That Mafia!AU Pikame Fic Part Three [Complete]
Title: Gravity Is Not The Only Thing Holding Me Back.
Fandom: JE
Pairing: Pikame, Uchi/Kame
Rating: R (for violence)
Disclaimer: Not mine, and no profit is made.
Summary: “Close your eyes. Block your ears. Then run and run until you feel your legs burned…then come to me. Come find me.” So he did. And then put a bullet through his head.)
Part One: Yamapi | Part Two: Jin | Part three: Kame
Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
(Dare You to Move - Switchfoot)
.
.
(“Close your eyes. Block your ears. Then run and run until you feel your legs burned…then come to me. Come find me.”
So he did.
And then put a bullet through his head.)
-
This is his earliest memory:
He wakes up in a white bright room, screaming some unintelligible words at the top of his lungs, and passes out just after.
-
(This is his true earliest memory:
He opened his eyes. Looked around, and found the room he was in was in a pristine condition, with enough dust and molt and stale air to make him think it hadn’t been lived in for quite some time.
There was dirt on his hands, his bare feet, his bare ankles. He brought a hand to his face. Felt some smudges on his cheeks. Used his nails to scrape some of the smudges off his cheek, only to see caked dark brown thingy under his nails, unlike the dirt on his fingers. Realized with a sudden jolt it was dried blood - which was really odd, since he was still soaked wet from his hair to his toes.
“You’re sloppy.” Said a voice, somewhere in the room. He lifted his head, scanning his surrounding. Found a lanky guy with calculating eyes and a sneer leaning against the far wall. “Good, but still sloppy.”
“And you‘re oh so much better.” He said, voice scratchy.
“I saved you, didn’t I?” The sneer turned into a smirk. “I could teach you.”
He only stared blankly at the guy, while the guy’s smirk melted away into a brilliant smile - something that he would later learn was quite rare.
“The name’s Ryo, by the way. What’s yours?”
He was fourteen the first time he met Nishikido Ryo.)
-
When he opens his eyes again, somebody is sitting at an uncomfortable-looking chair by his bed, dark head bent down over a spread of papers on his lap.
There’s a pleasant buzz around him, a faint ringing in his ears, and he feels so very light, weightless, almost like he’s floating on water. He wonders if he’s about to drown then, since there’s this drowsiness quality to his vision, like something (someone) is trying to get him under.
“You’re awake.”
He turns his head to the side. The dark head earlier has straightened up to reveal a distinctive feature of a face, framing by unruly dark hair. The eyes are bloodshot and seem to shrunken on themselves, as if trying to suck the remaining life on the surface. The grayish and washed out color of the skin also definitely doesn’t help.
For a moment, he wonders why is it he’s the one lying on the bed, when the person before him clearly needs it more than he does.
“How do you feel?”
For a few seconds, he only stares numbly at this person, trying his best to make sense of the question. “Like I’ve just one too many hit to the head.” He tries to sit up, only to slump back on the bed with a painful groan. “Or one too many hit to the chest.”
“Right. I’m Akanishi Jin, by the way.” The person says, his lips forming something between a smile and a grimace. When he just keeps staring at him blankly, the man adds, “I’m your roommate.”
-
(“I have a fiancé.” Kazuya was saying, as he threaded his hand lightly over Kame’s short hair. His fingers were gentle on Kame’s scalp, careful, like he was holding something precious and dear. It was disconcerting enough that Kame didn’t know what to do with it, so mostly he just ignored the feeling.
“Yeah?” Kame mumbled to Kazuya’s chest, from where he was currently sprawled over Kazuya’s lap like a child.
“Yeah. His name’s Jin. You will like him, I think.” There was a smile in Kazuya’s voice, fond and warm. “He’s always been so brass and stupid and careless, and when he puts his mind into something, there’d be no stopping him.” Kazuya’s fingers moved over Kame’s nape, and Kame burrowed himself further into Kazuya’s chest. “I think he will like you too, if you met him.”
“Nah. Stupid people piss me off. Make me want to shoot them between the eyes.”
There was a sigh, sounding like a cross between amused and wary. “We really need to work on your trigger-happy fingers.”
Kame just let out mmm noise of contentment as a response, closing his eyes and burrowing himself deeper into Kazu’s jacket .)
-
Once, he remembered waking up beside Uchi on his bed, their legs tangling under the covers. There was a kind of pleasant ache he could feel all over his body, the kind he always felt after a good sex. He blinked. Sex. Uchi.
Huh.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
He tilted his head up slightly. Uchi was smiling down at him, all mussed hair and heavy-lidded eyes and scratchy voice and open expression - happiness pouring off of him in waves. Uchi was easily the brightest thing he had ever laid his eyes on.
He wanted nothing more than to slash him open and hang his insides on the ceilings.
Uchi suddenly blinked, smile gone in an instant. He drew himself away from Kame, looking mightily startled.
Kame frowned. “I’m sorry, did I just say it out loud?”
The other boy let out a shaky laugh. “Are you always this *sweet* to your bed partners in the morning after?” it was rather clear from his expression he desperately wanted this to be a joke.
Kame only frowned deeper. “Well no. I mean, usually they’re all dead by morning anyway, so there’s never a need for a *morning after*.”
Uchi blinked. And then let out another shaky laugh, louder this time. “You’re kidding, right?” when Kame kept looking at him blankly, he stopped laughing abruptly - eyes blown wide. “Holy shit.” Then he got himself off the bed and started looking for his own clothes and jeans among the mess on the floor. He did it with more speed than was necessary, although still not enough to put it into running away category. It was damn close though.
He *had* got Uchi almost-but-not-quite running away from him. That was… really a feat onto itself.
“Okay, word of advice?” Uchi addressed him, “don’t talk about shit like that on the bed. Or, you know, ever.” he threw a dirty look Kame’s way at the last word.
“But aren’t we supposed to make *small talk* at such a time? Like, about our jobs. Or our wishes. Or our former, ah, partners.” He didn’t bother getting up; just lying on his side, watching Uchi prancing about in the room with lazy eyes.
“Even those things are supposed to be filtered! Certain matters are simply not fit for public consumption! Didn’t Ryo ever teach you that?” then he paused, and made a face. “Wait, don’t answer that. He probably *encouraged* you, that *bastard*.”
In Kame’s half-awake brain, Uchi sounded exasperated, and just a little bit irritated, but definitely fond - which was Uchi’s default when it came to Ryo, really.
Kame rolled to his stomach, his elbows propped under him so he could look at Uchi properly, who was having his back to him as he struggled to put on his t-shirt. There were scratch marks on his shoulder blades. Kame looked down at his own not-so-blunt nails. Wondered if he was the one who put those marks on Uchi. Wondered what Ryo was gonna say if he knew. Wondered what *Uchi* was gonna say if he knew *Ryo* knew. Then remembered the looks they pretended they didn’t give each other. And. And then--
“And yet still you wish you slept with him.”
Uchi froze. The t-shirt was still bunched up in his armpits, and his muscles flexed interestingly as he slowly turned around to face Kame.
“What did you say?”
Kame frowned. “You heard me.”
Uchi made an impatient sound in the back of his throat. “Of course I heard you! I was merely asking you what did you *think* you were saying at all!”
“For someone who’s supposed to be mild-mannered, you’re shouting an awful lot right now.” He observed.
Uchi’s eyes narrowed into slits, his expression closing down. With one forceful, angry tug, his t-shirt came loose and covered the rest of his upper body properly. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not the only one Ryo’s been hanging out with for years? I know a few tricks I nicked off of him which would make normal people quivering in fear.”
He looked at him bleakly. “And wouldn’t you like to learn *more*.”
Uchi let out this snarl, like a hissing cat, a sound resembling something between anger and exasperation, shoulders tense and itching for a fight. “What is this with you and all this-this random jabs at Ryo? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re *jealous*.”
He sat up straight then, the covers pooling around his middle. If they were gonna talk then they were gonna talk, and he wouldn’t want to be at a disadvantage by being in a vulnerable position - even if technically he *was* at a disadvantage since Uchi had on his t-shirt and Jeans while he had only the protection of his covers. But. Well. It was the thought that counted.
“Aren’t you, though?” he said, in that impassive tone he knew Uchi hated. “Jealous, I mean. Of me. Because-“
Before he could finish that sentence, Uchi sprang on him, a hand going for his throat. Which was-bad move. Uchi might have the height and weight advantage, but Kame was the faster one, always had been the faster one, see, all instinct and feline grace, and before either of them knew it, he was pinning Uchi to the floor, his bony fingers holding Uchi’s wrists on either side of his head, while his legs locking around Uchi’s, rendering him immobile.
Uchi was looking at him weird right now, weird as in unusual, since Uchi was the most confident person after Ryo, so all those panicky desperation should’ve no business on his face. But they were, okay, they were on his face, and something else Kame didn’t recognize, because Kame and feelings had never been the best of friends. Uchi’s mouth was moving, telling Kame something, shouting at him really, judging from the rapid-fire way his mouth moving, something like Don’t say it don’t you ever finish that thought you retard please there’d no going back please don’t for once in your miserable life--
But all Kame could hear was the loud roar in his ears, a residual rush of adrenaline as his instinct retreated back into the corner of his mind, as his brain slowly regained back the control of his head.
He was nose to nose with Uchi, and he knew if Uchi could turn his head away, he would; except there was no room, see, because Ryo had taught him good on all the art of rendering people helpless and immobile.
“-because this is the closest you’ll ever get to Ryo.”
And then he kissed him.
Except Uchi didn’t respond; he honest-to-God froze, not like he didn’t know what to do, but more like the shock had paralyzed him completely. And it was no fun kissing a corpse, so Kame released Uchi’s wrists and pulled back, using his elbows to support him.
Uchi still didn’t move a muscle. Only stared at him with a crushed look in his eyes, like the world had fucked him up all over again.
“Please,” Uchi began, and it was just wrong to hear the note of betrayal in his voice, the desperation that managed to bleed into his tone, “Please tell me you didn’t think I slept with you just so I could get to Ryo.”
It was then that his mind blanked for a second, because--because.
Whatever it was, it must have shown on his face, since Uchi made this terrible, terrible sound, like a cross between manic laughter and a broken cry.
Then with a strength and agility he never demonstrated before, he flipped them over, so now Kame was the one with his back on the wooden floor, wrists held together with one hand over his head, while Uchi *loomed* above him with an expression he didn’t know how to interpret..
Kame blinked up at him. And then became suddenly aware of his own full-on nudity, while Uchi was fully dressed above him.
“I just--God--I don’t even-why would-“ Uchi bit his lower lip, seemingly trying to get himself under control. “How could you even think so lowly of me?”
And that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it? Because this-whatever this was-wasn’t so much about Uchi as it was about him. How could he even answer that, when he didn’t even know why he did what he did most of the time?
Except it was a lie. Except it was a lie, and he knew it was a lie all along.
And yet still he held on to it like a lifeline.
“Why else would anyone even want anything to do with me?” that… came out way more honest that he’d like. He frowned.
Uchi made that terrible sound again, that half-laugh and half-cry sound, and it was even more horrible the second time around.
“God, you really mean that, do you? I can’t even-have you no sense of self-worth at all?” Uchi looked more wrecked by the second, until Kame started worrying whether there would be anything left of him when this was over. He tried reaching out, but Uchi wouldn’t let him.
“In all the years we’ve been friends, have I ever showed any sign of cowardice? Because let me tell you, I have neither the patience nor the presence of mind to let anything - and I mean *anything* - get between me and what I want. Do you understand what that means?” he punched the space just beside Kame’s head with his free hand, making Kame shiver from the slight vibration caused by the impact.
He should’ve felt worried, he thought, except right now he was anything but.
“That means,” Uchi leaned down further until Kame was forced to turn his head to the side, until he was speaking right on Kame’s ear, “If I wanted Ryo, I would’ve gone straight to him, instead of wasting my time with *you*.”
And then he just sagged against Kame, falling on top of him, like he just lost a fight, like all his energy just abandoned him. His breaths were warm against the side of Kame’s neck. Kame didn’t need to see him to know he was being watched.
“Have you,” Uchi whispered softly, “never thought that you’re *worth* it? That you are-“ he pressed the words onto Kame’s neck, “-worth waiting for?”
Kame closed his eyes. Felt like his heart was stuck in his throat.
“That maybe-“ Uchi mouthed his adam apple, nipping, sucking, enough to make Kame realize it was so gonna leave a mark, “-it’s been *you* all along?”
There were lips pressed on his own. Soft, chapped lips. There one second and gone the next.
It tasted strangely like tears.
Wait, he wanted to say. Wait.
He opened his eyes and sat up abruptly, the covers once again pooling around his hips. Looked around, but there was none else in the room. Wondered, once again, if he was dreaming.
He pulled the covers around him, more from the sudden cold rather than propriety. Dragged his way slowly to the bathroom. Turned on the sink, and just watched as the water filled the basin, until it poured over the side. Lifted his face to the mirror, and-
Froze.
There, right on his adam apple, was a distinctive teeth mark.
Not a dream, then.
He followed the bite mark on his reflection with a slightly shaking finger. Then he traced his lips with his tongue, trying to chase the aftertaste of that last kiss - but found only regret in its place, like salt on an open wound; like a hit right to solar plexus; like being trapped underwater on a frozen lake; heavy and tangible in its intensity, unchangeable in its reality.
It wasn’t something he would want to experience *ever* again.
(He was nineteen the first time he experienced a heartbreak.)
-
(“I’m sorry.” Kame said much, much later.
“…no, you’re not.” Uchi said, sounding tired and weary beyond his years.
“Just-let me make it up to you.”
“Don’t let me see you for a while.” Click.
He kept the phone close to his ear, even long after static replaced the sound of Uchi’s voice.)
-
For the whole week after that, he tried to stay low, and especially away from South Tokyo area, where Uchi was stationed. It wouldn’t be a problem if only there wasn’t such a shortage of Erasers around Tokyo at the time, with almost all of Rifles-friendly Erasers sent out for some Big-Thingie-Children-Had-No-Business-Knowing (so Ryo said) in Hokkaido - which resulted in him having to triplicate his active duty time, which, in turn, left him virtually no time to think things through regarding the ‘Uchi Situation.’
It was at a time like this he regretted his decision to pursue hand-to-hand combat instead of firearms.
“But duty is duty, you see, and if I didn’t do it, then the Management will bitch at Ryo, who will bitch at me while being *pissed* at having been bitched at, and I couldn’t even bitch at Uchi this time since he’s apparently still mad at me.”
Sighing, he pressed a gloved hand to his right cheek, while his other hand supporting his right elbow.
“Do you understand what I’m saying here? You seem like a decent enough bloke, so you surely understand what I’m saying, right?”
He took a step back, inspecting his handiwork with a critical eye, before sighing and going back to the other side of the warehouse, where he kept his other tools and miscellaneous stationery.
“I mean, I’ve observed the Management only ever told me to wipe out decent-looking people. Like, smart looking people. Law-abiding citizens. Sharp-eyed military officers with sharper instincts and even sharper sense of justice - which is just the worst duty assignment anybody could ever get, since those people are *military*.”
Having chosen his additional tools, he went back to the center of the warehouse, where a man was sitting tied to a wooden chair, his wrists and ankles securely strapped. Just about six feet in front of the chair, there were twelve other men lying on their stomachs, with their hands tied behind their backs, each with the same rope used to tie their ankles together, all of them gagged with a cloth.
It was irritatingly painful. For them, that was.
Ryo usually always thought any situation that disrupted your blood flow was hilarious, while Uchi always disapproved heartily - he was a fan of quick death, since it usually provided less material for him to memorize for his job as an informant. While Kame… well.
He dropped to his knees behind the chair, and started to assemble his tools in a certain order, taking his sweet time doing it as he knew all the eyes were on him right now.
“See, the thing is, the Management, those lazy fuckers, only told me to ‘kill them’ after giving me a list of names. There were no specifics mentioned, and do you know what that means?”
He waited for answer. It didn’t come.
“That means they won’t care the methods used so long as the objective is achieved. Which means, if I chose to kidnap you and kill you later instead of shooting you dead the second I see you, they won’t care. Which is--”
He chose a tool from the selection, picking randomly without even looking. When his hand brought out an ordinary-looking pen, he smiled. It was not a nice smile.
“--which is too bad for you all, really, since I’m not in the mood for a quick death.” Because it would remind him too much of Uchi, and that topic was just not on for the moment.
“But since you’re the first one and all,” he whispered to the person on the chair, putting his hand around the guy’s shoulders in a mock embrace, “I’ll make an exception.” He paused. “It still depends on your luck, though.”
He exhaled loudly, making the guy shiver uncontrollably, probably from cold as much as fear.
“I mean, this point here,” he pressed a finger on the skin behind the guy’s ear, the hollow just underneath it, “is one of the thinnest, warmest skin on a human body. So if I hit you there with a sharp, *long* object, either you’re gonna get paralyzed and die a slow, painless death, or you’re gonna bleed out like a pig and die a slow, excruciating death.” He frowned. “Or you could also die a quick death, but that’s exceedingly rare. So. Better pray, man.”
Then he smiled, and drove the pen through his neck.
The sudden burst of blood totally ruined his new shirt. Damn. And it was the tailored one, too. Ryo was so gonna chew him out once he found out.
He glanced back at the guy’s now blood-soaked suit, and noticed nearly three-fourth part of the pen was embedded in the guy’s throat. Huh. He pulled the pen out, endured yet another burst of blood, and examined the pen closely.
Either he was *that* strong, or the pen was a good make.
He brightened. Uchi would be ecstatic if it was the latter; because then he wouldn’t need to buy new supplies of pen as often anymore. Except then he remembered that Uchi still didn’t talk to him, didn’t want anything to do with him for a while, and he instantly felt twice depressed.
This *sucked*.
Then he lifted his head, and saw all the horrified, horror-struck faces staring at him in obvious fear. He stood up. Their eyes followed his movement. Ah. Of course. He still had a duty to fulfill. He took a small step forward, the bloody pen still in hand, and saw the pathetic way they all tried to move away. He giggled. As if he could ever make a rookie mistake by making a less-than-perfect knot.
He felt a slow grin slowly spread across his face.
“Who’s next?”
Well, at least he still got toys to play with.
(Two hours later, he still had a brokenheart, but he also had a burning warehouse with sliced-beyond-recognition bodies inside it, so he felt a little cheered up.)
-
(Wait, he says. Please wait.
But no one ever does.)
-
The first time Kame shot a firearm, Ryo nearly killed him.
That in itself was rather illogical, since *he* was the one with a deadly weapon, while Ryo was pretty much weaponless (except for the knife he kept hidden in his left boot, but since he didn’t actually use it, it didn’t count.)
It went like this. There was a factory, about a ton worth of illegal drugs, a police raid, and *innocent* bystanders. Innocent in the sense that they weren’t on duty, that was, so technically they weren’t supposed to be involved. Long story short, one well-placed detonator, and the police went down like flies. Unfortunately, so did the building. They were just about to go through the back exit when a lone police with crazy eyes caught up with them and pointed a gun to their heads. Ryo immediately held up his hands in surrender, since they were, once again, off-duty, and he refused to exert any energy if he wasn’t gonna get paid for it.
Kame often suspected if someone tried to kill Ryo when he was off-duty, he would actually *let* them.
To make it even more absurd, the police was actually delusional enough to think out of Kame, Uchi, and Ryo, Ryo was the least dangerous one, and proceeded to make him hostage. Seriously. Did he not notice the manic eyes?
(To be fair, Uchi had the height advantage, while at the time Kame was wearing a black leather overcoat on top of his Kevlar vest, which made him appear bulkier than Ryo’s thin shirt and letterman jacket.)
“Seriously, are you even for real?” said Kame, because it bore mentioning.
“Ohh, I’m so scaaaared,” said Ryo, looking bored as all hell.
“Shut up! All of you!” said the sorry excuse for a police.
“Now, now, why don’t you keep the gun away from my friend’s temple, and talk about this? I’m sure we could find a way to compromise.” Said Uchi, forever the smooth talker of the group. Looking at him, you’d never guess he’d soon stab you just as your back’s turned.
“Look pal,” said Kame, “have you never watched any action movies at all? You’re the police here. We’re the bad guys. It’s practically a rule we’d save our own asses before anyone else’s. Besides, have you even *looked* at your hostage at all?”
“Help me! I’m so hapless! I’m a useless damsel in distress!” Said Ryo pointedly.
Uchi turned his head away, his body shaking violently. From hiding his laughter, most likely.
“Shut up! Throw away your weapons!”
Uchi cheerfully threw away his Beretta.
Kame sighed. “You asked for it, buddy.” And then threw away the grenade in his hand. The pinless grenade.
“Watch out!” Said Ryo, and then fly-kicked the grenade out the window. It exploded loudly just as it passed the windowsill, showering them all with flying debris from the destroyed wall. “That was a fucking grenade, you frigging moron! Are you trying to commit a frigging mutiny against me or something?!”
“See, Mr Police?” said Kame triumphantly. “Do you still think he’s a hostage material?”
Uchi’s shaking only got harder.
But apparently, the police was really that crazy, since he insisted on not releasing Ryo. “Hands up in the air, I said!”
Now even Ryo took a break from playing hostage to stare incredulously at his attacker. “Help! Please save poor little me!” said Ryo, because it was that or shouting our hands are always in the air, you frigging dimwitted moron.
By now, Uchi was shaking so hard Kame was afraid he was going to get an aneurysm.
This was getting ridiculous, and he needed a hot shower now now now dammit. So he whipped out his ultimate weapon and pointed it on Mr Police’s general direction.
Both Uchi and Ryo did a double take. “Is that… a grenade launcher?” Uchi asked.
“An M320, to be exact. Isn’t she a thing of beauty?” Kame said fondly. When both Uchi and Ryo kept staring at him, he added, “What? I read the label!”
“I said throw away your weapon!” the crazy shouted.
“For the record, you said ‘weapon’ as in, singular, and not ‘weapons’ as in, plural. And we did throw away each of our weapons the first time.” Said Kame.
“Kame,” Uchi said, sounding pained, “You do realize if you fired that thing away, you’re going to blow Ryo to smithereens? You know, like that wall over there?”
Kame frowned. “Oh right. Fine.” He pushed the M320 aside mournfully. Then pulled out a Benelli M1014.
Ryo stared at him. “Is that an automatic shotgun? Where did you get that thing? I didn’t even know we have those in our weaponry!”
“A semi-automatic, actually. You like it?” Kame beamed.
“Yes, if I actually wanted to be turned into a hamburger. Put that thing away, for God’s sake! You haven’t even got training in firearms!”
Kame’s eyes narrowed. “You know what? Fuck it. Mr crazy Police officer, why don’t you shoot your hostage? He seems to be begging for it.”
The officer looked down uncertainly at Ryo.
“Do it, and you’re toast.” Ryo promised.
By now, Uchi’s shaking had advanced into coughing - which didn’t really help in covering the tell-tale of his laughter.
“You don’t like this, you hate that. Just there’s no pleasing you, is there?” Kame threw away his shotgun and drew a H&K PSG-1, put the stock on his shoulder, and aimed the muzzle at Mr Police. “Ha! You can’t complain about this one, can’t you?”
Ryo looked about ready to throw an epic tantrum. “That is a sniper rifle, you retard. You’re not supposed to use that in a close-quarter fight! Besides, yours still has its bipod attached! Do you even realize how stupid you look?” it wasn’t said, but the you moron was heavily implied at the end.
“Your inexperience with firearms aside,” Uchi said once he put his laughter under control, “I’m actually more interested in finding out where the hell did you hide all those heavy artillery in your body? Seriously, they’re not the kind you can carry around without a case. Especially that sniper rifle.”
Kame sent a betrayed look Uchi’s way. “You actually picked his side?”
Now it was Uchi’s turn to send him an unimpressed look. “I’m an informant. It’s practically a number one rule to never pick a side.”
”Put away all of your weapons now!” screamed the crazy police officer, pushing his gun insistently to Ryo’s temple.
Kame and Uchi both sent him an unimpressed look. “I’m starting to get irritated here.” Said Kame, pushing his H&K PSG-1aside.
“So am I.” Replied Uchi, narrowing his eyes. “And this is supposed to be our day-off too.”
“So you won’t mind so long as we done here quick, right?” asked Kame.
“Sure.”
Ryo suddenly looked alarmed. “Wait,”
“Send my regard to your God, bitch.” Said Kame. And then fired his newly uncovered M4.
An empty magazine later, Uchi pulled his fingers from his ears as Kame threw aside his rifle. Ryo was crouched on the floor, while the area to his right was covered in blood and human matters, with Mr police’s head turned into an impromptu beehive with the amount of rounds it sporting.
“Ryo-chan! You okay?” Kame was about to rush to Ryo, except Uchi’s hand on his wrist prevented him.
“Wait,” Uchi shook his head. “Something’s wrong.”
Together, they watched as Ryo slowly dragged himself to his feet, shaking down debris and dirt from his person. His left side was completely drenched in blood, making it as if he’d been showering in blood or something, which was-impressive. Or so Kame thought.
“Ryo-chan! None of the bullets got you, right? I’m so sorry! But that man seems so crazy I just-“
Ryo held up a hand. Kame paused mid-rant. “Let me ask you one thing: I asked you to wait, didn’t I?”
“…yes?”
“Do you know what I’m wearing at the moment?” there was something scary in the way Ryo said that that made Kame’s hair stand on end. From the way Uchi tightened his hold on Kame’s wrist, he obviously felt it too.
“Er. No?” Kame said, at the same time Uchi said, “Blood?”
“They’re *vintage*, you morons. How are you going to fix this, huh? Huh?” said Ryo in a high-pitched tone one would associate with that of a mental patient’s hysterical fit.
“Ryo-chan, could it be you’re still in shock?” asked Uchi. “He did nearly shoot you, after all.”
Kame sent Uchi another betrayed look. That traitor! And then it all dawned on him. “Wait, you’re actually mad not because I nearly shot you, but more because I ruined your clothes?”
“They’re vintage!” Ryo said again, like it should make sense. It didn’t. “I repeat,” said Ryo, suddenly quiet again, eyeing them dangerously, using his blooded appearance to full effect, “How are you gonna fix this?”
They both gulped. “You know, if your clothes were really that precious to you, I don’t think our lives would compare to its value.” Said Kame.
Ryo snarled.
“Run.” Uchi urged. Kame didn’t need to be told twice.
(Ryo never let him anywhere near a rifle after that. Or a shotgun. Or any kind of firearms, really. He’d try to argue, except Ryo could carry a grudge like nobody’s business, and he was still too attached to this world to go against him.)
-
The first time he met Yamapi, he was busy pinning a guy to the wall with one hand, while his other hand shoved a stapler on the guy’s mouth and pressed the sharp teeth of the device to the inside of the guy’s cheek.
Shut up.
It was a slow day, and he was bored to hell. Uchi was off doing his job, so Kame was stuck accompanying (baby-sitting) Ryo for his quarterly examination. Except Ryo was being a big girl and refused to let Kame accompany him inside the examination room, so he was stuck in the busy lab instead, looking (and feeling) like an abandoned puppy.
“Aww, aren’t you just adorable?”
Kame stared. Someone was cooing at *him*. What the hell.
“Are you lost, dear?” the strange man said in that weird gentle way one used around little kids. “Would you like some candy or cho-“ the man reached for the inside of his jacket, and it was then all hell broke loose.
Without even realizing what he was doing at all, he had slammed the man against the wall with one hand, while his other hand grabbed something from the table; he was already swinging the thing to the man’s face when he realized it was a stapler. At the last moment, he flexed his hand so that instead of hitting the man in the face, the stapler slid smoothly into the man’s mouth instead, sandwiching his cheek from the inside and outside, and he started to press the device-
“Toma!”
A hand on the back of his overcoat hauled him away from the man; surprised, he let himself be dragged backward for a second, only to drive his heel on the foot of the person behind him. Hard. There was a hiss of pain, and before this person could recover, he turned around and kneed him on his groin, followed by an uppercut to his jaw.
The other person stumbled to the floor in a lethal position, his hands moving between his (probably broken) jaw to his groin, like he couldn’t decide which of both areas was actually more painful. He still tried to get away from Kame, though, scrambling backwards awkwardly, which was just--
And then Kame grabbed a scalpel from the table and flung himself toward him, bashing the other person’s head once on the floor - hard - before grasping his shirt collar while raising his other hand above him, scalpel aimed at his eye, and then driving it down-
“WAIT!!!”
Kame paused.
But not before the scalpel made contact; instead of the targeted eye, it struck through the other person’s hand. Literally.
Quite a reflex this person had, then. Apparently he managed to shield himself with his hand at the last second, saving his sight and sacrificing his left hand in the process.
Looking back over his shoulder, he zoomed in on the source of the shout earlier. Saw that first man; his terrified eyes, horrified expression; the obvious worry in his face; but *not* for himself, Kame belatedly realized. The man was worried for the person still trapped under Kame.
He stared at the face of the person under him. Come to think of it, he had never seen these two around the lab before. Intruders? New recruits? He tried to take in his surrounding, the scene behind the strange man, and suddenly noticed how the other people at the lab *carefully* averted their eyes from them. He turned back to the person under him. Huh. Definitely newbies, then.
He sighed. Oh, the idiocy he had to live with.
“Look,” the first man said, and Kame immediately narrowed his eyes at him. The man faltered, but determinedly kept on, “I apologize for being rude to you earlier, but. Could you please, maybe, release my friend here? You know, so he could get treated before he bleeds himself to death?”
What a moron. You couldn’t die from a crushed hand; suffer, yes. Die, no. He paused. Or maybe the man meant the guy would die from the pain, instead of the blood loss itself?
Well.
Kame stared up at him. The man had guts. Most people in the lab usually just let him do whatever he wanted, pretended nothing was amiss. But not the newbie, apparently. Either he had the gut of steel or he *really* was a moron.
And then he noticed how his hand was still tight around the handle of the scalpel, despite the fact the thin knife was embedded to the hilt on this guy’s hand.
Huh.
“Or,” Kame said decisively, pushing forward the scalpel a few millimeters, “I could always drive this scalpel further - until it penetrates his eyeball and goes straight to his brain - by his own hand.” He smiled up cheerfully at the first man.”You know, so that he wouldn’t need to bother with treatment at all?”
The first man gasped in horror, but when Kame turned his attention back to the second man, the guy only stared hard at him. Like he was steeling himself for what was to come. Like he already knew this was going to happen from the start.
Like he was ready to die.
Kame pouted. It was no fun killing people who wanted to die.
“Oh fine.” He conceded, releasing the scalpel from his grip and rising himself to his feet, sidestepping the second man in the process.
The first man eyed him cautiously. At Kame’s careless shrug, he immediately rushed to the second man’s side, helping him up while fussing over him at the same time.
“What’s your name?”
The pair looked at him with a frown - the first man a worried one, the second a wary one. Probably deciding it was safer to answer, the first man opened his mouth. “Um. My name’s Ikuta Toma. And this is--” he squeezed the second man’s shoulder, who kept glaring defiantly at Kame, “-Yamashita Tomohisa.”
Kame beamed. “I think I like you.” And then he gave them his most charming smile.
Except instead of smiling back, the two widened their eyes, like they had just officially signed their own death warrants. At the same time, an uncontrollable shiver racked down their forms, as if the room temperature had just plummeted beyond zero degrees.
He continued smiling at them.
Uchi would be so *proud*.
(He was twenty-one the first time he made a friend (who didn’t immediately drop dead) without Ryo or Uchi’s help.)
-
Kazu was the one who pulled the trigger.
It was so *ironic* he still couldn’t believe it was real.
There’s one thing I want you to remember Kazuya said, eyes looking right at Kame’s. He didn’t even give the Glock aimed to his head a glance.
What is it Kame asked.
Kazuya drew them close together then, positioning Kame’s free hand on the small of his back, while his own right hand covered Kame’s left one on the handle of his Glock. For a moment, Kame thought Kazu was going to snatch the gun away; instead, he steadied Kame’s grip on the handle, replaced Kame’s finger on the trigger with his own, and then pointed the gun securely against his own temple.
Kame stared at him.
Kazu smiled ruefully. Then he pressed the palm of his free hand against Kame’s cheek, and tilted his head sideways slightly, as if in a preparation for a kiss. Which was might as well, since he whispered his next words right into Kame’s mouth.
It’s not you--it’s me. Then he pulled away a fraction, and breathed out, I’m sorry.
He wanted to ask what the hell Kazu meant by apologizing to *him*, since *he* was the one ordered to kill him, so he was the one supposed to apologize, and not Kazu. He opened his mouth-
Except then the door to the office creaked open, revealing somebody, a dumbfounded note in his voice as he croaked out “Kazuya-“
--At the exact time Kazu flashed him a last smile and pulled the trigger.
He didn’t even *think* about it before he went through the window and jumped to his death.
Or not.
(He was nearly twenty-three the first time he jumped out of a twelve story window and survived.)
-
(Kazuya haunted him, after.
With no company other than himself for the few weeks he’d been in solitary confinement, his mind had deemed it necessary to amuse him by making him relive Kazuya’s memories.
That first time they met, when Kazuya impressed him by drawing his Glock and shooting it faster than Kame did with his (borrowed) Beretta; the first time Kazu showed him how to throw a baseball, as well as practice his hand grip; the first time Kazu showed him his fiancé’s stupid face; the first time Kazu told him I’m an undercover police; but I guess you already know that.
He did; but that wasn’t the point. Liar. He said instead.
Come with me. Kazu urged. You’re not fit for this place.
How dare you, Kame said, and let his eyes show what he thought of Kazu’s offer.
Come find me. I’ll wait for you. Kazu said, Even if it was only to take a revenge on me.
So he did.
And then pulled a bullet through his head.
Kame closed his eyes. Like a child, believing so long as he couldn’t see the monster, then the monster won’t find him. That maybe if he closed his eyes, blocked his ears, he would forget how the point-blank shot had gone through Kazu’s head and shattered the glass window in the process; how the exit wound basically looked like hamburger; how they’d never get the blood stain and brain matters out of the carpet; how despite countless murders he’d committed, Kazu’s was the one kept replaying in his head.
I’ll wait for you.
It’s not you--it’s me.
“Why are you sorry,” Kame said quietly. “What are you sorry for?”
He waited for an answer. It never came.
-
A few weeks after he was released from solitary confinement, he went to visit the lab.
It was just--he needed alone time; Uchi kept looking at him like he might break down any second--again--while Ryo kept making scathing remarks in that way that didn’t really disguise his genuine worry. Both meant well, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he was a little fucked up in the head after Kazuya’s murder, and he really didn’t need the constant reminder.
So he went to the lab, where its occupants were always too terrified of the idea of an ‘Eraser’ to bother him. He was, after all, still an Eraser - even if he still hadn’t gone back to active duty.
In the lab, he didn’t even do anything; just sat on one of the table, arms hugging his knees, and watched one Yamashita Tomohisa working.
Later, Kame would ask, softly, “What are you doing here?”
He expected Yamashita to purposely misunderstand the question; to answer it with a non sequitur, maybe. Something literal - something meaningless that would answer his question without *really* answering it at all, like waiting for my shift to be over or doing my job.
Except he didn’t.
“Because I hate being alone.” Yamashita said, eyes flickered for a second to the right, where his friend (Toma?) was hunching over some device on the other side of the glass wall.
All Kame heard was I don’t want to lose anyone else.
Something tugged deep in his chest, something painful and awful. He looked at Yamashita, at the naked longing in his eyes, then at his friend on the other side, oblivious. Then he remembered Ryo and Uchi, and hated himself for understanding the feeling.
He smiled. It felt just as painful. “Careful, doctor. Or I might start thinking you actually ~like~ me.”
Hopping off of the table, he made for the door. He paused just behind Yamashita, feeling the other man tense up. Ever so carefully, he laid up a blade - the same one he always teased Yamashita with - just an inch off of Yamashita’s right hand. He caressed the body of the blade with a finger-slowly, as if he was memorizing the texture-before sliding it on the blade’s eye.
They both watched as drops of blood stain the formerly spotless blade.
”Live well, doc.”
He left, Yamashita’s confused gaze burning into his back all the way.
-
(“I’m sorry,” Kame never says. “I’m sorry.”)
-
A year after the disaster that was Kazuya’s murder, he was called to a meeting with one of the higher-ups in the Management. This was unusual, since he usually only received his orders by proxy.
”I want you to kill Nishikido Ryo,” the guy behind the desk said, looking at him with a critical eye. ”He’s become a liability.”
”Okay.” Kame said, and then set the guy on fire.
-
(No one touched what was his. Ever.)
-
Next part
Fandom: JE
Pairing: Pikame, Uchi/Kame
Rating: R (for violence)
Disclaimer: Not mine, and no profit is made.
Summary: “Close your eyes. Block your ears. Then run and run until you feel your legs burned…then come to me. Come find me.” So he did. And then put a bullet through his head.)
Part One: Yamapi | Part Two: Jin | Part three: Kame
Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
(Dare You to Move - Switchfoot)
.
.
(“Close your eyes. Block your ears. Then run and run until you feel your legs burned…then come to me. Come find me.”
So he did.
And then put a bullet through his head.)
-
This is his earliest memory:
He wakes up in a white bright room, screaming some unintelligible words at the top of his lungs, and passes out just after.
-
(This is his true earliest memory:
He opened his eyes. Looked around, and found the room he was in was in a pristine condition, with enough dust and molt and stale air to make him think it hadn’t been lived in for quite some time.
There was dirt on his hands, his bare feet, his bare ankles. He brought a hand to his face. Felt some smudges on his cheeks. Used his nails to scrape some of the smudges off his cheek, only to see caked dark brown thingy under his nails, unlike the dirt on his fingers. Realized with a sudden jolt it was dried blood - which was really odd, since he was still soaked wet from his hair to his toes.
“You’re sloppy.” Said a voice, somewhere in the room. He lifted his head, scanning his surrounding. Found a lanky guy with calculating eyes and a sneer leaning against the far wall. “Good, but still sloppy.”
“And you‘re oh so much better.” He said, voice scratchy.
“I saved you, didn’t I?” The sneer turned into a smirk. “I could teach you.”
He only stared blankly at the guy, while the guy’s smirk melted away into a brilliant smile - something that he would later learn was quite rare.
“The name’s Ryo, by the way. What’s yours?”
He was fourteen the first time he met Nishikido Ryo.)
-
When he opens his eyes again, somebody is sitting at an uncomfortable-looking chair by his bed, dark head bent down over a spread of papers on his lap.
There’s a pleasant buzz around him, a faint ringing in his ears, and he feels so very light, weightless, almost like he’s floating on water. He wonders if he’s about to drown then, since there’s this drowsiness quality to his vision, like something (someone) is trying to get him under.
“You’re awake.”
He turns his head to the side. The dark head earlier has straightened up to reveal a distinctive feature of a face, framing by unruly dark hair. The eyes are bloodshot and seem to shrunken on themselves, as if trying to suck the remaining life on the surface. The grayish and washed out color of the skin also definitely doesn’t help.
For a moment, he wonders why is it he’s the one lying on the bed, when the person before him clearly needs it more than he does.
“How do you feel?”
For a few seconds, he only stares numbly at this person, trying his best to make sense of the question. “Like I’ve just one too many hit to the head.” He tries to sit up, only to slump back on the bed with a painful groan. “Or one too many hit to the chest.”
“Right. I’m Akanishi Jin, by the way.” The person says, his lips forming something between a smile and a grimace. When he just keeps staring at him blankly, the man adds, “I’m your roommate.”
-
(“I have a fiancé.” Kazuya was saying, as he threaded his hand lightly over Kame’s short hair. His fingers were gentle on Kame’s scalp, careful, like he was holding something precious and dear. It was disconcerting enough that Kame didn’t know what to do with it, so mostly he just ignored the feeling.
“Yeah?” Kame mumbled to Kazuya’s chest, from where he was currently sprawled over Kazuya’s lap like a child.
“Yeah. His name’s Jin. You will like him, I think.” There was a smile in Kazuya’s voice, fond and warm. “He’s always been so brass and stupid and careless, and when he puts his mind into something, there’d be no stopping him.” Kazuya’s fingers moved over Kame’s nape, and Kame burrowed himself further into Kazuya’s chest. “I think he will like you too, if you met him.”
“Nah. Stupid people piss me off. Make me want to shoot them between the eyes.”
There was a sigh, sounding like a cross between amused and wary. “We really need to work on your trigger-happy fingers.”
Kame just let out mmm noise of contentment as a response, closing his eyes and burrowing himself deeper into Kazu’s jacket .)
-
Once, he remembered waking up beside Uchi on his bed, their legs tangling under the covers. There was a kind of pleasant ache he could feel all over his body, the kind he always felt after a good sex. He blinked. Sex. Uchi.
Huh.
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
He tilted his head up slightly. Uchi was smiling down at him, all mussed hair and heavy-lidded eyes and scratchy voice and open expression - happiness pouring off of him in waves. Uchi was easily the brightest thing he had ever laid his eyes on.
He wanted nothing more than to slash him open and hang his insides on the ceilings.
Uchi suddenly blinked, smile gone in an instant. He drew himself away from Kame, looking mightily startled.
Kame frowned. “I’m sorry, did I just say it out loud?”
The other boy let out a shaky laugh. “Are you always this *sweet* to your bed partners in the morning after?” it was rather clear from his expression he desperately wanted this to be a joke.
Kame only frowned deeper. “Well no. I mean, usually they’re all dead by morning anyway, so there’s never a need for a *morning after*.”
Uchi blinked. And then let out another shaky laugh, louder this time. “You’re kidding, right?” when Kame kept looking at him blankly, he stopped laughing abruptly - eyes blown wide. “Holy shit.” Then he got himself off the bed and started looking for his own clothes and jeans among the mess on the floor. He did it with more speed than was necessary, although still not enough to put it into running away category. It was damn close though.
He *had* got Uchi almost-but-not-quite running away from him. That was… really a feat onto itself.
“Okay, word of advice?” Uchi addressed him, “don’t talk about shit like that on the bed. Or, you know, ever.” he threw a dirty look Kame’s way at the last word.
“But aren’t we supposed to make *small talk* at such a time? Like, about our jobs. Or our wishes. Or our former, ah, partners.” He didn’t bother getting up; just lying on his side, watching Uchi prancing about in the room with lazy eyes.
“Even those things are supposed to be filtered! Certain matters are simply not fit for public consumption! Didn’t Ryo ever teach you that?” then he paused, and made a face. “Wait, don’t answer that. He probably *encouraged* you, that *bastard*.”
In Kame’s half-awake brain, Uchi sounded exasperated, and just a little bit irritated, but definitely fond - which was Uchi’s default when it came to Ryo, really.
Kame rolled to his stomach, his elbows propped under him so he could look at Uchi properly, who was having his back to him as he struggled to put on his t-shirt. There were scratch marks on his shoulder blades. Kame looked down at his own not-so-blunt nails. Wondered if he was the one who put those marks on Uchi. Wondered what Ryo was gonna say if he knew. Wondered what *Uchi* was gonna say if he knew *Ryo* knew. Then remembered the looks they pretended they didn’t give each other. And. And then--
“And yet still you wish you slept with him.”
Uchi froze. The t-shirt was still bunched up in his armpits, and his muscles flexed interestingly as he slowly turned around to face Kame.
“What did you say?”
Kame frowned. “You heard me.”
Uchi made an impatient sound in the back of his throat. “Of course I heard you! I was merely asking you what did you *think* you were saying at all!”
“For someone who’s supposed to be mild-mannered, you’re shouting an awful lot right now.” He observed.
Uchi’s eyes narrowed into slits, his expression closing down. With one forceful, angry tug, his t-shirt came loose and covered the rest of his upper body properly. “Do I need to remind you that you’re not the only one Ryo’s been hanging out with for years? I know a few tricks I nicked off of him which would make normal people quivering in fear.”
He looked at him bleakly. “And wouldn’t you like to learn *more*.”
Uchi let out this snarl, like a hissing cat, a sound resembling something between anger and exasperation, shoulders tense and itching for a fight. “What is this with you and all this-this random jabs at Ryo? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re *jealous*.”
He sat up straight then, the covers pooling around his middle. If they were gonna talk then they were gonna talk, and he wouldn’t want to be at a disadvantage by being in a vulnerable position - even if technically he *was* at a disadvantage since Uchi had on his t-shirt and Jeans while he had only the protection of his covers. But. Well. It was the thought that counted.
“Aren’t you, though?” he said, in that impassive tone he knew Uchi hated. “Jealous, I mean. Of me. Because-“
Before he could finish that sentence, Uchi sprang on him, a hand going for his throat. Which was-bad move. Uchi might have the height and weight advantage, but Kame was the faster one, always had been the faster one, see, all instinct and feline grace, and before either of them knew it, he was pinning Uchi to the floor, his bony fingers holding Uchi’s wrists on either side of his head, while his legs locking around Uchi’s, rendering him immobile.
Uchi was looking at him weird right now, weird as in unusual, since Uchi was the most confident person after Ryo, so all those panicky desperation should’ve no business on his face. But they were, okay, they were on his face, and something else Kame didn’t recognize, because Kame and feelings had never been the best of friends. Uchi’s mouth was moving, telling Kame something, shouting at him really, judging from the rapid-fire way his mouth moving, something like Don’t say it don’t you ever finish that thought you retard please there’d no going back please don’t for once in your miserable life--
But all Kame could hear was the loud roar in his ears, a residual rush of adrenaline as his instinct retreated back into the corner of his mind, as his brain slowly regained back the control of his head.
He was nose to nose with Uchi, and he knew if Uchi could turn his head away, he would; except there was no room, see, because Ryo had taught him good on all the art of rendering people helpless and immobile.
“-because this is the closest you’ll ever get to Ryo.”
And then he kissed him.
Except Uchi didn’t respond; he honest-to-God froze, not like he didn’t know what to do, but more like the shock had paralyzed him completely. And it was no fun kissing a corpse, so Kame released Uchi’s wrists and pulled back, using his elbows to support him.
Uchi still didn’t move a muscle. Only stared at him with a crushed look in his eyes, like the world had fucked him up all over again.
“Please,” Uchi began, and it was just wrong to hear the note of betrayal in his voice, the desperation that managed to bleed into his tone, “Please tell me you didn’t think I slept with you just so I could get to Ryo.”
It was then that his mind blanked for a second, because--because.
Whatever it was, it must have shown on his face, since Uchi made this terrible, terrible sound, like a cross between manic laughter and a broken cry.
Then with a strength and agility he never demonstrated before, he flipped them over, so now Kame was the one with his back on the wooden floor, wrists held together with one hand over his head, while Uchi *loomed* above him with an expression he didn’t know how to interpret..
Kame blinked up at him. And then became suddenly aware of his own full-on nudity, while Uchi was fully dressed above him.
“I just--God--I don’t even-why would-“ Uchi bit his lower lip, seemingly trying to get himself under control. “How could you even think so lowly of me?”
And that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it? Because this-whatever this was-wasn’t so much about Uchi as it was about him. How could he even answer that, when he didn’t even know why he did what he did most of the time?
Except it was a lie. Except it was a lie, and he knew it was a lie all along.
And yet still he held on to it like a lifeline.
“Why else would anyone even want anything to do with me?” that… came out way more honest that he’d like. He frowned.
Uchi made that terrible sound again, that half-laugh and half-cry sound, and it was even more horrible the second time around.
“God, you really mean that, do you? I can’t even-have you no sense of self-worth at all?” Uchi looked more wrecked by the second, until Kame started worrying whether there would be anything left of him when this was over. He tried reaching out, but Uchi wouldn’t let him.
“In all the years we’ve been friends, have I ever showed any sign of cowardice? Because let me tell you, I have neither the patience nor the presence of mind to let anything - and I mean *anything* - get between me and what I want. Do you understand what that means?” he punched the space just beside Kame’s head with his free hand, making Kame shiver from the slight vibration caused by the impact.
He should’ve felt worried, he thought, except right now he was anything but.
“That means,” Uchi leaned down further until Kame was forced to turn his head to the side, until he was speaking right on Kame’s ear, “If I wanted Ryo, I would’ve gone straight to him, instead of wasting my time with *you*.”
And then he just sagged against Kame, falling on top of him, like he just lost a fight, like all his energy just abandoned him. His breaths were warm against the side of Kame’s neck. Kame didn’t need to see him to know he was being watched.
“Have you,” Uchi whispered softly, “never thought that you’re *worth* it? That you are-“ he pressed the words onto Kame’s neck, “-worth waiting for?”
Kame closed his eyes. Felt like his heart was stuck in his throat.
“That maybe-“ Uchi mouthed his adam apple, nipping, sucking, enough to make Kame realize it was so gonna leave a mark, “-it’s been *you* all along?”
There were lips pressed on his own. Soft, chapped lips. There one second and gone the next.
It tasted strangely like tears.
Wait, he wanted to say. Wait.
He opened his eyes and sat up abruptly, the covers once again pooling around his hips. Looked around, but there was none else in the room. Wondered, once again, if he was dreaming.
He pulled the covers around him, more from the sudden cold rather than propriety. Dragged his way slowly to the bathroom. Turned on the sink, and just watched as the water filled the basin, until it poured over the side. Lifted his face to the mirror, and-
Froze.
There, right on his adam apple, was a distinctive teeth mark.
Not a dream, then.
He followed the bite mark on his reflection with a slightly shaking finger. Then he traced his lips with his tongue, trying to chase the aftertaste of that last kiss - but found only regret in its place, like salt on an open wound; like a hit right to solar plexus; like being trapped underwater on a frozen lake; heavy and tangible in its intensity, unchangeable in its reality.
It wasn’t something he would want to experience *ever* again.
(He was nineteen the first time he experienced a heartbreak.)
-
(“I’m sorry.” Kame said much, much later.
“…no, you’re not.” Uchi said, sounding tired and weary beyond his years.
“Just-let me make it up to you.”
“Don’t let me see you for a while.” Click.
He kept the phone close to his ear, even long after static replaced the sound of Uchi’s voice.)
-
For the whole week after that, he tried to stay low, and especially away from South Tokyo area, where Uchi was stationed. It wouldn’t be a problem if only there wasn’t such a shortage of Erasers around Tokyo at the time, with almost all of Rifles-friendly Erasers sent out for some Big-Thingie-Children-Had-No-Business-Knowing (so Ryo said) in Hokkaido - which resulted in him having to triplicate his active duty time, which, in turn, left him virtually no time to think things through regarding the ‘Uchi Situation.’
It was at a time like this he regretted his decision to pursue hand-to-hand combat instead of firearms.
“But duty is duty, you see, and if I didn’t do it, then the Management will bitch at Ryo, who will bitch at me while being *pissed* at having been bitched at, and I couldn’t even bitch at Uchi this time since he’s apparently still mad at me.”
Sighing, he pressed a gloved hand to his right cheek, while his other hand supporting his right elbow.
“Do you understand what I’m saying here? You seem like a decent enough bloke, so you surely understand what I’m saying, right?”
He took a step back, inspecting his handiwork with a critical eye, before sighing and going back to the other side of the warehouse, where he kept his other tools and miscellaneous stationery.
“I mean, I’ve observed the Management only ever told me to wipe out decent-looking people. Like, smart looking people. Law-abiding citizens. Sharp-eyed military officers with sharper instincts and even sharper sense of justice - which is just the worst duty assignment anybody could ever get, since those people are *military*.”
Having chosen his additional tools, he went back to the center of the warehouse, where a man was sitting tied to a wooden chair, his wrists and ankles securely strapped. Just about six feet in front of the chair, there were twelve other men lying on their stomachs, with their hands tied behind their backs, each with the same rope used to tie their ankles together, all of them gagged with a cloth.
It was irritatingly painful. For them, that was.
Ryo usually always thought any situation that disrupted your blood flow was hilarious, while Uchi always disapproved heartily - he was a fan of quick death, since it usually provided less material for him to memorize for his job as an informant. While Kame… well.
He dropped to his knees behind the chair, and started to assemble his tools in a certain order, taking his sweet time doing it as he knew all the eyes were on him right now.
“See, the thing is, the Management, those lazy fuckers, only told me to ‘kill them’ after giving me a list of names. There were no specifics mentioned, and do you know what that means?”
He waited for answer. It didn’t come.
“That means they won’t care the methods used so long as the objective is achieved. Which means, if I chose to kidnap you and kill you later instead of shooting you dead the second I see you, they won’t care. Which is--”
He chose a tool from the selection, picking randomly without even looking. When his hand brought out an ordinary-looking pen, he smiled. It was not a nice smile.
“--which is too bad for you all, really, since I’m not in the mood for a quick death.” Because it would remind him too much of Uchi, and that topic was just not on for the moment.
“But since you’re the first one and all,” he whispered to the person on the chair, putting his hand around the guy’s shoulders in a mock embrace, “I’ll make an exception.” He paused. “It still depends on your luck, though.”
He exhaled loudly, making the guy shiver uncontrollably, probably from cold as much as fear.
“I mean, this point here,” he pressed a finger on the skin behind the guy’s ear, the hollow just underneath it, “is one of the thinnest, warmest skin on a human body. So if I hit you there with a sharp, *long* object, either you’re gonna get paralyzed and die a slow, painless death, or you’re gonna bleed out like a pig and die a slow, excruciating death.” He frowned. “Or you could also die a quick death, but that’s exceedingly rare. So. Better pray, man.”
Then he smiled, and drove the pen through his neck.
The sudden burst of blood totally ruined his new shirt. Damn. And it was the tailored one, too. Ryo was so gonna chew him out once he found out.
He glanced back at the guy’s now blood-soaked suit, and noticed nearly three-fourth part of the pen was embedded in the guy’s throat. Huh. He pulled the pen out, endured yet another burst of blood, and examined the pen closely.
Either he was *that* strong, or the pen was a good make.
He brightened. Uchi would be ecstatic if it was the latter; because then he wouldn’t need to buy new supplies of pen as often anymore. Except then he remembered that Uchi still didn’t talk to him, didn’t want anything to do with him for a while, and he instantly felt twice depressed.
This *sucked*.
Then he lifted his head, and saw all the horrified, horror-struck faces staring at him in obvious fear. He stood up. Their eyes followed his movement. Ah. Of course. He still had a duty to fulfill. He took a small step forward, the bloody pen still in hand, and saw the pathetic way they all tried to move away. He giggled. As if he could ever make a rookie mistake by making a less-than-perfect knot.
He felt a slow grin slowly spread across his face.
“Who’s next?”
Well, at least he still got toys to play with.
(Two hours later, he still had a brokenheart, but he also had a burning warehouse with sliced-beyond-recognition bodies inside it, so he felt a little cheered up.)
-
(Wait, he says. Please wait.
But no one ever does.)
-
The first time Kame shot a firearm, Ryo nearly killed him.
That in itself was rather illogical, since *he* was the one with a deadly weapon, while Ryo was pretty much weaponless (except for the knife he kept hidden in his left boot, but since he didn’t actually use it, it didn’t count.)
It went like this. There was a factory, about a ton worth of illegal drugs, a police raid, and *innocent* bystanders. Innocent in the sense that they weren’t on duty, that was, so technically they weren’t supposed to be involved. Long story short, one well-placed detonator, and the police went down like flies. Unfortunately, so did the building. They were just about to go through the back exit when a lone police with crazy eyes caught up with them and pointed a gun to their heads. Ryo immediately held up his hands in surrender, since they were, once again, off-duty, and he refused to exert any energy if he wasn’t gonna get paid for it.
Kame often suspected if someone tried to kill Ryo when he was off-duty, he would actually *let* them.
To make it even more absurd, the police was actually delusional enough to think out of Kame, Uchi, and Ryo, Ryo was the least dangerous one, and proceeded to make him hostage. Seriously. Did he not notice the manic eyes?
(To be fair, Uchi had the height advantage, while at the time Kame was wearing a black leather overcoat on top of his Kevlar vest, which made him appear bulkier than Ryo’s thin shirt and letterman jacket.)
“Seriously, are you even for real?” said Kame, because it bore mentioning.
“Ohh, I’m so scaaaared,” said Ryo, looking bored as all hell.
“Shut up! All of you!” said the sorry excuse for a police.
“Now, now, why don’t you keep the gun away from my friend’s temple, and talk about this? I’m sure we could find a way to compromise.” Said Uchi, forever the smooth talker of the group. Looking at him, you’d never guess he’d soon stab you just as your back’s turned.
“Look pal,” said Kame, “have you never watched any action movies at all? You’re the police here. We’re the bad guys. It’s practically a rule we’d save our own asses before anyone else’s. Besides, have you even *looked* at your hostage at all?”
“Help me! I’m so hapless! I’m a useless damsel in distress!” Said Ryo pointedly.
Uchi turned his head away, his body shaking violently. From hiding his laughter, most likely.
“Shut up! Throw away your weapons!”
Uchi cheerfully threw away his Beretta.
Kame sighed. “You asked for it, buddy.” And then threw away the grenade in his hand. The pinless grenade.
“Watch out!” Said Ryo, and then fly-kicked the grenade out the window. It exploded loudly just as it passed the windowsill, showering them all with flying debris from the destroyed wall. “That was a fucking grenade, you frigging moron! Are you trying to commit a frigging mutiny against me or something?!”
“See, Mr Police?” said Kame triumphantly. “Do you still think he’s a hostage material?”
Uchi’s shaking only got harder.
But apparently, the police was really that crazy, since he insisted on not releasing Ryo. “Hands up in the air, I said!”
Now even Ryo took a break from playing hostage to stare incredulously at his attacker. “Help! Please save poor little me!” said Ryo, because it was that or shouting our hands are always in the air, you frigging dimwitted moron.
By now, Uchi was shaking so hard Kame was afraid he was going to get an aneurysm.
This was getting ridiculous, and he needed a hot shower now now now dammit. So he whipped out his ultimate weapon and pointed it on Mr Police’s general direction.
Both Uchi and Ryo did a double take. “Is that… a grenade launcher?” Uchi asked.
“An M320, to be exact. Isn’t she a thing of beauty?” Kame said fondly. When both Uchi and Ryo kept staring at him, he added, “What? I read the label!”
“I said throw away your weapon!” the crazy shouted.
“For the record, you said ‘weapon’ as in, singular, and not ‘weapons’ as in, plural. And we did throw away each of our weapons the first time.” Said Kame.
“Kame,” Uchi said, sounding pained, “You do realize if you fired that thing away, you’re going to blow Ryo to smithereens? You know, like that wall over there?”
Kame frowned. “Oh right. Fine.” He pushed the M320 aside mournfully. Then pulled out a Benelli M1014.
Ryo stared at him. “Is that an automatic shotgun? Where did you get that thing? I didn’t even know we have those in our weaponry!”
“A semi-automatic, actually. You like it?” Kame beamed.
“Yes, if I actually wanted to be turned into a hamburger. Put that thing away, for God’s sake! You haven’t even got training in firearms!”
Kame’s eyes narrowed. “You know what? Fuck it. Mr crazy Police officer, why don’t you shoot your hostage? He seems to be begging for it.”
The officer looked down uncertainly at Ryo.
“Do it, and you’re toast.” Ryo promised.
By now, Uchi’s shaking had advanced into coughing - which didn’t really help in covering the tell-tale of his laughter.
“You don’t like this, you hate that. Just there’s no pleasing you, is there?” Kame threw away his shotgun and drew a H&K PSG-1, put the stock on his shoulder, and aimed the muzzle at Mr Police. “Ha! You can’t complain about this one, can’t you?”
Ryo looked about ready to throw an epic tantrum. “That is a sniper rifle, you retard. You’re not supposed to use that in a close-quarter fight! Besides, yours still has its bipod attached! Do you even realize how stupid you look?” it wasn’t said, but the you moron was heavily implied at the end.
“Your inexperience with firearms aside,” Uchi said once he put his laughter under control, “I’m actually more interested in finding out where the hell did you hide all those heavy artillery in your body? Seriously, they’re not the kind you can carry around without a case. Especially that sniper rifle.”
Kame sent a betrayed look Uchi’s way. “You actually picked his side?”
Now it was Uchi’s turn to send him an unimpressed look. “I’m an informant. It’s practically a number one rule to never pick a side.”
”Put away all of your weapons now!” screamed the crazy police officer, pushing his gun insistently to Ryo’s temple.
Kame and Uchi both sent him an unimpressed look. “I’m starting to get irritated here.” Said Kame, pushing his H&K PSG-1aside.
“So am I.” Replied Uchi, narrowing his eyes. “And this is supposed to be our day-off too.”
“So you won’t mind so long as we done here quick, right?” asked Kame.
“Sure.”
Ryo suddenly looked alarmed. “Wait,”
“Send my regard to your God, bitch.” Said Kame. And then fired his newly uncovered M4.
An empty magazine later, Uchi pulled his fingers from his ears as Kame threw aside his rifle. Ryo was crouched on the floor, while the area to his right was covered in blood and human matters, with Mr police’s head turned into an impromptu beehive with the amount of rounds it sporting.
“Ryo-chan! You okay?” Kame was about to rush to Ryo, except Uchi’s hand on his wrist prevented him.
“Wait,” Uchi shook his head. “Something’s wrong.”
Together, they watched as Ryo slowly dragged himself to his feet, shaking down debris and dirt from his person. His left side was completely drenched in blood, making it as if he’d been showering in blood or something, which was-impressive. Or so Kame thought.
“Ryo-chan! None of the bullets got you, right? I’m so sorry! But that man seems so crazy I just-“
Ryo held up a hand. Kame paused mid-rant. “Let me ask you one thing: I asked you to wait, didn’t I?”
“…yes?”
“Do you know what I’m wearing at the moment?” there was something scary in the way Ryo said that that made Kame’s hair stand on end. From the way Uchi tightened his hold on Kame’s wrist, he obviously felt it too.
“Er. No?” Kame said, at the same time Uchi said, “Blood?”
“They’re *vintage*, you morons. How are you going to fix this, huh? Huh?” said Ryo in a high-pitched tone one would associate with that of a mental patient’s hysterical fit.
“Ryo-chan, could it be you’re still in shock?” asked Uchi. “He did nearly shoot you, after all.”
Kame sent Uchi another betrayed look. That traitor! And then it all dawned on him. “Wait, you’re actually mad not because I nearly shot you, but more because I ruined your clothes?”
“They’re vintage!” Ryo said again, like it should make sense. It didn’t. “I repeat,” said Ryo, suddenly quiet again, eyeing them dangerously, using his blooded appearance to full effect, “How are you gonna fix this?”
They both gulped. “You know, if your clothes were really that precious to you, I don’t think our lives would compare to its value.” Said Kame.
Ryo snarled.
“Run.” Uchi urged. Kame didn’t need to be told twice.
(Ryo never let him anywhere near a rifle after that. Or a shotgun. Or any kind of firearms, really. He’d try to argue, except Ryo could carry a grudge like nobody’s business, and he was still too attached to this world to go against him.)
-
The first time he met Yamapi, he was busy pinning a guy to the wall with one hand, while his other hand shoved a stapler on the guy’s mouth and pressed the sharp teeth of the device to the inside of the guy’s cheek.
Shut up.
It was a slow day, and he was bored to hell. Uchi was off doing his job, so Kame was stuck accompanying (baby-sitting) Ryo for his quarterly examination. Except Ryo was being a big girl and refused to let Kame accompany him inside the examination room, so he was stuck in the busy lab instead, looking (and feeling) like an abandoned puppy.
“Aww, aren’t you just adorable?”
Kame stared. Someone was cooing at *him*. What the hell.
“Are you lost, dear?” the strange man said in that weird gentle way one used around little kids. “Would you like some candy or cho-“ the man reached for the inside of his jacket, and it was then all hell broke loose.
Without even realizing what he was doing at all, he had slammed the man against the wall with one hand, while his other hand grabbed something from the table; he was already swinging the thing to the man’s face when he realized it was a stapler. At the last moment, he flexed his hand so that instead of hitting the man in the face, the stapler slid smoothly into the man’s mouth instead, sandwiching his cheek from the inside and outside, and he started to press the device-
“Toma!”
A hand on the back of his overcoat hauled him away from the man; surprised, he let himself be dragged backward for a second, only to drive his heel on the foot of the person behind him. Hard. There was a hiss of pain, and before this person could recover, he turned around and kneed him on his groin, followed by an uppercut to his jaw.
The other person stumbled to the floor in a lethal position, his hands moving between his (probably broken) jaw to his groin, like he couldn’t decide which of both areas was actually more painful. He still tried to get away from Kame, though, scrambling backwards awkwardly, which was just--
And then Kame grabbed a scalpel from the table and flung himself toward him, bashing the other person’s head once on the floor - hard - before grasping his shirt collar while raising his other hand above him, scalpel aimed at his eye, and then driving it down-
“WAIT!!!”
Kame paused.
But not before the scalpel made contact; instead of the targeted eye, it struck through the other person’s hand. Literally.
Quite a reflex this person had, then. Apparently he managed to shield himself with his hand at the last second, saving his sight and sacrificing his left hand in the process.
Looking back over his shoulder, he zoomed in on the source of the shout earlier. Saw that first man; his terrified eyes, horrified expression; the obvious worry in his face; but *not* for himself, Kame belatedly realized. The man was worried for the person still trapped under Kame.
He stared at the face of the person under him. Come to think of it, he had never seen these two around the lab before. Intruders? New recruits? He tried to take in his surrounding, the scene behind the strange man, and suddenly noticed how the other people at the lab *carefully* averted their eyes from them. He turned back to the person under him. Huh. Definitely newbies, then.
He sighed. Oh, the idiocy he had to live with.
“Look,” the first man said, and Kame immediately narrowed his eyes at him. The man faltered, but determinedly kept on, “I apologize for being rude to you earlier, but. Could you please, maybe, release my friend here? You know, so he could get treated before he bleeds himself to death?”
What a moron. You couldn’t die from a crushed hand; suffer, yes. Die, no. He paused. Or maybe the man meant the guy would die from the pain, instead of the blood loss itself?
Well.
Kame stared up at him. The man had guts. Most people in the lab usually just let him do whatever he wanted, pretended nothing was amiss. But not the newbie, apparently. Either he had the gut of steel or he *really* was a moron.
And then he noticed how his hand was still tight around the handle of the scalpel, despite the fact the thin knife was embedded to the hilt on this guy’s hand.
Huh.
“Or,” Kame said decisively, pushing forward the scalpel a few millimeters, “I could always drive this scalpel further - until it penetrates his eyeball and goes straight to his brain - by his own hand.” He smiled up cheerfully at the first man.”You know, so that he wouldn’t need to bother with treatment at all?”
The first man gasped in horror, but when Kame turned his attention back to the second man, the guy only stared hard at him. Like he was steeling himself for what was to come. Like he already knew this was going to happen from the start.
Like he was ready to die.
Kame pouted. It was no fun killing people who wanted to die.
“Oh fine.” He conceded, releasing the scalpel from his grip and rising himself to his feet, sidestepping the second man in the process.
The first man eyed him cautiously. At Kame’s careless shrug, he immediately rushed to the second man’s side, helping him up while fussing over him at the same time.
“What’s your name?”
The pair looked at him with a frown - the first man a worried one, the second a wary one. Probably deciding it was safer to answer, the first man opened his mouth. “Um. My name’s Ikuta Toma. And this is--” he squeezed the second man’s shoulder, who kept glaring defiantly at Kame, “-Yamashita Tomohisa.”
Kame beamed. “I think I like you.” And then he gave them his most charming smile.
Except instead of smiling back, the two widened their eyes, like they had just officially signed their own death warrants. At the same time, an uncontrollable shiver racked down their forms, as if the room temperature had just plummeted beyond zero degrees.
He continued smiling at them.
Uchi would be so *proud*.
(He was twenty-one the first time he made a friend (who didn’t immediately drop dead) without Ryo or Uchi’s help.)
-
Kazu was the one who pulled the trigger.
It was so *ironic* he still couldn’t believe it was real.
There’s one thing I want you to remember Kazuya said, eyes looking right at Kame’s. He didn’t even give the Glock aimed to his head a glance.
What is it Kame asked.
Kazuya drew them close together then, positioning Kame’s free hand on the small of his back, while his own right hand covered Kame’s left one on the handle of his Glock. For a moment, Kame thought Kazu was going to snatch the gun away; instead, he steadied Kame’s grip on the handle, replaced Kame’s finger on the trigger with his own, and then pointed the gun securely against his own temple.
Kame stared at him.
Kazu smiled ruefully. Then he pressed the palm of his free hand against Kame’s cheek, and tilted his head sideways slightly, as if in a preparation for a kiss. Which was might as well, since he whispered his next words right into Kame’s mouth.
It’s not you--it’s me. Then he pulled away a fraction, and breathed out, I’m sorry.
He wanted to ask what the hell Kazu meant by apologizing to *him*, since *he* was the one ordered to kill him, so he was the one supposed to apologize, and not Kazu. He opened his mouth-
Except then the door to the office creaked open, revealing somebody, a dumbfounded note in his voice as he croaked out “Kazuya-“
--At the exact time Kazu flashed him a last smile and pulled the trigger.
He didn’t even *think* about it before he went through the window and jumped to his death.
Or not.
(He was nearly twenty-three the first time he jumped out of a twelve story window and survived.)
-
(Kazuya haunted him, after.
With no company other than himself for the few weeks he’d been in solitary confinement, his mind had deemed it necessary to amuse him by making him relive Kazuya’s memories.
That first time they met, when Kazuya impressed him by drawing his Glock and shooting it faster than Kame did with his (borrowed) Beretta; the first time Kazu showed him how to throw a baseball, as well as practice his hand grip; the first time Kazu showed him his fiancé’s stupid face; the first time Kazu told him I’m an undercover police; but I guess you already know that.
He did; but that wasn’t the point. Liar. He said instead.
Come with me. Kazu urged. You’re not fit for this place.
How dare you, Kame said, and let his eyes show what he thought of Kazu’s offer.
Come find me. I’ll wait for you. Kazu said, Even if it was only to take a revenge on me.
So he did.
And then pulled a bullet through his head.
Kame closed his eyes. Like a child, believing so long as he couldn’t see the monster, then the monster won’t find him. That maybe if he closed his eyes, blocked his ears, he would forget how the point-blank shot had gone through Kazu’s head and shattered the glass window in the process; how the exit wound basically looked like hamburger; how they’d never get the blood stain and brain matters out of the carpet; how despite countless murders he’d committed, Kazu’s was the one kept replaying in his head.
I’ll wait for you.
It’s not you--it’s me.
“Why are you sorry,” Kame said quietly. “What are you sorry for?”
He waited for an answer. It never came.
-
A few weeks after he was released from solitary confinement, he went to visit the lab.
It was just--he needed alone time; Uchi kept looking at him like he might break down any second--again--while Ryo kept making scathing remarks in that way that didn’t really disguise his genuine worry. Both meant well, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he was a little fucked up in the head after Kazuya’s murder, and he really didn’t need the constant reminder.
So he went to the lab, where its occupants were always too terrified of the idea of an ‘Eraser’ to bother him. He was, after all, still an Eraser - even if he still hadn’t gone back to active duty.
In the lab, he didn’t even do anything; just sat on one of the table, arms hugging his knees, and watched one Yamashita Tomohisa working.
Later, Kame would ask, softly, “What are you doing here?”
He expected Yamashita to purposely misunderstand the question; to answer it with a non sequitur, maybe. Something literal - something meaningless that would answer his question without *really* answering it at all, like waiting for my shift to be over or doing my job.
Except he didn’t.
“Because I hate being alone.” Yamashita said, eyes flickered for a second to the right, where his friend (Toma?) was hunching over some device on the other side of the glass wall.
All Kame heard was I don’t want to lose anyone else.
Something tugged deep in his chest, something painful and awful. He looked at Yamashita, at the naked longing in his eyes, then at his friend on the other side, oblivious. Then he remembered Ryo and Uchi, and hated himself for understanding the feeling.
He smiled. It felt just as painful. “Careful, doctor. Or I might start thinking you actually ~like~ me.”
Hopping off of the table, he made for the door. He paused just behind Yamashita, feeling the other man tense up. Ever so carefully, he laid up a blade - the same one he always teased Yamashita with - just an inch off of Yamashita’s right hand. He caressed the body of the blade with a finger-slowly, as if he was memorizing the texture-before sliding it on the blade’s eye.
They both watched as drops of blood stain the formerly spotless blade.
”Live well, doc.”
He left, Yamashita’s confused gaze burning into his back all the way.
-
(“I’m sorry,” Kame never says. “I’m sorry.”)
-
A year after the disaster that was Kazuya’s murder, he was called to a meeting with one of the higher-ups in the Management. This was unusual, since he usually only received his orders by proxy.
”I want you to kill Nishikido Ryo,” the guy behind the desk said, looking at him with a critical eye. ”He’s become a liability.”
”Okay.” Kame said, and then set the guy on fire.
-
(No one touched what was his. Ever.)
-
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