The Christmas Acquisition: A Heisei Kumi Oneshot
Author: ryosukekoibito
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst kinda...I dunno
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone. The end.
Summary: The Heisei Kumi raid's their enemy's base for the first time on Christmas Eve, 2005. They get a lot more than they bargained for... Basically this is the story of how Yamada came to the Kumi.
A/N: Two things. #1: This is probably going to be confusing unless you're familiar with my Heisei Kumi Universe, an AU in which JUMP are Yakuza members. I have written 4 other fics for this AU, 2 multi-chaps, and 2 oneshots. You can find them at my Lj, their titles are: My new Family, A Kumi-cho's Duty, The Kumi-cho is...me? and Gaining Your Love. Please take a look if you'd like! #2: This takes place in 2005 before Chinen, Ryutaro, or Keito have joined the Kumi yet, so they're not in the story. Also, this is before Taiyo dies, so he is in this fic! I hope you enjoy!
Shoon blinked, snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes, obscuring his vision as his fist connected once more with the young teenage boy's face. The enemy crumpled into the snow, already thickly layered on the frozen dirt surrounding the large concrete structure. Shoon ran toward the building, shaking the numb shocks out of his fingers as he went, his breath fogging out in front of him, mingling with the swirling snow. This was ridiculous, they hadn't even managed to get inside yet, and it was fucking freezing! He swore softly to himself, not even stopping as he kicked out, slamming the one kid guarding the door square in the chest and shoving him out of the way to wrench it open. He was disappointed. Apparently not only were the Wakaba violent, overbearing bastards, but they must be cold blooded, because they didn't have heating. You would think that by 2005 this wouldn't be an issue for an organized crime group, but perhaps he was setting his standards too high for these swine.
He barely had time to let the thought cross his mind when he was rushed by a foul looking young man, and he fell to his knees, bending back to avoid the fist thrown at him, ramming his elbow into the man's back as he stumbled forward, all of his weight behind his punch. Shoon pivoted, wrapping one arm around his enemy's shoulders to hold him still as he found that special spot near his neck, and with a quick jab he felt the man go slack, knocked unconscious immediately. He heard movement behind him, off to his left and he spun, fist swinging around and catching a girl with a knife right in the throat, sending her stumbling backward, crashing into a chain link partition that was blocking off their little area into a sort of room. There was heavy breathing behind him, the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly through the night's snow, and before he got the chance to react he heard a familiar voice call out
"Kumi-cho!" He turned, and in the light of the moon's reflection bouncing off of the snow he could see Yuto racing toward him. The youngest of their group, still not quite a teenager slipped inside, his chest heaving, lips blue with the cold. His knuckles were bloody, but he showed no signs of other injury, and Shoon sighed internally in relief. Yuto stared down at the figure crumpled in the doorway for a moment, but there wasn't time to explain. Shoon quickly dragged his body out of the way, and Yuto slammed the door shut, buying them some time.
"Where are the rest of them?" Shoon asked, afraid for them. They'd all pretty much scattered as the fighting had begun, and he hadn't seen any of them in five or so minutes. Yuto's eyes were wide, but between big gulping breaths he said
"I only saw Hikaru and Takaki. They're a bit farther that way―" He pointed to the left side of the building. "I saw them get in, they were okay, I think." Shoon nodded, grateful for any news.
"Yuto, stay here and guard the entrance, I'm going farther in." Shoon declared, and Yuto nodded without hesitation, eyes flitting quickly over the two unconscious Wakaba members on the floor. Shoon turned away from his housemate and ran, the hallways a labyrinth made of cold concrete and fluorescent lights running along the ceiling. He ran into a few more enemies, but it seemed that most had been drawn out of the heart of the building when they had arrived, and he was contemplating turning back around and going to find his companions when he turned a corner and found himself face to face with two boys and a girl, all lined up in front of a door, guarding it. Strange.
The girl lunged at him with a screech, and in the narrow hall he found himself pressed up against the wall, her fingernails raking harshly across his dry, chapped skin. It took him by surprise, but it wasn't really all that effective. She was small, young, and he lunged for her waist, lifting her up and throwing her back into her companions, and he felt his own hot blood trickling down his forehead. Her nails must be sharper than he'd thought. The boys cursed, pushing her out of the way and lunging for Shoon. They were both smaller than him, but they were intent, one of them wielding a knife nearly as big as his forearm, and Shoon felt the blade slice through his admittedly insufficient sweater, down his chest in a sharp, jagged path, his skin stinging and burning with pain, heart pounding as his flesh was ripped open.
He grabbed that boy by the wrist, twisting until he heard a snap, the boy yelping like a beaten dog as the blade clattered to the floor. Meanwhile however, the other boy had gotten his tiny hands wrapped around Shoon’s throat, and he growled through gritted teeth
"You can't have him, he's mine!" The kid's grip on his neck was too low to completely block his windpipe, but it did hurt, and Shoon released the knife wielding boy just as the girl literally jumped from the floor, punching him in the jaw, shock running through it as her little bones jammed into his freezing face. Shoon swung his right fist into the side of the one throttling him's head, feeling his knuckles connect with the skull, and the boy released him, tossed sideways into the girl. Shoon took the chance to lunge for the door, twisting the knob, his curiosity at the room's contents swimming in his mind as he gulped for air.
Frustration washed over him as the knob twisted uselessly in his numb, bony fingers, and he turned back to his assailants, knowing he had wasted too much time, and he slammed his fist into the girl's face, knocking her head back against the concrete wall of the narrow hallway, blood trickling from her mouth, and he took a few steps back from the door, slamming his whole body into it, forcing it open. It was dark, no lights or windows in the tiny little room, and it smelled of sweat and unwashed clothing and blood. He squinted into the darkness, trying to get his eyes to adjust, and there was a frustrated yell, the last guard still standing of the three stumbling into the room, shoving into Shoon from behind.
"I told you, he's mine!" The boy screeched, and there was a small whimper from an unseen living thing in the darkness at the words. Shoon kicked the legs out from under the boy, catching him in the chin as he fell to the floor, finally unconscious. Shoon listened for a moment for approaching footsteps, for any noise at all, but it seemed that he was completely alone for now. He felt along the wall for a switch, the breathing, now audible in the darkness making him jumpy. What if it―or he, Shoon supposed―attacked him? Finally, on the right side of the doorway he found it, flicking the lights on and turning around. The sight awaiting him was so unexpected, so shocking and disgusting that for a moment he froze, just staring.
The room was small, perhaps a three meter square room, a toilet squeezed into a corner of it. The rest of the room was taken up by a large bed, a cheap side table next to it. The bed's sheets were soiled, stained with patches of blood and sweat and numerous other, unknown substances. The thing that had caught him so off guard what was laying on the bed. It was a person. At least, he assumed it was. He had seen people starving to death on the streets, seen the signs of hunger etched into their faces and bodies before, but this person was so much smaller than those adults. Its arms, so thin, were up above its head, tied to the bed frame. His hair was a matted mess, long, ragged and black, splayed out across the pillow and his forehead. Was it a boy or a girl? He had assumed boy only because of the words said earlier. Its skin was so white as to be nearly translucent, and the clothes it had on were disgusting, ratty and riddled with holes and stains. Its chest rose and fell rapidly, and Shoon felt sick as he realized what he was looking at, understanding what the boy guarding the door had meant when he had said he's mine!
Shoon walked over to the bed, looking down at the figure. It was so small it had to be a child. Its shirt had ridden up its stomach, and it had bruises all along its ribs and hips, his skin stretched across his bones tightly. His cheeks were hollowed out, eyes sunken into his skull, but they were staring up at him, wide with fear and disbelief, and Shoon couldn't help but wonder just how long the kid had been kept in this room. There was no way he could leave the boy here, he decided. He leaned over it, reaching into his pocket and drawing out his knife to cut the ropes away from the boy's wrists, and he saw the kid wince, and he immediately stopped.
"Hello." He murmured, the child's brown eyes locking on his own and staring, unmoving. "I'm Shoon. I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" The skeletal figure on the bed didn't seem to believe him, just blinking, a heavy expression on its face, a tear slipping out from the corner of its eye and sliding down its sallow cheek. Shoon paused, at a loss. "What's your name?" He finally asked. The kid's tears started flowing in earnest at the question, and Shoon felt a sense of urgency. He needed to get moving. This whole thing had taken too long as it was. Finally, in a weak, raspy whisper the child said
"Ryosuke. Yamada Ryosuke." So it was a boy then. He nodded, trying to be soothing.
"Yamada-kun, I'm going to cut you loose and get you out of here. Okay?" Yamada didn't give him any signs that he had agreed to this plan, or trusted Shoon to keep his word, but when Shoon pulled the knife back out of his pocket he didn't react, letting Shoon slip the blade under the coils of rope around his wrists, sawing him free. The rope pulled away bloody, and the boys wrists had been rubbed raw, all of the skin gone where the ropes had kept him restrained on the bed, the wounds open and festering. Despite his newfound freedom of sorts Yamada simply lay there, too weak to even lift his arms from where they lay above his head.
Shoon scooped him up, pulling his tiny, too light frame tight to his body, pressing him into the gash on his chest, pain spiking though the wound at the agitation. He gritted his teeth against it, and with wide steps he exited the room, stepping over the unconscious bodies and taking off at a light jog, fear starting to swallow him. He hadn't seen or heard from any of his Kumi in over ten minutes. He hadn't seen any of them in the heart of the building. At least, he assumed this was the heart. He wasn't quite sure, if he was being honest. He pressed on, faster, anxious to see them.
Finally, finally, he heard the sounds of fighting up ahead, and once he got close enough he saw Daiki and Inoo. Inoo was in a knife fight with a small, broad shouldered boy, while Daiki, tiny, ferocious, terrifying Daiki, was brawling with three boys, all of them nearly twice his size. He was holding his own, his fists strong, and as Shoon approached Daiki managed to get one of them down, and he slammed a foot down on the enemy's throat, leaning down and slamming his fist into the fallen guys face over and over, blood spraying all along Daiki's hands and face. It was brutal and relentless, and Shoon felt a shiver run down his spine.
"We're moving out! Where are the others?!" He yelled, catching their attention. He pulled Yamada to his chest as Daiki obliterated the rest of his opposition in a matter of seconds, taking out Inoo's assailant and leaving them alone.
"They've all pretty much retreated to the edge of our territory, Kumi-cho! We were just looking for you!" Inoo declared. Daiki pointed to Yamada.
"What the hell is that?!" Shoon's mind raced for a good reason for taking someone with them. Daiki hadn't seen what he'd seen. He, and some of the others, might not accept his decision to rescue the boy.
"Hostage." Shoon declared. Daiki nodded, and Inoo raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Good idea."
"Let's go." Shoon said, pulling Yamada closer to his chest, holding back a whimper of pain as he did so. They were all moving, Daiki taking care of any threats to their retreat, and they burst through the door, wind striking their faces, snow whipping violently through the air as they ran it into the night. The cold seized his chest and made it hard to breathe, but they kept on running, all of them, out into the dark streets, and they didn't stop until they saw a familiar mass of bodies up ahead. The others. Thank god. Shoon scanned the figures, counting. Yabu, Hikaru, Yuto, Taiyo, and Takaki―five. Plus himself, Daiki, and Inoo. That was everyone. He felt relief wash over him. If they were all standing, they would be fine.
They caught up, and wordlessly they made for their home, trudging through the snow slicked streets, all of them freezing and exhausted. There were murmured questions about Yamada's presence, but Inoo and Daiki told the others that it was a hostage, and they all left it at that. They burst through the door, flicking on the lights, and they were greeted with warmth, the heater on full blast. They tumbled into the living room with groans, moans, and curses, their Christmas tree bright and glowing in one corner, poorly wrapped gifts spread out from under it in a dangerous web. They all looked exhausted, their bodies slick with sweat, melted snow and blood, their lips blue from the cold, and they were shivering, scrunching up on the couches to share body heat.
Shoon set Yamada down on the corner of the couch closest to the tree, and the little boy curled up, pulling his knees close to him, his back up against the cushions. Yuto sat next to him, staring a bit in morbid curiously at Yamada's rail thin figure. Now that they were all home and safe, the adrenaline wearing off, Shoon felt his own pains. His jaw ached, his joints sore, his knuckles pulsing with pain. His chest stung and burned whenever he so much as shifted his weight, the pain hot and strong. But before he would tend to himself he had to take care of the youngsters.
"Injury status. Yuto?" The youngest of the group at the mere age of twelve shook his head.
"I'm fine. A bruise or two, I may be developing a black eye, but..." He shrugged. Shoon nodded.
"Takaki?" Takaki was the newest addition to the Kumi, having joined only a few months prior, in August. He had a spectacular split lip, and he was already developing reddish bruises along his cheekbones, but he said despite a few minor cuts on his forearms he too was okay. Daiki and Inoo both were fine, despite the ridiculous amount of blood they had on their hands and smeared down their shirts. Yabu brushed off his question with a quick wave of his hand, the skinny fifteen year old digging in their medical kit for bandaids and ointment and gauze and all sorts of things, laying them out on the coffee table.
"Taiyo?" Shoon asked, turning to their tallest member. Taiyo flashed him a big, dorky thumbs up, flicking his bangs out of his eyes to reveal a bloody gash running from his crown down to his left eyebrow.
"I'm fine Mayo." Taiyo announced, but Yabu turned and gasped, whining at his friend at once.
"No you're not, you idiot! Hold still!" The older teen ran into the kitchen, coming back with a stack of wet washcloths. "Let's clean ourselves up so that the Kumi-cho knows you're not all hiding cuts under your bangs, okay? Everyone take one." He passed the washcloths around, he himself tending to Taiyo's wound. It wasn't as bad as it looked. It was a small, shallow cut; it had simply bled a great deal.
"Hikaru?" Shoon asked. Hikaru's mouth was set in a frown, and he was holding himself oddly, cradling his right arm a bit.
"I think I need some stitches." He announced, and the bottom dropped out of Shoon's stomach, fear enveloping him. Hikaru was seriously injured?! "I'm fine except that they got me pretty good on this side of me over here." Hikaru gestured to the right side of his neck and shoulder area, and sure enough there were some deep, ugly cuts in his flesh, things that would definitely need stitches. Hikaru immediately returned the question, the only one to do so, the only one to even consider that Shoon too may have managed to get hurt.
"How are you, Mayo?" Shoon tried to play down his injuries, but as soon as he mentioned the cut on his chest Inoo and Takaki whipped out their knives, slicing up his clothes and peeling them away from the wound to get a good look. It was worse than Shoon had been hoping for, the gash deep, running down his chest diagonally, about ten centimeters long. Damn it. It looked like he too would be receiving stitches. Throughout all of this Shoon couldn't help but notice that Yuto had started talking to Yamada, the little boy murmuring to their intruder gently, and Yamada seemed to actually be responding. It was amazing to see.
Once Taiyo's cut was cleaned and bandaged Yabu immediately went to work on Hikaru. His sewing skills still weren't the prettiest, the stitches rather haphazard, but he got the job done, and then he moved on to Shoon. As he worked Hikaru asked
"So, what's with this kid, huh?" He nodded over at Yamada. Shoon decided to stick with his lie.
"He's a hostage." Perhaps he kinda was. Shoon wasn't really sure what he was going to do with Yamada.
"So we kidnapped a Wakaba member?" Takaki asked. Yuto shook his head violently.
"No. He's not one to them."
"Bullshit." Inoo muttered. "He's tricking you." Yuto frowned.
"He was being held captive by them. He never was allowed to leave their base." Daiki scowled at Yuto.
"How do you know? Are you just gonna take the little fuckers word on it?" Yuto scowled right back, obviously convinced he was right and annoyed with all of the questions.
"I know because the first thing he did when he finally opened his mouth was to ask me what year it was." Yuto raised his eyebrows triumphantly at them. "Why would anyone ask that question unless they'd been cooped up for so long that they'd lost track of time? He's no Wakaba." Shoon felt sick. The poor kid had been kept in that room for so long that he didn't know what year it was? That was disgusting. They all fell silent, staring at Yamada, taking in his tiny, malnourished body, and Taiyo nodded.
"I think Yuto's right. Besides, he's not going anywhere. Look at him." Daiki obviously didn't like it, muttering curses under his breath, but Inoo had a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he didn't protest Yuto's declaration any more than that. Yuto caught Shoon's eye, and Shoon nodded, a small smile growing on Yuto's lips. Yuto turned his attention back to the little sack of bones next to him, and Yabu finished up Shoon's last stitch, cutting the thread and returning his supplies to the first aid kit.
"What are we going to do with him?" Hikaru asked. "If he's not one of theirs I doubt they'll come looking for him."
"Well we can't just turn him out into the streets Hika; he'd die in a day." Inoo said.
"We could leave him at the hospital, I guess..." Yabu suggested.
"How're we gonna get close enough to the hospital and not get caught to dump this guy on the doorstep?" Takaki muttered. Yuto frowned.
"I want to keep him."
"They may actually come for him―they were protecting him when I found him. If he is important enough to guard then he's probably important enough to come and look for." Shoon said, sinking to the floor, sitting by the coffee table, weary.
"So we're keeping him?" Taiyo asked, and despite a frown from Takaki, and a growl of dissent from Daiki, Shoon nodded. That poor kid needed to be patched up. Yabu yawned, his jaw stretching to its limit, face scrunched up, reminding all of them that it was late.
"What time is it?" Shoon asked, and Inoo stood, ducking into the kitchen to check the clock.
"It's 1:47." He announced. A grin spread across Yuto and Taiyo's faces almost immediately.
"It's Christmas!" Yuto announced, grinning. Shoon couldn't help but smile at the childish innocence on their faces. All of them seemed to lighten up just a bit at the realization of the holiday, and Taiyo stood up from his spot on the couch.
"We should take a commemorative picture! It's Takaki's first Christmas, plus it’s our first raid of the Wakaba, and our first..." He gestured to Yamada. "...hostage―thing. It's a big day." Takaki groaned, and Hikaru sunk further into the couch, everyone looking weary. Shoon just shrugged. He didn't honestly care. If Taiyo wanted to take a picture then they could.
"I'll get the camera." Taiyo announced, his long legs carrying him swiftly into Shoon's office, and moments later he reappeared with Shoon's camera and tripod, a fancy thing, it had been a present from some of the boys a few years previously. It was one of his most prized possessions. Taiyo set it up, and as he did there were some more groans of complaint.
"Do I have to fucking smile for this?" Daiki asked, glaring at Taiyo's back. Shoon shook his head.
"No. You can be as miserable as you want. And how about after this we all go to bed. When we wake up we can open presents and do all of that type of shit." His propositions were met with nods, and he grinned. He had such good kids. Once Taiyo had the camera set up he hit a button and said
"Look, quick! It's going to go off in three, two―" There was the click of the shutter, and they all sighed, all of them immediately standing, with moans and groans, and with murmured "Good night."'s they all tromped up the stairs. It had been a long evening. Shoon stared down at the skeletal little boy, the new acquisition staring back up at him, still curled up in his little ball.
"Stay right there." Shoon said, fetching blankets and a pillow from his own bed, tucking them all around the tiny boy's frame. In silence he cleaned and dressed the raw spots along Yamada's wrists. Yamada whimpered quietly throughout the process, but he didn't pull away, and once they were all bandaged up he relaxed into the blanket, eyes fixed on the Christmas tree, its lights bringing a warm glow to his face.
"I'll get you some food." Shoon murmured, getting to his feet. He quickly heated up some leftover soup, putting a tiny amount into a bowl, and Yamada sipped it until it was gone, gesturing to the empty bowl, murmuring
"Please." Shoon took the bowl and set it on the table, smiling in understanding.
"You can have more in the morning. Your stomach isn't used to a lot of food. Let’s see if you can keep that little bit down first." He smiled, brushing some of the boy’s hair out of his eyes, hoping that he could somehow bring some comfort. "I promise you'll get some more, Yamada-kun." Yamada nodded, but he stared longingly at the empty bowl. Shoon squatted down next to the couch, so that they were eye level.
"How old are you, Yamada-kun?" Yamada frowned, and Shoon could see the wheels turning in his brain.
"It's 2005?"
"Yes."
"I'm twelve." The same as Yuto. Shoon smiled at him.
"Well, welcome to the Heisei Kumi, Yamada-kun." Yamada nodded. Shoon stood, ready to go to bed, satisfied that Yamada wasn't going anywhere. A small hand reached out, stopping him.
"Thank you." Yamada murmured, and tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes, silently running down his cheeks. Shoon gently wiped them away, and he said
"Merry Christmas."