The World is My Own Carnival...
Title: The World is our Carnival...
Author: Bashii Chan desu~ neko_bashii54
Pairing(s): Arisha/Takanori, implied Léon/Arisha
Chapters: Prologue/?
Genre: Action/Romance
Rated: R
Comments: Uwaah~ a story? Where!? Yep, I finally have something that my muse are deeply satisfied with: an OC AU story! :D A story filled with roleplay character created by myself and HorcruxHymen. I figured this would be something interesting to do - something to keep me from dying of boredum when there is nothing else better to do after homework and when I have run into a rut whin inspiration for drawing his totally abandon me.. I guess this could be considered a 'project', more so. <3 This shall be a story I will complete! *ish determined*
CARNIVAL
Prologue
“The Hacker, The Smart-Ass, and The Detective”
“Good,” the instructor said as the young man’s closed fist pounded into the very centre of the punch mitt. “Now try a right hook, jab, cross, left hook.”
Not even pausing to consider the combination, Arisha followed through with the instructions. Right hook. Jab. Cross. Left hook - remember to throw your weight into it, he told himself as he rolled his shoulder and swiveled his body at the hips.
“Good.” Arisha's trainer took a step back under the force of the blows, a small smile on his lips.
Arisha ignored the look on the man’s face and waited for the next set of instructions. He listened with only half an ear, finding his body flowing into the complex moves with ease and began beating against the protective mitt before the trainer had even finished the set.
His fists moved as if they weren’t even his. Each and every time they landed into the centre of the padding, driving his personal trainer back even as the man continued to shout out moves. Their sessions always ended like this. Unlike the beginning where everything was perfectly timed and executed for an adequate warm-up, the last set would last as long as both men could handle.
As the trainer’s words came to an end, Arisha slammed his fist in what was an incredibly deadly right jab before spinning on his left foot and planting his right square into the centre of the raised mitt.
“You’ve been seeing someone else?” the man laughed as Arisha's last kick caused his ankle to buckle against the concrete floor.
“I’m sorry,” Arisha muttered with a small smile as he pushed an untamed section of fringe out of his eyes and tucked it behind his right ear. He’d overstepped that last attack and while it was powerful, had he been in a real fight, anyone with enough training could have swiped his feet clean out from under him.
“Do I need to tell you what was wrong with that, or are you already chastising yourself for it?”
Arisha grinned brightly at the man as he started to unwind the tight strapping that covered both knuckles. “I’m way ahead of you,” he muttered with a small nod of his head.
A cough off to the side of the room saw both men turning their heads and Arisha spied a familiar figure. He honestly had no clue what the guy’s name was, but he always came in at the same time every day for the same training that he did. Once or twice Arisha had considered making conversation with the tall, dark haired man, but one way or another he never got around to it.
“Same time tomorrow?” his trainer asked and Arisha nodded. As the man went off to greet his next student, Arisha grabbed the remainder of his stuff and wandered off into the direction of the main entrance.
Pulling the hair tie along his high ponytail, Arisha allowed his long, black hair to fall back a bit around his face and spill over his shoulders before pulling it back within a lower ponytail after running his hand through it and giving it a slight flick to separate the sweat covered strands; he rotated his shoulders and stretched his neck with a heavy sigh and a purse of his lips.
This was the part that he liked. The time when he felt his burning muscles start to relax and the tension flee from his body. Sure, the workout was good, the idea that he could stand up for himself even better, but the thing that he loved was the simple feeling of having finished some serious exercise. Having worked off those extra pounds that were gained every night when he sat at his computer idly snacking on various foods while either conducting his searches or completing a hacking job.
That was the thing that hardly anyone knew. Not his trainer, not his doctor; no one that knew even the most intimate things about him. He was a professional hacker, one of the best for that matter, and the face behind the typed name of ‘Yūrei’, who was currently the police’s hottest target.
Shouldering his backpack, Arisha pushed open the door and made his way through the near disserted gym. The place was nothing flashy. In fact, it was by far one of the worst appearing buildings that he had ever seen. The plaster was slowly lifting from the walls, obviously having suffered years of abuse from water damage, and the same thing was happening with the ceiling. One time a strip of destroyed plaster wall had actually fallen from the ceiling and landed only a few inches from where he was standing. The lights were dim with a sort of yellow tinge to them which only enhanced the state of disrepair that the walls were kept in. The floor was basic cement; nothing covering it and no attempts had been made to make it appear as anything but. The only thing that marred it was the long darkened patches of water markings, and the blood and sweat that had obviously not been cleaned up before they had permanently stained the surface of the concrete.
As he walked through the main large room, taking in all his surroundings as if it were his first time there, Arisha knew that was probably why he liked the place; the shabby condition that the building was in. It made him feel safe in a way. Here he was just one of the crowds. One of the many people in the city that could not afford to go to one of those flashy gyms with their glass lined walls and small bar system out the back. Here he was faceless, just like all the people that surrounded him. Sure, they had names, most of which he knew and they knew his, but they were nobodies, struggling school janitors, or the modern day goods peddler whose only means of making money was by selling his wears on market day. There were no lawyers, no bankers, and no law enforcement officers here. No one that could possibly stand to be a threat to him even if his other identity was ever discovered and that, Arisha found, was a great reassurance. That he could still fit in and not be noticed despite the things that he had done and seen, read and the crimes that he had committed.
The doors of the gym, wooden and glass plated though not of high quality, loomed up ahead, marking the end of this feeling of safety and the beginning of the real and dangerous world. Hand tightening around the sole strap of the backpack that hung loosely over his right shoulder, Arisha rounded the corner, completely unaware of the gaze that followed him from the back of the small foyer.
“Hey Arisha,” a man called out as he was about to push open the doors. “When am I gonna get that phone call and that hot date?”
Arisha just sighed at the man’s words and shook his head slightly, though a wide smile did tug at the corners of his mouth. Pushing open the door but turning to face the man as he walked backwards out onto the top step, he replied with a small laugh. “Keep waiting, Jimmy, it’ll come...” and with that he was outside, muttering, “...in your dreams,” as he felt the heavy door swing shut on its hinges.
*****
The bottle spun in the air, the dark liquid glimmering in the flashing, multicoloured lights. A few people gasped, one even dared to clap and then, before they knew what was going on, the bottle was safely back in the speed rail and the glass in front of the waiting client.
“Thousand yen,” Takanori said to the man with a jab of his chin, “Got n’change in the Till, s’make it correct else the rest is tips. Whacha drinkin’?” His words bled into one another as he shouted them out over the noise of the packed club, making his gutter-rat accent even more pronounced. Not that it mattered ‘cause he didn’t have time for chitchat or dramatic pauses anyway. Not tonight, within the least.
“Vodka and lime,” the man called back while Takanori removed the one thousand, five hundred yen the other man had left with a smile. There was one good thing with nights like tonight; great tips.
“Outta lime,” Takanori said as he flicked a glass out of the rack and spun up the vodka bottle. He poured an even nip, judging just by eye before covering the bottle nozzle with his finger to abruptly cut off the flow of liquor. “S’its vodka straight.” He dropped the bottle back into place and handed the glass over at the same time. The man didn’t complain - no one ever did when Takanori was making the drinks - and simply handed over the correct cash for a vodka and lime.
“Rum!” a voice called from the end of the bar.
Even Takanori didn’t know how he had heard it, but his hand roamed over the assorted bottles and grabbed the neck of one. Without having to look, he yanked it out of the rail and yelled, “Comin’ down.” With a causal toss behind his back, he sent the bottle flying down the other end of the bar where it landed in the hands of the only other competent bartender on that night.
Kouyou gave him a small nod of thanks but that was it. There was no time for pleasantries between the staff. Two of the usual workers had called in sick. Well, no, one had called in sick. Jui, the other hadn’t been seen or heard from in days and considering how much he loved his job, that sort of silence was never good in this side of town. Takanori had already filed him into the ‘never-to-be-seen-again’ group in his mind. That was until the body was pulled out of somewhere, rotting and stinking up some unfortunate person’s place and the whole unpretty mess was revealed.
The other ‘bartender’ that they had the thrill of working with was on strict orders to keep to cleaning glasses. He was fucking useless - Kouyou would argue that he was actually beyond unless and Takanori tended to agree - and after dropping a bottle of rum and screwing up two drinks, he had pulled the plug. Besides, the kid was just getting in his and Kouyou’s way.
“How about a quick fuck?” a deep voice called over the bar. Not bothering to look up, Takanori just kept going and grabbed a shot glass.
“I’m gonna assume ya meant the shot, cos ya in the wrong place for anythin’ else.” Layering the alcohols over each other, Takanori stole a glance at the man. He was tall, quite stocky in build and held the hint of something foreign in his features. The type of guy Takanori would normally go for if he wasn’t so rushed; in fact, that was a blessing and a curse all in one. He’d been warned against turning tricks straight from the bar and he really didn’t need any more run-ins with the cops.
“I don’t drink,” the man said with a smirk. Takanori rolled his eyes and grabbed the shot glass. He tipped his head back and he threw the shot down. The alcohol left a pleasant burning sensation in the back of his throat which travelled all the way down to warm his stomach. Licking his lips, he tried to savor the taste for as long as possible before speaking again.
“Try The Dive next door.” The short bartender slid the shot glass down the bar towards the glassy while getting the needed ingredients for the next cocktail on order. “’Shot’ll still cost ya - Thousand yen.”
*****
The papers made a nice mess on the desk. Cluttered, uneven, torn and crimpled, there was absolutely no method to the madness that faced the detective. Even the way the documents miraculously wrapped around the discarded coffee cups held no real order. Phones rang in the distance, people talked and footsteps could be heard pattering all over the floor, but it was the papers that held his attention.
One particular set of footsteps approached him and then stopped. Air kissed the detective’s face and rustled his dark hair as the stranger offered a deep, stiff bow before straightening and standing at attention.
“You must be Alun,” the stranger’s deep voice stated. Alun could feel the tall youth’s eyes locked onto him even as the kid bowed again. “Kawauchi Ray.”
With his name exposed and no way left to avoid the young man, Alun merely snorted in response as he continued to stare at the morbidly hypnotizing desk. It would have been polite to turn and actually look at the guy or even just offer him a small half bow of his head - hell, a nod even - but Alun wasn’t there to make friends.
This kid was the third partner he’d been assigned this year alone. They never stayed long so there really wasn’t much point in getting to know them.
“It’s a real honor to be working with you,” Ray said and Alun could see him bowing again out of the corner of his eye.
After awhile Alun started to feel sorry for them, especially these fresh faced cadets. They came in with all these hopes and dreams of making a difference and setting things right and Alun wondered how long it actually took for them to break. Did it feel like it had for him? That all too clear moment of despair when you find yourself looking at everything around you and seeing only corruption?
Alun had long lost track of those who had been exposed for having links with the Yakuza and other organized crime faculties. Sadly their faces tended to meld into one, mixing with those very few good cops who’d let their guards down and been pulled out of a trashcan the next morning. Even Alun was surprised that he had somehow lasted so long, especially since he specialized in the cases revolving around the three main Yakuza clans of Japan.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Ray continued. Alun rolled his eyes discreetly. The kid was ranting, gushing, and Alun wasn’t able to suppress the shudder of embarrassment he felt for the boy. The kid - whatever his name was - would regret this moment one day, no doubt when his dreams came shattering down to be crunched underfoot.
“Some of the work you have done… it’s… it’s… legendary,” Ray continued. Alun merely rolled his eyes, not caring to hiding it this time, as he prodded at a certain file only to have a whole stack fall clear off the desk and splay out over his chair and floor. “I made an in-depth study of your cases in the academy and the way you think and execute your ideas is flawless, even if it does tend to go against the rule book.
“You’re my hero,” Ray finally concluded with a hint of a laugh. “I know that sounds somewhat stereotypical and all, but you are. The way you exposed the corruption of the Superintendent was-”
Finally giving up on the desk in front of him, Alun turned and locked his dark eyes onto Toru’s. To the kid’s credit, he didn’t flinch or look away or even show the smallest signs of being uncomfortable.
Alun inwardly scoffed. He was right when he’d assumed that it was just another kid. Straight out of the academy no doubt. Tall and slender, his new partner wore his grey suit with pride and held a dreamy, enrapt look on his pale face. Dark brown hair sat down straight against the collar of his jacket and his light eyes held a deep intelligence.
“First thing’s first,” Alun said, cutting the other’s ranting short. He didn’t need a step by step reminder of all the things he’d done. “This is your new desk. I expect never to see it this unclean. Nothing functions without order and paperwork is not exempt from that rule. Get it in order; the files belong in that cabinet there.”
Regarding the kid with a sigh, Alun tried not to show his displeasure at getting partnered off with, yet again, another rookie. Then again, no one established within the force was really willing to work with him. While, on the whole, most of Alun’s partners were actually clean and crime free, they had a tendency to end up getting picked up with a bucket and sponge. The corrupt ones stayed miles away from Alun and the straight ones did their best not to be seen with him in public out of fear for their own lives.
Alun really didn’t blame them either. He’d known it was a stupid idea to declare war on the Yakuza and not surprisingly, he was the only cop willing to do it.
He never could bring himself to understand why he decided to transfer himself to Japan, of all places - the system is nothing but corruption.
“Come and get me once you are finished.”
“Yes sir,” Ray said with a nod which he followed with another deep bow.
No, Alun wasn’t there to make friends. He was there to try and make a difference, to set things right and unlike all those who he’d been paired off with over the years, he was determined not to fail.