RP FanFic: Entanglement (Chapter Five)
Title: Entanglement
Chapter Title: Deal with the Devil
Rating: G
Warning: Alternate universe, violence, OOC-ness
A/N: None of the characters/actors belong to me. This work is purely fiction and does not reflect the real opinions/lifestyles of the person(s) involved. Comments and criticisms are welcomed. ENJOY! XD
CHAPTER FIVE: DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
Year 2010
Nakai Masahiro
Eyes bruised with exhaustion and puffy from the lack of sleep, Masahiro stretched his arms, groaning at the crick in his stiff back, as he sat up on the couch. Taking his spectacles off and rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the clock.
Three hours.
He sighed. In the end, despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep after all. Getting up and straightening, massaging the numbness from his legs, which he had cramped into a very uncomfortable position, he strode over to his desk. A single sheet of paper lay innocently on its gray surface, starring up at Masahiro with rows of accusing black eyes. Hand reaching out, his fingers tightened on the paper, the crackling sounding very loud to Masahiro’s ears in the silence of his office as he stared at it, his eyes fixed on the casually artistic and very familiar signature.
Collapsing into his chair, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to rid himself of the impending headache that he could feel throbbing its way into existence, Masahiro’s thoughts turned back to the emotionally draining confrontation with the man he once called partner.
Three hours prior…
CRASH!
Kimura’s chair fell violently backwards as he leaped to his feet, furious. The accompanying police officer started forward, but Masahiro raised a hand to halt him.
‘I’m not signing the damn thing!’
Masahiro met blazing eyes calmly. ‘We have eyewitnesses placing you at the scene of the crime.’
‘If I had set the bomb, wouldn’t I have calculated to be out of there before it exploded? Nakai, you know me better than to think that I would be so carelessly suicidal.’
‘Maybe. But, I also know how much you love the challenge of pushing yourself to the limit. In the end, you did come out alive after all. Mission accomplished.’
‘Then, why did I drag Goro out with me? If I wanted to kill him, wouldn’t I have left him inside the bar?’
‘We don’t know if what you’re saying is true. According to Tsuyoshi, he found you leaning over Goro right after the explosion. You two were the only ones left when the bomb went off. For all we know, he could’ve run, but somehow you caught up with him, and tried to drag him back to the bar, but the bomb exploded before you could do it.’
‘You have no evidence to prove that. In fact, you don’t even have evidence to hold me here.’
‘True, most of the evidence would have been obliterated in the blast. But, you see, fragments of the bomb survived, and we’ve traced it back to another crime; one that you were involved in as well.’
There was no mistaking which crime Masahiro was talking about, and from the look in Kimura’s eyes, Masahiro knew that they were both on the same page. Memories of that night flashed through Masahiro’s mind, eroding some of the illusionary calm, cool professionalism that had settled over him.
Kimura took a deep shuddering breath. His voice though was strong, filled with steel.
‘I would never hurt Goro.’
‘I don’t know that.’
‘I would never hurt Goro.’
‘You haven’t had an amazing track record for being harmless. Or for being trustworthy by the standards of the law.’
‘I would never hurt Goro!’
‘Just like you would never hurt Mori?’
Kimura stopped short, colour rapidly draining from his face, his eyes wide. Masahiro did not want to think, did not want to recognize the emotions that ran through those expressions. The words had slipped out of him even before he could fully grasp that he had been thinking about them.
The ticking of the bomb…The acrid smoke burning in his eyes…His feet pounding against the floor…
Kimura standing with a gun to Mori’s head.
Kimura had killed Mori.
KIMURA HAD KILLED MORI.
And, something snapped.
Masahiro lunged, his chair falling violently to the floor, a loud screeching tearing through the room, the table shaking as it was forced across the floor. Masahiro couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe; his mind descending into a tumultuous storm of emotion.
Mori was dead, and there was nothing forgivable about that.
‘YOU BASTARD! DO YOU KNOW HOW IT HAS HAUNTED ME?! I SEE IT IN MY HEAD; IT PLAYS OVER AND OVER AGAIN! YOU, STANDING THERE WITH THE GUN TO MORI’S HEAD! YOUR VOICE SAYING THAT YOU’VE KILLED HIM! I CAN NEVER FORGET IT, NOT EVER! I TRUSTED YOU! I BELIEVED IN YOU! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S DONE TO ME?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME?! DO YOU-?!’
‘Nakai-san! Nakai-san! NAKAI-SAN!’
Masahiro breathed heavily, his chest heaving as his tirade was abruptly interrupted, the panicked voice of the accompanying police officer washing over him like a bucket of ice cold water, his vision clearing as the fog faded from his eyes. He looked down, the realization dawning that he had flung himself on to Kimura, his hands now tightly grasping on to Kimura’s shirt, his hold more than a little strangling. The table that had been between them had fallen on to its side, pushed away, discarded.
His eyes met brown.
Pain.
Guilt.
Acceptance.
Understanding.
And, Masahiro cursed himself for being able to read the other man so easily, for being so familiar with every damn expression that crossed those features. Years had passed, but Kimura hadn’t changed a bit.
He had killed Mori.
He was a wanted criminal, murderer, betrayer.
He had hurt Goro.
And, he was still Kimura.
Suddenly, hand clamped firmly on to Masahiro’s arm. His head swiveled, his eyes turning to the police officer, who looked more than a little freaked by unusually violent outburst of his superior. ‘Nakai-san, you have to let go of him,’ he said, speaking softly and slowly, like he was talking to a frightened, cornered wild animal.
Masahiro’s gaze turned back to the fallen man, taking in the exhausted bruised eyes, the lines of strain that marred handsome features, the tight expression of pain that pulled taunt on tanned features. It was so easy to forget that they weren’t partners anymore; that this wasn’t just another argument, wasn’t just training. From the way Kimura had adjusted his breathing with Masahiro’s body weight on him, from the way, despite the violence, Masahiro had adjusted himself to Kimura’s position, his awareness of the other man flaring up unconsciously, guiding his actions, nothing had changed.
Masahiro had changed, but when he was with Kimura, he found it so easy to fall back into familiar patterns, routines, thoughts, feelings.
When he was with Kimura, he felt like he hadn’t changed.
He felt like they hadn’t changed.
Masahiro’s eyes burned as tears pricked the back of his eyelids. Furious with his sudden emotional vulnerability, he hastily got to his feet, dashing his arm across his eyes and flinging off the officer’s hand.
‘This meeting is over,’ he said hoarsely, gesturing for the officer, ‘Get the confession.’
As the officer hurriedly reached for the confession, setting the table back in its position, Kimura pulled himself together. His eyes were desperate, pleading.
‘Nakai, you have to believe me. I didn’t plant the bomb in Goro’s bar. Someone else did it. While we sit in here trying to implicate me, the real criminal is still out there, and he might try to do it again.’
Masahiro gestured at the paper on the table. ‘We can protect Goro well enough. All you have to do is sign the paper.’
‘I didn’t do it.’
‘And, remember to read it before you sign it.’
‘Nakai-’
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you; it would look like I tricked you into signing it or something.’
‘Nakai, please you have to-’
‘I no longer believe you, not since you pulled that trigger!’
The silence was deafening, broken only by the heaving of breath from Masahiro. Masahiro braced himself, trying to rebuild his battered walls, as he prepared for another onslaught from Kimura.
But, to his surprise, Kimura wordlessly took the paper and read it.
Seconds ticked by with Masahiro staring at the head of brown hair and the rapidly moving eyes peeking from the top of the paper as Kimura scanned the document.
Then, brown orbs stopped, Kimura putting the paper down as he looked at Masahiro with a raised eyebrow. ‘You want me to sign this?’
That dry tone was all it took, and suddenly, all the emotional turmoil that had bubbled up within Masahiro just drained away. ‘I thought I made it quite clear from the very beginning of this conversation.’ This bantering was familiar ground.
Kimura took the pen that had been placed on the table, about to sign the document when he looked up at Masahiro. ‘On one condition.’
It was Masahiro’s turn to raise a questioning eyebrow. ‘You don’t have any leverage in this situation. What makes you think I would listen to your demands?’
‘Because it would benefit us both.’ Kimura leaned forward, his eyes glittering with a hard light. ‘You know that someone else is out there; your gut is telling you that. I can see it in your eyes. I want that person behind bars as much as you do. If I’m going down, I’m not going down alone.’
‘And, what makes you think we can’t catch this someone on our own without your help?’
Kimura leaned back, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. ‘Because I’m the only connection to him you’ve got.’
Masahiro kept his face expressionless, viciously stamping down on the stirring of excitement in his stomach, not wanting to examine the feeling closely. ‘So, what are you suggesting?’
‘A deal. I’ll sign this confession; you get to put me behind bars when this is all over, but for now, I want you to sign me on as a prisoner under your care. Let me participate in the investigation. Under supervision, of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘And, let me stay in Goro’s room until he wakes up.’
The officer protested, but Masahiro raised his hand. ‘You’ll be heavily guarded. Try to run, try to hurt him, try anything we deem as suspicious and the deal’s off.’
‘But, Nakai-san-’
Kimura grinned. ‘You’ve got a deal.’
Back in the present time…
Masahiro put the paper back down on his desk. Then, he pulled another blank sheet out, and began to write.
~TSUZUKU~
Click here to return to CHAPTER FOUR: RIPPLES OF REGRET
Click here to return to ENTANGLEMENT: MAIN INDEX
Chapter Title: Deal with the Devil
Rating: G
Warning: Alternate universe, violence, OOC-ness
A/N: None of the characters/actors belong to me. This work is purely fiction and does not reflect the real opinions/lifestyles of the person(s) involved. Comments and criticisms are welcomed. ENJOY! XD
CHAPTER FIVE: DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
Year 2010
Nakai Masahiro
Eyes bruised with exhaustion and puffy from the lack of sleep, Masahiro stretched his arms, groaning at the crick in his stiff back, as he sat up on the couch. Taking his spectacles off and rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the clock.
Three hours.
He sighed. In the end, despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep after all. Getting up and straightening, massaging the numbness from his legs, which he had cramped into a very uncomfortable position, he strode over to his desk. A single sheet of paper lay innocently on its gray surface, starring up at Masahiro with rows of accusing black eyes. Hand reaching out, his fingers tightened on the paper, the crackling sounding very loud to Masahiro’s ears in the silence of his office as he stared at it, his eyes fixed on the casually artistic and very familiar signature.
Collapsing into his chair, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to rid himself of the impending headache that he could feel throbbing its way into existence, Masahiro’s thoughts turned back to the emotionally draining confrontation with the man he once called partner.
Three hours prior…
CRASH!
Kimura’s chair fell violently backwards as he leaped to his feet, furious. The accompanying police officer started forward, but Masahiro raised a hand to halt him.
‘I’m not signing the damn thing!’
Masahiro met blazing eyes calmly. ‘We have eyewitnesses placing you at the scene of the crime.’
‘If I had set the bomb, wouldn’t I have calculated to be out of there before it exploded? Nakai, you know me better than to think that I would be so carelessly suicidal.’
‘Maybe. But, I also know how much you love the challenge of pushing yourself to the limit. In the end, you did come out alive after all. Mission accomplished.’
‘Then, why did I drag Goro out with me? If I wanted to kill him, wouldn’t I have left him inside the bar?’
‘We don’t know if what you’re saying is true. According to Tsuyoshi, he found you leaning over Goro right after the explosion. You two were the only ones left when the bomb went off. For all we know, he could’ve run, but somehow you caught up with him, and tried to drag him back to the bar, but the bomb exploded before you could do it.’
‘You have no evidence to prove that. In fact, you don’t even have evidence to hold me here.’
‘True, most of the evidence would have been obliterated in the blast. But, you see, fragments of the bomb survived, and we’ve traced it back to another crime; one that you were involved in as well.’
There was no mistaking which crime Masahiro was talking about, and from the look in Kimura’s eyes, Masahiro knew that they were both on the same page. Memories of that night flashed through Masahiro’s mind, eroding some of the illusionary calm, cool professionalism that had settled over him.
Kimura took a deep shuddering breath. His voice though was strong, filled with steel.
‘I would never hurt Goro.’
‘I don’t know that.’
‘I would never hurt Goro.’
‘You haven’t had an amazing track record for being harmless. Or for being trustworthy by the standards of the law.’
‘I would never hurt Goro!’
‘Just like you would never hurt Mori?’
Kimura stopped short, colour rapidly draining from his face, his eyes wide. Masahiro did not want to think, did not want to recognize the emotions that ran through those expressions. The words had slipped out of him even before he could fully grasp that he had been thinking about them.
The ticking of the bomb…The acrid smoke burning in his eyes…His feet pounding against the floor…
Kimura standing with a gun to Mori’s head.
Kimura had killed Mori.
KIMURA HAD KILLED MORI.
And, something snapped.
Masahiro lunged, his chair falling violently to the floor, a loud screeching tearing through the room, the table shaking as it was forced across the floor. Masahiro couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe; his mind descending into a tumultuous storm of emotion.
Mori was dead, and there was nothing forgivable about that.
‘YOU BASTARD! DO YOU KNOW HOW IT HAS HAUNTED ME?! I SEE IT IN MY HEAD; IT PLAYS OVER AND OVER AGAIN! YOU, STANDING THERE WITH THE GUN TO MORI’S HEAD! YOUR VOICE SAYING THAT YOU’VE KILLED HIM! I CAN NEVER FORGET IT, NOT EVER! I TRUSTED YOU! I BELIEVED IN YOU! DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S DONE TO ME?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME?! DO YOU-?!’
‘Nakai-san! Nakai-san! NAKAI-SAN!’
Masahiro breathed heavily, his chest heaving as his tirade was abruptly interrupted, the panicked voice of the accompanying police officer washing over him like a bucket of ice cold water, his vision clearing as the fog faded from his eyes. He looked down, the realization dawning that he had flung himself on to Kimura, his hands now tightly grasping on to Kimura’s shirt, his hold more than a little strangling. The table that had been between them had fallen on to its side, pushed away, discarded.
His eyes met brown.
Pain.
Guilt.
Acceptance.
Understanding.
And, Masahiro cursed himself for being able to read the other man so easily, for being so familiar with every damn expression that crossed those features. Years had passed, but Kimura hadn’t changed a bit.
He had killed Mori.
He was a wanted criminal, murderer, betrayer.
He had hurt Goro.
And, he was still Kimura.
Suddenly, hand clamped firmly on to Masahiro’s arm. His head swiveled, his eyes turning to the police officer, who looked more than a little freaked by unusually violent outburst of his superior. ‘Nakai-san, you have to let go of him,’ he said, speaking softly and slowly, like he was talking to a frightened, cornered wild animal.
Masahiro’s gaze turned back to the fallen man, taking in the exhausted bruised eyes, the lines of strain that marred handsome features, the tight expression of pain that pulled taunt on tanned features. It was so easy to forget that they weren’t partners anymore; that this wasn’t just another argument, wasn’t just training. From the way Kimura had adjusted his breathing with Masahiro’s body weight on him, from the way, despite the violence, Masahiro had adjusted himself to Kimura’s position, his awareness of the other man flaring up unconsciously, guiding his actions, nothing had changed.
Masahiro had changed, but when he was with Kimura, he found it so easy to fall back into familiar patterns, routines, thoughts, feelings.
When he was with Kimura, he felt like he hadn’t changed.
He felt like they hadn’t changed.
Masahiro’s eyes burned as tears pricked the back of his eyelids. Furious with his sudden emotional vulnerability, he hastily got to his feet, dashing his arm across his eyes and flinging off the officer’s hand.
‘This meeting is over,’ he said hoarsely, gesturing for the officer, ‘Get the confession.’
As the officer hurriedly reached for the confession, setting the table back in its position, Kimura pulled himself together. His eyes were desperate, pleading.
‘Nakai, you have to believe me. I didn’t plant the bomb in Goro’s bar. Someone else did it. While we sit in here trying to implicate me, the real criminal is still out there, and he might try to do it again.’
Masahiro gestured at the paper on the table. ‘We can protect Goro well enough. All you have to do is sign the paper.’
‘I didn’t do it.’
‘And, remember to read it before you sign it.’
‘Nakai-’
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you; it would look like I tricked you into signing it or something.’
‘Nakai, please you have to-’
‘I no longer believe you, not since you pulled that trigger!’
The silence was deafening, broken only by the heaving of breath from Masahiro. Masahiro braced himself, trying to rebuild his battered walls, as he prepared for another onslaught from Kimura.
But, to his surprise, Kimura wordlessly took the paper and read it.
Seconds ticked by with Masahiro staring at the head of brown hair and the rapidly moving eyes peeking from the top of the paper as Kimura scanned the document.
Then, brown orbs stopped, Kimura putting the paper down as he looked at Masahiro with a raised eyebrow. ‘You want me to sign this?’
That dry tone was all it took, and suddenly, all the emotional turmoil that had bubbled up within Masahiro just drained away. ‘I thought I made it quite clear from the very beginning of this conversation.’ This bantering was familiar ground.
Kimura took the pen that had been placed on the table, about to sign the document when he looked up at Masahiro. ‘On one condition.’
It was Masahiro’s turn to raise a questioning eyebrow. ‘You don’t have any leverage in this situation. What makes you think I would listen to your demands?’
‘Because it would benefit us both.’ Kimura leaned forward, his eyes glittering with a hard light. ‘You know that someone else is out there; your gut is telling you that. I can see it in your eyes. I want that person behind bars as much as you do. If I’m going down, I’m not going down alone.’
‘And, what makes you think we can’t catch this someone on our own without your help?’
Kimura leaned back, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. ‘Because I’m the only connection to him you’ve got.’
Masahiro kept his face expressionless, viciously stamping down on the stirring of excitement in his stomach, not wanting to examine the feeling closely. ‘So, what are you suggesting?’
‘A deal. I’ll sign this confession; you get to put me behind bars when this is all over, but for now, I want you to sign me on as a prisoner under your care. Let me participate in the investigation. Under supervision, of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘And, let me stay in Goro’s room until he wakes up.’
The officer protested, but Masahiro raised his hand. ‘You’ll be heavily guarded. Try to run, try to hurt him, try anything we deem as suspicious and the deal’s off.’
‘But, Nakai-san-’
Kimura grinned. ‘You’ve got a deal.’
Back in the present time…
Masahiro put the paper back down on his desk. Then, he pulled another blank sheet out, and began to write.
~TSUZUKU~
Click here to return to CHAPTER FOUR: RIPPLES OF REGRET
Click here to return to ENTANGLEMENT: MAIN INDEX