because it’s all I can do.” He looked to Izaki. “You know that, don’t you son? That I love you. It’s because of that that I work so hard. It’s my job.”
“Your job is all you’ve ever cared about.” Izaki nodded, his voice cool.
His father grunted, as if he’d known that response was coming. “It’s your job to make sure that those you care for are taken care of after you go. That’s a father’s job. A man’s job.”
A man’s job.
Izaki’s grip tightened on his bottle of water. Was it his job too? To make sure that Tamao, Tokio, and Genji were taken care of? That after his death, they’d be ok? He knew that Tokio and Tamao would survive. Tokio didn’t have that strong of a connection with him yet, he’d be the least affected. Tamao…Tamao was a survivor. It wouldn’t be the first loss he’d dealt with.
But Genji…
Genji was all glass surrounded by steel, strong on the outside but if you shook him hard enough, he’d shatter. He was too trusting, too stuck in a made-up world of Yakuza movies: honor and brotherhood and fair fights. Genji was…naïve of the world. And he would pay for it when Izaki died.
Izaki swallowed. What could he do to protect him from that? He stood slowly, “I’m going to use the phone.”
His father nodded, “Go ahead, as long as it’s not long distance and you don’t talk for too long.”
Izaki waved him off, going to the phone and dialing a number he’d memorized long ago. The phone rang a few times, before someone picked up. A gruff voice, husky with sleep. “Yeah?”
Izaki’s grip tightened on the receiver. “Genji?”
He could hear Genji’s intake of breath as he recognized Izaki’s voice. “Izaki? What is it?”
“Let’s talk.” Izaki murmured, “Meet me at Suzuran in ten minutes.” And he hung up. He put the phone back and went to the cot, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair his father was sitting in.
“Heading back to that school? Don’t be out too late.” His father called.
“I’m just taking care of something.” Izaki grunted, and then he was out the door.
---
Sugihara and Honjo hadn’t wanted to leave the Shun family store. They’d felt like something was off when Izaki’s old man had come and told them that he was busy and they should leave. But before they could protest, they’d gotten a call from Kirishima.
They met up with him at an old park. It was a place they’d frequented often as children. The first time they’d ever been there, they’d been picked on by a group of upperclassmen bullies from their junior high.
Izaki had beat them up. It had been the first time that Kirishima and the others had ever seen Izaki up close. They’d see him in the hallways, had heard about him from classmates. He had been one of the two heads of the school with Serizawa Tamao. They had ruled everything.
Then Kim Kang-Dae had come and ruined it all.
But that didn’t take away the significance of the park in the first place. A lot of blows had been dealt and shared here.
But why had Kirishima called them in the first place? He was sitting on a bench near the swing set, looking down at his shoes, his hands stuffed into his pockets. When he heard them coming he stood up, waiting for them to reach him.
“What’s this all about? It’s really late.” Honjo whined.
“I have to get home soon.” Sugihara nodded, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose. He still wore them, even in the dark.
Kirishima scoffed at the two. “This is important, so just listen, will ya?”
“What is it?”
“Some freshmen got beat up really bad a few days ago. At first I didn’t care, and I figured it was probably Housen or just some other punks that got to ‘em. But then I found out that no one knows who did it, just that it wasn’t Housen.”
Honjo blinked, “Why would anyone attack kids from Suzuran without a purpose?”
“A few sophomores got hit today.” Kirishima barked out angrily-not at them, at the fact that some of his boys had been beaten. “And we still don’t know who the hell did it.”
“Well, surely there was a sign-” Sugihara began, and was cut off by Kirishim, who glared.
“Yeah, but Bando got to it first.” His fists clenched inside his pockets.
Honjo raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Bando? But why-”
“The fucker. Tsutsumoto and the Twins were working with him. I dunno what it doing on, but it pisses me the fuck off. We have a right to know who’s attacking our boys.”
“They don’t even go to Suzuran anymore, why do they care what’s going on?” Honjo snorted, sitting down on the bench and flipping open his book. There was enough light from an overhead streetlamp for him to get a bit in while Sugihara and Kirishima talked.
“I dunno.” Kirishima pulled out a cigarette and put it to his lips. “And that pisses me off even more.” He fished in his pocket for his lighter and stopped. He sighed, taking the cigarette from his mouth and putting it back in the back, before throwing the pack away in the trash can beside the bench.
“Oi, what didya do that for?” Honjo stared up at him in horror, his book forgotten in his lap. Even Sugihara was staring at Kirishima like he’d grown an extra head.
Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from them so that they couldn’t see him blush.
“Miwako-sensei hates guys who smoke. And we’re underage anyway.”
There was a moment of silence, before Honjo started snickering-and then stopped as Sugihara reached into his pocket and produced his own pack, throwing it into the garbage. Honjo scoffed, “What the hell are you doing?”
Sugihara shrugged, not saying anything, looking down at his feet.
“You’re completely whipped and she’s a fucking teacher.”
“Just throw your cigarettes away too, you’re going to do it when we aren’t looking anyway.” Kirishima snapped.
“Am not! I just bought this pack! There’s no way in hell I’m letting it go!”
---
It was a common fact that when drunk, a person weighs twice as much as they usually do. Well, Tokaji knew it wasn’t scientific, but it always felt that way, especially when he’d be dragging Tsutsumoto or any of the other assorted dumbasses back to their homes after they got hammered.
Tokaji was almost always the designated ‘driver’. Of course, since there was no car, that meant he could still have a few drinks, which he always did. Tokaji never did shit for anyone without payment. And the designated ‘driver’ got free drinks. The only reason Tamao didn’t always go for the part was because you were only allowed so many drinks so that you could keep your wits about you.
But that wasn’t the problem at hand.
The drunken Shige leaning heavily on his right side was the problem. He wasn’t certain when someone had given her a drink or when that drink had turned into three or four, but he knew that it was most likely not Arinori.
Arinori was on Shige’s left, holding one of her arms around his shoulders as he steered them in the direction of his car.
Fucking lightweight, this drunk after only a few shots…Tokaji thought gruffly, but he couldn’t help the amused, almost endearing smirk that crossed his face as he shot a quick glance at her. Shige’s eyes were closed, and her breathing was soft, feathery, and smelled of sake.
Her hair hung in front of her face, dark curls that stuck with sweat. Her grip on the back of his shirt was tight, but it shook and the tension eased every few steps before she remembered she had to hold on or she’d fall.
She really didn’t have to worry about that.
He would never let her fall.
“Damn, why did I park so far away…?” Arinori grunted. He was slightly out-of-breath, even from carrying Shige just the short distance from the restaurant to the parking complex beside it. He wasn’t used to carrying anything much heavier than his violin case and music stand.
“Can you drive?” Tokaji grunted out, hefting a bit more of Shige’s weight onto his own shoulders. The move didn’t go unnoticed by Arinori, who’s other hand rested more heavily against her hip, a protective hold that stated the boundaries Tokaji could not cross.
Tokaji ignored it, and waited for an answer.
“I didn’t drink anything alcoholic tonight. I figured that the others might get Shige to drink…” he paused, and his gaze slacked a bit. “Actually…I’ve never seen her drink, even with friends. She really hates being like this.” He looked over at her slack face, the way her head swung a bit with each step.
“Like what?”
“Shige doesn’t like not being in control.”
Tokaji suspected that perhaps Arinori had had at least one drink. Why else would he be spouting this kind of secretive crap to Tokaji? He hated Tokaji, everyone knew it, and Tokaji hated him. Secrets-Shige’s secrets-were not something he had expected the man to share.
“She gets scared if she isn’t thinking clearly. She’s never drank in front of anyone. If she does drink…she’s only done it once in front of me.” Arinori’s gaze turned darker, sadder, and even in the faded light of the streetlight Tokaji could see that it was a pained expression.
“She locked all of the doors and windows.” He whispered, “Because it was the only way she could feel safe. Even after I promised to stay the whole night, she still locked the door and windows.” His grip on her tightened.
“…and then tonight, she drank four shots of sake in the middle of a crowded bar…because you were there.”
They had reached the parking lot that held Arinori’s car, and Arinori steered them in the direction of the black Lincoln MKT. “…be good to her.”
Tokaji stopped, and Arinori almost lost his grip on Shige as he continued forward. The two managed to grab a hold of her before she fell, and she let out a small moan, leaning more heavily against Arinori. The other man looked over her head at Tokaji.
“Be good to her. She deserves it for all she’s been through.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not my place to tell you.” Arinori snapped, “And don’t think that this means I like you because I don’t. I can accept you without liking you.” His grip tightened on Shige’s waist. “You can go now, I’ll drive her home.”
Arinori had already opened the door and was buckling Shige into the seat. Tokaji could only stare, because the heavy warmth of Shige was gone and he was still thoroughly confused. He didn’t move as Arinori shut the door and got into the driver’s side.
The engine started, but Tokaji continued to stared. When he’d gone over Shige’s apartment with Aki, she hadn’t seem frightened in the least. She hadn’t locked the door. She hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.
She’d seemed perfectly fine…
…was there something she was hiding? And did he even have the right to ask what it was?
The car drove off and he was standing alone in the parking lot.
“Be good to her. She deserves it for all she’s been through.”
What the hell was Arinori talking about!? Did it have to do with her scar? He’d never found out how she’d gotten it. It had simply been ‘an accident’. He’d never probed further. It wasn’t any of his business, after all. Shige was simply his conductor and tutor, right? He didn’t need to know anything personal about her.
Dammit…he really didn’t know what he and Shige were, and that made him uneasy. Tokaji liked to know things. He liked to be able to calculate what he needed to do by knowing exactly what everyone else thought and how they would act. Things always went according to his plans.
Except for Shige.
He didn’t know if he liked this feeling or not…but he did know that he was going to get answers.
---
Chapter 28: http://lady-hanaka.livejournal.com/27838.html