Rain Dance

[ltgmars]

Title: Rain Dance
Fandom: Matsumiya; background Yasu/Ohkura, Sho/Keiko (Arashi, Kanjani8 RPS)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Mystery/fantasy
Word Count: 11,403
Summary: Nino's asked by a mysterious man to search for a person who may or may not exist. He ends up finding a lot of things he never knew he was looking for. (A detective story with a twist.)
Warnings: N/A
Notes: Written for cutselvage during ninoexchange 2014, originally posted here. This story borrows from Chinese mythology, Murakami Haruki, and everyone's love for Arashi and Kanjani8 interacting. Thanks to airairo and all of my pom-pommers for being better than I deserve.


It's raining the night they first meet. There's nothing especially striking about it, really, since it's late May and it'd be more unusual if it weren't raining, but when Nino thinks back on it in a month's time, he'll remember it with vivid clarity. The way the world sounds like it's drowning every time the door opens and a new customer comes in; the way the bartender looks up at a sudden roll of thunder and just shakes his head, a lopsided smile on his face; the way the sheets of water flutter against the windows like rumbling percussion for the innocuous jazz track playing in the background.

Ryo had told him to go ahead and start while he waits for the new client. Nino wouldn't have needed Ryo's permission anyway. He catches the bartender's eye as he's finished serving a man hunched over in a far corner of the room, and he signals him over with a lazy wave of his hand, elbow still perched on the counter.

"Ohkura-kun," Nino says mildly, watching as the other man pours him a fresh glass of scotch, "you have any idea what today's meeting is about?"

Ohkura places the new glass on a napkin in front of Nino, sliding it forward with a practiced hand. "No," he replies. Yes, he means.

Nino can tell by the way Ohkura looks up at the door as it opens and doesn't move until it's closed that his new client has arrived. Ohkura moves to the other end of the counter, and Nino stares at the shelves of liquor across the bar, picking up his drink, sipping slowly as the man who just entered pulls out the stool next to him and takes a seat.

"Ninomiya-san?" he says in a way that sounds more like an answer than a question. Nino turns his head toward the stranger and nods, familiarizing himself with the other man's features. It's easy enough to remember, just like Ryo had told him -- he's got a strong face, piercing eyes, cheekbones high with a kind of commanding pride that Nino rarely sees despite the amount of people he looks at every day.

"You must be Matsumoto-san." Nino finds himself smiling, though he's not sure why. Ohkura strides toward them, sliding a pale drink toward Matsumoto, bowing his head slightly before retreating again. Matsumoto smiles at Ohkura and then turns back to Nino.

"Nishikido told me you could help me." Matsumoto picks up his drink and empties it in full gulps, his throat bobbing with every swallow. He lets out a slow breath and runs the thumb of his free hand across his lips, and Nino can't tell whether the unbroken eye contact is unconscious or intentional.

Nino just nods and brings his glass back up to his lips, his throat suddenly, achingly, dry.

"I'm looking for someone," Matsumoto says simply.

Outside, the rain continues to fall.

.

The details about the person Matsumoto's looking for are surprisingly scarce. He doesn't seem to know who the person is, what he looks like, or where he might be -- just that he has to find him. Nino doesn't mind; he takes the case as he would any other, since he's being paid well and the liquor's being included in his fees. He's got no stake in finding the person, and if Matsumoto's come with him with such a hopeless request, he must know it's a long shot anyway.

They sit together for hours in peaceful quiet as they go through drink after drink -- mixed drinks, straight shots, slow sips around perfectly spherical ice cubes. Nino watches Matsumoto the entire time, his deep eyes, full lips, long neck, strong hands. He can't seem to take his eyes off the other man, feels like he's slowly being put under a spell he doesn't want to recover from.

The next words he hears from Matsumoto are muffled by the rain splattering against their umbrellas as they stand in front of a taxi, but Nino feels it in his bones before the words sort themselves out in his brain.

He can't, unfortunately, however much he may want to; he has a client policy to uphold. Matsumoto's breath is warm against Nino's neck as he whispers in low tones, "Next time, then," and Nino feels that in a different part of his body. Next time, he may not have it in him to decline.

.

Nino's main workstation is his bedroom, the small monitors along one wall flipping through live surveillance videos, the radios along another fizzing in and out of frequency. Nino sits cross-legged on his bed, slouched in front of a laptop with half the letters on the keyboard rubbed out of existence.

The case he has on his hands now is unusual in a number of ways. First is the fact that he's got literally nothing to go on: he's been assigned to find a man who might be in Tokyo, whom Matsumoto has never met but only assumes exists. Usually there'll be a name or a description, or at least a location to start, but this seems to be one of those cases where he's supposed to know it when he sees it, even though Nino has no idea what he's supposed to be seeing.

Secondly, the money's coming to him in regular -- generous -- installments. There's no doubt that Matsumoto has the cash to spare, but he also seems to have the desperation to keep Nino on the case, and the faith in a man who's only an acquaintance-of-an-acquaintance to get the job done.

And lastly, perhaps most significantly, is the fact that he actually seems to care. It's been a good long while since Nino's cared about actually doing a good job, finding what he's been asked to find.

Nino has to wonder what Matsumoto is doing, looking for a man who may not even be real, but he shuts the thought down quickly, busying himself with a preliminary database search of suspicious activity reports. He isn't getting paid to wonder.

.

Nino's always been good with details. He grew up "showing off" during spot-the-difference games and getting bullied for it, patting his sister's back when she came out of her bedroom quieter than usual, helping his mother slice vegetables when her knife stopped and she just stared for long moments at the cutting board. He remembers the man's scratched-up glasses at the company interview and smiles two years later when his boss finally comes to work with a new pair.

It's a few years into his job noticing endless numbers on paper that he decides there are other, better things for him to be noticing. He doesn't miss the way his boss doesn't actually sound regretful when he accepts Nino's resignation letter, or the way his coworkers don't look up from their work as he walks out of the office with a box full of his scant personal belongings. He knows that detail, too: that there are thousands of people who can process numbers just as well as he can, that no one will miss a cog in the machine when it doesn't even pause as the cog is being replaced.

The private investigation business begins as a word-of-mouth affair. The few friends he had made in college, people equally as lonely for paying attention to more than they need to, know that he's good, so they send their friends along for help in finding, delivering, discovering.

He's passionate when he first starts out. It's his chance to put his tedious talent to good use, after all. But one missing-person-turned-homicide becomes two, and then three and four, and not so suddenly he finds that it's easier for him to treat his cases like numbers instead of people, to stay cold and detached because all caring about the details has ever brought him is pain, even if it isn't his pain to begin with.

These days he doesn't feel much when a case gets nicely resolved, but at least he doesn't feel anything when a case doesn't finish the way it's supposed to.

Nino drags his feet on his usual route from his apartment to the local conbini. The rain pelts his umbrella in fat droplets, and he hums the popular tune, some boy band's latest single, that isn't actually coming from the earbuds he's wearing. He listens to one mundane traffic incident after another as he walks through the sliding glass doors, shaking the excess water off his umbrella and walking straight toward the prepared meals.

He feels an extra set of eyes on him on the way back home, but he doesn't care enough to worry about it. It's been days since he decided to give up trying, and Matsumoto probably isn't expecting him to find anything anyway, so it wouldn't bother anyone if he went missing. Nino's been a cog before, and he knows that he'll be discarded when it's clear he has no use. He doesn't want to waste his hope on a hopeless case.

.

Nino's watching his TV on mute, some comedians doubled over in silent guffaws as if they're actually having fun, when he receives a phone call from an unknown number.

"Ninomiya-san," Matsumoto greets, voice smooth as melted chocolate on the other end of the line. It's a far cry from the breathless rasp Nino last heard against his ear. "Is now okay to talk?"

Nino smirks to himself. Matsumoto must have been too drunk to be considerate that first night, though Nino's not sure which version he prefers. "Now's fine, thanks. What can I do for you?" He asks as if Matsumoto has more than one reason to call, though he doesn't bother asking how he got Nino's number; he'll have a talk with Ryo about passing his information on to strangers the next time they get together.

"Just wanted to know if there were any new leads on the person I'm trying to find."

There aren't, of course. Nino still has too little information to work on, and all he's been building is a portfolio of little mishaps in the Tokyo metropolitan area. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary, nothing that might fall into the category of knowing it when he sees it. He explains all this to Matsumoto as he watches the variety show host on screen dramatically uncover a spectacularly unremarkable survey answer. It's apparently supposed to be funny, judging by the way the captions make a series of quips about the response, but Nino concentrates instead on the low hum of contemplation coming through his earpiece. In his mind, he sees Matsumoto's eyebrows draw together, his free hand come up behind his neck and rub unconsciously at the tense muscles there. It's easy for Nino to imagine it all, since he's spent hours drinking up that face like liquor from a glass, and he finds it much more compelling than the faces on screen, too big and loud even when there's no sound coming out of them.

"Well," Matsumoto sighs, and for some reason, Nino feels the disappointment deep in his chest. "Do your best. I'll check in again soon." He hangs up before Nino can figure out whether or not he has a response to that.

Nino returns his attention to the TV, now playing a commercial with the latest morning drama actress getting impossibly excited over the new juice she's drinking. He tries to imagine the same face on Matsumoto but can't seem to picture it, doesn't have enough data on what his lips would look like unabashedly upturned, how his eyes might sparkle a different way when he isn't just being dark and mysterious. Suddenly annoyed, Nino smashes his thumb against the power button on the remote control, and he opens his computer sitting on the coffee table in front of him, ready to look for another angle he can work.

.

It's one of those rare days during the rainy season when Nino feels like he can go outside without having to wear scuba gear to keep himself from drowning. He trods slowly along the sidewalk and lets the cheery couples and chattering families weave their way around him, pointing excitedly at colorful displays in shop windows and making inane comments about how nice it is to have a sunny Sunday. Nino frowns and turns up the volume on his police scanner feed.

Nino prefers not to leave his apartment regardless of the weather, but deciding that he'll try a little harder on this case means actually going out and seeing what he can find. He has some contacts scattered throughout Tokyo, people who can be his eyes and ears on the ground, ask around for any new information that might be useful. Unfortunately, the conditions of those relationships involve sometimes seeing them and thanking them for their cooperation.

Nino's cell phone buzzes in his pocket and he stops in front of an open-air restaurant to check his messages. Murakami's gotten tied up and won't be able to meet, but he doesn't have any new information anyway. Nino clicks his tongue and decides to pretend he forgot to respond, pocketing his phone and looking up to see a monitor playing the morning entertainment news. That popular girl group with thirty thousand members has had their general election, and they play a video of the words of gratitude from the new center girl. She's had more than 150,000 people tell her that she's worth their time and money, and she glows with pride and a sense of responsibility to pay them back for their belief in her. Nino turns the volume for his feed as high as it'll go and stares blankly at the beautiful faces on screen until the entertainment news switches to the weather.

Another buzz from Nino's pocket snaps him out of his reverie and away from the sudden storms reportedly coming in from the east. Nino looks at the screen briefly before tugging his earbuds out by the cord and bringing his phone to his ear.

"Ninomiya-san, is now okay to talk?"

Of course it is. The only thing Nino's occupied with right now is this man's case. Nino hums in confirmation.

"I'd like to see you again, if that's all right? Please meet me at the bar at seven o'clock tonight." Matsumoto talks like a man who's never not gotten what he wants, and Nino can kind of see why. He's firm and commanding and somehow still grateful, and Nino finds himself ready to do a lot of work to make Matsumoto happy.

"Sounds good," Nino says, carefully neutral. It doesn't help at all to have other people know that he's getting attached to a case. "See you then."

Nino puts his phone away and looks up, barely noticing a sudden movement some paces away. Frowning, he puts his earbuds back in his ears and turns the volume all the way down, turning to head toward the train station. He switches trains and lines three extra times before making it onto the train that will take him to the bar, wrapping a hand around a plastic handle and planting his feet farther apart than usual. He tries to keep his body steady even as the adrenaline pumps back and forth through his veins, making him sway like an evening train.

.

Matsumoto isn't alone when Nino finds him at the bar. Next to him is a slim man with a round face, and they seem to be engaged in a light and unsubstantive conversation that causes the man to bring a delicate hand up to his face and giggle into his fingers. Matsumoto smiles fondly at this. Nino walks calmly toward them and clears his throat.

"Matsumoto-san," he greets with a light bow. He smiles placidly at the newcomer and waits for an introduction.

"This is Ohno-san," Ohkura says with a small smile from behind the counter, pouring Nino some bourbon and sliding it in front of the stool next to Matsumoto. "He's actually friends with my boyfriend. Artist friends."

"Nice to meet you," Nino says as he slides into his seat, considering the other man. He has soft features and pouty lips, in incredible contrast with everything Matsumoto embodies in Nino's mind. Ohno mumbles a greeting in response and nods and turns quietly back to his drink, a glass of sake he's been nursing for some time now from the looks of it, his grip completely comfortable and his cheeks a soft pink color. He seems harmless enough, and obviously Matsumoto doesn't mind having him there, though Nino decides not to mention how much of a cliché it is to have an artist boyfriend.

Nino waits for Matsumoto to take the initiative and talk about the case, but he only has to wait for five minutes before realizing it's not going to come up. The three of them sit together at the counter, untalking, much like the first night Nino and Matsumoto met, slow sips between traces of quiet understanding.

Nino takes the opportunity to observe. It's one of the things he does best, after all, and one of the first things he notices is that Ohno is an observer as well -- an especially talented one, for that matter. Ohno's eyes track small movements with unexpected clarity, steady even with a few drinks in him. He doesn't seem to respond to his surroundings immediately, though Nino can't tell whether that's Ohno or just the alcohol, but he does let out the occasional low chuckle about something no one else has seen, or give Matsumoto small looks between drinks.

And while he's observing, Nino notices that Matsumoto looks softer around the edges as well. Maybe he's finally relaxed in the presence of someone he knows will watch over him, or he knows Ohno will be there to help contain anything that Matsumoto himself isn't able to control. That's his biggest tick, as far as Nino can tell. It's in the way he's so deliberate in where he puts his glass down after taking a drink, the way he chooses his words so carefully, almost as if he's reviewing them in the air in front of him, before he speaks about things he thinks are truly important. Matsumoto likes order, likes being in charge of that order, and Ohno contributes to that order in a predictable and comforting way.

The first person to finally speak is Matsumoto, starting on a story about what happened at work that day -- and it's the first time Nino's heard about Matsumoto's private life since they met, though he wonders what it is that's made his chest flutter at the thought of knowing more. Typically it doesn't matter to him what clients do as long as it isn't essential to the case. But Nino leans in and listens, as if knowing about average publishing office humdrum will improve his quality of life, and he sees Ohno tilt his head to the side in kind. Nino decides soon enough that it really is useless information -- and he knows that Matsumoto must think so, too -- so he lets himself focus more on the sounds than on the words they're creating, the amused lilt of his voice, the crinkles around Ohno's eyes that deepen as he listens, probably mirroring his own.

When Matsumoto asks Nino later to come back with them for the night, Ohno doesn't wait for an answer before grabbing Nino's wrist and pulls him into the taxi; Nino lets himself be pulled. It's still against his policy to get involved with his clients, but everything about this case has proven atypical, from the man he's working for to the fact that he actually cares how it turns out. He might as well enjoy himself while he's there.

.

Matsumoto's apartment building looks fairly standard on the outside, if a little too pretentious for Nino's tastes. A pair of imposing pillars rise up to support a trendy-looking second-floor cafe. The main lobby is encased in seamless, perfectly polished glass from floor to ceiling, as if the residents are proudly (falsely) declaring that they have nothing to hide.

Nino leans across Matsumoto to get a better look as they drive up in the taxi, and he feels Matsumoto's hand low on his back. Nino's far hand is still twined with Ohno's from where it had naturally settled during the drive, and despite every cell in his body tingling, hot and hypersensitive to all the places he's being touched and wants to be touched, and despite still being about 80% alcohol at this point, he's mentally aware enough to wonder at the fact that holding hands with a brand-new acquaintance feels much more comfortable than it should.

They climb out of the taxi as a bundle and Ohno steps ahead to let them into the building, a low beep of a keycard that Nino barely registers. Ohno leads them to the elevator hall, and the one on the left immediately opens as if it's been awaiting their arrival. Nino steps in first, and he suddenly finds himself falling forward, twisted around, slammed back with cold metal behind him and Matsumoto's body in front, hard and present and much closer than it needs to be in an elevator this spacious. Matsumoto grasps at Nino's waist, and Nino sucks in a breath that tastes like the whiskey sour Matsumoto ended his night with.

Nino watches as Matsumoto's pupils flare, centimeters away, and he's just about to close the gap when the elevator starts moving. Down. Nino blinks and turns his head to where Ohno's standing in front of elevator buttons, and he feels Matsumoto step back, hands still on Nino's waist, a mischievous grin sneaking its way onto his face.

"We're... there's a basement?" Nino sobers up impossibly quickly, and his hands clasp desperately onto Matsumoto's wrists even though he knows he's at their mercy now.

Matsumoto quirks his lips. "Kind of," he says casually, and after a beat, Ohno laughs. Matsumoto's grip on Nino's waist is softer now, fingers spread out between folds of Nino's t-shirt. "Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you." He smiles, eyes warm, and Nino almost believes it. "We just want to show you something."

.

Nino's curiosity wins out even though he's stuck in the nebulous space between caution and mild disappointment that Matsumoto's no longer pressed intimately into his personal bubble; they've been heading downward for what feels like minutes with no signs of stopping.

"So when are we popping out in Brazil?" Nino says wryly. Next to him, Ohno giggles. Matsumoto just raises an eyebrow before turning his attention back to the door, settling his weight on a wide stance, his hands clasped behind his back.

Nino has no expectations for where they've ended up when they arrive, which saves him the trouble of being disappointed when the elevator evens out and the doors open and all that's there to greet them is a stark white hallway, seemingly endless. Nino waits until his companions move so that he can follow. It doesn't look like this hallway is going to get them anywhere soon, and Nino can only assume that they'll be walking for hours, if the elevator to South America was any indication.

Nino's steps are ginger as he moves forward, and he feels his feet hit the ground without hearing them, eerily silent. "Where are we headed?" he asks, just barely keeping his voice from wavering, and he hears himself as if he's spoken into headphones, or even directly into his own eardrums. They vibrate with the words that sound like his own idle thoughts.

"You'll find out soon enough," Matsumoto responds, equally as direct, the syllables seeping into the folds of Nino's brain. Nino squints into the distance, convinced that their definitions of "soon" are completely irreconcilable. But as soon as he opens his mouth to say so, he stops, literally can't move his body. He can't feel his heart accelerate or the sweat accumulate on his back; the physiological responses he knows he's supposed to be having don't come.

And then in the next moment, his body is back. He involuntarily lets out the syllable that had been caught in his throat, but then he stands still, mouth slightly agape, watching as the infinite hallway in front of them slides apart, doors that can't possibly exist opening up into a new hallway, a blue glow streaming through.

"Watch your step," Ohno says, stepping through the threshold and then sliding slowly away. Matsumoto gives Nino a pointed look and does the same, indicating for Nino to follow suit. He does, after a moment, if only because this drunk hallucination he's having is cooler than anything he could have thought up on his own. After a small jerk, he steadies himself and gets pulled forward, riding a conveyor belt no one can see.

He takes the opportunity to observe now, that thing he does best, overwhelmed because there's far too much for him to notice.

They're surrounded by brilliant blue water, sparkling all around them -- left, right, above, below -- as they move through a clear glass tunnel. The only reason Nino knows he can't reach out and touch the water is because he can still breathe, he still feels dry, but he can swear the fish come swimming right in front of his face, schools of colors he's certain don't belong in nature, speckled animals so magnified that they belong in prehistory. And then there are creatures he's never seen before, ornate frills and extra limbs flowing in the current behind them, and he's not sure what to make of them. He catches one creature's eye and an uncomfortable shudder rakes through his body; it seems they're not sure what to make of him either.

He turns to look at the others and sees Ohno engaged in conversation with two men hovering over him, trim torsos leading to scaled, muscular tails, fins at the end. One man's fins are tinged blue, the other's red, and they undulate in place as they chatter amongst themselves while Ohno watches on. "Impossible," Nino whispers to himself, and the red one turns to him and gives him a once over.

"You're impossible," he retorts grouchily.

"Shibuyan," the blue one chides in an elegantly sing-song voice, and it almost sounds like a foreign language, but Nino's ears are still ringing from being told by a merman that he's impossible. Nino stares, and the red one stares back for a moment before sniffing his nose and turning away.

"Let me introduce you," someone says, and it takes Nino a long moment before he realizes he's being addressed. Nino's mind catches up, and he can hear in the tone of Matsumoto's voice that he's thoroughly amused. "This is Subaru and Yasuda. Yasu is Ohkura-kun's boyfriend he was talking about earlier."

The artist boyfriend? Is "artist" just code for "merman"? Nino looks down at Ohno's legs and considers them carefully, poking his foot behind a knee just to make sure. Ohno glares up at him from where he's crashed to his hands and knees on the ground -- the invisible conveyor belt -- and Nino nods to himself, satisfied.

They're on the way to the palace, he's told. Subaru and Yasuda act as a final defense in case intruders somehow make it past the Underground Elevator and the Infinite Hallway, and like the Sphinx before them, they give visitors riddles to solve and death threats for wrong answers.

"It never happens, though. The king's the strongest magician in the sea so we never get anyone unexpected here," Yasuda says, beaming. Nino smiles, too, Yasuda's warm thoughts contagious, and he mentally commends the king for his clever safeguards, if not for his dreadful naming sense. "Well, besides you."

Nino considers the underwater tunnel and invisible conveyor belt and magical creatures and mermen swimming around them. He's hardly unexpected compared to what's going on around him. "I'm just following these guys. I guess we're going to see the king?" Nino's going to wake up at the bar any moment now, so drunk out of his mind that Ohkura's sorted him away in the back room with the latest Nihonshu shipment because the alcohol content's the same. But he's already come this far; it won't hurt to keep playing along now that the mermen have accepted him.

Subaru grins. "The king's been wanting to meet you officially." Nino nods and pretends not to understand the implications of the word "officially" in that sentence, but he's not sure anyone in the group is convinced.

"We should get going," Yasuda says with reluctant finality, sounding genuinely sad that they can't stay and talk more. "We'll see you in a bit. Nice to meet you, Ninomiya-san."

Yasuda and Subaru shimmy away, red and blue bubbles streaming behind them, dyeing the water a pleasant lilac color until it dissolves back into the sea. Nino waves at their retreating figures and tries his hardest not to wonder how they knew his name.

.

The rest of the trip on the invisible conveyor belt feels quick, and it's partly because the distance is relatively short, and partly because Nino's still busy taking everything in by the time they arrive at a new set of doors. As they slowly open, creaking with importance, Nino turns back to look at the Water Tunnel one more time, just to realize it's gone. He's staring down the Infinite Hallway once more.

"Ninomiya-san." Matsumoto's voice echoes for the first time in a while.

They've stepped into a grand foyer with a ceiling so high Nino has trouble estimating the height. The crystalline walls match the ones from the Water Tunnel, as does the scenery; they are very clearly in the depths of the sea, a sea that lacks the murkiness that Nino would expect this far down. More fish and other creatures Nino still doesn't know the names of watch curiously as he walks slowly into the hall. Matsumoto and Ohno wait for him to catch up before moving forward into the palace.

They go up a shimmering flight of stairs that looks like it'll melt if Nino touches it, through another set of doors, down a short hall, turn in through another door, down some stairs... Nino stops keeping track once he realizes he won't get out without their help anyway, so he just follows them as they take their confident strides forward. Matsumoto walks like a model on a runway, swift and easy and with his hips moving with him; Ohno makes a minimal effort, almost dragging his feet with how little energy he wastes, but there's a certain grace in that, too.

Nino's completely lost his grasp on time and space once what seems like a final hallway comes into view. He blames the fact that he's been wandering around in a crystal palace in the sea, but that defense mechanism is swallowed up as they stand in front of foreboding doors, thick crystal with what looks like a dragon sweeping across one side. Nino takes a deep breath and waits.

Tinkling shoes sound down the hall toward them, and Nino turns to meet the eyes of a woman who knows she belongs there, who wears her pride like the jewelry around her neck, on full display.

"My apologies, everyone," she says with a graceful nod of her head as she steps in front of them. "Sho-kun says he isn't quite ready yet."

Matsumoto smirks, shifting his weight onto one foot and crossing his arms over his chest. "You know we don't care about that, Keiko-chan. Just keep him in line."

Keiko's eyebrows bounce up and she puts on a saccharine smile. "Gladly," she says in voice so affectedly pleasant the temperature in the room drops. She nods her head again and tinkles away.

"So this Sho-kun is waiting for us," Nino concludes as the sound of Keiko's footsteps disappears around the corner. "Is he the king?"

Matsumoto says "no" at the same time as Ohno's "yes". Matsumoto narrows his eyes at Ohno. Ohno just shrugs.

Nino looks back at the doors and decides not to ask any more questions.

.

When the doors finally open, no one's sitting on the throne at the far end of the room. Instead, Keiko bows low to their left, and a man in a black suit to match Keiko's dress bows to their right.

The man straightens back up and Nino recognizes him immediately. "So we officially meet, Sho-kun."

Sho's eyebrows draw together and he looks sincerely apologetic. "My deepest apologies, but..."

"You've been following me."

Sho maintains his confused expression for a moment before it falls into a resigned grin. "Impressive. What gave me away? I'm certain I kept my face out of view."

Pride warms Nino's veins. He's happy to explain. "It's the way you walk, actually. Every time I caught a glimpse of you, it seemed like you were being purposely casual. That's not what someone following a person does, because it makes them even more suspicious. You wouldn't have been so deliberate about acting casual if you didn't normally lead a lifestyle so formal that you had to combat it."

Sho tilts his head to the side and gives a small nod, conceding. Nino grins and turns triumphantly back to Matsumoto and Ohno, just to find them missing. He looks at Keiko, confused, but before Keiko can gesture toward the throne, Nino knows what he'll find.

"Ninomiya-san," Matsumoto calls from the far end of the room, settled into the plush seat with Ohno standing next to him, "if you're quite finished with your conversation, is now okay to talk?"

In very many ways, Nino should have seen that one coming.

.

According to the mythology, there are four Dragon Kings, originally brothers who ruled their respective seas, wreaking weather havoc sometimes, keeping each other in check other times. This particular underwater palace is Matsumoto's palace, and Nino's mind spins at the thought that three other palaces just like it exist somewhere. For whatever reason, though, Matsumoto's palace has become their main quarters. Matsumoto is the official king; Ohno acts as Matsumoto's personal attendant; Sho manages the estate with the head maid, Keiko, as the head butler. They still don't know where to find the fourth Dragon King, but Matsumoto feels very strongly that he should be found sooner than later, because it isn't clear what might happen if they aren't all together and keeping an eye out for one another.

"Is there a reason I'm involved in this search? Between the three of you, you must have enough resources and fire power to accomplish anything." Nino's taken a cross-legged seat on the floor in front of the throne, but it takes mere seconds for Sho to bring him a thick cushion to sit on instead. Nino breaks it in with a grateful wiggle.

"That's the main thing," Matsumoto says. He has an elbow propped up against one of the armrests, that ankle crossed over the other knee. In retrospect, Nino really should have seen it; no other man is so well-suited for the throne. "Each of us figured out on our own that we weren't like normal humans, and at that point the sea can find you."

Nino's somewhere between taking this assignment very seriously and wondering when exactly he'll be waking up from his dream.

Sho continues the thought from where he's kneeling perpendicularly between them. Nino's legs fall asleep just looking at him. "Our guess is that the last Dragon King still hasn't figured it out, and that's why we can't track him down. He probably thinks the weather is a coincidence, and that he's got some kind of special talent for making impossible things happen."

"So that's why you reached out to me," Nino says, slumping forward to plant his elbows on his knees. "Because Nishikii knows I'm good at finding people." He picks a spot on the spotless floor and fixates on it. "Though I've been pretty useless this time around."

"Well, we might actually have something more useful for you now." Nino looks up at Matsumoto, curious. "Now that you know who we are, we can give you specific things to look for."

Nino's not sure whether he's annoyed at withheld information or excited about finally getting somewhere with this case that he actually cares about. "Why didn't you just tell me before?"

Sho answers that question. "We had to make sure we could trust you first, which is why I took the liberty of observing how you work." He pauses then, appearing to choose his words carefully, though there's something more precise about the way Sho does it; when Matsumoto sorts his words, he always looks like he's spending an equal amount of time sorting the feelings that come with them. "I had to report to MatsuJun that you were wandering aimlessly. It seemed like you didn't have any direction, so it was hard for you to care about doing a good job for him."

The only part Nino can even hope to deny is the "for him" -- so much has changed "for him" -- so in the end, Nino doesn't respond at all.

"At that point," Matsumoto finishes, "we decided that you needed to really understand the stakes. So here you are."

Here he is, yes, and he understands the words they're all saying. But in the interest of doing this for him -- for them, now -- he disregards the voice in his head telling him that everything about this situation is beyond comprehension.

.

What they're really looking for is someone who can make miracles happen. Not necessarily the mountain-moving, life-saving miracles people cite when they talk about how they've found God, but small, everyday miracles, impossible coincidences and ironic circumstances lined up like dominoes, ready to come down in neat little rows.

They're also looking for someone surrounded by strange weather. That might be easier to find, because Nino can only assume there are millions of people in Japan with extremely good luck, but the weather patterns aren't something just anyone can make happen, whether or not it's intentional.

Nino's suddenly reminded of the weather report he'd seen just that day -- thought it feels like a lifetime ago at this point -- vague details about unexpected storms concentrated to the east of Tokyo. Heavy rain during the rainy season isn't particularly notable on its own, but it is a little curious when that rain is swirling around Chiba while the entirety of Tokyo remains completely dry.

"How did you remember something like that?" Ohno mutters to himself, running his hand back and forth against the armrest of the throne.

Nino grins. "I'm a private investigator. It's my job to remember."

Ohno takes Nino back to the surface through a route that feels much, much shorter than the one they took on the way in, though Nino can't tell if it's because it actually is shorter or if it's just the paradox of the route back -- arriving at an unfamiliar place takes a long time, but going back to where you came from never feels quite as long. They'd ended their conversation with plans on how to proceed, promises to help. Ohno holds the elevator door open with a warm smile and lets Nino step out. When Nino turns around mid-salutation to wave goodbye, the elevator is empty.

A cloudy dawn is breaking over the Tokyo cityscape as Nino walks out of the apartment building and stands under the overhang. Nino pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time. 4:47am, distressingly low battery life. He contemplates for a moment before swiping through his list of contacts for the right number to call.

A groan on the other end of the line. "Kazunari, you'd better have an excellent reason to be calling this early in the morning." She pretends to be annoyed, but Nino can hear the worry steeped in her voice.

Nino smiles and lets out a slow breath, tension trickling down and out of his body to puddle on the sidewalk like a warm morning rain. "Sorry. Just needed to make sure this is real."

Nino's mother hangs up on him without another word, and that's all the confirmation he needs.

When Nino finally makes it back to his apartment, he readjusts his radio scanners and surveillance networks to focus on Chiba. He sends a message to Murakami -- it may be 5:30 in the morning, but this is what he gets for standing Nino up -- to let him know that they'll need to tap their contacts there.

Nino takes one last look around his room and nods to himself. He peels off his damp clothes and deposits them in his laundry basket, drying himself off in the bathroom before flopping halfway onto his bed in just his boxer-briefs.

He reaches up above his head to pull a pillow toward himself and grins. It's been far too long since he's been this invested in a case, since he's been able to taste the excitement of solving a complex problem that's been given to him. Matsumoto and Ohno and Sho make him feel like he's really contributing to something important, let him take pride in his tedious talent of seeing everything and having no real place to put that information.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh and closes his eyes, but he's almost afraid to sleep because he doesn't want it to wake up just to find that it's all gone.

.

Nino begins to work more closely with Ohno and Sho now that he knows what's really going on. They tend to meet either in Nino's apartment, where Nino has all of his equipment in front of him, or in one of the apartments at the palace building. It turns out that Jun and his main court attendants live on the same private floor of the building. On paper they don't know each other at all -- they're tax consultants and preschool teachers and division managers and contractors and, yes, artists and bartenders -- but when they're needed at the palace, they all hop into the elevator on the left and rush to Jun's side. The ones who're human stay human, but the other creatures transform once they're past the Infinite Hallway and they've reached the Water Tunnel, their first sign of home on the long journey to the palace.

Keiko comes home to the apartment while they're poring over the latest notes Nino's received from his contacts in Chiba. She stands at the genkan and scrunches her face at Sho. "Tell me when we're having company over next time. I need to go through the apartment and label which messes are yours."

"As you wish, m'lady," Sho says without looking up. He scans another report, tracing his finger across the page, before putting it in their "maybe useful" pile.

Keiko shakes her head and finishes taking off her shoes.

"Hi, Keiko-san," Nino greets, smiling up at her from where he's seated in front of the low table in the living room. "How was work?"

Keiko shrugs and moves toward the kitchen. "Boss told me my reviews are still too harsh. If she wants nicer words, she should assign me better movies to watch." She opens the refrigerator and bends down, grabbing two bottles of beer with one hand. "If you guys need anything, get it yourselves. I'll be downstairs."

They work in relative quiet, save the flipping of paper and clicking of keys. Sho continues to sort memos. Nino has moved on to compiling the "useful"s and "maybe useful"s into coherent reports so that they can track movement and decipher any patterns that come up. Ohno sits on the couch and plays games on his phone, because he contributes the most by letting the others grow how they want and watching over them as they do.

It had been Ohno's idea to let Jun be the one in charge. He had strongest vision for ruling the seas, and the most ambition to find new ways to make them prosper. He had been the one to seek out the others when they realized they had supernatural powers, asking his sea creature friends and his human friends for help in connecting with them, convincing them of their fate, and ultimately creating places for them in the kingdom where they could all flourish together. Ohno was the oldest, but Jun was the one who wanted to take charge, deserved the respect the position commanded. Of course, Jun had the occasional anxieties about how he was doing, whether he was taking care of the seas in the right way, but that's what Ohno and Sho were there for. The three kings really do work best together.

Nino wonders sometimes how he fits into the equation since he isn't a king, but he shakes the thought out of his mind and redoubles his efforts to help however he can.

.

Nino lies on his bed one night after another work session and scrolls through some online articles about the Dragon King mythology on his phone. Most of the information he finds he's already learned from his regular interactions with them, from details about their sea armies to the magical items they own and the abilities they each have.

One of the most attractive things about Jun is the way he commands attention, something that isn't mentioned in any of the articles Nino's read. Jun has the ability to draw all of the eyes in a room to him, is so charismatic that everyone's ready to drop what they're doing to follow him. He's so good at it that Nino has to wonder whether it's really natural or just one of his powers as the Dragon King.

Predictably, Nino's thoughts get stuck on Jun, as they have for the past few weeks now, on Jun's lithe, powerful body that really doesn't need to change into dragon form even if it can, on the short moment they shared in the elevator that helped Nino realize what exactly he was dealing with. He thinks about the way Jun commands the kingdom, a palace of loyal attendants, a seaful of creatures ready to serve him. He can imagine the way they fall over themselves to do Jun's bidding, because he has eyes that make you want to listen, and he can only assume the same rules apply in the bedroom, with any number of eager followers, or maybe with Sho and Ohno as they help each other find release after long days of being responsible for everyone in their jurisdiction.

Before Nino knows it, his mind is all wound up and his hand is trailing its way down his stomach. He does nothing to stop it, exhaling slowly, closing his eyes.

Nino's phone vibrates in his hand and he curses to himself, snapping his eyes open. He smirks when he sees the name on the screen and brings his phone up to his ear with his right hand.

"Nino," Jun says, "is now okay to talk?"

It probably isn't, but at this point, Nino can't resist his desire to hear the other man's voice. He brings his left hand back down to rub himself through his shorts. "You want an update?"

"No thanks. Sho-kun's been keeping me updated." They've narrowed down their search to a specific neighborhood in Chiba, where analysis of the weather patterns has shown that many of the strange natural occurrences start and end in there. Ohno has a friend who's going to keep an eye on a few houses to see if there's any way to identify the person at the epicenter. Nino doesn't care about any of that right now.

"Are you proud of us, Jun-kun?" Nino asks with a smirk, rubbing himself harder. "We've been working hard for you." He rolls his hips up slowly, working himself in his palm.

Nino hears a low chuckle from the other end of the line, and he grabs himself through the fabric, letting out a small noise.

Jun doesn't seem to have heard it. "I know. I wanted to thank you myself."

Nino doesn't feel particularly guilty about what he's doing. What Jun doesn't know won't hurt him, after all, and Jun was the one who interrupted in the first place. Nino brings his hand up toward his torso and then back down, under the band of his shorts and underwear. He pushes his clothes down just enough to let his cock out, half hard and waiting to be touched.

"It's my birthday, you know," Nino says, tracing the tips of his fingers over his cock, relishing the sensation, careful to keep the rasp out of his voice. He doesn't know if Jun believes him, but he seems to respond to it anyway.

"Happy birthday, then. Is there anything you want from me?"

There's a lot Nino wants from him. He wants the hand on his cock to be Jun's, not his. He'll take a mouth, too, if there's any way he'll be allowed at those lips. Nino steadies his voice and says, "Just tell me about your day."

Jun's a model by day, with an exclusive contract with one of the most popular male fashion magazines in Tokyo. He describes his latest photo shoot, a formalwear spread, and as Nino listens, he imagines it all in his head, letting his hand move on its own -- grip tighter, work faster. Jun arrives at the studio and takes his personal clothes off to change into a close-fitting tailored suit. He gets his hair and face done up, practicing different expressions in the mirror while he waits to be called in by the photographer. They greet each other and share some thoughts on the vision for the shoot -- and Nino can imagine Jun's both a pain and a thrill to work with, his own worst critic but always willing to try new ideas that will make the final product even more exciting. He wishes he could watch in person instead of in his mind, but the view he has now is more than enough for now. By the time Jun's finished his second round of photos, Nino's dangerously close, his hand tugging desperately, his throat hanging on a low note. By the time Jun looks at the camera and his long fingers begin to undo the buttons on his shirt, Nino's stomach is streaked with come and he's gasping hard, shaky breaths into the phone.

Jun keeps talking as Nino comes down. Jun heads back into the dressing room and takes off the suit, placing it back on the rack and smoothing the lapels down before putting on his own clothes. He grabs his bag and greets the crew, and by the time he's stepped out of the building, Nino's breathing is finally back to normal.

"And that was my day," Jun finishes. There's a long pause as Nino tries and fails to find something useful to say. "Are you happy?"

He is.

"I should go take care of some things now, but thanks for your hard work, and again, happy birthday." Nino can hear something new in Jun's voice, but he can't tell what it is. "And the next time you do that, let me join in."

.

Nino and Ohno make a trip over to Chiba the next day. They step off the train platform and onto the bright yellow Soubu Line, settling into some seats across from the reserved section. An elderly woman looks up at them, and when she smiles it feels like her entire soul is smiling, too.

Nino feels vaguely like he's in a role playing game. He's travelling to a far off place, on a mission to gather information and eventually bring balance back to the universe. The sooner he does his job, the sooner the natural forces of chaos can be contained, and the sooner he can go back to his peaceful, everyday, ho-hum life. Whether he wants to or not.

Next to him, Ohno sits quietly with his hands folded in his lap. Nino bumps his leg into Ohno's. Ohno doesn't respond. Nino repeats it, and Ohno fondly mutters his protest. But Nino does it again, and again, and he starts an endless bumping tirade against Ohno's thigh until Ohno pushes back with a sudden counterattack, his leg pinning Nino's together. They both start giggling.

Nino's contact in Chiba is a fairly useless man by the name of Yokoyama, and he's been friends with Murakami basically since conception. They meet at a cafe and Nino is forced to treat him to purin before he gives them all of the details their Chiba team has found out.

Their main target is the second-generation chef at a family-owned Chinese restaurant, where Yokoyama has become a regular, in the name of observing the target and getting to know him better. He seems oblivious to the powers he has, though he does say that he sometimes has "miraculously good luck". The strange storms and weather phenomena all seem to center around the restaurant, too, often occurring early in the morning or just after the restaurant closes at night.

"They say that's when he tries out new recipes," Yokoyama says in an overly dark-and-eerie voice, eyebrows dancing, like the host of a children's program no one wants to watch. He gives Nino and Ohno a significant nod that doesn't mean anything before slurping up another spoonful of purin.

Nino gives him a blank look for a long moment before thanking him for his time, standing up, and walking away.

.

Nino has all of the details ready to present to Jun a few days later, neatly compiled in a binder so color-coded Sho would be proud. He gives Jun a call and leaves a message on his voicemail asking to meet to discuss the final plan. A text message beeps onto his phone half an hour later: Jun's still at work but should be able to meet him in the palace in a few hours. Ohno will take him there.

Ohno's waiting for Nino in front of the apartment building by the time he rounds the corner. Nino waves and doesn't bother moving any faster, taking his time to get to the building and closing his umbrella once he's safe under the overhang.

"Can't you guys do anything about this rainy season?"

Ohno snorts, unlocking the front door and opening it for Nino. "Apparently it's supposed to be there. MatsuJun told us not to do anything that will confound meteorologists and stun the nation. Something like that."

Nino laughs. "How dramatic, Jun-kun."

They make their way to the palace, down the Underground Elevator, past the Infinite Hallway, and through the Water Tunnel, chattering on and off as they go. The merman on duty that evening has an orange tailfin, and he greets Ohno with a cheery "Oh-chan!" before making a bunch of random noises, the force of his jerky arm movements rippling the water around him. This time, Nino can be positive that he's not supposed to understand it.

Once they get to the main hall, Nino lets Ohno lead the way through the palace, swerving up and down and around. It's unexpectedly labyrinthine for something that's literally crystal clear.

Sho meets them at a final hallway and leads them to a door Nino hasn't seen before. He opens it and moves aside, letting Nino step through.

Nino's heart starts to pound erratically in his chest as he scans the room. "Why am I meeting him in his bedroom?" he asks, knowing why. He adds weakly, "There must be a better room for talking." He turns to meet knowing glances, and his friends wiggle their fingers goodbye as they leave, closing the door behind them.

It's everything a royal bed chamber should be. There's a large armoir against one wall and a matching dresser against another, a full-length mirror, a spacious writing desk, shelves built into the walls. Each piece has an intricately carved dragon on each corner, their faces slightly different, and Nino recognizes who they are: Jun's is the one that looks driven and determined. Ohno's looks tranquil and kind. Sho's is clear and perceptive. Second-generation Chinese chef Aiba's must be the last one, brilliantly joyous.

Nino lets his glance slide across the room, cautious, until it lands on the bed, equally as royal. Massive and inviting, with white silk covers so sleek that Nino doesn't want to breathe on them in case he ruins them forever.

"Feel free to give it a go," Jun whispers in Nino's ear, right behind him.

Nino yelps and hops forward, and then he turns to shoot Jun a wounded look. Jun just grins at him and gestures at the bed.

"Seriously, make yourself comfortable."

Nino thinks that may be impossible in a room like this, so he just stands and watches as Jun strides across the room toward a drink cart. "Is sneaking up on people one of your powers?" Nino asks wryly.

Jun picks out a glass decanter with a deep purple liquid inside, and he pours two glasses out for them. "I wonder," he teases, putting the decanter away and coming back to Nino, drinks in hand. He holds one out for Nino, and Nino takes it, not sure if he's ready for what it'll do to him.

"This isn't poisonous or anything?" Nino asks, turning his glass slowly and watching the liquid swirl away from the sides.

Jun just clinks his glass against Nino's and tips it back into his mouth in one go; Nino watches openly. Jun sets his empty glass on the dresser and looks pointedly at Nino, still staring. "Go on. Give it a taste."

Nino regards the glass in his hand once more, giving it one last swirl for good luck, but before he can lift it up to his mouth, Jun's fingers are on his chin, and Nino's lips are no longer free.

Nino sucks in a quick breath and Jun's tongue fills in the space between them, tasting like nothing Nino's ever had before. Jun's fingers grab for Nino's glass and scoot it onto the dresser before coming back up to cup Nino's face. Nino plants his palms against Jun's chest and then slides them down to his stomach, tugging impatiently at the fabric.

"Don't get my shirt wrinkled," Jun says against Nino's lower lip, gratifyingly breathless. He pushes Nino's hands away just long enough to take his shirt off himself, and it's so much nicer than what Nino's imagined because Nino can see muscles sing like a choir as the fabric is peeled away. Nino's reaching for Jun's pants before his shirt lands on the floor, but Jun swats his hands away and shoves Nino, hard, until he's toppling backwards onto the bed.

"Clothes," Jun commands, and Nino nods earnestly, shucking his shirt off as quickly as possible to make sure he doesn't miss anything. He starts undoing his pants, but his hands stop working when Jun's pants fall off his slim hips, his cock hard and waiting.

"I said, clothes." Nino's fingers move at lightning speed to unbutton and unzip, and he lifts his hips just enough to let Jun yank his pants and underwear down and off his legs completely, taking his sneakers with them. Jun grabs Nino by the hips and pushes him farther up the bed, and Nino takes the hint, scrambling back so that Jun can make it onto the bed, knees on either side of Nino's waist.

"Now where do you want this?" Nino looks up to meet Jun's eyes, confused, before Jun repeats his question. "Where do you want this?"

Nino can't find his words, so he just opens his mouth and blinks up at Jun, waiting. Jun smirks and props an arm up far above Nino's head, and then he leans forward, cock first, until Nino can feel the blunt head against his lips. He flicks his tongue out and laps at the slit, already wet with precome, and Jun makes a low noise in his throat. Nino does it again, his lips sucking gently at the tip, and Jun leans in for more, slowly, until his cock is filling Nino's mouth and Nino has to swallow at the back of his throat to let more in.

"Touch yourself," Jun whispers breathlessly. Nino obeys, bringing a hand up to squeeze Jun's ass before running it down his thigh and then around to his own cock. Nino groans around Jun's cock, and Jun's body tenses before he brings his hips back, and then forward again. "Fuck," he says, and Nino can tell he's grinning, "it's good to be king."

Jun tells him later as they're lying in bed together that he's special. Nino burrows into Jun's shoulder and doesn't say anything.

"I hope you know you aren't just going to disappear from our lives when this is over."

Nino doesn't know, not really, but he appreciates the sentiment.

Jun clicks is tongue and wraps his arms around Nino's shoulders. "You don't believe me, do you? I'm the Dragon King, you know. We can keep doing this forever if we want to."

Nino smiles and snuggles in closer. "Yes, Your Majesty," he says teasingly.

Pleased with his response, Jun nods, cheek brushing against Nino's hair. "I'll even let you top every once in a while."

Nino laughs and smacks a hand against Jun's chest.

.

They don't usually travel as a group, but today's a special occasion. They're on their way to Chiba to officially invite the last Dragon King into the sea kingdom, and there's giddy tension buzzing in the air around them. Jun's wearing an incredible, truly incredible, suit with dark splatters all over it, right off the runway. Sho's only just barely dressed down from his usual butler attire. Ohno's wearing a t-shirt and sandals like he's going to the beach and not on an extended day trip to meet the final person to make their group complete.

As they click-clack along, Nino looks out the window on the other side of the train. It's appropriately stormy outside.

They've planned it out such that the restaurant is completely filled with people from the kingdom by the time they arrive. No one's quite sure what to expect since the mythology doesn't give them any precedents, but when four composite powers come together for the first time, something big is bound to happen. The hope is that they'll be able to keep it as safe and secret as possible.

Nino spots the mermen as soon as they walk in, their tables cramped with glasses of water. Ohkura has an arm draped lazily around Yasuda's shoulders, and Yasuda and Subaru seem to be in the middle of a never-ending janken battle that they keep matching hands for. Ryo's sitting at a table for two with the orange merman and they have their heads tucked in close, calling each other by their first names as if they're being punished for something. Yokoyama and Murakami are in a far corner of the dining area so Nino can't hear what they're talking about, but he can at least tell Yokoyama's drunk by the way he keeps staring at Murakami's lips.

Their group is led to a booth for four by a friendly woman about Nino's mother's age. She and Kazuko would probably be friends in another lifetime.

There's a whole lot of mapo on the menu, so a whole lot of it ends up on their table, and they work their way through the dishes together, like a group of friends -- as a group of friends -- passing along the favored ingredients to their respective stomachs, forcing one of them to finish off what the rest of them can't. Sho tries to talk around the final mouthful of rice that he just can't seem to swallow, and he looks so distressed that all the rest of them can do is laugh.

Jun's the one who asks to speak to the chef -- the second-generation, he specifies, because they're all around the same age and they want to wish him luck in taking over the restaurant. The waitress beams at them like a proud mother and says she'll bring him right out.

Aiba comes out of the kitchen wiping his hands on his apron, his hat slightly askew, and the smile he gives them is like sunshine cutting through the rain. He doesn't seem to notice that all eyes are on him, every person in the restaurant on the edge of his seat, as he approaches the table, one languid step after another. Nino's barely breathing by the time Aiba arrives in front of their table, bowing low and thanking them for their patronage.

"Delicious," Jun says generously. He scoots toward his edge of the seat and pulls Nino toward him with a finger in his pants pocket. He nods at the open space and meets Aiba's eyes. "Please take a seat, if you have a moment. We'd love to talk to you."

Aiba cites his very important duties as the apprentice chef that he needs to return to, but he doesn't seem at all remorseful when he mumbles a cheerful "excuse me" and slides in next to Nino.

Nothing happens. Everyone in the restaurant lets out a collective sigh.

But just as Jun opens his mouth to speak, the lights start to flicker. The wind outside begins to howl violently, deafeningly, and the ground beneath them quakes. Nino clamps his eyes shut and grabs onto the table, waiting for the storm to pass.

.

Nino feels a familiar arm around his shoulders, and he opens his eyes slowly, cautiously, just to be met with darkness.

"You've had too much to drink," Jun tells him, and it takes Nino's eyes a moment to readjust to the dim lighting in the bar. There are countless glasses on the counter in front of them of every shape and size, from beer mugs to shot glasses to champagne flutes to high balls. It looks like they've raided the entire bar's stock between the two of them. "You all right?"

Nino's not sure. He starts to shake his head but decides against it, leaning gently into Jun and taking deep breaths.

"Ohkura-kun, we're going to need some water."

"You know we've got plenty of that."

Jun chuckles. Nino closes his eyes.

The next thing Nino feels is a cool glass against his lips. He opens his eyes again, bringing a weak arm up to help tip the water into his mouth. He looks at Ohkura from above the rim of the glass and watches him move across the counter, wiping it down at the end of a busy night. His sleeves are rolled up and Nino can barely make out a tattoo he's never seen before, wrapping around his arm just below his elbow, the tail end of a majestic dragon drifting away.

Ohkura catches Nino staring, and he pauses long enough to give him a lopsided grin before resuming his work on the counter.

The bar door opens and Nino can hear the rain still falling, slower now, a lazy drip to round out the evening. It's been a long night for the rain clouds, too.

Nino nods at Jun and sits up on his own, taking the glass in his hands and sipping the rest of the water down. Yasuda comes into view and pulls Ohkura down for a "good work" kiss on the cheek, and Nino laughs quietly to himself. Of course. It's far too difficult for Yasuda to get to Ohkura.

"How are you feeling?" Jun asks gently.

Nino turns to him and smiles wryly. "I've had a lot to drink."

They put the night's damage on Jun's tab and head into the early morning drizzle, squeezing under one umbrella to get to the taxi that's waiting for them.

"Come home with me tonight," Jun whispers just in front of the taxi door, a breathless rasp against Nino's ear.

Nino grins. He doesn't hesitate to say yes.