Up in Smoke: A Heisei Kumi fanfic (14/36)
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! HI I FINISHED IT!!! I don't know if anyone still remembers this thing, but it's actually done now, and so I'm posting again! I'm so sorry about how long this took me, but this monster of a fic is finally done. It's gonna be thirty-six chapters long, and after this celebratory post I will resume my posting schedule of a new chapter every friday! I'm dedicating this chapter to butterfly5286, who has been amazingly patient and supportive, despite the fact that I left this thing hanging for so long. Love you babe. You're amazing! I am also going to actually attempt to back up more of my fic over to my Ao3, so hopefully that happens soon!
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
Hikaru’s promise to visit Yuto was trashed the next day, when just as a few of them were setting the table for dinner a man Keito vaguely recognized as a Wakaba underling burst through their front door, gun in his hand. Keito’s heart leapt in his chest, barely able to comprehend what was happening before the gun went off, a bullet hitting the wall over the stove, cracking into the tile with an ear splitting bang, having barely missed little Chinen’s head. It was then that there was another gunshot, closer to his ear, and the man’s body fell, hitting the floor with a thud. Stunned, Keito turned to see Ryutaro standing behind him, his hand still raised, gun level. The whole room was silent for a few moments, everyone in a state of shock.
“Is he dead?” Ryutaro asked, and Hikaru stepped over, looking down and nudging the Wakaba underling with his foot.
“Yeah.” Hikaru kicked the gun away, and it was only then that Ryutaro lowered his own, dropping it on the table and going to where Chinen was still standing by the stove. Hikaru looked up, surveying the room, and he asked “Is everyone okay?”
“What the fucking hell was that all about?!” Daiki growled, Keito looking over to see that despite the fierce words the small fighter looked rather ridiculous. He had thoroughly wrapped himself around his husband, Yamada only looking mildly annoyed by the thorough squeezing he was getting. His question was met with silence for a few moments, before Chinen’s face lit up with a stroke of realization, and he said
“Distraction.”
“Fuck.” Hikaru muttered, meeting Chinen’s eyes across the room. “You’re right. We’ve got to go. Now.” He was already moving, pulling one of his glocks out of his waistband and checking it over, stepping over the still bleeding corpse on the floor as he made for the door.
“Kumi-cho, what’s happening?” Keito asked, fear and confusion running amok in his stomach, tears threatening to spill over. Hikaru pursed his lips, pausing, his hand on the doorknob.
“The Wakaba only sent one man with a gun to attack us. Why would they do that?” Keito had no idea, the whole situation bizarre. “It was a distraction.” Hikaru continued. “If he had managed to shoot even one of us he would have done his job. We were supposed to be too preoccupied dealing with the dead and wounded here that we wouldn’t notice when they attacked somewhere else.” Keito finally understood. The underlings, they were in danger. Shit. Hikaru pulled open the front door, and yelled for them all to come on. Everything was dropped, weapons scooped up from counters and places at the table, and Keito was on his way out the door, adrenaline coursing through his veins, when Hikaru stopped him, and said
“Inoo! He’s still upstairs with Takaki. Get him. We’re going to need everyone that can still fight for tonight.” Keito nodded, trying to gain focus, to maintain reasoning and some semblance of control, and he turned back, going up the stairs in a rush, pushing through Takaki and Inoo’s shared bedroom doorway without thinking, a sharp blade cutting up the inside of the arm he’d had on the doorknob as he entered, a yelp falling from his lips. There was cursing, and he looked up to see Inoo standing there, his butterfly knife in his hand, a look of terror on his face.
“Keito! Shit. I thought you were the Wakaba.” Keito drew his arm in close, the injury stinging and burning, and he cursed himself for not thinking. Of course Inoo would have heard the gunshot, and the yelling, and would defend himself. He could have shouted beforehand or something.
“It’s fine, it’s-fuck-it’s fine.” Keito assured him, pressing on it, not looking too hard, not wanting to see just how bad the damage was. “But we’re pretty sure the Wakaba are attacking the underlings and we’ve got to go. The others already left. Kumi-cho just sent me to get you.” Inoo’s eyes were still wide with fear, his fingers stained red with Keito’s blood, and he turned, looking over at Takaki’s big bed, where their housemate was lying on one side, all wrapped in bandages from the fight they’d been in the day before, and Keito noticed for the first time that Takaki was awake.
“Go.” Takaki said, his voice rough, and a tear slipped down Inoo’s cheek, and he turned away from Keito completely, giving Takaki his full attention.
“But what about you? What if they come back and you’re here alone?” Takaki made a small noise, like an attempt at a scoff, and he reached out, putting one hand on Inoo’s own, and he said
“I’ll be fine. I’ll pretend to be dead or something.” The words had the cadence of a joke, but no one was laughing. Keito just stood in the doorway, debating wrapping something around his new wound, and Inoo went into Takaki’s bedside table, pulling a gun out of one of the drawers and handing it to the older man.
“Take my gun, and shoot anyone that comes through that doorway.” Inoo said, fingers fiddling with the handles of his knife. Takaki nodded, tucking the gun close to him, and after a moment’s hesitation Inoo leaned in, hovering over Takaki’s body before pressing a slow kiss to Takaki’s lips. Takaki kissed him back, raising one bruised hand to pull Inoo in closer, sweet desperation in the movements, neither of them making any move to pull away.
Keito felt rooted to the spot for a moment, watching his housemates, surprised. It wasn’t until Inoo climbed up onto the bed a little that he had the self awareness to leave, exiting the room, his mind racing. He’d had a conversation with Yuto weeks ago, Yuto insisting at the time that Takaki and Inoo had a more serious romantic relationship than they had been letting on, and at the time Keito didn’t really think much of it, but now that the evidence was right in front of him he was apprehensive. They had both been in love with other people for so long, it made Keito afraid that they were settling, or just clinging to each other because of the war. He wanted them to be happy, but there were too many ways that this apparent relationship could end in misery, and the more he thought about it the more it felt like just one more thing that could blow up around them.
He didn’t get much time to process his emotions however, as it was only few seconds before Inoo joined him at the doorway, and after letting out a shaky sigh the older man said
“Let’s go then.” Keito nodded, the two of them scurrying down the stairs, and out into the night. They ran the whole way to the underlings housing, and as they drew close they heard the sounds of a fight, and it was eerily similar to the fight on New Year's Eve. The fight that had started this nightmare. The sense of deja vu was unsettling, and Keito flicked his knife open as they rounded the last corner, already calculating just how much harder it was going to be to fight with one arm already in need of stitches. He was exhausted, and it hadn’t even started yet.
They turned that last corner and were thrown pell-mell into the fight. It was all yells. Screams and curses and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. All down the street doors were open, light filtering out into the street, illuminating red stains on the pavement and the glinting off of the steel of the boys’ knives. Keito was nearly run into by a stumbling underling boy, the kid’s hands covered in blood, and he jumped into the fight, grabbing the boy’s attacker by the throat and shoving him to the ground. He kicked at the Wakaba member’s chest a few times before turning to check on the kid, just to find him gone. Good. The boy must not have been hurt too severely if he’d managed to run away.
Inoo too was nowhere to be seen, the older man having already joined the thick of the fight, and so Keito moved to really get into it, his right hand dripping in blood, his left gripping his knife. He came up on Kouchi Yugo, the underling getting his ass handed to him a little bit, his boyfriend nowhere to be seen. That was concerning; Jesse and Yugo always stuck close together in fights, the two usually found battling back to back. Neither Yugo nor his opponent saw Keito coming, and Keito used that to his advantage, slamming a spinning kick into the Wakaba member’s legs, the man falling to the ground with a harsh thud. Keito didn’t give him a chance to recover, getting over top of the enemy and pinning him down, slamming his fist into the man’s face a few times, until he stopped struggling.
Pain rung up his injured arm as he hit the Wakaba man, and he gritted his teeth, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, but he didn’t get a chance to dwell on himself, because as soon as he returned to his full stature Yugo called out to him.
“Prince!” Yugo was doubled over, blood running down the side of his face, his whole body trembling, and Keito turned to him, asking
“Are you okay? Where’s Jesse?” At the mention of his boyfriend Yugo’s expression warped into one of grief.
“He-he was taken down. I didn’t want to leave him, but-”
“You’re done here. You’ve done your part. I’ll take over, you go.” Keito told the other man, and the relief on Yugo’s face was immediate. He nodded, and as he turned and ran Keito almost regretted sending him away. Yugo was a fierce fighter, and Keito liked having someone there to cover his back, especially considering that he wasn’t at his best. But Yugo was distracted, and he was already pretty severely hurt. Keito had hated the miserable look on his face. And so despite knowing it was to his own detriment he continued on without any support. The third opponent he came across got a few shots in, but he met the business end of Keito’s knife, and after that he went down pretty fast. The fourth one took forever to defeat, and in the end he had to head butt the guy, the act splitting open the cut down his face that had just started to heal, blood getting in his eyes, his own skull aching in the aftermath, and he knew he was slowing down.
The fight was one of the most overwhelming he’d been a part of in years. Between the stab wound he’d taken to his shoulder the day before, and the gash Inoo had left up his forearm, his whole right arm was near useless. He was favoring it, leaving a whole side of his body more open to getting hurt, and he could tell that he was moving slower, his aches and pains from the horrible attack just the day before making him sluggish, tiring him faster. He was more timid, fighting with caution, because he could tell that he wasn’t prepared for the fight. Still, he pressed on, looking through the faces for his housemates, hoping that they were okay. Hoping that he could find one of them while he was still okay. The more time passed, the less okay he was.
Keito had just tripped, stumbling and crashing to his knees, totally spent, when over the noises of fists hitting flesh and grunts and curses the harsh crack of a gunshot rang out, a bullet embedding into the pavement right in front of him. He jumped in surprise, a fresh jolt of adrenaline crashing through his veins, and he reached for his gun as fear hit him like a wall. There was a yell, and he turned to see Wakaba Ryuya standing across the street, a revolver in his hand, and it must have been him that had fired the shot because Yamada was standing behind him, his sword driven through the center of his chest. The whole street had fallen silent at the sound of the gun going off, and it was horrifyingly ugly to watch as Yamada slowly pulled his sword out of Ryuya’s back, his arms stained in his enemy’s blood.
The Wakaba member’s body fell to the pavement, mortally wounded but not yet dead, and almost as soon as he hit the ground Keito heard his name being yelled, the word so full of desperation that it made him feel even more afraid. The sound rang out over the unnerving silence, one last still moment, Keito pulling himself up on trembling legs and looking through the crowd of faces for the person behind the voice-Hikaru needed to know he was okay-before everything erupted into chaos. It was as if the death of Ryuya had put the Wakaba at a complete loss, the majority of them abandoning the fight at once, turning and running back toward their territory. A few contrarily seemed fueled by the loss of their companion, fierce yells and threats of death falling from their lips, and those select few chose two targets to direct their rage; Yamada, and Keito himself.
Keito noticed the moment that it happened. He felt the shift in the air, and he had a sinking feeling in his gut as eyes locked onto him. He was a mess, and he knew that if they all went for him someone else was going to end up dead. He adjusted his hold on the grip of his pistol, feeling it slide in his hand, slick with blood, his thumb hovering near the hammer, getting ready for the onslaught, but it never came. There was the sound of a gun going off somewhere to the right of him, and some yelling, and then Ryutaro and Hikaru emerged through the crowd, guns out. It only took one more warning shot to send the last of the Wakaba fighters heading for the safety of their own territory.
Keito could feel his heart racing, but the rest of his body was moving very slowly and it felt like minutes, not moments, before Hikaru and Ryutaro had made it to his side, Keito stumbling to them. His knees gave out, and he fell into Hikaru’s chest, exhaustion winning out. Hikaru caught him with tense arms, and he was talking but Keito wasn’t listening, too busy fighting to stay conscious. His body was heavy, his head pounding, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if maybe he’d lost too much blood, his face and arms slick with it. Hikaru’s arms were strong around him, and his leader was still talking, his voice an anchor, and Keito tried to latch onto it, to focus on the real world and not give in to the creeping blackness.
“-need you to stay with me here. C’mon, you can do it. You got this far, you can make it just a little bit longer. I know you can, Keito. Fuck.” Hikaru’s voice had a slight tremor in it, and it was muffled, Keito unable to hear it well with the way he’d pressed his face into his leader’s chest. He turned his head to hear better, and that one motion made Hikaru let out a long sigh, muttering curses throughout. There was a pause, and then Hikaru said “Did he shoot you?” Keito couldn’t get his mouth to work, so he just shook his head. Hikaru nodded, some tension leaving his shoulders, and he said “It’s over, but you can’t sleep yet. We’re not home.” Keito nodded, knowing that Hikaru was right. “Let’s get you a spot to sit down.” Hikaru said, and then he was picking Keito up.
Keito forced his eyes open, and he fiddled with his gun, shoving it back into his waistband with one hand, as he belatedly realized he still had his knife in the other, twirling the knife shut with shaking fingers so as to not accidentally hurt Hikaru. He looked up at Hikaru. He looked like he’d fared much better than Keito had, the only noticeable injury Keito could see a cut that ran along the bridge of his nose, blood running down his face. He reached up, wanting to look at it, and Hikaru must have known exactly what his thoughts were, because the older man said
“It’s fine. Really shallow. I’m only about a three.” Keito let his hand drop, eyes falling shut, not opening them again until Hikaru was setting him down on a couch, inside an unfamiliar apartment. “You stay here, and I’ll come for you when we leave, okay? Try to stay awake.” Hikaru’s voice was raw with concern, and Keito felt rather guilty for making his leader, the man he loved, sound like that. He nodded, and he even mustered up his voice, and promised
“I will.” Keito was asleep as soon as his eyes fell closed.
One second he was slumped on a ratty old couch in some underling apartment, and the next thing he knew he was home, and someone had a needle in his arm. It was the pain that woke him, sharp burning pain licking up his arm, and he jerked away in reflex as he came to, the action causing a tugging in his skin that was unnatural, as Yamada’s voice snapped
“Shit! Don’t move, stupid! Fuck.” Keito blinked, opening his eyes to see that he and Yamada were attached by a thread that was running through his arm, the needle on the end pinched between Yamada’s fingers. He frowned, not particularly happy about his situation, but Yamada smirked at him wryly, saying “Nice of you to join us. Now, give me back your arm. You’ve got a lot that needs stitching up, and it’s not going to sew itself.”
Keito wordlessly held his arm out to his housemate, Yamada getting back to work. He was visibly exhausted, moving slow, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his fatigue. Keito tried to stay still, his mind still orienting itself to where he was and what was happening.
“I fell asleep.” Yamada snorted at that, before sighing and saying
“Yeah.” There was another long silence, Keito watching Yamada stitch him up, trying to suppress the pain as the smaller man worked.
“What did I miss?” At the question Yamada hummed, thinking it over, his brow furrowing, and he finished the stitch he was working on before replying.
“It was kinda like before. Not as bad for the kids; the Wakaba didn’t bring their whole crew this time, so the underlings fared better overall. Still, you’re not the only one that got the shit beaten out of them. Inoo is just barely holding himself together, and Chinen’s leg is a wreck. And…” Yamada paused, plunging the needle into Keito’s arm once more as he spoke. “Three more underling boys died.”
“What?! Fuck. Who?” Keito could feel the fear bubbling in his chest, and his mind raced, flying back to what Yugo had said about Jesse. The grief that had been on Yugo’s face. ‘He-he was taken down. I didn’t want to leave him, but-’
“Iwasaki Taisho, Sugeta Rinne, and Abe Aran.” It was sickening and twisted the relief that Keito felt when the names on the list were only vaguely familiar. Keito just nodded, and they fell into a long silence, Keito looking Yamada over. He looked much better than Keito was expecting; only a few new bruises and knicks, some dried blood still on his skin, despite having obviously scrubbed most of it off. It wasn’t until Yamada was tending to the reopened gash down the side of his face that Keito said
“Thank you.” Yamada stopped, and the look in his eyes let Keito know that he understood that Keito was thanking him for more than the medical care. But then he nodded, the movement jerky, and he turned his attention back to Keito’s marred face, muttering
“Don’t talk while I do this.”
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