Ye olde Balls it up fic
So I realized that the Balls It Up community is now defunct and that I had a broken link. :( Fortunately, I had this ridiculously long, ridiculously ridiculous fic still buried in my gmail. So I'm putting it back up. Because it's funny. Maybe I should finish that Kite/Mizuki fic I abandoned a couple of years ago...
Anyway. Here we go.
Learning to Fall for the Teacher’s Pet
or: all of God’s lambs chase the dragon’s tail sometimes
Warning: Abuse and mishandling of Japanese suffixes, pronouns and terms of endearment. Liberal and blatant ‘sampling’ of movie quotes. Startling abundance of Americanisms. Total disregard of Japanese law, justice system, housing and neighborhood situation and educational system. Exaggeration and bastardization of fanon characterizations. Repeated, ridiculous and pointless description, misrepresentation of Christianity, organized crime and individuals with mental and developmental handicaps. Lolita-complexes of the homosexual variety, pseudo-Kpop-songfic, pimpshoes, improper use of firearms, gangland dramatics and clichéd, unbelievably happy endings.
Summary: Kite goes undercover to protect the Christian son of the prosecution’s star witness. He is, however, completely ill-prepared for the boy who works so hard to secure his attention and - ultimately - his affection.
It was ridiculous to feel this nervous, Kite knew, but it was the first day of school. His loafers - as shiny as he could manage - squelched along the hallway and it was all too easy to remember his own experiences in high school. The smell of the gym and the locker rooms and the cafeteria, the sounds of students all moving and chattering in groups, the hand-drawn posters promoting student council nominees and club meetings and dances hanging crooked on the walls. All those activities in which Kite never truly participated, but stood just on the periphery of each and every one merely in the interests of understanding. An outcast of his own making - the mysterious boy that the girls stared at and whispered about - and Kite harbored no regrets. Even now, he was every bit the loner he'd been in high school, but for much more important reasons. His propensity for silence and solitude had served him well in the academy, his first case and every one that followed, and in every dangerous situation he'd ever found himself since. This was high school - this was nothing. Kite was ready.
In the doorway, he paused, searching the classroom until his gaze landed on him. Seated near the window, chin propped on a pretty, pale hand, staring at the blackboard but lost in his own thoughts, he was just as Kite had anticipated and he knew that he had his work cut out for him this time. He squared his shoulders, straightened his ugly, brown tie, and entered the classroom. He didn't look at the class, didn't seek to reassure them or to create some initial bond when he crossed the floor quickly, lay his briefcase on his desk and turned immediately to scrawl his name on the blackboard. When he turned to face them again, the room had gone quiet; the boy who'd been staring off into space was now staring at him. Kite suppressed a smile, glancing around the room and allowing his gaze to settle on this student or that student just long enough to make them fidget and look away before he finally spoke.
"There will be no foolish activity or silly conversation in this class."
No one spoke. No one moved.
"Raise your hand if you intend to be a discipline problem," he said, arms crossed over his chest.
Near the back, a couple of girls whispered, muffling giggles, and a boy in the center of the room raised his hand. One brow arched in question, Kite looked at him for a moment, sweeping him with a bored, casual sort of glance. He was good-looking in the way that only teenaged boys can be. Young and clear-skinned, long, rangy body not yet out of that awkward, pubescent stage. His hair was long and blonde and shiny - Kite suspected that he would be trouble.
"You have something to say?"
The boy smiled and it was, at once, mischievous and enticing. "Yes, Sensei. I intend to be a discipline problem."
Lips pursed, Kite nodded. "I appreciate the honesty. You'll join me this afternoon for detention."
"Yes, Sensei," the boy said, relaxing in his seat and looking positively delighted with himself.
"Anyone else?" he asked, glancing around the room encouragingly. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, a boy in the front row raised his hand, head tilted demurely. He had rather shapeless brown hair and a sweet smile and when Kite pointed at him, he opened his eyes to fix Kite with an intent sort of look. His eyes were startlingly blue.
"Saa," he began. "Mizuki-kun is listening to an mp3 player that he stole from my brother."
To the boy's right, a tall megane cleared his throat and frowned. He didn't look at the boy who'd just spoken, but his displeasure was evident.
"Thank you for the information...?"
"Fuji," the boy supplied helpfully. "Fuji Shuusuke."
"Thank you, Fuji-kun," Kite said again, nodding his acknowledgement.
Motioning to the boy beside him, Fuji smiled. "This is Tezuka Kunimitsu. He's going to be head of the Student Council this year."
Staring hard at the surface of his desk, Tezuka Kunimitsu blushed, earning him another of Fuji's adoring smiles. He didn't look up and his back and shoulders were rigid with tension and embarrassment.
"Is that right?" Kite asked politely.
Fuji nodded. "Yes. And I'm going to manage his campaign."
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" he asked, not waiting for an answer and turning toward his desk. A few of the girls giggled again, but Tezuka Kunimitsu didn't say one word.
"All right, then. We've established that at least one of you is a discipline problem, one of you will be Student Council President, one of you is not paying attention and one of you is quite an efficient informer. Would anyone like to add anything before we get started?"
Unsnapping his briefcase, Kite withdrew a thick, biology text and flipped through a few pages until the boy near the window spoke up.
"Sensei?"
"Yes?" he prompted, consulting his seating chart as though he actually had need of it. "Mizuki-kun?"
All eyes turned to Mizuki, waiting, and after a moment he stood, almost defiantly. "Fuji-kun is correct. I do have an mp3 player, but I didn't steal it."
"Oh?" Kite asked.
"Fuji-kun's brother gave it to me yesterday afternoon."
He paused, everyone was silent, and Kite did not prompt him again, certain that whatever Mizuki had to say would not fail to hold some significance.
"After he confessed to me in the third-floor bathroom."
"That's a lie," Fuji hissed, hands flat on his desk as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yuuta would never-"
Mizuki interrupted him then, glancing smugly down at Fuji from over his shoulder. "He would and he did. And then he kissed me, Fuji-kun. How do you like that?"
Half-rising, Fuji growled, ignoring Tezuka's sharp warning, until Kite spoke to the both of them.
"That's enough," he said. "Mizuki-kun. You'll be joining Hirakoba-kun in detention this afternoon. I'll see you at 3 p.m. Sharp."
Head bowed in false subservience, Mizuki took his seat again. "Of course, Sensei. I apologize."
Leaning against the corner of the desk, Kite smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt - over his tie - and smiled for the first time that day. "Now that we have that out of way, if you would please open your books to page ninety-seven, Inui-kun will read for us. Chapter twelve, Inui-kun, if you'd be so kind."
Silent only while he turned to the correct page and pushed his glasses up along the bridge of his nose, Inui cleared his throat and began to read.
"Asexual reproduction is relatively rare among multicellular organisms, for reasons that are not completely understood. Current hypotheses suggest that, while asexual reproduction may have short term benefits when rapid population growth is important or in stable environments, sexual reproduction offers a net advantage by allowing more rapid generation of genetic diversity, allowing adaptation to changing environments..."
While he read, Kite made use of the classroom's collective concentration to observe them undetected. Until, that is, he found himself meeting Hirakoba Rin's very earnest, very intent gaze. Having no idea how long the boy had been staring at him, Kite seemed unable to look away first - as unable as Hirakoba seemed unwilling. But then he smiled - slow and knowing and intimate - and Kite turned his attention quickly back to the text in his lap and Inui Sadaharu's low, soothing voice.
For the remainder of class, he was careful not to look at Hirakoba and when the bell rang, Kite dismissed them as a group and turned away. He didn't remind Mizuki or Hirakoba about detention that afternoon; he had enough information on Mizuki to know that that he wouldn't skip out. Unfortunately - and for reasons completely opposite to Mizuki's - he suspected that Hirakoba wouldn't skip out, either.
His phone vibrated against his hip and he frowned. There was only one person who would be contacting him this early and Kite wanted to talk to him about as much as he wanted a teacher's pet. Which was to say, not at all.
He turned off his phone and sat down to await his next class.
***
The day passed fairly quickly, all things considered. There had been one or two instances where Kite had been certain it would become obvious to the students that teaching wasn't his forte, but - surprisingly enough - he'd been able to both keep them in line and hold their attention. He would be smug about it later, when questioned. Now, however, he could only sit in the windowsill and feign interest in a novel while he waited for his little troublemakers to arrive.
After a moment, he lay the book aside, tilting his head to crack his neck, and began to roll his sleeves up. The first thing he was going to do when he got home was strip off the lame ass outfit he had on and take a hot shower. After that, he intended to sit back and relax while his little chickadee made his dinner and - if he was lucky - gave him a blowjob. He sighed, smiling to himself and stretching to work the kinks out of his back.
"You look comfortable," Hirakoba said from the doorway. His tie was loose and the top button of his shirt was undone. His hair was tousled and his color was high; Kite could admit that the kid looked every bit as good as he wanted to.
"Then I'm a better actor than I thought," Kite told him, loosening his own tie and motioning Hirakoba inside. "Where's Mizuki-kun?"
Shrugging, Hirakoba dumped his bag on the floor and took the seat closest to Kite. "Beats me. He's usually getting his ass kicked right about this time. He's kind of a moving target."
Rising, Kite frowned. "And you don't help him?"
"Hey, man - er, Sensei - he's not my problem."
He wasn't. Unfortunately for Kite, however, the problem was all his.
"That's beside the point," Kite said. "Don't you stick up for your friends?"
Hirakoba laughed. "Who said he was my friend?"
Irritated, Kite prepared to go and find the kid himself when Mizuki appeared in the doorway. His uniform was crisp and unblemished and his demeanor was pleasant enough. Kite assumed that he'd had no altercations to deal with today.
"Mizuki-kun."
Mizuki bowed quickly, the gold crucifix he wore dangling to catch the light for a moment before he straightened again. "I apologize for my lateness, Kite-san. I was in the bathroom."
"Another confession?" Hirakoba teased, waggling his eyebrows, and Mizuki frowned.
"No," he said, apparently unwilling to elaborate.
"Don't let it happen again," Kite interrupted, as though he anticipated Mizuki would be serving detention regularly. Mizuki merely nodded and took a seat one over from Hirakoba. He bent to rummage through his bag, withdrawing a book and laying it on his desk. He didn't look at Kite or Hirakoba.
"What are you doing?" Kite asked, and Mizuki looked up, blinking in confusion. The kid was a looker - Kite didn't have to wonder why the other boys made a target of him.
"I'm going to read, Sensei. This is detention."
Frowning, Kite thought about all the movies he'd seen whereupon kids serving detention had been expected to do a lot more than sit there so innocuously and read. But then he remembered that most of what he'd seen of detention scenes had taken place in dirty porno flicks. He began to feel a little uncomfortable.
"Yeah, well...why don't you boys clean up this classroom, instead? Make yourselves useful."
If that went well, Kite thought he might suggest that they clean his car. He wasn't sure how far he'd be able to take this detention thing, but he'd sure as hell milk it for all it was worth.
Hirakoba stood, shrugging and adjusting his pants, which were a size too big. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Sensei."
Mizuki, as Kite had suspected that he might, rose to join his classmate and Kite watched as Hirakoba began to tidy books and magazines while Mizuki began straightening desks and picking up trash on the floor. At one point, he paused, retrieving something near the window and stood quietly looking at it. Head cocked, attention completely focused, he turned the item around and around between his fingers. Seated at his desk, happy for the opportunity for observation that such a scenario afforded, him, Kite remained silent and feigned interest in his book.
After a moment, Hirakoba glanced over. "Hey, what do you got?" he asked. Kite smiled a little, watching the tan, pretty boy make his way over to Mizuki. Most kids would have complained that Mizuki wasn't doing his fair share, but Hirakoba seemed unbothered.
Mizuki turned, blushing a little to have been caught slacking. "Oh. Um, nothing much. I think it's an eraser." He held it up, a round green and purple eraser with a yin yang symbol in the center. Hirakoba's eyes lit up as he leaned in to get a better look and while it was unlikely that he was aware of precisely how his proximity affected Mizuki, Kite saw it all. The smaller boy blushed faintly, seeming skittish, too-aware when feathery tips of Hirakoba's hair brushed his arm.
"Cool," Hirakoba said, touching it gingerly. "Who'd use an eraser like this anyway? It's too cool-looking to mess up."
"D-do you want it?" Mizuki asked hesitantly, conveniently forgetting that it wasn't his to give. But Kite didn't say a word. The little brat who lost it clearly didn't deserve to have it in the first place, if he couldn't take care of his belongings.
"Really?" Hirakoba asked, eyes wide. Mizuki swallowed, forcing a smile as he offered to his classmate.
"Sure. If it meant anything at all to whomever lost it, he'd have taken better care of it, don't you think?"
Kite hid his amusement behind his book and snuck a glance at his watch. Hirakoba laughed and swiped the eraser from Mizuki, slipping it into his pocket when he flashed the other boy a grin. "That's right."
Turning toward Kite's desk, Hirakoba gestured toward the blackboard. "S'pose we should clean the erasers too, ne Mizuki-kun? We can take them outside."
"Sure," Mizuki said. "But there's no need. There's a machine in the supply closet that will do it for us."
"Oh, cool," Hirakoba said, bumping Kite's chair when he leaned forward to grab a couple of the erasers. Mizuki grabbed the other two and followed Hirakoba toward the door.
"Hey," Kite said, looking up as though he hadn't been paying attention. "Where are you two going?"
"We're going to clean your erasers, Sensei," Mizuki told him calmly. "Don't worry, we'll be right back."
Kite frowned and Hirakoba leaned in the doorway, hip cocked in a pose Kite could only assume the boy thought was sexy. "Don't miss me too much, Kite-san."
Frown deepening, Kite slid down in his chair a bit and lifted his book again. "I'm counting the moments."
Hirakoba's laugh echoed in the hallway and when the squeak of the boys' trainers on linoleum faded from earshot, Kite took out his phone to check his messages. One was from Atobe, two were from Kenya and one was from his mother. He called his mother first, since she was the lesser of the three evils, and cursed when the machine picked up. She'd changed the greeting, but Kite could still hear his bird chirping in the background. He sighed a little - he missed his pretty Fiona - and wished that Kenya didn't hate birds so much. At this rate, Fiona would die of old age and Kite would forever regret not having her with him.
Rising, he put his phone away and snuck a peek out into the hallway before kneeling before Mizuki's bag and opening the zip quietly. Though he doubted the kid had anything to hide, it was always better to know as much as possible about a target in order to do the job right. Inside the bag was a white cell-phone with tiny musical note charms in varying shades of purple. Kite hummed thoughtfully and put it back in the pocket - Mizuki had good taste - before rifling through the remainder of the bag's contents. A men's fashion magazine, a pair of white gloves (creepy), a purple yo-yo, translucent lip gloss, several purple gel pens, a Chobits notepad, a white mp3 player with white earbuds, a package of erasers identical to the one Mizuki had given to Hirakoba only moments before and a lightweight, stiletto switchblade. Shocked, Kite drew the blade out of the bag and held it up to the light. This wasn't a child's toy and it wasn't something that Mizuki would have obtained easily. It made Kite wonder if the boy were as oblivious to his father's business dealings as Kite had been led to believe that he was. Silver and white, it gleamed under the artificial lighting and the serrated blade sprang from the sheath with barely a whisper when Kite pressed the button. If the knife had ever had a safety clasp, it had been altered.
In the hallway, Kite could hear Hirakoba's voice and he quickly zipped Mizuki's bag and moved to stand near the window.
"Kite-san?" Someone spoke from the doorway and Kite turned to see the school nurse smiling in his general direction.
"Zaizen-san. You're here late," he managed, proud of his good manners and inordinate patience.
"Yeah, I always stick around on Tuesdays. The baseball club is accident prone." Stepping aside when Hirakoba and Mizuki squeezed through the empty space in the doorway, Zaizen nodded toward the boys. "Extra-curricular activities?"
"Detention," Kite said. "But we're just about ready to go, I think."
"Detention?" Zaizen asked, clearly surprised. "These two?"
Kite shrugged. "They were disruptive in class today. You know how it goes."
Zaizen laughed. "Slavedriver," he said. And at Kite's scowl, shoved both hands into the pockets of his loose, white pants and took a step back. "Hey, say hello to Kenya-senpai for me."
"Yeah, sure," Kite said, willing Zaizen away. Little smart-ass never missed an opportunity to remind Kite that he'd known Kenya first. They'd played tennis together in middle school or something equally lame and pathetic. Zaizen was the picture of politeness when Kite was around. Kite really wanted to kick his ass.
"See you around, boys," he said, waving at Mizuki, who smiled and waved back.
"So?" Hirakoba said, lining the erasers up along the ledge beneath the blackboard. "Did you miss me, Sensei?"
Kite tucked his novel and his planner back into his briefcase and nudged his glasses up. "More than words can say, Hirakoba-kun. Every second spanned an eternity."
Beaming, Hirakoba bent to sweep up his bag while Mizuki looked on silently. "Yeah? Cool."
Kite frowned. Little pain in the ass. "Mizuki-kun," he said. "Kill the lights."
Retrieving his own bag, Mizuki risked one last glance at Hirakoba and then Kite and nodded obediently. "Yes, Sensei."
***
In the parking lot, Kite stood before his car, briefcase loose in his grip, the faint throb of a magnificent headache just at the base of his skull. All four of his tires had been slashed, as had the convertible top. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he vowed that when this assignment was done, he would make Atobe Keigo kiss his ass for a good hour. And that was just for starters.
His phone suddenly felt as though it weighed ten pounds, like stone in his pocket. Of the various, safe people he could call, the prospect of needing rescuing from any of them made him want to go and lie down in the middle of the road. Facing oncoming traffic. It was only his first day on the job and already he doubted things could get much worse.
Behind him, he heard the rumble of what sounded like a motorcycle engine and he glanced over his shoulder. Heading his way was Hirakoba Rin. On a shiny, candy blue scooter. Kite pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself to never, ever, doubt that things could get worse.
Easing to a stop, Hirakoba flashed Kite a bright smile. His hair, sticking out of his blue helmet, was windblown and fluffy. Kite wished he weren't so damned cute. Then he wished he wouldn't have those sorts of thoughts.
"Having some trouble, Sensei?"
"A little bit, Hirakoba-kun, yes," he said, voice raised over the sound of the scooter's engine.
The smile that Hirakoba offered him then was one of quite another caliber. The weight that it carried was not lost on Kite.
"You need a lift, then?" he asked, eyes dark and intent. "I'll take you home."
Glancing from the car to the scooter, Kite sighed.
"Trust me," Hirakoba said. "I'm a good driver."
Clutching his briefcase, Kite pocketed his keys and met Hirakoba's hopeful, expectant gaze. "I'm sure you are," he murmured, accepting that it was impossible to maintain one's dignity while clambering up on the back of a teenager's scooter.
Hirakoba laughed, revving up his engine once or twice as he began to pull away from the curb. "Hang on tight, Sensei," he called back. "I won't bite you."
Kite didn't answer, simply holding on tight and hoping that traffic wouldn't be bad. His ass was vibrating and he didn't much care for it.
"Unless you ask me to," Hirakoba added loudly, arching his back to nudge between Kite's thighs with his tight, round, young butt.
Kite closed his eyes. And hung on as tightly as his dignity would allow.
***
"See you later, Sensei!" Hirakoba yelled out as he sped away from the curb. Kite grimaced, his ass was still buzzing and the sidewalk leading to his house was getting longer and longer with every step he took. To add insult to injury, he was still feeling a little restless in the groin region. Damned kid.
Pausing to get the mail, he took out his phone and dialed Atobe's office. Somebody was going to fix his tires before the sun rose or Kite was going to have somebody's ass.
"'lo," answered someone who was decidedly not Atobe.
"Who's this?" Kite asked, walking slowly. Kenya had yet to peer out of the window and Kite wasn't certain as to whether or not this was a good sign.
"It's Atobe," he said, sounding outraged.
"Bullshit. Who is this?"
"Okay, okay," the man relented. "It's your mom."
Kite's head began to pound. "Ryoga."
"Aw, man. What gave it away?"
"Listen, I don't have time for this. Somebody slashed my tires at the school and I need you to get out there and tow my car. I can't afford to leave it there long enough for you to change the tires. Anyone could be watching."
"Hey," Ryoga began, insulted. "Nobody would see me. I'm like the wind, dude."
"Just pick up the car, okay? I won't have a ride to school in the morning."
"What should I tell Atobe?" Ryoga asked, sounding distracted. Kite could hear video game music in the background.
"Tell him..." Kite hesitated, suppressing a yawn and massaging his temples. "Tell him he's an asshole."
"Well, okay, but I've already told him that at least twice today."
"Yeah, well. Third time's the charm," Kite told him, disconnecting and snapping his phone shut.
By the time he dragged it up the front steps, Kite suspected he was going to need an early night, which was unfortunate since any time Kite expressed an interest in turning in early, Kenya expressed an interest in getting fucked for three or four hours.
The key stuck in the lock for a moment, but Kite rattled it loose soon enough. He pushed the door open and was immediately assailed by the scent of barbecue. As if on cue, his stomach growled.
"Kenya?" he called out.
"In the kitchen," came the neutral response. No sign of anger - so far, so good.
Dropping his briefcase in the hallway, Kite bent to remove his shoes and line them against the wall. The floor felt good on his bare feet and he eased out of his jacket on the way into the kitchen.
"What a day," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and rotating his shoulders. "I think I liked it better when I was handing out parking tickets."
Kenya turned then - familiar frown firmly in place - one hand fisted at her hip while she stirred a pot with the other. "Who was the blonde on the bike?"
"What?" Kite demanded, shooting for incredulous and derisive. "Are you serious?"
"Don't I look serious?" she asked. Truthfully, she looked grouchy and tired, but Kite wasn't about to tell her that.
"You look pretty," he said, offering her a tired smile.
She hesitated - Kite could see her wavering - but then she scowled at him again. "I turn my back for five minutes and you're riding around with some blonde slut. When will I ever learn?"
"Learn what?" Kite asked, rapidly becoming irritated. He didn't want to fight with her, they'd just made up after the once-and-for-all breakup of last weekend and Kite didn't have the time or the inclination to go through that whole song and dance again. "When have I ever been unfaithful to you?"
Laying the spoon aside, Kenya turned to face him. Her shirt was unbuttoned and her skin was damp from standing over the stove. Libido stirring just the tiniest bit, Kite was careful to keep his eyes on her face. It wasn't a difficult task, Kenya had a beautiful face, it was just that her tits were so much more a distraction.
"Atobe."
"What? You're crazy, woman. Atobe Keigo's gayer than Christmas."
"Dan Taichi," she continued.
"Never even considered it."
"Echizen Ryoga."
"Not gay," he scoffed.
"Atobe's accountant - what's her name? The dark-haired one," Kenya said.
"Oishi-san? She's married. And you are seriously out of your mind."
"Fine!" Kenya snapped, turning off the stove and leaving the pot on the still-hot burner, knowing that Kite would have to scrape the dried sauce out of the bottom if he didn't clean it right away. "Fix your own goddamned dinner."
Jerking the knot at the small of her back, she tugged off her apron and threw it at Kite. "I don't know why I put up with you," she yelled, storming down the hallway toward the back of the house. "Cheating bastard!"
"Zaizen sends his love!" he yelled back just that split second before she slammed the bedroom door. "Crazy bitch," he muttered to himself.
Loosening up his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, Kite resigned himself to passing the night on the sofa and told himself that the research he needed to do could wait until later. He just needed a little nap - just a couple of hours of well-deserved sleep.
Kenya's cat loped into the kitchen, then - fat, hairy monster that he was - and Kite watched him pick his way across the floor, toward his litter box. In the few seconds it took him to make the trip, Kite dreamed up seven brand new, ingenious ways for him to die. Four or five inches away from the box, he looked directly at Kite and pissed on the floor.
Kite made a mental note to acquire a few houseplants that were toxic to animals.
***
The phone was ringing. Had been ringing for several moments, in fact, by the time Atobe realized that it was not a part of his dream. The warm, sleeping body beside him suggested that he was the only one awake, but Atobe was not fooled.
"Wakashi," he mumbled, nudging his lover even as he attempted to tug the blankets over his head again. "I know you're not asleep."
Tugging hard on the blankets and rolling over to present Atobe with his naked backside, Hiyoshi inched away so as to avoid another elbow in the ribs. "That's because you're not asleep, either. And I'm not getting up."
"This is ridiculous. Who is calling Ore-sama so early in the morning?"
"I don't know," Hiyoshi said into the pillow. "Why don't you get up and find out?"
Flinging an arm over his head, Atobe sighed heavily - quite put out - and began to kick the blankets away from his legs spitefully. Hiyoshi swore at him and pulled them right back up again. "It's for you, anyway. Stop making me suffer; I'm sleepy and cold."
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and wincing when his bare toes touched the floor, Atobe yawned and stretched. He rose, suppressing a shudder and scratching his left armpit as he padded toward the telephone stand. But then the ringing stopped and his answering machine beeped.
"Atobe, you sonofabitch. Answer this phone before I crawl through it and wrap both hands around your..."
Snatching up the phone, risking a glance at the bed where the Hiyoshi lump lingered, Atobe hissed into the phone. "This had better be good, Kite. Or you and I will be discussing disciplinary action later today."
"Is that right?" Kite returned - Atobe could hear the sneer in his voice. "You'll have to email it to me, in that case, since I don't have any fucking way to get over there before the station closes."
Atobe sniffed, raking a hand through his hair and peering over his shoulder at the (rather magnificent) reflection of his ass in the hall mirror. "Oh, right. You're still babysitting."
"Babysitting?" Kite repeated, incredulous. "I'm talking about my car!"
"Car? What's wrong with your car?"
Kite was silent for a moment - Atobe could hear him struggling to get his breathing even and under control. "Are you telling me that Echizen didn't call you last night?"
Glancing at the machine, and at the number of messages flashing on the display, Atobe tried to recall where he'd left his mobile after he and Hiyoshi and stumbled to bed the night before. "Hm. No, he certainly did not. But you know how absent-minded he can be, sometimes. Honestly, I don't know why I don't fire him."
"Because he knows all your dirty little secrets, that's why," Kite said. "And don't give me the run-around; he probably called you and you were too busy playing slap and tickle to answer the phone."
"I beg your pardon," Atobe snapped, raising his voice now. "I would never neglect the department in favor of sex. How dare you?"
From the bed, Hiyoshi snorted and squirmed beneath the blankets. Atobe frowned and wondered at the lack of respect in his life these days.
"I'll call Ryoga and get things ironed out. Are you in an immediate crunch?"
Having had the wind sucked out of his very belligerent sales, Kite sighed heavily. "No, no. I'll try to convince Kenya to give me a ride. Somebody slashed my tires yesterday at the school, though, and I'm feeling a little edgy. Something's going to happen soon, Atobe. I got in here just in time, I'm telling you."
"Hm. Well, that remains to be seen. Just keep an eye on the brat and don't let anybody murder him until we get that whole Kuwahara situation sorted out. The whole clan is going down this time."
"Fine, fine," Kite said. "I've got it covered. Just get my car fixed, all right?"
"Of course," Atobe reassured him smoothly. "A word of advice, though, if I may, Kite?"
Taking Kite's silence as acceptance, Atobe continued, lowering his voice so that Hiyoshi would not overhear. "You shouldn't have to beg your woman for a little consideration in situations like this. If you ask me, you've allowed yourself to become pussy-whipped and quite frankly, I'm embarrassed for you."
When Kite did not respond, Atobe continued, pleased by his subordinate's rapt attention. "Reverse the situation. Don't be pussy-whipped. Whip that pussy."
Kite hung up then and Atobe frowned when his ear was met with nothing more than a dial tone. "Tsk. Some people simply cannot recognize good advice."
"Keigo," Hiyoshi whined. "I'm cold and lonely in here."
Shrugging, Atobe replaced the receiver and hurried across the cold floor. He was late already and, as such, saw no reason to forego his one, true, early-morning pleasure. He'd touch base with Ryoga in an hour or so. After all, Kite had waited this long and, besides, he and his little lady could use the togetherness that a morning commute could provide. Oshitari-san did not appear to be the accommodating, sweet-talking little sex puppet that her cousin was.
"Coming, precious."
***
Kite took the bus to school. When he arrived - suit wrinkled and hair limp - he couldn't help glancing toward the parking lot where his car still sat. The tires were still flat and, now, someone had keyed 'pedophile' along the driver's side door. Unamused, Kite considered taking out his phone and calling Atobe to swear at him some more, but his attention was effectively diverted by the group of boys loitering just at the side of the school. Safely inside the chain-link fence, they seemed not to notice him and Kite turned away from his car in favor of something potentially much more important. He consoled himself with the promise that - if Echizen had not made an appearance by lunchtime - he would harass Atobe again.
As he drew nearer, he recognized several of the students from the day before. Seated on an overturned oil drum was Fuji Shuusuke. His shirt was open at the neck and his tie and jacket were nowhere to be seen. With his hair tucked behind one ear, Kite noticed the many silver hoop earrings laddered up his ear and into the cartilage. He cringed and rubbed his own ear even as he wondered how he'd missed noticing them yesterday. The boy had been pressed and immaculate when Kite had seen him and his hair had hung over both ears. Kite doubted that it was a coincidence.
His friend Tezuka, the quiet one, stood nearby but looked at no one. In his hands were Fuji's blazer and tie and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than where he was. With what was going on around him, Kite couldn't really blame him.
Menacing, graceful, Fuji hopped down and began advancing, speaking in a low voice to Mizuki. That he wasn't whispering sweet nothings was a certainty, if Mizuki's body language was anything to go by. Tense, guarded, Mizuki stared back at Fuji, though he'd allowed the other boy to back him against the wall. He said nothing, and he didn't move a muscle.
Several boys looked on: first year punks who wore safety pins in their blazers and studded boots keeping a safe distance but pretending to be part of the group, a boy with dark, red hair swept to cover one eye, a dark haired one who stood at his side - apparently speaking to him though he never turned to look at him, a short boy with a ballcap and a bandage on his temple. The boy in the hat was lean and scrappy and appeared to be ready to spring into action at any given moment. Near the door, a beautiful dark-haired boy lingered, unnoticed by the others. Hair so black that it shone blue in the sunlight, pretty, heavily-fringed eyes, one pale, delicate hand covering his mouth so as to contain his laughter - Kite knew him without needing an introduction. That he was alone shocked Kite and he realized that, if he'd been even one-tenth the bastard that Atobe was, he'd seize the opportunity that Yukimura Seiichi's lack of protection would afford and use him to bargain just the way everyone else on the case had seemed to think he should.
But he wouldn't. He would show Atobe that it was unnecessary. As he'd declared so passionately in the past, involving the boy was something only a criminal would do. And Kite Eishirou was a man of the law.
Beyond Seiichi-kun, the three who really took Kite's attention were the ones who stood closest to Mizuki and Fuji. One lounged behind Fuji, leaning against the wall with both arms folded over his chest. He was tall and rangy with tousled, shoulder length hair and appeared completely unmoved by Fuji's single-minded intimidation of Mizuki. He had a cigarette tucked behind one ear and smiled when Fuji leaned in too close, causing Mizuki to flinch. Another boy - almost as tall as the other one - stood behind Mizuki wringing his hands and looking anxious. The expression on his face, however, gave no indication that he was afraid. He was antsy, but he was ready to fight - Kite would have bet money on it. He had big brown eyes and grayish hair and the cross he wore around his neck was similar to Mizuki's.
The third boy stood next to Fuji, occasionally imploring 'Aniki' but doing nothing to stop Fuji. This, Kite deduced, must be Fuji's brother, Yuuta-kun. He was taller than his older brother, and bigger besides, but he - like the others - did nothing to help Mizuki.
"This ends today, Mizuki-kun," Fuji said, nudging Mizuki's shoulder in clear provocation. "You'll leave my brother alone. Or else."
"'Or else' what?" the tall, gray-haired boy asked, sneering. "What will you do to him, Fuji-kun?"
"Shut up, Ohtori," the boy with the ballcap said. "Or I'll show you."
"Aniki, please," Yuuta began, only to fall silent again when Fuji shot him a look.
"This is your doing, Yuuta," Fuji told him calmly. "Just walk away - leave him alone - and it ends here, today."
"And if I don't?" Yuuta challenged.
"Then I'll give him to Chitose."
The tall, lounging boy yawned, stretched and casually lit a cigarette. Kite couldn't imagine what sort of threat he posed, but Yuuta seemed genuinely upset by the prospect.
"I know what you were doing with him yesterday afternoon, Yuuta. In the bathroom," Fuji continued. Yuuta blushed and looked away. "Deny it."
Shaking his head once, Yuuta would not look up again.
"That's what I thought," Fuji said, turning away from Yuuta to grab a handful of Mizuki's blazer and haul him close. "This is the last time I'm going to warn you, Mizuki-kun. I'm losing my good humor. Do you understand me?"
Expecting Mizuki's friend to intervene, Kite watched, surprised when Mizuki closed his eyes and began murmuring to himself in a low voice. He couldn't hear what the boy was saying, but he didn't want to risk getting too close and possibly interrupting. This was too good to pass up; he'd learn more witnessing this than he would if he grilled Mizuki for hours.
Chitose smiled wanly. "Is he praying again?"
"How sweet," ballcap boy said and spat on the ground. "Shut him up, Fuji."
The bell rang then, startling a few of the younger boys, though no one seemed willing to leave first.
Fuji shrugged, releasing him and shoving him back against the wall. "What do I care if he prays?"
He began to walk away, but paused to glance over his shoulder. "There's no one to save him."
The side door banged open then and a big, scowling boy stepped out onto sidewalk.
"Fuji."
Though the black cap he wore lent his crisp uniform and silver hall monitor pin a somewhat incongruous effect, the expression on his face told anyone who bothered to look that he would not be intimidated.
"Sanada," Fuji murmured softly, head tilted in an effort to appear harmless and beguiling. Kite recognized his mannerisms as the ones Fuji had used yesterday to appear as pleasant and helpful as possible. "Don't you have any troublemakers to round up?"
"Yes, I do," Sanada said, straightening his cap. "So move your asses inside or I'm reporting every one of you."
Sighing heavily, Fuji strolled over to Tezuka and held out his hand. "Very well," he said, taking his blazer from Tezuka and slipping quickly into it. When Tezuka held out his tie, however, Fuji turned his hand up and bent to press a kiss to the center of his palm. One of the boys gasped and a few of the others began to whisper excitedly to one another, but Fuji paid them no mind. He took his time, smiling at the blush on Tezuka's cheeks as he did up his buttons and knotted his tie.
"Mizuki," Sanada barked, arms crossed. "You and Ohtori walk Yukimura to class. I'll write excuses for you."
He turned, straightening Yukimura's tie and almost smiling when Yukimura tried to return the favor. Touching Yukimura's shoulder briefly, he waited until Mizuki and Ohtori bundled Yukimura off to class before turning to face Fuji. Eyes narrowed, he moved close, menacing and scowling.
"You little punk," he began.
"Now, now, Sanada," Fuji cajoled. "You remember what the Principal said about you manhandling the other students."
"He didn't mean you," Sanada said, cracking his knuckles. "I promise."
Pushing away from the wall, Chitose dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his shoe. "I'm bored. See you later, Shuusuke."
"You!" Sanada yelled. "You're not even a student here!"
Slinking off, Chitose eased through the small gap in the chainlink fence. Kite could hear him sniggering as he went.
"I'll see you expelled, Fuji Shuusuke," Sanada warned. "The next time I catch you picking fights."
"But you're starting one right now!" the nervous looking redhead spoke up and he swallowed hard, taking a step back when Sanada turned in his direction.
"What's your name?" Sanada asked.
"K-Kamio Akira," the boy said, trying to look brave and failing.
"Kamio Akira," Sanada repeated calmly just that split second before he backhanded Kamio hard across the cheek. The boy crumpled with a sharp cry, his dark-haired friend, catching him and holding him close. He glared at Sanada, but said nothing.
Sanada pointed at Fuji. "Watch yourself."
And then he was gone and the group began to disband. Soon, the only ones left were Fuji, Tezuka and Yuuta and when Fuji took Tezuka's hand and led him into the school, Yuuta tipped his head back to gaze up at the sky.
Kite watched him until the third bell rang and could linger no more. He was late for class, too.
***
The day was rather uneventful, all things considered. At lunchtime, Kite had peered outside to ascertain whether or not his car had been taken care of and had been rather surprised to see Echizen outside - working on it in broad daylight. With a hot pink bandanna tied around his hair and the mesh tanktop he wore, Kite didn't feel that he was being particularly circumspect. In fact, he looked like a homeless man.
Shaking his head, Kite turned away from the window and nearly raked a hand through his hair in frustration until he remembered how much gel he'd used that morning. He settled for a heartfelt sigh.
"Kite-san," Zaizen said from the doorway. "Eating all alone today?"
"I'm not hungry," Kite said, lowering himself into the chair behind his desk and thoroughly prepared to ignore Zaizen for as long as he wanted to stand there yammering about nothing.
"How's Kenya-senpai?" he asked, voice far too light to have been truly casual.
Frustrated, Kite wanted to say. Unreasonable and bitchy and unpleasant and she rides my ass every fucking chance she gets. And I haven't had a blowjob in two months.
"Fine," he said, wearily. "She says hello."
"Really?" Zaizen asked, eyes sparkling. When he spoke of Kenya was the only time he looked anything but pissed off, in Kite's opinion.
"No," Kite returned. "Now leave me alone, for fuck's sake."
Choosing that particular moment to appear, Hirakoba beamed a smile at Kite from the doorway. "You sound grouchy, Sensei."
Kite didn't dignify his remark with a response and Hirakoba held up two small boxes. "I brought lunch for us."
Zaizen's arched brow said all that he didn't actually give voice to and Kite steadfastly ignored him. "Thank you, Hirakoba-kun, but I'm not hungry."
Crestfallen, the boy moved over to Kite's desk to set the boxes down. "But my mom made these," he said. "It's really good, I promise!"
From the doorway, Zaizen snorted his amusement. "Oh, and Kite-san?"
"What?" Kite growled, sitting back while Hirakoba unpacked his bento to set everything out for Kite's observance.
"There's a dirty looking guy messing around with your car outside. Just thought you'd like to know."
"Thank you," Kite managed, determined not to give Zaizen the satisfaction of seeing him lose his cool. "He's my mechanic."
"Ah," Zaizen said, hands linked behind his back. "Enjoy your lunch, then. What a good little student you have there."
Glancing up, Hirakoba smiled. "Not really, but I can pretend for now."
Chuckling to himself, Zaizen walked away and Kite wondered if he'd only pretended to leave and was, in fact, lurking outside the door to eavesdrop. Maybe he'd been the one to key up Kite's car.
"Sensei?"
"Hm? Oh, thank you, Hirakoba-kun."
"You're not hungry, really?" Hirakoba asked. "I can go if you want."
Kite watched him silently for a moment - he knew very well that the boy was playing him with his sad eyes and meek demeanor. Kite was not fooled. "Tell me, Hirakoba, don't you have a girlfriend you'd rather have lunch with?"
The boy's eyes were hard when he looked up at Kite. "No."
"Friends, then?" Kite tried again.
"I'd rather be with you," Hirakoba told him. "I won't bother you."
"Can I ask you a question, then?"
"Sure," Hirakoba said around a mouthful of fish. "Anything you want."
"What do you think of Mizuki-kun? Have you ever met his family?"
Chewing slowly, Hirakoba's gaze darkened and he swallowed and wiped his mouth with the red napkin he'd lay beside his bento. "You want to talk about Mizuki?"
He sounded angry, Kite knew he'd have to tread carefully. "Well, I was really only interested in your opinion of him. I witnessed him being bullied this morning and wondered if it were such an everyday occurrence that no one felt compelled to stick up for him."
"Mm," Hirakoba said, seeming mollified and speaking around another bite of fish. "Fuji, then. Am I right?"
Kite nodded, and Hirakoba continued. "Mizuki keeps screwing around with Fuji's brother. It pisses him off like you wouldn't even believe."
"Is that so?" Kite asked, puzzled. "But...it seems to me that Fuji-kun is involved with Tezuka-kun. Isn't it a bit hypocritical for frowning on behavior that he likely engages in, himself?"
"Oh, no," Hirakoba interjected. "You've got it all wrong. He's not mad that Yuuta's messing around with a guy. He's jealous."
"Jealous?" Kite asked.
"Jealous," Hirakoba said again. "He doesn't want anyone getting too close to his darling brother. Nobody but himself, anyway."
Kite fell silent. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wondered at Hirakoba's apparent acceptance of Mizuki's homosexuality. At many of the boys' acceptance of homosexuality in general, in fact. Fuji and Tezuka. Mizuki and Yuuta.
"Sanada intervened this morning. I was beginning to think no one would."
Hirakoba rolled his eyes. "Him. He's such a tight ass."
Laughing, Kite began to sample a bit of the lunch Hirakoba had given him; it was surprisingly good. "He broke up the party, that's for sure."
"Che. He's always around to break up a party. I swear, he'd fuck up a wet dream."
"Whatever his methods, he got all those brats to head to class - including Fuji-kun."
"Did he have Yukimura with him? He usually doesn't sweep the halls until after he's delivered his little headcase to class."
Kite nodded. "He had Mizuki-kun and Ohtori-kun walk him to class. They seem to be good friends, Yukimura and Sanada."
"Friends," Hirakoba scoffed. "Sanada's so queer for Yukimura that he won't even let him go to the bathroom alone."
Silent for a moment, Hirakoba seemed to ponder his own words before continuing. "I mean, you know Yukimura's a little touched in the head."
Kite feigned ignorance. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Hirakoba said. "He's not a total retard or anything, but something's kinda wrong with him. It doesn't matter anyway, nobody would dare touch him."
"Because of Sanada?"
Hirakoba laughed. "Because his big brother is Yakuza."
After a moment, Hirakoba put his lunch away and glanced shyly at Kite. It was the first real glimpse Kite felt he'd seen of the boy so far.
"Sensei? You asked if I had a girlfriend, but can I ask you the same thing?"
He blushed when he asked and Kite found himself smiling in spite of himself. He remembered what it was like to be Hirakoba's age, though he'd never been this sweet, this endearing.
"Yes," he said, a little regretful. "I live with someone."
The slump of Hirakoba's shoulders and his subsequent silence was indication enough that he hadn't been asking out of casual curiosity. As he sat opposite him, watching dust motes dance around the boy's blond head, Kite wished - if only for a moment - that he'd been able to give him the answer he'd wanted to hear.
Instead, he leaned forward, ruffling Hirakoba's hair as he rose from his chair.
"Come on, Hirakoba-kun. Lunch will be over soon."
***
That afternoon, Kite's car was no longer parked where he'd left it. Instead, Echizen Ryoga occupied his parking space, looking just as cool and collected as always. He was, however, still wearing that awful tank top.
"You've had four hours," was all he said.
Ryoga shrugged. "Yeah, I know. But things got a little crazy this afternoon and I didn't get a chance to fix your car. You didn't tell me somebody keyed it up, too."
"That wasn't there when I talked to you yesterday," Kite said, sounding a little defensive.
"Hm," Ryoga said, scooting up and patting the back of his bike. "Guess you made quite an impression yesterday, in that case."
"What? You think one of the students did it? Why would they do that? Yesterday was my first day!"
"Precisely. Now get your ass up here and let's roll. I've got things to do."
It was fortunate, Kite thought as he strapped his briefcase down and mounted behind Ryoga, that he never expected straight answers from his co-worker. It certainly cut down on the amount of stress he'd be forced to deal with otherwise.
"I should have it ready by tomorrow afternoon, don't worry," Ryoga went on. "I had to tail that Mizuki guy most of this afternoon - I swear that idiot has a death wish."
"We told him to lay low," Kite said, resting his hands on Ryoga's hips only because he had no other choice.
"Yeah, well, apparently he's not too sure what that means. Stupid fuck's going to wind up dead before the trial, you just wait and see."
Groaning, Kite bowed his head, banging his forehead against Ryoga's shoulder three or four times. "Dammit. We need this conviction. We need his testimony."
Revving the engine, Ryoga backed out of the parking space and lowered his sunglasses. "Like I don't know that? Just tell me that his kid is smarter than he is."
"Mizuki-kun is cautious. He seems intelligent to me."
"Good," Ryoga said. "Maybe he can help his old man keep from getting his ass blown off until after we've had a shot at Kuwahara."
Ryoga pulled out of the parking lot, weaving in and out of traffic on the road with little regard to the other drivers. Kite merely hung on, lost in thought and reminding himself that - in a few days - it would all be over.
The way Ryoga drove, it didn't take long to make it back to Kite's and, as they pulled up to the front of the house, Kite stared in disbelief. With both feet on the ground now, the engine idling beneath them, Ryoga made no move to get off the bike and wasn't surprised when Kite didn't, either.
There, on the front steps were four of the five piece Louis Vuitton luggage set that Kite had practically bankrupted himself to obtain for Kenya's birthday last year. Even now, he failed to see the appeal of a bag that looked like a big checkerboard, but Kenya had been ruthless in her desire to obtain them. She loved those bags - referring to them to as 'The Grimaud' whenever opportunity arose - so it was highly unlikely that she was simply angry with him and was throwing the bags out to spite him. She was far too tight-fisted with money for that. More likely was that she was leaving Kite and wanted him to know it before he'd even walked through the door.
"Goddammit," he swore, climbing off the bike and trying to unfasten his briefcase while still keeping an eye on the front door.
"Maybe she's going to visit her mother?" Ryoga supplied helpfully.
"Her mother lives two hours away. I don't think she'd be packing everything she owned."
"You know how women are. They can't pack light - none of them."
With a heavy sigh, Kite swung his briefcase against one leg and slipped his hand into his pocket. Whatever awaited him inside that house was going to be ugly. "Thanks for the ride," he said sullenly.
"Yep," Ryoga said, revving his engine and easing away from the curb. "Talk to you tomorrow."
Having to step over Kenya's suitcases didn't improve Kite's mood - he almost contemplated getting a few footprints on them just to be an ass - and when he pushed open the front door, he nearly tripped over the cat’s crate. Frowning, he kicked the side of the crate and enjoyed an intoxicating rush of satisfaction when the cat yowled from within.
Seated primly on the hassock before the sofa, Kenya barely spared him a glance as she pulled on a pair of thin, leather gloves. She was dressed in a conservative travel suit - pink - and the sight of her long legs crossed before him failed to give his libido the jump-start that they typically did. Kite assumed that the situation they currently found themselves in had something to do with that.
"You know it's hot outside," he said, nodding to the gloves she smoothed along the palms of her hands.
"You'd know," she returned lightly. "With your arms wrapped tight around Echizen Ryoga while he rides you all over town."
Dropping his briefcase, Kite very nearly - once again - jerked a hand through his hair. It never would have worked and he would have only wound up looking comical. He didn't want to give Kenya another reason to look down on him. "Oh, I don't believe this," he began, frustrated.
"You had all this shit packed way before Ryoga brought me home. Don't even try it."
Laying her hands atop her knees, Kenya cocked her head at Kite and smiled tightly. "I wouldn't dream of it. That's not the reason I'm leaving."
"Then what's the reason?" he asked. "I deserve to know that much, at least."
She stood then, smoothing down her skirt and bending to pick up her purse and a smaller travel bag. "My cab will be here in two and a half minutes. We don't have enough time to allow me to list all the reasons why this can never work."
"I'd settle for one or two," Kite muttered, tugging on his tie and loosening his buttons.
She was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and finally, she nodded. "All right, then."
Staring back, Kite could only realize that the annoyance and insult that her leaving brought far outweighed the heartbreak he knew he should have felt. She was beautiful, intelligent and great in the sack. And that's where it ended. Such a realization hurt; made him sad for what could have been.
"You're an unbearable bore," she began, ticking off her every reason with the tips of her fingers. "Your friends are like farm animals. You're selfish, your hair is stupid, your clothes are ugly and you have a tiny dick."
"Is that right? You used to like my tiny dick, if I recall correctly," he said. He’d just had to ask for reasons, hadn’t he?
"Yes, well," she said, patting the back of her hair. "I faked it. A lot."
He sat down heavily on the sofa, stretched both arms out on the edge behind him and watched her, the woman he'd have sworn that he loved. Now she was just a beautiful stranger and the distance between them was something he knew he didn't have the time or the inclination to breach.
"My cab's here," she said. "See you around, Eishirou."
She opened the door and he watched every single move she made. "Send my regards to Zaizen."
In the doorway she paused and Kite could see the cab driver on the sidewalk. He could carry her bags; Kite sure as hell wasn't going to.
"You'll see him tomorrow," she said tonelessly. "Send them yourself."
She closed the door behind her, spoke politely to the driver and Kite could hear her high heels on the sidewalk. When he got up, it certainly wasn't to look out the window to make sure she hadn't changed her mind.
He just needed a drink.
Part II
Anyway. Here we go.
Learning to Fall for the Teacher’s Pet
or: all of God’s lambs chase the dragon’s tail sometimes
Warning: Abuse and mishandling of Japanese suffixes, pronouns and terms of endearment. Liberal and blatant ‘sampling’ of movie quotes. Startling abundance of Americanisms. Total disregard of Japanese law, justice system, housing and neighborhood situation and educational system. Exaggeration and bastardization of fanon characterizations. Repeated, ridiculous and pointless description, misrepresentation of Christianity, organized crime and individuals with mental and developmental handicaps. Lolita-complexes of the homosexual variety, pseudo-Kpop-songfic, pimpshoes, improper use of firearms, gangland dramatics and clichéd, unbelievably happy endings.
Summary: Kite goes undercover to protect the Christian son of the prosecution’s star witness. He is, however, completely ill-prepared for the boy who works so hard to secure his attention and - ultimately - his affection.
It was ridiculous to feel this nervous, Kite knew, but it was the first day of school. His loafers - as shiny as he could manage - squelched along the hallway and it was all too easy to remember his own experiences in high school. The smell of the gym and the locker rooms and the cafeteria, the sounds of students all moving and chattering in groups, the hand-drawn posters promoting student council nominees and club meetings and dances hanging crooked on the walls. All those activities in which Kite never truly participated, but stood just on the periphery of each and every one merely in the interests of understanding. An outcast of his own making - the mysterious boy that the girls stared at and whispered about - and Kite harbored no regrets. Even now, he was every bit the loner he'd been in high school, but for much more important reasons. His propensity for silence and solitude had served him well in the academy, his first case and every one that followed, and in every dangerous situation he'd ever found himself since. This was high school - this was nothing. Kite was ready.
In the doorway, he paused, searching the classroom until his gaze landed on him. Seated near the window, chin propped on a pretty, pale hand, staring at the blackboard but lost in his own thoughts, he was just as Kite had anticipated and he knew that he had his work cut out for him this time. He squared his shoulders, straightened his ugly, brown tie, and entered the classroom. He didn't look at the class, didn't seek to reassure them or to create some initial bond when he crossed the floor quickly, lay his briefcase on his desk and turned immediately to scrawl his name on the blackboard. When he turned to face them again, the room had gone quiet; the boy who'd been staring off into space was now staring at him. Kite suppressed a smile, glancing around the room and allowing his gaze to settle on this student or that student just long enough to make them fidget and look away before he finally spoke.
"There will be no foolish activity or silly conversation in this class."
No one spoke. No one moved.
"Raise your hand if you intend to be a discipline problem," he said, arms crossed over his chest.
Near the back, a couple of girls whispered, muffling giggles, and a boy in the center of the room raised his hand. One brow arched in question, Kite looked at him for a moment, sweeping him with a bored, casual sort of glance. He was good-looking in the way that only teenaged boys can be. Young and clear-skinned, long, rangy body not yet out of that awkward, pubescent stage. His hair was long and blonde and shiny - Kite suspected that he would be trouble.
"You have something to say?"
The boy smiled and it was, at once, mischievous and enticing. "Yes, Sensei. I intend to be a discipline problem."
Lips pursed, Kite nodded. "I appreciate the honesty. You'll join me this afternoon for detention."
"Yes, Sensei," the boy said, relaxing in his seat and looking positively delighted with himself.
"Anyone else?" he asked, glancing around the room encouragingly. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, a boy in the front row raised his hand, head tilted demurely. He had rather shapeless brown hair and a sweet smile and when Kite pointed at him, he opened his eyes to fix Kite with an intent sort of look. His eyes were startlingly blue.
"Saa," he began. "Mizuki-kun is listening to an mp3 player that he stole from my brother."
To the boy's right, a tall megane cleared his throat and frowned. He didn't look at the boy who'd just spoken, but his displeasure was evident.
"Thank you for the information...?"
"Fuji," the boy supplied helpfully. "Fuji Shuusuke."
"Thank you, Fuji-kun," Kite said again, nodding his acknowledgement.
Motioning to the boy beside him, Fuji smiled. "This is Tezuka Kunimitsu. He's going to be head of the Student Council this year."
Staring hard at the surface of his desk, Tezuka Kunimitsu blushed, earning him another of Fuji's adoring smiles. He didn't look up and his back and shoulders were rigid with tension and embarrassment.
"Is that right?" Kite asked politely.
Fuji nodded. "Yes. And I'm going to manage his campaign."
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" he asked, not waiting for an answer and turning toward his desk. A few of the girls giggled again, but Tezuka Kunimitsu didn't say one word.
"All right, then. We've established that at least one of you is a discipline problem, one of you will be Student Council President, one of you is not paying attention and one of you is quite an efficient informer. Would anyone like to add anything before we get started?"
Unsnapping his briefcase, Kite withdrew a thick, biology text and flipped through a few pages until the boy near the window spoke up.
"Sensei?"
"Yes?" he prompted, consulting his seating chart as though he actually had need of it. "Mizuki-kun?"
All eyes turned to Mizuki, waiting, and after a moment he stood, almost defiantly. "Fuji-kun is correct. I do have an mp3 player, but I didn't steal it."
"Oh?" Kite asked.
"Fuji-kun's brother gave it to me yesterday afternoon."
He paused, everyone was silent, and Kite did not prompt him again, certain that whatever Mizuki had to say would not fail to hold some significance.
"After he confessed to me in the third-floor bathroom."
"That's a lie," Fuji hissed, hands flat on his desk as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Yuuta would never-"
Mizuki interrupted him then, glancing smugly down at Fuji from over his shoulder. "He would and he did. And then he kissed me, Fuji-kun. How do you like that?"
Half-rising, Fuji growled, ignoring Tezuka's sharp warning, until Kite spoke to the both of them.
"That's enough," he said. "Mizuki-kun. You'll be joining Hirakoba-kun in detention this afternoon. I'll see you at 3 p.m. Sharp."
Head bowed in false subservience, Mizuki took his seat again. "Of course, Sensei. I apologize."
Leaning against the corner of the desk, Kite smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt - over his tie - and smiled for the first time that day. "Now that we have that out of way, if you would please open your books to page ninety-seven, Inui-kun will read for us. Chapter twelve, Inui-kun, if you'd be so kind."
Silent only while he turned to the correct page and pushed his glasses up along the bridge of his nose, Inui cleared his throat and began to read.
"Asexual reproduction is relatively rare among multicellular organisms, for reasons that are not completely understood. Current hypotheses suggest that, while asexual reproduction may have short term benefits when rapid population growth is important or in stable environments, sexual reproduction offers a net advantage by allowing more rapid generation of genetic diversity, allowing adaptation to changing environments..."
While he read, Kite made use of the classroom's collective concentration to observe them undetected. Until, that is, he found himself meeting Hirakoba Rin's very earnest, very intent gaze. Having no idea how long the boy had been staring at him, Kite seemed unable to look away first - as unable as Hirakoba seemed unwilling. But then he smiled - slow and knowing and intimate - and Kite turned his attention quickly back to the text in his lap and Inui Sadaharu's low, soothing voice.
For the remainder of class, he was careful not to look at Hirakoba and when the bell rang, Kite dismissed them as a group and turned away. He didn't remind Mizuki or Hirakoba about detention that afternoon; he had enough information on Mizuki to know that that he wouldn't skip out. Unfortunately - and for reasons completely opposite to Mizuki's - he suspected that Hirakoba wouldn't skip out, either.
His phone vibrated against his hip and he frowned. There was only one person who would be contacting him this early and Kite wanted to talk to him about as much as he wanted a teacher's pet. Which was to say, not at all.
He turned off his phone and sat down to await his next class.
***
The day passed fairly quickly, all things considered. There had been one or two instances where Kite had been certain it would become obvious to the students that teaching wasn't his forte, but - surprisingly enough - he'd been able to both keep them in line and hold their attention. He would be smug about it later, when questioned. Now, however, he could only sit in the windowsill and feign interest in a novel while he waited for his little troublemakers to arrive.
After a moment, he lay the book aside, tilting his head to crack his neck, and began to roll his sleeves up. The first thing he was going to do when he got home was strip off the lame ass outfit he had on and take a hot shower. After that, he intended to sit back and relax while his little chickadee made his dinner and - if he was lucky - gave him a blowjob. He sighed, smiling to himself and stretching to work the kinks out of his back.
"You look comfortable," Hirakoba said from the doorway. His tie was loose and the top button of his shirt was undone. His hair was tousled and his color was high; Kite could admit that the kid looked every bit as good as he wanted to.
"Then I'm a better actor than I thought," Kite told him, loosening his own tie and motioning Hirakoba inside. "Where's Mizuki-kun?"
Shrugging, Hirakoba dumped his bag on the floor and took the seat closest to Kite. "Beats me. He's usually getting his ass kicked right about this time. He's kind of a moving target."
Rising, Kite frowned. "And you don't help him?"
"Hey, man - er, Sensei - he's not my problem."
He wasn't. Unfortunately for Kite, however, the problem was all his.
"That's beside the point," Kite said. "Don't you stick up for your friends?"
Hirakoba laughed. "Who said he was my friend?"
Irritated, Kite prepared to go and find the kid himself when Mizuki appeared in the doorway. His uniform was crisp and unblemished and his demeanor was pleasant enough. Kite assumed that he'd had no altercations to deal with today.
"Mizuki-kun."
Mizuki bowed quickly, the gold crucifix he wore dangling to catch the light for a moment before he straightened again. "I apologize for my lateness, Kite-san. I was in the bathroom."
"Another confession?" Hirakoba teased, waggling his eyebrows, and Mizuki frowned.
"No," he said, apparently unwilling to elaborate.
"Don't let it happen again," Kite interrupted, as though he anticipated Mizuki would be serving detention regularly. Mizuki merely nodded and took a seat one over from Hirakoba. He bent to rummage through his bag, withdrawing a book and laying it on his desk. He didn't look at Kite or Hirakoba.
"What are you doing?" Kite asked, and Mizuki looked up, blinking in confusion. The kid was a looker - Kite didn't have to wonder why the other boys made a target of him.
"I'm going to read, Sensei. This is detention."
Frowning, Kite thought about all the movies he'd seen whereupon kids serving detention had been expected to do a lot more than sit there so innocuously and read. But then he remembered that most of what he'd seen of detention scenes had taken place in dirty porno flicks. He began to feel a little uncomfortable.
"Yeah, well...why don't you boys clean up this classroom, instead? Make yourselves useful."
If that went well, Kite thought he might suggest that they clean his car. He wasn't sure how far he'd be able to take this detention thing, but he'd sure as hell milk it for all it was worth.
Hirakoba stood, shrugging and adjusting his pants, which were a size too big. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Sensei."
Mizuki, as Kite had suspected that he might, rose to join his classmate and Kite watched as Hirakoba began to tidy books and magazines while Mizuki began straightening desks and picking up trash on the floor. At one point, he paused, retrieving something near the window and stood quietly looking at it. Head cocked, attention completely focused, he turned the item around and around between his fingers. Seated at his desk, happy for the opportunity for observation that such a scenario afforded, him, Kite remained silent and feigned interest in his book.
After a moment, Hirakoba glanced over. "Hey, what do you got?" he asked. Kite smiled a little, watching the tan, pretty boy make his way over to Mizuki. Most kids would have complained that Mizuki wasn't doing his fair share, but Hirakoba seemed unbothered.
Mizuki turned, blushing a little to have been caught slacking. "Oh. Um, nothing much. I think it's an eraser." He held it up, a round green and purple eraser with a yin yang symbol in the center. Hirakoba's eyes lit up as he leaned in to get a better look and while it was unlikely that he was aware of precisely how his proximity affected Mizuki, Kite saw it all. The smaller boy blushed faintly, seeming skittish, too-aware when feathery tips of Hirakoba's hair brushed his arm.
"Cool," Hirakoba said, touching it gingerly. "Who'd use an eraser like this anyway? It's too cool-looking to mess up."
"D-do you want it?" Mizuki asked hesitantly, conveniently forgetting that it wasn't his to give. But Kite didn't say a word. The little brat who lost it clearly didn't deserve to have it in the first place, if he couldn't take care of his belongings.
"Really?" Hirakoba asked, eyes wide. Mizuki swallowed, forcing a smile as he offered to his classmate.
"Sure. If it meant anything at all to whomever lost it, he'd have taken better care of it, don't you think?"
Kite hid his amusement behind his book and snuck a glance at his watch. Hirakoba laughed and swiped the eraser from Mizuki, slipping it into his pocket when he flashed the other boy a grin. "That's right."
Turning toward Kite's desk, Hirakoba gestured toward the blackboard. "S'pose we should clean the erasers too, ne Mizuki-kun? We can take them outside."
"Sure," Mizuki said. "But there's no need. There's a machine in the supply closet that will do it for us."
"Oh, cool," Hirakoba said, bumping Kite's chair when he leaned forward to grab a couple of the erasers. Mizuki grabbed the other two and followed Hirakoba toward the door.
"Hey," Kite said, looking up as though he hadn't been paying attention. "Where are you two going?"
"We're going to clean your erasers, Sensei," Mizuki told him calmly. "Don't worry, we'll be right back."
Kite frowned and Hirakoba leaned in the doorway, hip cocked in a pose Kite could only assume the boy thought was sexy. "Don't miss me too much, Kite-san."
Frown deepening, Kite slid down in his chair a bit and lifted his book again. "I'm counting the moments."
Hirakoba's laugh echoed in the hallway and when the squeak of the boys' trainers on linoleum faded from earshot, Kite took out his phone to check his messages. One was from Atobe, two were from Kenya and one was from his mother. He called his mother first, since she was the lesser of the three evils, and cursed when the machine picked up. She'd changed the greeting, but Kite could still hear his bird chirping in the background. He sighed a little - he missed his pretty Fiona - and wished that Kenya didn't hate birds so much. At this rate, Fiona would die of old age and Kite would forever regret not having her with him.
Rising, he put his phone away and snuck a peek out into the hallway before kneeling before Mizuki's bag and opening the zip quietly. Though he doubted the kid had anything to hide, it was always better to know as much as possible about a target in order to do the job right. Inside the bag was a white cell-phone with tiny musical note charms in varying shades of purple. Kite hummed thoughtfully and put it back in the pocket - Mizuki had good taste - before rifling through the remainder of the bag's contents. A men's fashion magazine, a pair of white gloves (creepy), a purple yo-yo, translucent lip gloss, several purple gel pens, a Chobits notepad, a white mp3 player with white earbuds, a package of erasers identical to the one Mizuki had given to Hirakoba only moments before and a lightweight, stiletto switchblade. Shocked, Kite drew the blade out of the bag and held it up to the light. This wasn't a child's toy and it wasn't something that Mizuki would have obtained easily. It made Kite wonder if the boy were as oblivious to his father's business dealings as Kite had been led to believe that he was. Silver and white, it gleamed under the artificial lighting and the serrated blade sprang from the sheath with barely a whisper when Kite pressed the button. If the knife had ever had a safety clasp, it had been altered.
In the hallway, Kite could hear Hirakoba's voice and he quickly zipped Mizuki's bag and moved to stand near the window.
"Kite-san?" Someone spoke from the doorway and Kite turned to see the school nurse smiling in his general direction.
"Zaizen-san. You're here late," he managed, proud of his good manners and inordinate patience.
"Yeah, I always stick around on Tuesdays. The baseball club is accident prone." Stepping aside when Hirakoba and Mizuki squeezed through the empty space in the doorway, Zaizen nodded toward the boys. "Extra-curricular activities?"
"Detention," Kite said. "But we're just about ready to go, I think."
"Detention?" Zaizen asked, clearly surprised. "These two?"
Kite shrugged. "They were disruptive in class today. You know how it goes."
Zaizen laughed. "Slavedriver," he said. And at Kite's scowl, shoved both hands into the pockets of his loose, white pants and took a step back. "Hey, say hello to Kenya-senpai for me."
"Yeah, sure," Kite said, willing Zaizen away. Little smart-ass never missed an opportunity to remind Kite that he'd known Kenya first. They'd played tennis together in middle school or something equally lame and pathetic. Zaizen was the picture of politeness when Kite was around. Kite really wanted to kick his ass.
"See you around, boys," he said, waving at Mizuki, who smiled and waved back.
"So?" Hirakoba said, lining the erasers up along the ledge beneath the blackboard. "Did you miss me, Sensei?"
Kite tucked his novel and his planner back into his briefcase and nudged his glasses up. "More than words can say, Hirakoba-kun. Every second spanned an eternity."
Beaming, Hirakoba bent to sweep up his bag while Mizuki looked on silently. "Yeah? Cool."
Kite frowned. Little pain in the ass. "Mizuki-kun," he said. "Kill the lights."
Retrieving his own bag, Mizuki risked one last glance at Hirakoba and then Kite and nodded obediently. "Yes, Sensei."
***
In the parking lot, Kite stood before his car, briefcase loose in his grip, the faint throb of a magnificent headache just at the base of his skull. All four of his tires had been slashed, as had the convertible top. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he vowed that when this assignment was done, he would make Atobe Keigo kiss his ass for a good hour. And that was just for starters.
His phone suddenly felt as though it weighed ten pounds, like stone in his pocket. Of the various, safe people he could call, the prospect of needing rescuing from any of them made him want to go and lie down in the middle of the road. Facing oncoming traffic. It was only his first day on the job and already he doubted things could get much worse.
Behind him, he heard the rumble of what sounded like a motorcycle engine and he glanced over his shoulder. Heading his way was Hirakoba Rin. On a shiny, candy blue scooter. Kite pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself to never, ever, doubt that things could get worse.
Easing to a stop, Hirakoba flashed Kite a bright smile. His hair, sticking out of his blue helmet, was windblown and fluffy. Kite wished he weren't so damned cute. Then he wished he wouldn't have those sorts of thoughts.
"Having some trouble, Sensei?"
"A little bit, Hirakoba-kun, yes," he said, voice raised over the sound of the scooter's engine.
The smile that Hirakoba offered him then was one of quite another caliber. The weight that it carried was not lost on Kite.
"You need a lift, then?" he asked, eyes dark and intent. "I'll take you home."
Glancing from the car to the scooter, Kite sighed.
"Trust me," Hirakoba said. "I'm a good driver."
Clutching his briefcase, Kite pocketed his keys and met Hirakoba's hopeful, expectant gaze. "I'm sure you are," he murmured, accepting that it was impossible to maintain one's dignity while clambering up on the back of a teenager's scooter.
Hirakoba laughed, revving up his engine once or twice as he began to pull away from the curb. "Hang on tight, Sensei," he called back. "I won't bite you."
Kite didn't answer, simply holding on tight and hoping that traffic wouldn't be bad. His ass was vibrating and he didn't much care for it.
"Unless you ask me to," Hirakoba added loudly, arching his back to nudge between Kite's thighs with his tight, round, young butt.
Kite closed his eyes. And hung on as tightly as his dignity would allow.
***
"See you later, Sensei!" Hirakoba yelled out as he sped away from the curb. Kite grimaced, his ass was still buzzing and the sidewalk leading to his house was getting longer and longer with every step he took. To add insult to injury, he was still feeling a little restless in the groin region. Damned kid.
Pausing to get the mail, he took out his phone and dialed Atobe's office. Somebody was going to fix his tires before the sun rose or Kite was going to have somebody's ass.
"'lo," answered someone who was decidedly not Atobe.
"Who's this?" Kite asked, walking slowly. Kenya had yet to peer out of the window and Kite wasn't certain as to whether or not this was a good sign.
"It's Atobe," he said, sounding outraged.
"Bullshit. Who is this?"
"Okay, okay," the man relented. "It's your mom."
Kite's head began to pound. "Ryoga."
"Aw, man. What gave it away?"
"Listen, I don't have time for this. Somebody slashed my tires at the school and I need you to get out there and tow my car. I can't afford to leave it there long enough for you to change the tires. Anyone could be watching."
"Hey," Ryoga began, insulted. "Nobody would see me. I'm like the wind, dude."
"Just pick up the car, okay? I won't have a ride to school in the morning."
"What should I tell Atobe?" Ryoga asked, sounding distracted. Kite could hear video game music in the background.
"Tell him..." Kite hesitated, suppressing a yawn and massaging his temples. "Tell him he's an asshole."
"Well, okay, but I've already told him that at least twice today."
"Yeah, well. Third time's the charm," Kite told him, disconnecting and snapping his phone shut.
By the time he dragged it up the front steps, Kite suspected he was going to need an early night, which was unfortunate since any time Kite expressed an interest in turning in early, Kenya expressed an interest in getting fucked for three or four hours.
The key stuck in the lock for a moment, but Kite rattled it loose soon enough. He pushed the door open and was immediately assailed by the scent of barbecue. As if on cue, his stomach growled.
"Kenya?" he called out.
"In the kitchen," came the neutral response. No sign of anger - so far, so good.
Dropping his briefcase in the hallway, Kite bent to remove his shoes and line them against the wall. The floor felt good on his bare feet and he eased out of his jacket on the way into the kitchen.
"What a day," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and rotating his shoulders. "I think I liked it better when I was handing out parking tickets."
Kenya turned then - familiar frown firmly in place - one hand fisted at her hip while she stirred a pot with the other. "Who was the blonde on the bike?"
"What?" Kite demanded, shooting for incredulous and derisive. "Are you serious?"
"Don't I look serious?" she asked. Truthfully, she looked grouchy and tired, but Kite wasn't about to tell her that.
"You look pretty," he said, offering her a tired smile.
She hesitated - Kite could see her wavering - but then she scowled at him again. "I turn my back for five minutes and you're riding around with some blonde slut. When will I ever learn?"
"Learn what?" Kite asked, rapidly becoming irritated. He didn't want to fight with her, they'd just made up after the once-and-for-all breakup of last weekend and Kite didn't have the time or the inclination to go through that whole song and dance again. "When have I ever been unfaithful to you?"
Laying the spoon aside, Kenya turned to face him. Her shirt was unbuttoned and her skin was damp from standing over the stove. Libido stirring just the tiniest bit, Kite was careful to keep his eyes on her face. It wasn't a difficult task, Kenya had a beautiful face, it was just that her tits were so much more a distraction.
"Atobe."
"What? You're crazy, woman. Atobe Keigo's gayer than Christmas."
"Dan Taichi," she continued.
"Never even considered it."
"Echizen Ryoga."
"Not gay," he scoffed.
"Atobe's accountant - what's her name? The dark-haired one," Kenya said.
"Oishi-san? She's married. And you are seriously out of your mind."
"Fine!" Kenya snapped, turning off the stove and leaving the pot on the still-hot burner, knowing that Kite would have to scrape the dried sauce out of the bottom if he didn't clean it right away. "Fix your own goddamned dinner."
Jerking the knot at the small of her back, she tugged off her apron and threw it at Kite. "I don't know why I put up with you," she yelled, storming down the hallway toward the back of the house. "Cheating bastard!"
"Zaizen sends his love!" he yelled back just that split second before she slammed the bedroom door. "Crazy bitch," he muttered to himself.
Loosening up his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, Kite resigned himself to passing the night on the sofa and told himself that the research he needed to do could wait until later. He just needed a little nap - just a couple of hours of well-deserved sleep.
Kenya's cat loped into the kitchen, then - fat, hairy monster that he was - and Kite watched him pick his way across the floor, toward his litter box. In the few seconds it took him to make the trip, Kite dreamed up seven brand new, ingenious ways for him to die. Four or five inches away from the box, he looked directly at Kite and pissed on the floor.
Kite made a mental note to acquire a few houseplants that were toxic to animals.
***
The phone was ringing. Had been ringing for several moments, in fact, by the time Atobe realized that it was not a part of his dream. The warm, sleeping body beside him suggested that he was the only one awake, but Atobe was not fooled.
"Wakashi," he mumbled, nudging his lover even as he attempted to tug the blankets over his head again. "I know you're not asleep."
Tugging hard on the blankets and rolling over to present Atobe with his naked backside, Hiyoshi inched away so as to avoid another elbow in the ribs. "That's because you're not asleep, either. And I'm not getting up."
"This is ridiculous. Who is calling Ore-sama so early in the morning?"
"I don't know," Hiyoshi said into the pillow. "Why don't you get up and find out?"
Flinging an arm over his head, Atobe sighed heavily - quite put out - and began to kick the blankets away from his legs spitefully. Hiyoshi swore at him and pulled them right back up again. "It's for you, anyway. Stop making me suffer; I'm sleepy and cold."
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and wincing when his bare toes touched the floor, Atobe yawned and stretched. He rose, suppressing a shudder and scratching his left armpit as he padded toward the telephone stand. But then the ringing stopped and his answering machine beeped.
"Atobe, you sonofabitch. Answer this phone before I crawl through it and wrap both hands around your..."
Snatching up the phone, risking a glance at the bed where the Hiyoshi lump lingered, Atobe hissed into the phone. "This had better be good, Kite. Or you and I will be discussing disciplinary action later today."
"Is that right?" Kite returned - Atobe could hear the sneer in his voice. "You'll have to email it to me, in that case, since I don't have any fucking way to get over there before the station closes."
Atobe sniffed, raking a hand through his hair and peering over his shoulder at the (rather magnificent) reflection of his ass in the hall mirror. "Oh, right. You're still babysitting."
"Babysitting?" Kite repeated, incredulous. "I'm talking about my car!"
"Car? What's wrong with your car?"
Kite was silent for a moment - Atobe could hear him struggling to get his breathing even and under control. "Are you telling me that Echizen didn't call you last night?"
Glancing at the machine, and at the number of messages flashing on the display, Atobe tried to recall where he'd left his mobile after he and Hiyoshi and stumbled to bed the night before. "Hm. No, he certainly did not. But you know how absent-minded he can be, sometimes. Honestly, I don't know why I don't fire him."
"Because he knows all your dirty little secrets, that's why," Kite said. "And don't give me the run-around; he probably called you and you were too busy playing slap and tickle to answer the phone."
"I beg your pardon," Atobe snapped, raising his voice now. "I would never neglect the department in favor of sex. How dare you?"
From the bed, Hiyoshi snorted and squirmed beneath the blankets. Atobe frowned and wondered at the lack of respect in his life these days.
"I'll call Ryoga and get things ironed out. Are you in an immediate crunch?"
Having had the wind sucked out of his very belligerent sales, Kite sighed heavily. "No, no. I'll try to convince Kenya to give me a ride. Somebody slashed my tires yesterday at the school, though, and I'm feeling a little edgy. Something's going to happen soon, Atobe. I got in here just in time, I'm telling you."
"Hm. Well, that remains to be seen. Just keep an eye on the brat and don't let anybody murder him until we get that whole Kuwahara situation sorted out. The whole clan is going down this time."
"Fine, fine," Kite said. "I've got it covered. Just get my car fixed, all right?"
"Of course," Atobe reassured him smoothly. "A word of advice, though, if I may, Kite?"
Taking Kite's silence as acceptance, Atobe continued, lowering his voice so that Hiyoshi would not overhear. "You shouldn't have to beg your woman for a little consideration in situations like this. If you ask me, you've allowed yourself to become pussy-whipped and quite frankly, I'm embarrassed for you."
When Kite did not respond, Atobe continued, pleased by his subordinate's rapt attention. "Reverse the situation. Don't be pussy-whipped. Whip that pussy."
Kite hung up then and Atobe frowned when his ear was met with nothing more than a dial tone. "Tsk. Some people simply cannot recognize good advice."
"Keigo," Hiyoshi whined. "I'm cold and lonely in here."
Shrugging, Atobe replaced the receiver and hurried across the cold floor. He was late already and, as such, saw no reason to forego his one, true, early-morning pleasure. He'd touch base with Ryoga in an hour or so. After all, Kite had waited this long and, besides, he and his little lady could use the togetherness that a morning commute could provide. Oshitari-san did not appear to be the accommodating, sweet-talking little sex puppet that her cousin was.
"Coming, precious."
***
Kite took the bus to school. When he arrived - suit wrinkled and hair limp - he couldn't help glancing toward the parking lot where his car still sat. The tires were still flat and, now, someone had keyed 'pedophile' along the driver's side door. Unamused, Kite considered taking out his phone and calling Atobe to swear at him some more, but his attention was effectively diverted by the group of boys loitering just at the side of the school. Safely inside the chain-link fence, they seemed not to notice him and Kite turned away from his car in favor of something potentially much more important. He consoled himself with the promise that - if Echizen had not made an appearance by lunchtime - he would harass Atobe again.
As he drew nearer, he recognized several of the students from the day before. Seated on an overturned oil drum was Fuji Shuusuke. His shirt was open at the neck and his tie and jacket were nowhere to be seen. With his hair tucked behind one ear, Kite noticed the many silver hoop earrings laddered up his ear and into the cartilage. He cringed and rubbed his own ear even as he wondered how he'd missed noticing them yesterday. The boy had been pressed and immaculate when Kite had seen him and his hair had hung over both ears. Kite doubted that it was a coincidence.
His friend Tezuka, the quiet one, stood nearby but looked at no one. In his hands were Fuji's blazer and tie and he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than where he was. With what was going on around him, Kite couldn't really blame him.
Menacing, graceful, Fuji hopped down and began advancing, speaking in a low voice to Mizuki. That he wasn't whispering sweet nothings was a certainty, if Mizuki's body language was anything to go by. Tense, guarded, Mizuki stared back at Fuji, though he'd allowed the other boy to back him against the wall. He said nothing, and he didn't move a muscle.
Several boys looked on: first year punks who wore safety pins in their blazers and studded boots keeping a safe distance but pretending to be part of the group, a boy with dark, red hair swept to cover one eye, a dark haired one who stood at his side - apparently speaking to him though he never turned to look at him, a short boy with a ballcap and a bandage on his temple. The boy in the hat was lean and scrappy and appeared to be ready to spring into action at any given moment. Near the door, a beautiful dark-haired boy lingered, unnoticed by the others. Hair so black that it shone blue in the sunlight, pretty, heavily-fringed eyes, one pale, delicate hand covering his mouth so as to contain his laughter - Kite knew him without needing an introduction. That he was alone shocked Kite and he realized that, if he'd been even one-tenth the bastard that Atobe was, he'd seize the opportunity that Yukimura Seiichi's lack of protection would afford and use him to bargain just the way everyone else on the case had seemed to think he should.
But he wouldn't. He would show Atobe that it was unnecessary. As he'd declared so passionately in the past, involving the boy was something only a criminal would do. And Kite Eishirou was a man of the law.
Beyond Seiichi-kun, the three who really took Kite's attention were the ones who stood closest to Mizuki and Fuji. One lounged behind Fuji, leaning against the wall with both arms folded over his chest. He was tall and rangy with tousled, shoulder length hair and appeared completely unmoved by Fuji's single-minded intimidation of Mizuki. He had a cigarette tucked behind one ear and smiled when Fuji leaned in too close, causing Mizuki to flinch. Another boy - almost as tall as the other one - stood behind Mizuki wringing his hands and looking anxious. The expression on his face, however, gave no indication that he was afraid. He was antsy, but he was ready to fight - Kite would have bet money on it. He had big brown eyes and grayish hair and the cross he wore around his neck was similar to Mizuki's.
The third boy stood next to Fuji, occasionally imploring 'Aniki' but doing nothing to stop Fuji. This, Kite deduced, must be Fuji's brother, Yuuta-kun. He was taller than his older brother, and bigger besides, but he - like the others - did nothing to help Mizuki.
"This ends today, Mizuki-kun," Fuji said, nudging Mizuki's shoulder in clear provocation. "You'll leave my brother alone. Or else."
"'Or else' what?" the tall, gray-haired boy asked, sneering. "What will you do to him, Fuji-kun?"
"Shut up, Ohtori," the boy with the ballcap said. "Or I'll show you."
"Aniki, please," Yuuta began, only to fall silent again when Fuji shot him a look.
"This is your doing, Yuuta," Fuji told him calmly. "Just walk away - leave him alone - and it ends here, today."
"And if I don't?" Yuuta challenged.
"Then I'll give him to Chitose."
The tall, lounging boy yawned, stretched and casually lit a cigarette. Kite couldn't imagine what sort of threat he posed, but Yuuta seemed genuinely upset by the prospect.
"I know what you were doing with him yesterday afternoon, Yuuta. In the bathroom," Fuji continued. Yuuta blushed and looked away. "Deny it."
Shaking his head once, Yuuta would not look up again.
"That's what I thought," Fuji said, turning away from Yuuta to grab a handful of Mizuki's blazer and haul him close. "This is the last time I'm going to warn you, Mizuki-kun. I'm losing my good humor. Do you understand me?"
Expecting Mizuki's friend to intervene, Kite watched, surprised when Mizuki closed his eyes and began murmuring to himself in a low voice. He couldn't hear what the boy was saying, but he didn't want to risk getting too close and possibly interrupting. This was too good to pass up; he'd learn more witnessing this than he would if he grilled Mizuki for hours.
Chitose smiled wanly. "Is he praying again?"
"How sweet," ballcap boy said and spat on the ground. "Shut him up, Fuji."
The bell rang then, startling a few of the younger boys, though no one seemed willing to leave first.
Fuji shrugged, releasing him and shoving him back against the wall. "What do I care if he prays?"
He began to walk away, but paused to glance over his shoulder. "There's no one to save him."
The side door banged open then and a big, scowling boy stepped out onto sidewalk.
"Fuji."
Though the black cap he wore lent his crisp uniform and silver hall monitor pin a somewhat incongruous effect, the expression on his face told anyone who bothered to look that he would not be intimidated.
"Sanada," Fuji murmured softly, head tilted in an effort to appear harmless and beguiling. Kite recognized his mannerisms as the ones Fuji had used yesterday to appear as pleasant and helpful as possible. "Don't you have any troublemakers to round up?"
"Yes, I do," Sanada said, straightening his cap. "So move your asses inside or I'm reporting every one of you."
Sighing heavily, Fuji strolled over to Tezuka and held out his hand. "Very well," he said, taking his blazer from Tezuka and slipping quickly into it. When Tezuka held out his tie, however, Fuji turned his hand up and bent to press a kiss to the center of his palm. One of the boys gasped and a few of the others began to whisper excitedly to one another, but Fuji paid them no mind. He took his time, smiling at the blush on Tezuka's cheeks as he did up his buttons and knotted his tie.
"Mizuki," Sanada barked, arms crossed. "You and Ohtori walk Yukimura to class. I'll write excuses for you."
He turned, straightening Yukimura's tie and almost smiling when Yukimura tried to return the favor. Touching Yukimura's shoulder briefly, he waited until Mizuki and Ohtori bundled Yukimura off to class before turning to face Fuji. Eyes narrowed, he moved close, menacing and scowling.
"You little punk," he began.
"Now, now, Sanada," Fuji cajoled. "You remember what the Principal said about you manhandling the other students."
"He didn't mean you," Sanada said, cracking his knuckles. "I promise."
Pushing away from the wall, Chitose dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his shoe. "I'm bored. See you later, Shuusuke."
"You!" Sanada yelled. "You're not even a student here!"
Slinking off, Chitose eased through the small gap in the chainlink fence. Kite could hear him sniggering as he went.
"I'll see you expelled, Fuji Shuusuke," Sanada warned. "The next time I catch you picking fights."
"But you're starting one right now!" the nervous looking redhead spoke up and he swallowed hard, taking a step back when Sanada turned in his direction.
"What's your name?" Sanada asked.
"K-Kamio Akira," the boy said, trying to look brave and failing.
"Kamio Akira," Sanada repeated calmly just that split second before he backhanded Kamio hard across the cheek. The boy crumpled with a sharp cry, his dark-haired friend, catching him and holding him close. He glared at Sanada, but said nothing.
Sanada pointed at Fuji. "Watch yourself."
And then he was gone and the group began to disband. Soon, the only ones left were Fuji, Tezuka and Yuuta and when Fuji took Tezuka's hand and led him into the school, Yuuta tipped his head back to gaze up at the sky.
Kite watched him until the third bell rang and could linger no more. He was late for class, too.
***
The day was rather uneventful, all things considered. At lunchtime, Kite had peered outside to ascertain whether or not his car had been taken care of and had been rather surprised to see Echizen outside - working on it in broad daylight. With a hot pink bandanna tied around his hair and the mesh tanktop he wore, Kite didn't feel that he was being particularly circumspect. In fact, he looked like a homeless man.
Shaking his head, Kite turned away from the window and nearly raked a hand through his hair in frustration until he remembered how much gel he'd used that morning. He settled for a heartfelt sigh.
"Kite-san," Zaizen said from the doorway. "Eating all alone today?"
"I'm not hungry," Kite said, lowering himself into the chair behind his desk and thoroughly prepared to ignore Zaizen for as long as he wanted to stand there yammering about nothing.
"How's Kenya-senpai?" he asked, voice far too light to have been truly casual.
Frustrated, Kite wanted to say. Unreasonable and bitchy and unpleasant and she rides my ass every fucking chance she gets. And I haven't had a blowjob in two months.
"Fine," he said, wearily. "She says hello."
"Really?" Zaizen asked, eyes sparkling. When he spoke of Kenya was the only time he looked anything but pissed off, in Kite's opinion.
"No," Kite returned. "Now leave me alone, for fuck's sake."
Choosing that particular moment to appear, Hirakoba beamed a smile at Kite from the doorway. "You sound grouchy, Sensei."
Kite didn't dignify his remark with a response and Hirakoba held up two small boxes. "I brought lunch for us."
Zaizen's arched brow said all that he didn't actually give voice to and Kite steadfastly ignored him. "Thank you, Hirakoba-kun, but I'm not hungry."
Crestfallen, the boy moved over to Kite's desk to set the boxes down. "But my mom made these," he said. "It's really good, I promise!"
From the doorway, Zaizen snorted his amusement. "Oh, and Kite-san?"
"What?" Kite growled, sitting back while Hirakoba unpacked his bento to set everything out for Kite's observance.
"There's a dirty looking guy messing around with your car outside. Just thought you'd like to know."
"Thank you," Kite managed, determined not to give Zaizen the satisfaction of seeing him lose his cool. "He's my mechanic."
"Ah," Zaizen said, hands linked behind his back. "Enjoy your lunch, then. What a good little student you have there."
Glancing up, Hirakoba smiled. "Not really, but I can pretend for now."
Chuckling to himself, Zaizen walked away and Kite wondered if he'd only pretended to leave and was, in fact, lurking outside the door to eavesdrop. Maybe he'd been the one to key up Kite's car.
"Sensei?"
"Hm? Oh, thank you, Hirakoba-kun."
"You're not hungry, really?" Hirakoba asked. "I can go if you want."
Kite watched him silently for a moment - he knew very well that the boy was playing him with his sad eyes and meek demeanor. Kite was not fooled. "Tell me, Hirakoba, don't you have a girlfriend you'd rather have lunch with?"
The boy's eyes were hard when he looked up at Kite. "No."
"Friends, then?" Kite tried again.
"I'd rather be with you," Hirakoba told him. "I won't bother you."
"Can I ask you a question, then?"
"Sure," Hirakoba said around a mouthful of fish. "Anything you want."
"What do you think of Mizuki-kun? Have you ever met his family?"
Chewing slowly, Hirakoba's gaze darkened and he swallowed and wiped his mouth with the red napkin he'd lay beside his bento. "You want to talk about Mizuki?"
He sounded angry, Kite knew he'd have to tread carefully. "Well, I was really only interested in your opinion of him. I witnessed him being bullied this morning and wondered if it were such an everyday occurrence that no one felt compelled to stick up for him."
"Mm," Hirakoba said, seeming mollified and speaking around another bite of fish. "Fuji, then. Am I right?"
Kite nodded, and Hirakoba continued. "Mizuki keeps screwing around with Fuji's brother. It pisses him off like you wouldn't even believe."
"Is that so?" Kite asked, puzzled. "But...it seems to me that Fuji-kun is involved with Tezuka-kun. Isn't it a bit hypocritical for frowning on behavior that he likely engages in, himself?"
"Oh, no," Hirakoba interjected. "You've got it all wrong. He's not mad that Yuuta's messing around with a guy. He's jealous."
"Jealous?" Kite asked.
"Jealous," Hirakoba said again. "He doesn't want anyone getting too close to his darling brother. Nobody but himself, anyway."
Kite fell silent. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wondered at Hirakoba's apparent acceptance of Mizuki's homosexuality. At many of the boys' acceptance of homosexuality in general, in fact. Fuji and Tezuka. Mizuki and Yuuta.
"Sanada intervened this morning. I was beginning to think no one would."
Hirakoba rolled his eyes. "Him. He's such a tight ass."
Laughing, Kite began to sample a bit of the lunch Hirakoba had given him; it was surprisingly good. "He broke up the party, that's for sure."
"Che. He's always around to break up a party. I swear, he'd fuck up a wet dream."
"Whatever his methods, he got all those brats to head to class - including Fuji-kun."
"Did he have Yukimura with him? He usually doesn't sweep the halls until after he's delivered his little headcase to class."
Kite nodded. "He had Mizuki-kun and Ohtori-kun walk him to class. They seem to be good friends, Yukimura and Sanada."
"Friends," Hirakoba scoffed. "Sanada's so queer for Yukimura that he won't even let him go to the bathroom alone."
Silent for a moment, Hirakoba seemed to ponder his own words before continuing. "I mean, you know Yukimura's a little touched in the head."
Kite feigned ignorance. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Hirakoba said. "He's not a total retard or anything, but something's kinda wrong with him. It doesn't matter anyway, nobody would dare touch him."
"Because of Sanada?"
Hirakoba laughed. "Because his big brother is Yakuza."
After a moment, Hirakoba put his lunch away and glanced shyly at Kite. It was the first real glimpse Kite felt he'd seen of the boy so far.
"Sensei? You asked if I had a girlfriend, but can I ask you the same thing?"
He blushed when he asked and Kite found himself smiling in spite of himself. He remembered what it was like to be Hirakoba's age, though he'd never been this sweet, this endearing.
"Yes," he said, a little regretful. "I live with someone."
The slump of Hirakoba's shoulders and his subsequent silence was indication enough that he hadn't been asking out of casual curiosity. As he sat opposite him, watching dust motes dance around the boy's blond head, Kite wished - if only for a moment - that he'd been able to give him the answer he'd wanted to hear.
Instead, he leaned forward, ruffling Hirakoba's hair as he rose from his chair.
"Come on, Hirakoba-kun. Lunch will be over soon."
***
That afternoon, Kite's car was no longer parked where he'd left it. Instead, Echizen Ryoga occupied his parking space, looking just as cool and collected as always. He was, however, still wearing that awful tank top.
"You've had four hours," was all he said.
Ryoga shrugged. "Yeah, I know. But things got a little crazy this afternoon and I didn't get a chance to fix your car. You didn't tell me somebody keyed it up, too."
"That wasn't there when I talked to you yesterday," Kite said, sounding a little defensive.
"Hm," Ryoga said, scooting up and patting the back of his bike. "Guess you made quite an impression yesterday, in that case."
"What? You think one of the students did it? Why would they do that? Yesterday was my first day!"
"Precisely. Now get your ass up here and let's roll. I've got things to do."
It was fortunate, Kite thought as he strapped his briefcase down and mounted behind Ryoga, that he never expected straight answers from his co-worker. It certainly cut down on the amount of stress he'd be forced to deal with otherwise.
"I should have it ready by tomorrow afternoon, don't worry," Ryoga went on. "I had to tail that Mizuki guy most of this afternoon - I swear that idiot has a death wish."
"We told him to lay low," Kite said, resting his hands on Ryoga's hips only because he had no other choice.
"Yeah, well, apparently he's not too sure what that means. Stupid fuck's going to wind up dead before the trial, you just wait and see."
Groaning, Kite bowed his head, banging his forehead against Ryoga's shoulder three or four times. "Dammit. We need this conviction. We need his testimony."
Revving the engine, Ryoga backed out of the parking space and lowered his sunglasses. "Like I don't know that? Just tell me that his kid is smarter than he is."
"Mizuki-kun is cautious. He seems intelligent to me."
"Good," Ryoga said. "Maybe he can help his old man keep from getting his ass blown off until after we've had a shot at Kuwahara."
Ryoga pulled out of the parking lot, weaving in and out of traffic on the road with little regard to the other drivers. Kite merely hung on, lost in thought and reminding himself that - in a few days - it would all be over.
The way Ryoga drove, it didn't take long to make it back to Kite's and, as they pulled up to the front of the house, Kite stared in disbelief. With both feet on the ground now, the engine idling beneath them, Ryoga made no move to get off the bike and wasn't surprised when Kite didn't, either.
There, on the front steps were four of the five piece Louis Vuitton luggage set that Kite had practically bankrupted himself to obtain for Kenya's birthday last year. Even now, he failed to see the appeal of a bag that looked like a big checkerboard, but Kenya had been ruthless in her desire to obtain them. She loved those bags - referring to them to as 'The Grimaud' whenever opportunity arose - so it was highly unlikely that she was simply angry with him and was throwing the bags out to spite him. She was far too tight-fisted with money for that. More likely was that she was leaving Kite and wanted him to know it before he'd even walked through the door.
"Goddammit," he swore, climbing off the bike and trying to unfasten his briefcase while still keeping an eye on the front door.
"Maybe she's going to visit her mother?" Ryoga supplied helpfully.
"Her mother lives two hours away. I don't think she'd be packing everything she owned."
"You know how women are. They can't pack light - none of them."
With a heavy sigh, Kite swung his briefcase against one leg and slipped his hand into his pocket. Whatever awaited him inside that house was going to be ugly. "Thanks for the ride," he said sullenly.
"Yep," Ryoga said, revving his engine and easing away from the curb. "Talk to you tomorrow."
Having to step over Kenya's suitcases didn't improve Kite's mood - he almost contemplated getting a few footprints on them just to be an ass - and when he pushed open the front door, he nearly tripped over the cat’s crate. Frowning, he kicked the side of the crate and enjoyed an intoxicating rush of satisfaction when the cat yowled from within.
Seated primly on the hassock before the sofa, Kenya barely spared him a glance as she pulled on a pair of thin, leather gloves. She was dressed in a conservative travel suit - pink - and the sight of her long legs crossed before him failed to give his libido the jump-start that they typically did. Kite assumed that the situation they currently found themselves in had something to do with that.
"You know it's hot outside," he said, nodding to the gloves she smoothed along the palms of her hands.
"You'd know," she returned lightly. "With your arms wrapped tight around Echizen Ryoga while he rides you all over town."
Dropping his briefcase, Kite very nearly - once again - jerked a hand through his hair. It never would have worked and he would have only wound up looking comical. He didn't want to give Kenya another reason to look down on him. "Oh, I don't believe this," he began, frustrated.
"You had all this shit packed way before Ryoga brought me home. Don't even try it."
Laying her hands atop her knees, Kenya cocked her head at Kite and smiled tightly. "I wouldn't dream of it. That's not the reason I'm leaving."
"Then what's the reason?" he asked. "I deserve to know that much, at least."
She stood then, smoothing down her skirt and bending to pick up her purse and a smaller travel bag. "My cab will be here in two and a half minutes. We don't have enough time to allow me to list all the reasons why this can never work."
"I'd settle for one or two," Kite muttered, tugging on his tie and loosening his buttons.
She was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and finally, she nodded. "All right, then."
Staring back, Kite could only realize that the annoyance and insult that her leaving brought far outweighed the heartbreak he knew he should have felt. She was beautiful, intelligent and great in the sack. And that's where it ended. Such a realization hurt; made him sad for what could have been.
"You're an unbearable bore," she began, ticking off her every reason with the tips of her fingers. "Your friends are like farm animals. You're selfish, your hair is stupid, your clothes are ugly and you have a tiny dick."
"Is that right? You used to like my tiny dick, if I recall correctly," he said. He’d just had to ask for reasons, hadn’t he?
"Yes, well," she said, patting the back of her hair. "I faked it. A lot."
He sat down heavily on the sofa, stretched both arms out on the edge behind him and watched her, the woman he'd have sworn that he loved. Now she was just a beautiful stranger and the distance between them was something he knew he didn't have the time or the inclination to breach.
"My cab's here," she said. "See you around, Eishirou."
She opened the door and he watched every single move she made. "Send my regards to Zaizen."
In the doorway she paused and Kite could see the cab driver on the sidewalk. He could carry her bags; Kite sure as hell wasn't going to.
"You'll see him tomorrow," she said tonelessly. "Send them yourself."
She closed the door behind her, spoke politely to the driver and Kite could hear her high heels on the sidewalk. When he got up, it certainly wasn't to look out the window to make sure she hadn't changed her mind.
He just needed a drink.
Part II