Up in Smoke: A Heisei Kumi Fanfic (6/36)
Author: ryosukekoibito
Pairing: Hikato, Chiitaro, Ariyama
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: Graphic Violence, Minor Character Death, Strong Language
Genre: Slice of life/Angst
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone.
Summary: After months of peace an attack leaves the Heisei Kumi reeling, and when an old enemy returns to the area reclaiming that peace starts to feel impossible.
A/N: The next installment in my Heisei Kumi AU, this one starts in the last days of December 2016 and continues on into 2017. If you'd like to read the other stories in this AU, please check out my masterlist. All Heisei Kumi fics have 平成組 next to their titles, to mark them as part of the AU!
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
All twenty-two of them made the trek back to the main house, the snow storm picking up as they pushed on, Keito cursing his ripped clothes and cringing as the wind bit at his injuries. It was a huge relief when they finally caught sight of the familiar chipped red paint of their front door, everyone spilling through and into the warmth with a collective sigh. Keito moved into the living room, getting out of the way as the unconscious Kaito-a boy who’s last name was Miyachika, Keito found out, as he listened to concerned murmuring-was lain out on the kitchen table, and a couple of other boys were sat down on chairs and couches.
Hikaru and Yabu began coordinating like they had the night of the Wakaba attack, despite Yabu sporting a noticeable limp as he moved around the kitchen. Keito moved to make himself useful after a group of people descended on their unconscious companion, and he collected some washcloths and ran them under warm water, passing them out to underling boys to clean themselves up, before he leaned up against the wall, his torso demanding to be noticed, pain shooting up and down his spine in constant streams, and he took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way he was shaking and see who he could help.
Miyachika was being tended to, Yuto, Taiga, and Yugo all hovering around him, talking as their hands worked. Ryutaro was being taken care of by Chinen, his tiny boyfriend already having cleaned the wash of blood from his face, and now was stitching him up. Daiki too was getting stitches, the older man sitting at one of the free kitchen chairs as Inoo stitched up a cut running down one of his arms. His injuries didn’t look to be any higher than a four, so Keito wasn’t really worried. Matsukura and Genta had taken up residence in the living room, the both of them sporting matching black eyes, and Matsukura had his hurt ankle in Genta’s lap, one of the other underlings-a boy called Ren, with a bruised jaw and split lip-handing Genta bandages to wrap the swollen and bruised ankle.
“Stone Prince!” Keito turned his head at the sound of his nickname, and he was surprised to see a boy whose name he didn’t know walking over to him, looking concerned. “You don’t look good, let me help you.” The teen said, and Keito shook his head. There were more important priorities right now. Like Yabu. He needed to be seen to, his condition looked much worse.
“I’m only a five or a six, don’t worry about me.” He said, trying to assure the teen, but the boy just frowned, eyes flicking down to Keito’s ripped shirt, to the gash on his stomach, and Keito tried to stand up straighter, but his wounds sent licking shards of pain shooting through his torso as he did, and he sucked in a hiss. Takaki stood from where he’d been crouched, tending to one of the underlings’ hurt hands, and at the noise his head whipped around, catching sight of Keito and crossing the kitchen at once, asking
“Keito! Why haven’t you been looked at yet?” Keito tried to shrug, but another bolt of pain ran through him at the action, and an involuntary whine fell from his lips. Takaki turned to the underling kid that had approached him, and said
“Kaito, get me a clean wet rag, gauze, and a sewing kit.” The teen nodded and hurried off, and Takaki asked, frowning
“Keito, how bad are you?” Keito let his head loll back against the wall, swallowing.
“Like a five or a six. I just have my face, and the usual. And I have two cuts that I think need stitches.” Takaki cursed, moving to help Keito stand without use of the wall, leading him to one of the couches before kicking Jesse and Juri off of it, letting Keito sit. As they moved, Keito asked “How many Kaitos are there?” Takaki would know. He and Yabu spent the most time with the underlings out of anyone in the house. Takaki shot him an unamused glance, but he answered the question, words coming from his lips as his fingers brushed over Keito’s bloodied face, looking to find where the blood was coming from.
“Four I think. The one helping us now is called Nakamura. Now, where are your cuts? The bad ones.” Keito gestured to his abdomen and his back, and Takaki nodded, taking in Keito’s ruined suit and pulling out his pocket knife, cutting through the jacket and shirt to show the wounds. He sighed when he saw them, and it was then that Nakamura Kaito returned, medical supplies in hand. Keito fell silent after that, the underling boy cleaning up his wounds, wiping away the blood, while Takaki sterilized and threaded a needle for his stitches. It turned out that he had a rather large scrape on his scalp up above his left ear, and Takaki had him focus on putting pressure on it to try and stop the bleeding while the older man worked on stitching up the gashes on his abdomen and down his back.
Stitches sucked, and Keito swallowed curses, eyes watering as he scrunched up his face against the pain, but he didn’t pull away, letting Takaki work on him, keeping one hand pressed against his head wound and the other one gripping the back of the couch. The process seemed to take forever, the others all working around them, boys shuffling or limping from room to room, helping each other, curses and words of comfort passed from swollen lips, and Keito did his best to keep quiet and be tough. He had been hurt worse than this in the past. He would be fine, no need to make a fuss about it. Finally, with a sigh Takaki finished his last stitch, and he ordered Nakamura to wrap Keito’s stitches and head wound, while he got Keito a bag of ice for his busted lips.
By the time Keito was all patched up it seemed that the underlings were pretty much ready to go back home, the boys all standing and gathering comrades under their arms, and within a minute or two they had gone from having twenty-two men in the house to ten. Keito wanted to help with the last of the patching up, but any time he made to stand someone saw him and scolded him, telling him to sit and try not to aggravate his wounds too much. Hikaru met eyes with him once across the space, his boyfriend listening to Inoo talking, looking very serious, but he spared Keito enough attention to shake his head, prompting Keito to sink back into the couch.
Ryutaro was deposited next to him by Chinen, the smaller man telling the both of them that they weren’t to move until after the meeting was over, his eyes full of concern. Keito pulled the ice pack away from his mouth to ask what meeting Chinen was talking about, but he didn’t get a chance, Chinen placing a quick kiss on Ryutaro’s lips before turning away. The meeting Chinen mentioned started after the last of them had been patched up, Hikaru helping a hobbling Yabu over to the couch, Ryutaro and Keito scooting to make room for him next to them.
Keito looked over his housemates as they all made their way into the living room. Yuto looked pretty good, the only visible injuries a minor scrape on his cheek, bloody knuckles, and a few bruises. Hikaru and Takaki looked like they’d fared about the same, much to Keito’s relief. Yamada and Daiki both had bandages down their left arms, and Daiki also had some wrapping his left thigh. Inoo’s hands and chest were bandaged up, and he had a swollen black eye, but Chinen seemed to be for the most part okay, a slight limp in his walk that Keito couldn’t see the cause of. They had fared pretty well all things considered, and he was feeling that the night had gone okay, when Hikaru opened his mouth, and declared
“Wakaba Ichinojo was there.” Keito felt his mouth go dry at the statement, and he didn’t seem to be the only one, Daiki letting out a string of curses and Ryutaro tensing up next to him. But a couple of their housemates didn’t react at all, and he realized that something had happened during the raid that he hadn’t been privy to. Hikaru was visibly tense, frustration written in the furrow of his brow and the clench of his jaw, and he took a deep breath, continuing on to say. “A couple of the underlings saw him in the fight tonight, as well as Inoo, and Chinen.”
Keito reflexively glanced over at Inoo, who was nodding, and Keito wondered for a moment if he himself had seen Ichinojo that night. He wouldn’t have known it if he had, he was the only member of their group that hadn’t been around the last time Ichinojo was in the area, but the thought that he could have come face to face with the man that had killed little Ozeki Kafu made his blood run cold. There was a moment of tense silence, and then Yamada spoke up, his words calm, but his hands were running along the handle of his katana, eyes fierce as he asked
“What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to heal for a few days, and then we’re going to find out why the fuck he’s returned, what the fuck he wants, and beat his ugly face in.” Hikaru’s words were met with nods and more muttered curses, and then after a pause their leader sighed and said “It’s been another long night. Everyone worked hard, and we’re all tired. We can continue this talk tomorrow.” Keito found himself nodding along in agreement, the acknowledgement of how tired they all were bringing his own fatigue to the forefront of his mind.
He hurt and he was exhausted, his head pounding, body tender, wounds still sending shoots of pain running through his torso at every small movement. He found himself just sitting there, watching as the rest of his housemates got to their feet, for the most part silent as they started toward their bedrooms. He didn’t have the will to move just yet. Keito let out a small whine, tossing his ice pack onto the coffee table, his swollen mouth feeling sufficiently numb.
Hikaru finally looked over at him, and Keito tried to muster up a smile, but it was hard to move his lips, and his boyfriend swooped in, pressing his own lips to Keito’s cheek, the touch feather light so as to not aggravate any of Keito’s injuries, and he ran his fingers over the bandage wrapped around Keito’s head, eyebrows furrowed. It was then that Keito noticed a couple of Hikaru’s fingers had been wrapped up together, and he reached up, snagging the hand from his face to get a good look at it. It had black bruising all along the joints, and it looked like he’d broken three fingers. Keito cleared his throat, asking
“How are you?”
“I’m a two or a three. Really, nothing to worry about Keito.” Hikaru assured him, and Keito nodded, taking a deep breath and yawning, feeling it pull at his stitches just a little, pain running through his chest. He winced, and Hikaru noticed, giving Keito’s hand a squeeze, before saying quietly “You should go to sleep. It’s late, and you need the rest. You need to go to bed and stay there for a few days.” Keito sent him a look. A few days? He really didn’t want to be confined to his bed. Hikaru seemed to understand the disagreement, and he just said “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?” Keito nodded, and he wanted to kiss his boyfriend, wanted to feel Hikaru’s lips against his own, but he knew that in his current state it wouldn’t go how he wanted it to, and so he just stood, running one hand over Hikaru’s cheek and letting out a small sigh.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” He said quietly, and Hikaru nodded, giving Keito a long affectionate glance before calling over Keito’s shoulder
“Yuto!” Keito glanced back, to where sure enough Yuto was standing by the stairs, watching and waiting, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I want you to help him to bed. And try to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself any more than he already is.” Hikaru’s words were met with a nod, and Yuto bridged the space between them, eyes on Hikaru as he spoke.
“I really wanted to talk with you, Kumi-cho.” Hikaru pursed his lips, letting out a small exhale, and he said
“Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, okay Yuto?” Those words seemed to satisfy their friend, and Yuto nodded, taking Keito and sliding one of his arms across his shoulders, careful not to bother Keito’s wounds. Keito gave Hikaru’s hand one last small squeeze, saying a quick goodnight, and then he turned his attention to tackling the stairs, and the ladder to his bunk, Yuto’s support a nice relief, before he finally collapsed onto his mattress, sleep taking him almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Despite his initial protests, Keito was confined to his bed for the next five days, his housemates bringing him his meals and checking on his wounds. Yuto was his primary caregiver, although Hikaru would come up and sit with him whenever he had time to spare, climbing up into Keito’s small bunk with him and talking, their tattooed shoulders brushing. During Hikaru’s visits things almost felt okay, Hikaru smiling and telling him about what the others had been doing in Keito’s absence. The topics of the Wakaba, Ichinojo, and the dead boys, were completely avoided when Hikaru was there. One afternoon however, when Keito was visited by Inoo and Daiki the conversation turned to Ichinojo.
They had been playing chess, Keito against Daiki. Keito’s pieces were being moved for him by Inoo, as he wasn’t supposed to be getting out of bed on his own, and the three of them couldn’t all fit on his twin sized bunk bed. They’d been speculating as to what the Kumi-cho was going to do about the Wakaba when Daiki muttered something offhandedly about bashing Ichinojo’s face in, and Keito saw his chance, asking tentatively
“What exactly did he do, before? What did I miss?” He’d been working up the nerve to ask that question for days, ever since New Years, and as the words left his lips he felt a little anxious. He rarely asked about anyone’s past. His housemates all had skeletons in their closets, secrets and dark things they didn’t want to talk about, and Keito tried to respect their privacy, letting them tell him if they wanted but mostly staying out of their business. But this was different. This was something they had all gone through together, something that had happened before he’d become a part of the kumi, and he wanted to know just what they were facing now that Wakaba Ichinojo was back in the area.
“Hikaru didn’t tell you?” Inoo asked, clearly surprised. Keito shook his head. Daiki sighed. They fell silent for a moment, Daiki moving his rook across the chessboard. It was Inoo who finally spoke, leaning back and looking up at Keito through his bangs, his bruised eye squinting up at him through his swollen flesh. “Ichinojo was the Kumi-cho for the Wakaba back when we first joined, but we haven’t seen him around since 2006. He…he’s brutally aggressive, and has little to no sense of empathy, from what we can tell. He’s the one that allowed Kamiki to keep Yamada as a prisoner-”
“Ryosuke was a fucking slave.” Daiki interjected, his fingers fiddling with the skull necklace he always wore, eyes dark. Inoo nodded, conceding Daiki’s point.
“-slave. But, the main thing is that he’s the one that murdered Taiyo. He shot him during a battle.” There was a long silence, Keito putting the pieces together, remembering the first time Hikaru had told him how Taiyo had died. He hadn’t mentioned who had killed the former housemate, but that action would definitely garner the hatred he saw reflected in his housemates’ faces whenever Ichinojo was mentioned. “We haven’t seen him since the night he killed Taiyo. He just kinda disappeared after that.” Inoo finally said, and Daiki snorted.
“I’d hoped the fucker had died. Painfully.” Inoo sighed, running a hand over his face.
“Yeah. I’d kinda thought Shoon had killed him and just never said anything about it. He never talked about who he killed.”
“He fucking should have killed him.” Daiki snarled, visibly upset, and Keito watched as Inoo treated Daiki to a bittersweet smile, his tone calm and assuring as he said
“Well, maybe now we can do it.”
Next