Impossible Renegade - 5/? - Hakuei / Tora
Title: Impossible Renegade - Uragirimono Dekimasen
Author: wane_of_undoing and cookie_duck90
Genre: Drama, Romance, Angst, AU, Suspense, Thriller,
Rating: R - NC-17
Warnings: Gore, Language (cursing, but not every other sentence sort), Blood, Sex, Torture, Heavy Violence
Bands: Penicillin, Alice Nine, the GazettE
Pairing: Hakuei / Tora (main), Tora / Hakuei (main), Ruki / Reita (side), Saga / Tora, Shou / Tora, Shou / Hakuei
Chapter: 5/? (in progress)
Disclaimer: Don’t own them or anything affiliated with them..
Summary: Years after the collapse of the world’s infrastructure, one power and one defiant remain in a devastated Japan, dueling for territory and resources. The Haken no Honshu, formerly organized yakuza, rule with an iron fist while the Hankougi, a coalition of resistance groups, survives on the fringes of the newly formed barbaric society. When Tora, the deadly Hankougi assassin, is captured in a failed infiltration of a Honshu camp, the only friend he seems to have left is the Honshu physician, Dr. Hakuei. Through weeks of abuse and torment, Hakuei keeps Tora alive, forming a bond between them that surpasses the boundaries of factions, something deeper than friendship. With their separate causes at their backs, emotion and human connection in this harsh world calling from ahead, Tora and Hakuei face far more than the odds to survive, let alone preserving their relationship.
A/N:Sorry for the late updates!! Two chapters this week!
A/N: A roleplay between Cookie and wane_of_undoing! Please enjoy~ Comments are most awesomely loved, and the best comments may, or may not deserve an illustration ;3 Also, apologies for any typos/crazy grammar issues. We proofread it somewhat...
“What do you see, Tora-chan?” The Oyabun asked, picking up different tools off of the cart he'd requested be left behind. The man at the door closed and locked it, the lights dimming in response, though not entirely shutting off. “My height? My slight build, lack of real muscle definition? Medium hair, easy to grab hold of, piercings and jewelry too...Surely I'm far less intimidating than my counterpart, Kyo-kun...am I right?”
Clues from appearance could only tell so much. Not all deadliness was on display and the Oyabun’s description of himself was right on the mark and with a slight edge off. Tora only gave a slow smirk; he knew not to underestimate such a deceiving appearance. Kyo was all brawn mostly and lesser brains. The gunner had learned the hard way that that brains meant the higher hand in almost any battle. Entire armies could be out maneuvered by just a skilled precise cavalry.
The blonde man selected a tool after a few moments of inner debate. A simple scalpel, slim and small in design, yet sharp and deadly when wielded correctly. A fitting tool for the Oyabun. Crouching down before the chair where Tora sat, the yakuza looked him over again, keeping his light eyes locked with those golden ones. “It's alright if you don't fear me, Tora. You're a well-trained assassin, famous for your deeds of precision...We're a lot alike, you and I...Only difference is that right now...”
Dragging the blunt end of the tool up Tora's arm, just to watch the shiver course through his body, the Oyabun circled the chair like an animal with it's prey. Leaning his head down over the back rest of the chair, he whispered in the rebel's ear, breath tickling his neck,
“You're at my mercy, Tora-chan.”
The gunner scented the perfect contradiction to the man’s words that spoke of a lie. A broken toy rarely could be fixed in this sort of world, and especially in the terms the Oyabun was using, much less serve the side that had wrecked it. The petite man had taken up a scalpel-typical choice-and neared the assassin, only to run up the blunt side of the tip of the tool along his skin. Regrettably for his interrogator, his ‘family’ back at the Hankougi headquarters was something like an Adam’s family: outright outlandish, bizarre, strange, you name it. His brother, the true son of the Hankougi head of affairs had an odd obsession with knives and tended to run said things along Tora’s skin whenever his adopted brother was near, usually the blunt edge. Thus, said scalpel did not create the customary shiver out of uneasiness, instead it was cold on first touch.
The breath next to his ear was easy window to bite at, the Hankougi member whipping his head around to snap at the man’s vulnerable ear with his signature fairly pointed canines. Too bad the blonde pulled his lovely little head back just in time. He could feel a slight hint of truth in the man’s words-“at ‘my’ mercy”-but the self-righteous arrogant tone killed any threat Tora could hear in it.
Moving back before the rebel could try and headbutt him or anything of the like, the Oyabun stalked to one of the empty corners of the room and sighed. Though he enjoyed cutting up his foes while they squirmed and cried out, he always preferred to gain an ally if he could. He didn't think the assassin would go for it, but it was always worth a try.
“So, Tora-chan...Before I have to really convince you...I'd like to give you a choice,” The blonde said, his voice echoing off of the walls as he neared his victim once more, “Take your chances with being broken by me...Or join me? You would be a wonderful addition to my organization. I can see how you and Hakuei-hakase get along so swimmingly already...He could be your sponsor, if you wished it...”
Coming around to face Tora, the smaller man looked him in the eye and asked again, “So what'll it be? Face me on your own, here, now, in this little room with all my little sharp friends...Or join me and live a life you never thought possible after the world shit the bed? The choice is yours, Tora-chan...”
“You and what army? Your tactics are failing badly.” Tora said flatly, eyeing the midget with the utmost bored look he could come up with. This man’s talk was nearly as annoying as Hakuei when he was drunk and the gunner couldn’t help himself. He knew he was digging himself a deeper hole by taunting the man with such words.
“I doubt you can offer me better than what the Hankougi do, I’m afraid to disappoint.” He made lightly of the situation, fingers flexing for a moment, feeling his muscles liven a little as he’d been in this position for about two hours or so now. Inflexible muscles were never productive to a get-away. Another subtle shift of his weight on the flabby chair. Though with the state of things now, he saw the need to kill exactly this man as soon as possible to be able to escape was becoming more and more valid with every passing second with the Honshu’s Oyabun.
Nodding, the Oyabun laughed and shrugged. “Well, Tora-chan, you can't say I didn't try...”
Now, as bored as Tora might have been, the smaller man was infinitely more bored by all the diplomatic bullshit he had to spew. If he had his way, he would be exactly like Kyo and have torn the rebel up by now, leaving him to bleed for being so stubborn, but the younger man kept his head. He had to. He was in charge of this whole thing.
“Here's how this is going to go, Tora-chan. Listen carefully. I don't like to repeat myself,” The blonde circled Tora once more, petting his hair gently as he passed behind him, “I'm going to ask you a question. You'll have a moment to consider it before I ask again. Answer me truthfully, we move on. Don't answer me, lie, or start mouthing off, well...You don't need all of the skin on your chest, do you?”
The Oyabun took one last precaution before he started in on the rebel, taping his neck and forehead to the chair, as to prevent more attempts at biting. Smirking at his handiwork, the blonde cocked his head to the side and started in on the questions. “Where exactly is your camp located? We've been tracking you and your men for months, but it seems you've hidden yourselves well...”
Tora really, really wished the dwarf of a man wouldn’t pat his head. It was getting irritating to be treated like an animal. Skinning, now, that was new. But then, considering that Tora had been laid bare to the room’s environment since the genius Hakuei had snipped his garments off. Another wrong to the Oyabun’s words-what the Honshu couldn’t prove true-couldn’t be proved a lie. Duct tape to his forehead, catching quite a few locks of his pitch black hair was not comfortable but well, it was the Honshu, and even better, it was the leader. Just meant how much he was a threat to them. No doubt the man was smiling at the awkward position the gunner was in, like he’d been taped into the chair by a kid. Well grats to said man’s handiwork that he looked this way!
A few moments passed and the Oyabun's voice rang out again in the dark of the room, “As promised, a few moments to consider...Where is your camp located, Tora-chan?”
When he didn't get the answer he wanted, the diminutive man, shook his head and sighed, “Tora, Tora, Tora...I'm afraid I'm a man of my word. You'll understand, I'm sure.”
Leaning in, the Oyabun made a little display of carving some artful hiragana of Haken no Honshu into the others pectoral. Though he liked the scalpel, he didn't feel it was doing the job for the moment. Tora seemed to be too at ease with them. Going into the underside of the medical tray, he fished out a small heavy mallet, the kind used for re-breaking bones to set properly. Much better.
Feeling a little meaner, he swung out the hammer and smashed it into Tora's knee, enjoying the crunch of his bones and cartilage. “That was just for fun. You've got plenty of other joints. I'll save those for the questions, hm?”
The assassin snorted, eyes closing for a moment. “Doesn’t that say something about the tracking skills of you and your men?” Of course, not an answer that the Oyabun wanted. And then he neared with the pointy side of the scalpel, slicing into the Hankougi operative’s skin over his left chest. Tora’s hands closed into fists, hazel eyes rolling up into his head in pure reaction, face muscles twitching slightly. It stung pretty bad but there was no cauterizing which meant the marks could heal perfectly fine with no shameful aftermath. When the leader was done, the ebony breathed out softly, feeling the blood from the torn areas drip down to the waistband of his boxers. The room wasn’t cold, just something approachably in a moderate temperature.
Of course, Tora knew he had to bring in his dramatizing skills to make it easier on himself, no matter how shameful. The ruse would be figured out later in the legends of the later generations of the people the Hankougi were setting free, protecting. Pretend to be vulnerable and strike hard. Not quite the heroic image, but in this era-there was little valiance anymore. Said skills didn’t need forcing, because the hammer that the ebony had seen in the far unused section of Hakuei’s cart was brought crashing down onto his left knee. Unwillingly, uncontrollably, he let out a cry of pain-instant and nearly obliterating to his consciousness. “God…fuck…” he gasped, tears welling up in his eyes from the blinding white-hot agony from his knee radiating out to his leg. It was quite worse than when Kyo’s wayward shot hit his shoulder through.
“Fuck you, Honshu midget.” Tora growled lowly in his baritone, eyes closing tight. He didn’t want it to, but he could feel blackness that wasn’t already from the dimly lit room already threatening to take his consciousness down. “What’ll happen to me serving your self-righteous ass when you have all the answers? Ain’t... no way you can prove what…don’t….know…” The moment the words came out of his mouth, the Hankougi member knew he had just dumped himself into a deep hole of shit. He cursed himself over and over for his bad habit of talking without thinking. The man shut his eyes, willing the oblivion to claim him, the faster the better.
The Oyabun was enjoying the pain and agony on the rebel's face, loving the crumpled look of his knee, the slices on his chest oozing blood slowly down his torso. Maybe he was fucked in the head, but he just loved the way it all looked together. His enjoyment, however, was quickly stolen when one of the words he despised left the other's lips.
Lip curling in anger, he struck out with his free hand and backhanded the rebel. Snarling, he picked up his scalpel from before and stabbed it deep into Tora's thigh, above his broken knee. “You dare say that shit to me again, boy, and I will make you wish I was only torturing you for information,” He growled out, his voice low and cruel, spit almost foaming out between his grit teeth. Rebel needed to learn who exactly he was up against.
Apparently he'd hit a pretty bad nerve when the short man lost all his cool in a blink of less than a second and was already yelling. With that Tora knew he had gained a weapon against the Oyabun, no matter how seemingly insignificant. He hated being called short and the gunner knew that the angrier people were, the more predictable they became. No doubt, right now in this situation, it probably wasn't too salubrious to the ebony man still strapped and locked in the upright chair.
The scalpel appeared again, and this time sunk deeply in his thigh. Too bad the pain from his fractured and misaligned knee joint still took further precedence than any other source of anguish-- the scalpel only felt like a someone had stabbed a fork into his thigh; past the nerves, he could only feel the blood welling up from the stab wound over the blackened, bruised swollen torn skin of his knee-- bone fragments from the hammer's smash already had poked through the pale skin.
Turning away from the other, he took a deep breath and waved at the door, two men coming in with rags and pots of water with long necks. “Set him up. Leave the scalpel. He needs to feel it for a while yet.”
Doing as they were told, the men men soaked two rags and draped them over Tora's face. Leaning Tora back on two legs of the chair, the men motioned for the Oyabun. He was calm enough to proceed as he had to, for now. “Where's your camp, Tora-chan?”
Again, silence was not the answer he wanted, so the Oyabun proceeded in picking up one of the pots. He slowly started to dump it over the rebel's head, creating a water-seal over his entire face. The rags caught the water and held it over his eyes, nose, and mouth just long enough before falling to make it feel like he had a bubble of water around his head, effectively drowning him while he was upright and bound.
He kept his silence this time when the question of the Hankougi headquarter's location was asked again, eyes only half open as he tried to contain the agony from his lower body, teeth gritted tightly. With the tilt of the chair and the blond dwarfish man's order, the ebony knew what was coming. Even with his attempt to avoid the wetted rag he'd seen two cronies drag in along with oddly shaped containers of water, it still ended over his mouth and Tora regretted not having taken a good breath before the cloth was over his entire countenance.
Air was the single thing that no human, no how well trained could live without and the gunner held his breath, eyes closed to prevent water from fogging up his sight when they removed the 'drowning' device. He made a show of struggling against the cloth, careful not to expend too much energy. His breath endurance was far more than the mere 30 seconds, but it was tiring to utilize the energy while without oxygen.
Thirty seconds later, the small man stopped pouring and had the men put the rebel upright, removing the cloth. “Where is it, Tora-chan?”
The water and fabric scraps removed, Tora gulped in a breath, blinking the water from his eyes and long lashes. Again, same question. Oh man, the Hankougi operative knew he shouldn't, but here it went again.
"Go to hell, fuckface." Tora growled roughly, throat dry, not bothering to meet the man's unnaturally grey-blue eyes. He could feel his body's shock settle numbly in his lower body, concentrated at his leg where his body had sent most of the naturally produced endorphins to ease the pain from his knee. Even with the water present, there was no way he could swallow it without suffocating himself.
A second stab this time higher up right aside his freshly some-what healed side wound. Sighing, the man couldn't help but think that the doctor that probably would be sent back to nurse him wouldn't be too happy. They hadn't really changed questions, Tora feeling like he was stuck in some sort of demented test with a sadistic, stab-happy teacher- that was what an interrogation was afterall.
Shaking his head, the Oyabun was getting tired of this act from the rebel. Nodding, he watched as the man was tipped back again, rags back over his face. Picking up another bottle, he turned on the water again and listened to the harsh, yet lovely gargling noises Tora made. At least those gave him some satisfaction. Some hours later and the Oyabun was done for the day. He was tired and he was sure that Tora was.
“Tomorrow, right after breakfast, Tora-chan,” He promised, exiting the room and waving the nauseated looking physician in after him. Hakuei gulped back a bit of bile when he saw the state of the rebel. He must have seriously pissed off the big boss.
Another hour? Two?
He could't tell. Another drowning for another nonexistent answer had caught Tora a little less than prepared and he'd struggled pretty badly, even to his own standards. Ashamed of himself. A third stab to his shoulder wound by the now pissed Oyabun. It reopened the stitches. The pain was already only a quarter more till the assassin's limits were reached. He lay limp, trying to keep his lips shut and his voice down. Every movement, whether of his own or of his interrogators was pure agony. He ached almost in every possible area. The cold caused by the water having dripped down his neck, chest, body to his boxers gave the man shivers already with the circulating air in the somewhat dark room to seem far colder than it used to be. Hazel eyes shut, he heard footsteps and the goddamn midget bade farewell with promises of another visit tomorrow and Tora moans inaudibly.
Another pair of footsteps...
It should...be fairly safe...to sleep...