#27 Theme 02: Alibi - SID; Tora/Hiroto
Title: Bandoliers
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 002 Alibi (SID)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Bands[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: AU, some angst, drama, violence and romance?
Comments: Bandoliers, to fight me dear. Inspired by this song and its lyrics.
Bandoliers
Orange dust choked the early noon sky, settling on dry skin, powder-rolling rubbered tires and soothing over rust-bitten trees. Outside the car window, pink and green skeletons forested the roadside hills and blanketed the heaping mountains grey. In his small compact Tora wondered how the hell there could be snow on the jagged peaks when it was such a sweltering summer day. Inside he blasted a/c, radio a low rumble beneath the blow as the tick-lined road blurred past.
He had started driving the night before, glad for once that he knew where he was going because no one came to the Tottori Sand Dunes in the summer. The less tourists the better and the less people and traffic the easier it would be to spot the stolen vehicle.
One way or another, Tora always found them. And yet one way or another, everyone wanted Tora.
Dead or alive; choking beneath them, hovering above-behind them. Everyone wanted a piece of the infamous officer; a salary for his position and a bounty on the street. His name was everywhere, but Hiroto didn't know it until after, not until he found himself waist deep in shit, gagging with the taste of vomit in his mouth, and too far sunk beneath Tora's skin for the older man to let him go.
"Hiroto? Baby everything's going to be okay, we're coming in to get you right now. Don't try to move yet." The voice filtered down from high up. So high up.
Meters below, Hiroto shook under the pinprick light of the uncovered hole, hands tied behind his back and cement blocks chained to his feet. It was cold. At least it dampened the stench of feces and urine, but he didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to think about how long it'd been since the kidnapping, since he'd been dropped into the industrial-sized septic tank, feet away from the recently abandoned building, unable to move and praying to every god above someone would find him.
Hiroto didn't say a word as Tora and another man, both dressed in crinkly sterile suits, came down and cut him loose. His breath fogged Tora's plastic mask as a line hauled them to the surface. They didn't want him climbing the rusty rungs screwed to the side of the tank - he didn't think he could climb them even if he tried; his fingers were numb with cold, dirty and slick with waste.
That was when Hiroto started driving to the dunes. The Saharan seas of Japan where the summer heats swirled up almost-mirages of things he couldn't quite see and time was simply the hot and cold of sandy smoke; night and day the scorching frost burn frost beneath calloused fingertips.
The fading tree-shaped green of an air freshener flopped back and forth against the dashboard as Tora navigated the disheveled roads of a construction site. It was closed off, but the orange cones never stopped anyone.
Flashing lights.
Sirens.
They drew closer, fighting through traffic, while miles away Tora turned to Hiroto. He was scared. And for the first time since this all began, Tora handed him a gun.
"Be careful. Don't worry, don't panic, but if we get separated, if I get hurt, I need to know you have something to protect to yourself."
Swallowing, Hiroto nodded and held his hands out to the older man.
Tora wanted to hesitate, wanted to stop and rewind, but he couldn't and there was no time. Guilt sang through his veins every day the danger ticked nearer. And for what? For loving him? Because Hiroto opened his heart, his life, made himself vulnerable for one man? He wanted to regret ever starting this, but it was too late for regret.
People were after Tora. People were always after Tora.
His job was practically a lifestyle now - he'd become so notorious no one was safe in his life. Tora had long since shipped his family abroad under witness protection. He was never much of a friendly socialite in school, never planned to after, but what he didn't expect was for Hiroto to drop into his life.
Poor, innocent Hiroto who he had unwittingly fucked, accidentally loved, and now everyone in their power was trying to use it against him. Because here was Tora's weak spot, bright eyes and a gentle soft voice.
Here was Tora handing him a gun.
It was cold in his hands, a heavy metal weight Hiroto found reassuring amidst the shatterings of glass and wailing alarms. He took the sleek weapon and nodded, trembling, stealing a quick kiss before they were running.
There wasn't much approval for their relationship from the beginning, but headquarters wanted their best man happy and safe and so long as Hiroto stuck to Tora's side he was safe too.
Safe, mostly unscathed, but shaken, so deathly shaken.
Tora looked down at his hands stuck moist to the steering wheel, weather beaten, scarred and stained with permanent ink. He was shaking too. He should have sent Hiroto away with his family after the first attempt. He should have done things differently, done things right. But instead he clung, clung to the first real love in his life, the only one he had left after he was forced to push everyone else aside.
But he was strong, Tora reasoned. And that was true enough, to a certain extent. It was the reason he'd given up on women. Women were too easy to break, too easy to kill. Somehow he thought Hiroto, another man, would be able to keep up - would be different. But all flesh slides easy under the knife, all blood freezes cold with fear.
"Don't touch me."
Hiroto spun around, forcing Tora into the wall, knife at his throat. There was something so dark and scared and desperately hurting in his eyes. Whispered threats too close to the truth.
"Don't. Do not touch me."
Tora tried not to breathe as the blade drew closer to his chin. Despite the scared tears trickling down his own face, he couldn't ignore the way Hiroto's eyes betrayed his own emotion.
"Hiroto?"
"Baby?"
"Pon?"
He pleaded, tried to get some form of recognition as the minutes ticked past.
"Don't do this."
Tora reached up to touch shaking fists he'd put days, weeks into, training Hiroto in self-defense.
"I-I don't, I don't love you. I want out," the other sobbed.
And Hiroto wanted so badly for it to be over. He couldn't do this anymore, the sleepless nights spent worrying for his life, the countless times he'd been put in danger. He can still feel the tasers, the cow prods, electricity coursing through his veins from his latest encounter. A prosecuted drug lord.
"You can't Pon."
"Let me go."
"They'll kill you."
"They already did."
He doesn't want it anymore. Love shouldn't hurt. Love shouldn't be this hard to cope.
"I can't. I love you too much."
Hiroto sobbed as the knife clattered to the floor, tears staining the cotton of a warm chest.
"Then stop loving me."
Sighing Tora stepped on the brakes and slowed to an unhurried pace.
He hated his job now, wished he had met Hiroto before all the promotions, all the solved cases and unnamed prisoners. Then he wouldn't be here, out on the streets all day, putting his life and all his loved ones in harm's way. Then they could be together, happy and safe.
But people needed someone to clean up the streets.
Hiroto had tried hard as hell to get out, to get Tora to stop loving him, but it hadn't worked, there wasn't some switch he could just flick off and Tora knew what he was trying to do.
At first there were the fights.
Tora drove through the streets looking for him, trying to figure out what club, what alleyway Hiroto could possibly be in tonight. And he would always find him, fists and feet moving lightening quick, pummeling strangers with trained adeptness, only faltering when he'd had too much to drink and then cheek would meet pavement, knuckles hit wall. Tora would pull up and try to soothe things over, make excuses and cover Hiroto's name.
He didn't know whether the other had a death wish or simply wanted to cause trouble out of spite. If it was the former there were more efficient ways to die, the latter then he could do a lot more damage handing out their address.
No, Tora knew what he was doing - he wanted out - and somewhere along the way he had reasoned that it wasn't just for Hiroto, it was for him, so that he would never have to risk more than simple loneliness to do everyone's dirty work.
---
Coughing, Hiroto flicked his half-smoked cigarette out the window, leaned his seat back and propped his feet on the dashboard. The skies were so big and blue out here. Untouched, untainted. He could almost smell the color.
Outside a vehicle drew nearer, pulling to a stop just opposite him.
He could end his now if wanted, step on the gas and ram them both unconscious. Instead he sat up, bare back sticking to leather seats and sweat drops slipping down heated temples. Hiroto reached beside him, drew his arms up and cocked his gun, pointing it at Tora with a smirk.
Blood, blood and more blood.
Hiroto stared at his hands, eyes glazed as he took in the slick red smeared across his fingers.
What was he doing?
---
Tora stood there staring at the stolen pickup truck, red caked orange dirt.
He always knew the quickest way to find him.
He always knew the easiest way to make him hurt.
Tora knew this was a test, just like all the other ones before it. But this was different. Hiroto was different, and this time he couldn't just let it slip.
"You stole what?!"
"I don't know. I don't know! I just... I just don't know," Hiroto voice cracked and ended in a soft whisper.
"Just tell them it wasn't me. Please?" His eyes were pleading, persuasive, dark, strange.
"It's not that easy," Tora hissed, brushing the other's fingers off his arm. He didn't know what to do anymore, this was more than a cry for help, the need to be free.
Hiroto was out of control."
"Bang," Hiroto whispered, finger pulling the trigger.
"People change."
Tora tugged the other close, whispering in his ear. "Why?"
"They just do," Hiroto smiled, toes digging in the sand. "See those?" He pointed at the sharp arcs and dipping sand dunes. "Out here they change every day... Just like people..." He pulled away to face Tora. "With the wind."
He hugged his knees, a shadowed wistful look Tora couldn't quite decipher.
It was a reminder of who he was now, who he no longer cared to be.
"Bang," Hiroto whispered as his head lolled to the side, skin on crunching glass, red seeping red. Gasping his last breath.
"Bang."
---
Dropping his pen Tora narrowed tired eyes on an already lengthy report.
Three officers killed.
Two-day manhunt.
Another attempt on an officer's life.
Suspect killed before he had a chance to shoot.
No known accomplices at this time.
Tora knew how to lie, how to tell stories and make up truths. What he didn't know was how to heal, how to get past this.
He'd done all he could, tried to make Hiroto happy, keep him safe.
But in the end Tora had been the one pulling the trigger, ending his life.
Hiroto only smiled, arms falling limp across his lap, clutching heavy metal that was empty. Had been empty. Not a single bullet left to shoot.
"Don't worry, don't panic, but if we get separated, if I get hurt, I need to know you have something to protect to yourself.
He wanted this, Tora tried to tell himself, eyes squeezed shut against the tears.
"People change, Tora."
He wanted it.
A/N:
Grrrr that was horrible, but I posted it anyways. I didn't know what to do with it XD
Anyways I hope everyone is doing fine ♥ Myself and tingedwords are working on fic-a-fying this album by Them Crooked Vultures XD It's a good album! So far she's done Reptiles and Elephants and I've done this (Bandoliers) and Dead End Friends.
EDIT: An extra side note in case you didn't know. Killing/attempted assault on an officer is a high offense in just about any country :\ Kill one officer and you'll have the entire law enforcement ready to shoot you on sight so... idk. Think about that.
EDIT 2: As an extra extra side note, for those that don't know, the Tottori Sand Dunes are one of the biggest in Japan. These days the people of the Tottori region are actually trying to stop the dunes from shrinking. Usually you hear about countries trying to stop the expansion of deserts and encourage the growth of vegetation, but since they are so rare on the island of Japan you will actually see volunteers out there picking weeds and grass, trying to stop it from becoming green with fertile soil... I forgot to add it into Bandoliers so I'll just say it here XD It's a bit ironic, but anyhow, some people go to the dunes to carve things in the sand, find spiritual cleansing in the way the dunes are always changing, etc. etc. so they want to preserve that history... Look it up, it's interesting :)
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 002 Alibi (SID)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Bands[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: AU, some angst, drama, violence and romance?
Comments: Bandoliers, to fight me dear. Inspired by this song and its lyrics.
Bandoliers
Orange dust choked the early noon sky, settling on dry skin, powder-rolling rubbered tires and soothing over rust-bitten trees. Outside the car window, pink and green skeletons forested the roadside hills and blanketed the heaping mountains grey. In his small compact Tora wondered how the hell there could be snow on the jagged peaks when it was such a sweltering summer day. Inside he blasted a/c, radio a low rumble beneath the blow as the tick-lined road blurred past.
He had started driving the night before, glad for once that he knew where he was going because no one came to the Tottori Sand Dunes in the summer. The less tourists the better and the less people and traffic the easier it would be to spot the stolen vehicle.
One way or another, Tora always found them. And yet one way or another, everyone wanted Tora.
Dead or alive; choking beneath them, hovering above-behind them. Everyone wanted a piece of the infamous officer; a salary for his position and a bounty on the street. His name was everywhere, but Hiroto didn't know it until after, not until he found himself waist deep in shit, gagging with the taste of vomit in his mouth, and too far sunk beneath Tora's skin for the older man to let him go.
"Hiroto? Baby everything's going to be okay, we're coming in to get you right now. Don't try to move yet." The voice filtered down from high up. So high up.
Meters below, Hiroto shook under the pinprick light of the uncovered hole, hands tied behind his back and cement blocks chained to his feet. It was cold. At least it dampened the stench of feces and urine, but he didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to think about how long it'd been since the kidnapping, since he'd been dropped into the industrial-sized septic tank, feet away from the recently abandoned building, unable to move and praying to every god above someone would find him.
Hiroto didn't say a word as Tora and another man, both dressed in crinkly sterile suits, came down and cut him loose. His breath fogged Tora's plastic mask as a line hauled them to the surface. They didn't want him climbing the rusty rungs screwed to the side of the tank - he didn't think he could climb them even if he tried; his fingers were numb with cold, dirty and slick with waste.
That was when Hiroto started driving to the dunes. The Saharan seas of Japan where the summer heats swirled up almost-mirages of things he couldn't quite see and time was simply the hot and cold of sandy smoke; night and day the scorching frost burn frost beneath calloused fingertips.
The fading tree-shaped green of an air freshener flopped back and forth against the dashboard as Tora navigated the disheveled roads of a construction site. It was closed off, but the orange cones never stopped anyone.
Flashing lights.
Sirens.
They drew closer, fighting through traffic, while miles away Tora turned to Hiroto. He was scared. And for the first time since this all began, Tora handed him a gun.
"Be careful. Don't worry, don't panic, but if we get separated, if I get hurt, I need to know you have something to protect to yourself."
Swallowing, Hiroto nodded and held his hands out to the older man.
Tora wanted to hesitate, wanted to stop and rewind, but he couldn't and there was no time. Guilt sang through his veins every day the danger ticked nearer. And for what? For loving him? Because Hiroto opened his heart, his life, made himself vulnerable for one man? He wanted to regret ever starting this, but it was too late for regret.
People were after Tora. People were always after Tora.
His job was practically a lifestyle now - he'd become so notorious no one was safe in his life. Tora had long since shipped his family abroad under witness protection. He was never much of a friendly socialite in school, never planned to after, but what he didn't expect was for Hiroto to drop into his life.
Poor, innocent Hiroto who he had unwittingly fucked, accidentally loved, and now everyone in their power was trying to use it against him. Because here was Tora's weak spot, bright eyes and a gentle soft voice.
Here was Tora handing him a gun.
It was cold in his hands, a heavy metal weight Hiroto found reassuring amidst the shatterings of glass and wailing alarms. He took the sleek weapon and nodded, trembling, stealing a quick kiss before they were running.
There wasn't much approval for their relationship from the beginning, but headquarters wanted their best man happy and safe and so long as Hiroto stuck to Tora's side he was safe too.
Safe, mostly unscathed, but shaken, so deathly shaken.
Tora looked down at his hands stuck moist to the steering wheel, weather beaten, scarred and stained with permanent ink. He was shaking too. He should have sent Hiroto away with his family after the first attempt. He should have done things differently, done things right. But instead he clung, clung to the first real love in his life, the only one he had left after he was forced to push everyone else aside.
But he was strong, Tora reasoned. And that was true enough, to a certain extent. It was the reason he'd given up on women. Women were too easy to break, too easy to kill. Somehow he thought Hiroto, another man, would be able to keep up - would be different. But all flesh slides easy under the knife, all blood freezes cold with fear.
"Don't touch me."
Hiroto spun around, forcing Tora into the wall, knife at his throat. There was something so dark and scared and desperately hurting in his eyes. Whispered threats too close to the truth.
"Don't. Do not touch me."
Tora tried not to breathe as the blade drew closer to his chin. Despite the scared tears trickling down his own face, he couldn't ignore the way Hiroto's eyes betrayed his own emotion.
"Hiroto?"
"Baby?"
"Pon?"
He pleaded, tried to get some form of recognition as the minutes ticked past.
"Don't do this."
Tora reached up to touch shaking fists he'd put days, weeks into, training Hiroto in self-defense.
"I-I don't, I don't love you. I want out," the other sobbed.
And Hiroto wanted so badly for it to be over. He couldn't do this anymore, the sleepless nights spent worrying for his life, the countless times he'd been put in danger. He can still feel the tasers, the cow prods, electricity coursing through his veins from his latest encounter. A prosecuted drug lord.
"You can't Pon."
"Let me go."
"They'll kill you."
"They already did."
He doesn't want it anymore. Love shouldn't hurt. Love shouldn't be this hard to cope.
"I can't. I love you too much."
Hiroto sobbed as the knife clattered to the floor, tears staining the cotton of a warm chest.
"Then stop loving me."
Sighing Tora stepped on the brakes and slowed to an unhurried pace.
He hated his job now, wished he had met Hiroto before all the promotions, all the solved cases and unnamed prisoners. Then he wouldn't be here, out on the streets all day, putting his life and all his loved ones in harm's way. Then they could be together, happy and safe.
But people needed someone to clean up the streets.
Hiroto had tried hard as hell to get out, to get Tora to stop loving him, but it hadn't worked, there wasn't some switch he could just flick off and Tora knew what he was trying to do.
At first there were the fights.
Tora drove through the streets looking for him, trying to figure out what club, what alleyway Hiroto could possibly be in tonight. And he would always find him, fists and feet moving lightening quick, pummeling strangers with trained adeptness, only faltering when he'd had too much to drink and then cheek would meet pavement, knuckles hit wall. Tora would pull up and try to soothe things over, make excuses and cover Hiroto's name.
He didn't know whether the other had a death wish or simply wanted to cause trouble out of spite. If it was the former there were more efficient ways to die, the latter then he could do a lot more damage handing out their address.
No, Tora knew what he was doing - he wanted out - and somewhere along the way he had reasoned that it wasn't just for Hiroto, it was for him, so that he would never have to risk more than simple loneliness to do everyone's dirty work.
---
Coughing, Hiroto flicked his half-smoked cigarette out the window, leaned his seat back and propped his feet on the dashboard. The skies were so big and blue out here. Untouched, untainted. He could almost smell the color.
Outside a vehicle drew nearer, pulling to a stop just opposite him.
He could end his now if wanted, step on the gas and ram them both unconscious. Instead he sat up, bare back sticking to leather seats and sweat drops slipping down heated temples. Hiroto reached beside him, drew his arms up and cocked his gun, pointing it at Tora with a smirk.
Blood, blood and more blood.
Hiroto stared at his hands, eyes glazed as he took in the slick red smeared across his fingers.
What was he doing?
---
Tora stood there staring at the stolen pickup truck, red caked orange dirt.
He always knew the quickest way to find him.
He always knew the easiest way to make him hurt.
Tora knew this was a test, just like all the other ones before it. But this was different. Hiroto was different, and this time he couldn't just let it slip.
"You stole what?!"
"I don't know. I don't know! I just... I just don't know," Hiroto voice cracked and ended in a soft whisper.
"Just tell them it wasn't me. Please?" His eyes were pleading, persuasive, dark, strange.
"It's not that easy," Tora hissed, brushing the other's fingers off his arm. He didn't know what to do anymore, this was more than a cry for help, the need to be free.
Hiroto was out of control."
"Bang," Hiroto whispered, finger pulling the trigger.
"People change."
Tora tugged the other close, whispering in his ear. "Why?"
"They just do," Hiroto smiled, toes digging in the sand. "See those?" He pointed at the sharp arcs and dipping sand dunes. "Out here they change every day... Just like people..." He pulled away to face Tora. "With the wind."
He hugged his knees, a shadowed wistful look Tora couldn't quite decipher.
It was a reminder of who he was now, who he no longer cared to be.
"Bang," Hiroto whispered as his head lolled to the side, skin on crunching glass, red seeping red. Gasping his last breath.
"Bang."
---
Dropping his pen Tora narrowed tired eyes on an already lengthy report.
Three officers killed.
Two-day manhunt.
Another attempt on an officer's life.
Suspect killed before he had a chance to shoot.
No known accomplices at this time.
Tora knew how to lie, how to tell stories and make up truths. What he didn't know was how to heal, how to get past this.
He'd done all he could, tried to make Hiroto happy, keep him safe.
But in the end Tora had been the one pulling the trigger, ending his life.
Hiroto only smiled, arms falling limp across his lap, clutching heavy metal that was empty. Had been empty. Not a single bullet left to shoot.
"Don't worry, don't panic, but if we get separated, if I get hurt, I need to know you have something to protect to yourself.
He wanted this, Tora tried to tell himself, eyes squeezed shut against the tears.
"People change, Tora."
He wanted it.
A/N:
Grrrr that was horrible, but I posted it anyways. I didn't know what to do with it XD
Anyways I hope everyone is doing fine ♥ Myself and tingedwords are working on fic-a-fying this album by Them Crooked Vultures XD It's a good album! So far she's done Reptiles and Elephants and I've done this (Bandoliers) and Dead End Friends.
EDIT: An extra side note in case you didn't know. Killing/attempted assault on an officer is a high offense in just about any country :\ Kill one officer and you'll have the entire law enforcement ready to shoot you on sight so... idk. Think about that.
EDIT 2: As an extra extra side note, for those that don't know, the Tottori Sand Dunes are one of the biggest in Japan. These days the people of the Tottori region are actually trying to stop the dunes from shrinking. Usually you hear about countries trying to stop the expansion of deserts and encourage the growth of vegetation, but since they are so rare on the island of Japan you will actually see volunteers out there picking weeds and grass, trying to stop it from becoming green with fertile soil... I forgot to add it into Bandoliers so I'll just say it here XD It's a bit ironic, but anyhow, some people go to the dunes to carve things in the sand, find spiritual cleansing in the way the dunes are always changing, etc. etc. so they want to preserve that history... Look it up, it's interesting :)
Archive