Up in Smoke: A Heisei Kumi fanfic (15/36)
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 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14
Keito ended up falling asleep in Yuto’s bed that night. After Yamada had patched him up he’d lain there on the kitchen table while his housemate packed up the first aid kit. Daiki came down the stairs just as Yamada finished, announcing that Inoo was in bed. None of the others were downstairs. Hikaru was nowhere to be seen. It was quickly explained to him that Hikaru was still with the underlings, not expected home for some time. Keito himself was a mess, the whole right side of his body a muddle of bruising and bandages, and after some assurance that Hikaru himself was okay, and that no one in the house had been hurt too badly he trudged up the stairs, the effort it took almost embarrassing.
He didn’t even attempt climbing the ladder into his bunk, instead crashing face first into Yuto’s pillow. It smelled like his friend, and it was rather comforting, considering the duress he had been under the last two days. Despite the worries he had-worries about Hikaru, about the underling boys, about the rest of the house, and how Yuto was doing in the hospital-his body gave into sleep quickly, his exhaustion winning out over his overactive mind. He was only asleep for a few hours before he was woken up by a hand on his shoulder, and he reflexively reached for his knife, eyes snapping open. It was still dark, but it wasn’t hard to make out Hikaru’s form in the black.
“Hey Keito. You okay?”
“Shit.” Keito cursed, reaching out for his boyfriend with his left hand, grabbing Hikaru’s forearm and tugging on it. “C’mere.” Hikaru climbed into the little twin sized bed with him, the two of them barely able to fit. Hikaru was pressed up against him, half on top of him, and despite how hurt his body was, it was exactly what Keito wanted. “Are you okay?” He asked, already starting to fall back asleep, and he felt Hikaru’s breath in his ear, as he said
“I’m fine.”
Keito woke up ten hours later to find himself in bed alone. His whole body was sore, some spots aching and swollen, while others burned with pain when he moved. It fucking sucked, but he clambered out of bed and down the stairs, his need to know their current status getting him up and moving. There were three people sitting around in the living room, and it took Keito a moment to register that one of those people wasn’t supposed to be there, his brow furrowing in concern and confusion as he said
“Hey Yabu.” Their second in command turned from his conversation with the Ariokas, promptly frowning when he caught sight of Keito, and he said
“You look like shit.” Keito snorted, flopping down on the couch as he asked
“What the hell are you doing here?” Yabu shrugged, leaning forward, eyes raking over Keito’s bandaged up body and cut up face, assessing his injuries as he spoke.
“I came back this morning. Yuto is stable and going to be released tomorrow, so I decided to come home, see you bastards, and maybe sleep in my own bed tonight. Besides, Yuto can handle himself and I thought you might need me more here.” There was a pause, Keito breathing a sigh of relief at the thought of Yuto’s discharge, before Yabu continued. “I was right, you people are a fucking mess.” There wasn’t nearly enough snark in that remark for it to be taken lightly, and Keito just nodded, pursing his lips. They could really benefit from having their second in command back in the house right now.
“How is everybody? Where are they?” This time it was Daiki that answered Keito’s questions, running through the rest of their housemates from his place sprawled out on the couch, his head in his husband’s lap, arms wrapped around Yamada’s waist in an awkward hug.
“Inoo-chan and Takaki are both in Takaki’s big bed. They’re awake but they’re not allowed to be up and about. Ryu just took some food up to Chinen. We’re pretty sure he hurt his ankle worse last night, little fucker. It’s potentially broken, so we’re trying to keep him from using it. He’s not being very cooperative. And the Kumi-cho has been in his office all day. He got a phone call sometime around nine this morning and he’s not come out since.”
“Do you think I could see him?” Keito asked. Yamada shrugged, his fingers carding through Daiki’s hair. He looked bad, like he'd been crying, his posture radiating discomfort. Daiki squeezed him a little, burying himself into Yamada’s lap a little more, and it seemed to help just a bit. Daiki answered Keito’s question a bit more thoroughly than the shrug did.
“The only person that he’s allowed in has been Yabu, but I think he’d be glad to see that you woke up, and that you’re on your feet.” Keito turned to Yabu, weighing Daiki’s words, and the older man nodded silently in agreement. It was with great effort that Keito got back to his feet, his sore body aching in protest, joints throbbing as he pulled himself off of the couch. He shuffled to the Kumi-cho’s office door, knocking quietly, and the others on the couch sat in silence, listening to see what would happen. There was a pause, and then through the wood Keito heard their leader call out
“Come on in, Keito.” Keito pushed the door open, finding Hikaru sitting at his desk, phone up to his ear, planners and papers scattered across the surface of his desk, a horrible, broken look on his face. His expression wasn’t the only thing on his face however, Keito gasping when he caught sight of a long gash that ran at an angle up from under Hikaru’s right eye, across the bridge of his nose before cutting through his left eyebrow. It was scabbed over but it looked ugly, the surrounding flesh black and blue, his jaw patterned in matching colors. The injuries looked like they hurt, and Keito frowned, trying to examine Hikaru’s condition with his eyes as he made his way over to the desk, and sat down in one of the chairs facing it.
Hikaru didn’t really acknowledge that he was there, too consumed with whatever his phone conversation was, some sort of preparation for an event, judging on the bits Keito heard, and it wasn’t until after he hung up the phone that he really looked at Keito, and it was then that Keito realized that their leader was on the verge of tears. It took Keito by surprise, and he reached out for Hikaru on instinct, grabbing the hand that was still holding his cell phone and giving it a squeeze as Hikaru said
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Keito looked down at the hand he was holding, his attention caught almost immediately by the paper they were resting their hands on. It was rather crumpled, and Keito’s eyes caught on the words, written there, a list: Ozeki Kafu, Takahashi Yuto, Kaneda Yosei, Kawashima Noel, Igarashi Reo, Sugeta Rinne, Abe Aran, Iwasaki Taisho, Kanasashi Issei. He felt a weight drop into his stomach when he realized what the list was; the names of all of the boys that had died since this war with the Wakaba had begun. It was sobering, and Hikaru noticed, speaking quietly, voice grave, resigned and broken and awful.
“That last call was the crematorium. I need to call Hokuto back, get him up to speed, and start looking for any family members for the four boys that died. We need to see if we can send their ashes to their families.”
“Wait. Four? Yamada said there were only three.”
“Kanasashi Issei didn’t make it through the night. Hokuto called me this morning with the news.” Hikaru paused, a tear rolling down his cheek. “He’d just turned thirteen.” Keito didn’t know what to say, and so after a beat he just murmured
“I’m sorry.” Hikaru nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath, before pulling his hand back and setting his phone off to the side, slumping in his chair.
“Yeah, me too.” There was another long silence, Keito leaving his hand out on the desk, eyes on Hikaru’s face, the defeat and the grief tangible in the air, and he struggled for the right words, wanting to fix this somehow. To make it even a little bit less awful.
“It’s not your fault.” He said, Hikaru’s eyes flicking back up to look at him, all red and watery, his face a bruised and bloody mess, and Keito stood, leaning over the desk to press a feather light kiss to Hikaru’s lips, before saying again “It’s not your fault.” Hikaru looked back down at his lap, swallowing and taking a few deep breaths, before he said
“Let me see you, Keito. Where are you hurt?” His words were much lighter sounding than anything else he’d said that day, and Keito immediately recognized the question for what it was-a distraction. Something to let Hikaru forget all of the phone calls and decisions he still had to make regarding the corpses left in the wake of the Wakaba’s attack. Keito decided to roll with it, happy to be an escape for a little while, and the two of them compared injuries, fretting over each other’s physical health and completely avoiding any mention of the actual fight that had been the cause of their pains. It didn’t last long however, barely half an hour before Hikaru declared he had a few more calls he had to make, Keito’s stomach growling loudly to remind him that he had yet to eat that day.
The kiss Hikaru pressed to his lips was bittersweet, and it tasted of tears and coffee, Keito able to feel the stress and absolute misery in every brush of Hikaru’s skin against his own. But now wasn’t the time to address those emotions. Not when Hikaru still had work to do, and so Keito didn’t press, instead slipping back out of their leader’s office and making a beeline past his housemates still sitting in the living room, for the kitchen. It looked like Yabu had attempted to cook lunch. Their second in command wasn’t particularly known for his cooking skills, but Keito was too weary and hungry to care that he’d somehow managed to burn the rice, plopping down at the table and shoveling the food into his mouth.
The rest of the day was spent sitting with Yabu and the Ariokas, the four of them talking quietly and playing card games. It was an attempt at relieving some of the tension in the house, Yamada noticeably more upset than the rest of them, trembling and quiet, clinging to Daiki like his husband would fly away if he let go. While Yamada was definitely the most upset, everyone was worried about the state of their companions, shaken by the deaths that had taken place the night before. When silences fell over them Keito could feel himself getting upset, mind going over the last two nights, and if his own body wasn’t so beaten he would be out of the house, he would be checking in on the underlings, sitting with Yuto in the hospital, and making out with Hikaru. He would do more than just sit on the couch. As it was, he really couldn’t do much more than sit on the couch. And, with the others there, it was better than being alone.
That evening promised to return a little normalcy, Yamada, Yabu, and Ryutaro cooking dinner, with Chinen and Hikaru coming out of their bedrooms for the meal, seven of them sitting around the table. It was almost pathetic, the groaning and muttered curses of pain that fell from their lips as they passed the food around and got the table ready for dinner, but it was nice to see most of the house all in one room, the food good. They talked over the plan to pick up Yuto the following morning, and those words knocked some of the weight off of their shoulders, everyone perking up at the thought of having Yuto home again.
After dinner Yabu took food up to Takaki and Inoo, and Keito settled on the couch with Hikaru while in the kitchen Chinen and Ryutaro argued over which one of them was more capable of doing the dishes. Keito pressed his tattooed shoulder into Hikaru’s own, finding Hikaru’s hand and sliding their fingers together, and Hikaru gave him a quiet little smile, brushing a lock of hair out of Keito’s face, and it was the best Keito had felt all day. They sat in silence, listening to the younger men chattering in the other room, and it felt comfortable.
Eventually Yabu sat down with them, and it was then that conversation picked up, Keito sitting mostly silent, happy to listen as Hikaru and Yabu talked. He didn’t notice himself dozing off, but it must have happened, because one moment he was leaning his head on Hikaru’s shoulder, and the next he was being jerked awake by Hikaru’s body moving out from under him, yells and curses echoing throughout the house, and the fear in his housemates voices was something he was chillingly accustomed to. No. Not again. He pushed himself to his feet, looking up to see the a familiar group of Wakaba members pushing through the doorway. Fucking hell.
Keito was too tired, too drained and numb to be as afraid as he usually was, but he reflexively reached for his knife, already preparing himself internally for the pain he knew was coming. It had been Hikaru getting to his feet that had woken Keito up, the older man throwing himself into the fight with a notable rage, his moves rather frenzied, and Keito moved to back him up, the usual adrenaline beginning to run through his body as he watched Hikaru just barely miss taking a knife to the ribs. This was fucking bad. He tossed his knife to his left hand, feeling like an idiot when he realized he’d left his gun on Yuto’s nightstand after he'd woken up. He barreled toward Hikaru’s attacker, getting there just in time to dig his blade into the guy's shoulder as a kick from Hikaru sent him falling to his knees.
“Fuck.” Keito heard Hikaru mutter, and he looked up to see that his leader looked positively murderous, his gaze falling across the room, where by the front door a man Keito didn't recognize was battling with Daiki for control of a gun. It was apparent who the guy had to be.
“Ichinojo.” Keito’s statement was met with a terse glance from Hikaru, and Keito turned his attention back over to the guy, a little surprised. He knew by now that evil people rarely ever looked evil, but he hadn't expected Ichinojo to look so...ordinary. He was pretty average looking, aside from the bloodlust plastered all over his face, and Keito felt that he was having to adjust his expectations a little. That whole thought process barely took a second, Keito getting knocked to the ground, his knees kicked out from under him. He crumpled like a leaf, hitting the floor with a harsh thud that rang through his bones. There was a sharp kick to the side of his head, and he let out a whine of pain, flailing his arms out, blade whipping the air blindly, his eyes squeezed shut.
Above him Hikaru took out the guy that had knocked him down, Keito finally opening his eyes to see the older man kicking out, nailing the guy in the chin with his heel, blood spraying from their enemy’s mouth as he stumbled and fell backwards. Keito rolled over onto his chest, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He was moving slower than he should, and he knew it, but his body simply wasn’t capable of working any faster. By the time he’d gotten to his feet Hikaru had knocked their attacker out, and the leader returned to Keito’s side, his voice rather tentative and unsure as he said
“Here, we’ll work together. I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine, and we’ll both make it out of this okay, yeah?” Keito just nodded, already breathing heavy, before throwing his fist over Hikaru’s left shoulder, and into the skull of an incoming enemy. The momentum made him stumble a little, and his whole arm rung with pain when his fist made contact, but he stayed on his feet. That time. Honestly, most of the battle was him fighting to keep off the ground, failing, and then scrambling to get back up before he got too seriously hurt. Hikaru worked hard to protect him, but they were outnumbered, what with some of their housemates unable to fight, and more often than not that Keito found himself sprawled on the floor.
It was during one of his scrambles to his feet when he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Hikaru, and instead he caught sight of Inoo coming down the stairs. Inoo was a mess, his whole face black and blue, his chest wrapped in blood stained bandages, the skin they were able to see a mottled tapestry. He was supposed to be in bed, barely able to move due to his concussion, and Keito seemed to be the only one that saw him coming. Ichinojo certainly didn’t see Inoo coming, his back turned as he lunged at Daiki. It was then that Inoo struck, jumping the last few stairs and running his knife deep into Ichinojo’s side. Keito gasped, mouth hanging open, as Inoo let go of the handles of his butterfly knife to instead grip onto the banister, barely holding himself up.
Ichinojo turned, blood already beginning to run down his side from where Inoo’s knife was still driven into his body, and he cursed, grabbing Inoo by the throat. Keito shouted, fear hitting him like a punch in the gut, and as he yelled as a fist slammed into his skull, knocking him to his knees, his knife flying to the ground as he opened his hands to catch himself. He barely paid his attacker any mind, eyes locked on where Inoo was now pressed up against the wall by the staircase, his hands scratching at Ichinojo’s own, wrapped tightly around his throat, fingernails digging into the skin. Inoo was paling, his movements growing more and more frantic, and Daiki was screaming, and hitting, but Ichinojo persisted, unrelenting. Inoo’s body went limp moments before Keito took another kick to the skull, and his world went black.
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