Title" Murder II
Rated M for violence and mature situations

fact: a flock of crows is called a murder

Chapter XIV

---

Tokaji shouldered his bag, his cello case held tightly in his right hand as he took a deep breath, turning down the hall where the orchestra practice rooms were. The hall was dark, only a few doors were lit, the windows throwing small squares of light on the shadowed, linoleum floor.

It was late at night, after all, and most of the orchestras had finished. The only few left were the ones that were holding concerts soon. The O-5 had decided to practice later at night because they wanted their privacy. Whenever Shige was conducting, it wasn’t strange for someone to walk into the room and ask for advice—whether it was playing, conducting, or composing. It was odd, because some of the people were even professors.

But that just showed Shige’s amazing abilities, and why the hell did that make Tokaji proud? It wasn’t as if he had any claim to her, really.

He continued down the hall, counting the doors and turning to the right down a second hallway. Someone opened a door further down the hall just as Tokaji neared him, and Tokaji recognized him instantly…and wondered why the hell he’d gotten out of bed that morning.

There was no point in dealing with the shit that was to come.

Arinori blinked in surprise as soon as he saw him and his eyes narrowed in anger. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s time for Orchestra practice.” Tokaji jerked his head in the direction of the practice room.

Arinori’s jaw tightened in anger. “Excuse me?”

“I’m here for practice.” Tokaji snapped.

“You can’t just come in and practice whenever the hell you feel like it.” Arinori growled. “Being a part of an orchestra is a commitment.”

Tokaji rolled his eyes. Was he going to have to apologize? Because he wouldn’t. He hadn’t done shit. “Just let me get into the room, dammit.”

“You don’t understand how important this orchestra concert is!” Arinori blocked Tokaji’s path. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go in there and ruin things.”

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

“Don’t you understand?” Arinori yelled. “This concert means everything to Shige! You’re just going to screw it up! I won’t let you ruin Shige-san’s chances of studying in Vienna. I don’t know why she allowed you into the orchestra to begin with, you’re just giving her a handicap. Don’t you know what our orchestra is? We’re a collection of the greatest young musicians in Japan. Why the hell should you get a chair here, huh. Don’t you understand now why everyone is so fucking pissed off!? Huh!?”

“Chigiru is a great oboist. She’s been scouted across the country. That’s why she’s a part of this orchestra. What about you? What the hell can you say you’ve done?”

I’ve wanted this more badly than you could ever imagine. More than any of you can say you’ve wanted something in your entire lives. And it was such a pansy-ass thing to say so he didn’t obviously, but he thought it and it scared him. It scared him because it was true and he couldn’t understand why.

Why did he love music so much? Why did it frighten him that Shige would be disappointed in him? Why did the thought that he would be unable to ever play music again or see Shige again make his chest tighten and hurt as if he’d been punched in the gut?

“I need to do this.”

“Get out of here.” Arinori’s voice was soft, but forceful. “I won’t let you ruin Maestro’s chances. Ever.”

At first it pissed Tokaji off, because he felt as if maybe Arinori liked Shige, not just respect. And that, for some reason he couldn’t explain, made him want to beat his face in. But then he saw it, the look in Arinori’s eyes that told him he’d do anything for Shige in the same way that Tokaji would do anything for Tamao or Tokio or Tsutsumoto or even begrudgingly Izaki or Genji or the others.

So Tokaji’s voice was equally soft—damn that was apansy-assish of him, why the fuck was he like this?—as he spoke, “Just let me show you.”

Arinori looked doubtful—horrifically doubtful and determined not to let Tokaji get passed him. Tokaji was to the point that he was contemplating beating Arinori up, but he stopped as the door opened.

“Arinori-san, Maestro wants to know where you are—oh!” It was Chigiru, the oboist. Her voice squeaked to a high-pitched whisper at the sight of Tokaji. She quickly ducked back inside, and her voice could be heard explaining that Tokaji was there to who Tokaji guessed was Shige. There was silence afterwards, as Arinori turned to Tokaji.

“Come in.” He finally muttered. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Tokaji smirked, walking with him into the room. He stopped in the doorway, and his bag fell from his shoulders with a large thump to the ground.

Shige was wearing his jacket.

---

Nothing was more uncomfortable than the silent walk back to the apartment from the docks. Genji had practically wrenched the two apart and grabbed Izaki—just as he’d fallen unconscious—and carried him back to the apartment on his own. He’d seemed reluctant to leave him there at all without staying the night as well but he’d finally relented after Atasuke forced him to go back home.

Tokio and Tamao hadn’t talked at all that night, they’d gone to bed as soon as Genji had left and the awkward silence had been palpable.

And then Tokio had woken up that morning and realized he was very probably gay.

He somehow managed to take a shower and stumble into the living room after that revelation. It was dark, and Tokio guessed that was because he was the first one up. At first that scared him because Izaki was always the first one up until he realized that Izaki was probably sleeping, and he very well should be. They’d thought about taking him to the hospital—Tamao had been the largest supporter on that—but Tokio had told him that Izaki would be fine enough until morning.

He knew that Izaki was being defensive about it. He knew because he’d hidden his own illness for so long.

And he knew it wasn’t healthy and that he was going to corner Izaki the first chance he got and kiss—talk, talk to him about how he needed to get medical attention as soon as possible.

So he walked out into the living room and headed toward the windows. He pulled back the curtains and winced as sunlight streamed inside.

“Shit man! Close that fucking thing!”

Tokio jumped, startled, turning to see Tamao give a tired groan as he sat up from where he’d been lying on the couch. Dammit had he slept there all night?

“What the hell…are you doing there?”

Tamao yawned, not entirely away as he stood, scratching his back as he walked around the couch toward the window. “I was sleeping out here in case Izaki needed to go to the hospital…” And then he stopped, suddenly seemingly awake.

And he seemed to remember how awkward the entire situation was. He took a step back from Tokio and frowned, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at the ground.

Tokio swallowed. Oh god this was horrible.

And that was when Izaki walked out of the hallway holding Cupcake. He stopped as soon as he saw them before kneeling as he put Cupcake down on the ground. The little dog waddled toward the kitchen for food, leaving the three boys to their own devices.

Izaki slowly stood and held back a wince as pain shot up his body from the movement. He tried to ignore the glances of both Tamao and Tokio and how they’d both looked like they’d wanted to walk over to him when they’d seen him wince.

Izaki merely slipped on his sunglasses and headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Tamao finally bit out awkwardly.

Izaki turned casually toward the two. “Genji called. I’m leaving.” And then, as an afterthought—had he seen the panicked look in their eyes?—he said softly, “I’ll be back later.” He left without another word, and the two waited until the door clicked shut.

They didn’t talk for several more moments before Tamao headed toward the kitchen. “I wondered where that dipshit went to. He’s always in Izaki’s room…” He trailed off because the mention of Izaki made him remember the night before.

And the way the two had been when he and Genji had found them. What the hell had the two been doing? And talking about?

Tamao felt angry, angry that the other two had somehow become so close at school while he was left at home. Alone.

Had the fight before been a lover’s spat?

Tamao’s jaw clenched and he blinked furiously, turning his head away from Tokio.

“What happened?”

Tokio was silent before shrugging as he sat down in a chair, slinging a leg over one of the arms. He gave a small grin. “I got into some trouble and Izaki bailed me out.”

“He’s sick!” Tamao snapped, aggravated and hurt.

Tokio shrunk back a bit but his eyes narrowed in anger and be bit back, “What the hell? Are you patronizing me?”

“You let him go fight with you when he was fucking sick like that? And why the hell didn’t you let me take him to the hospital?”

Tokio stood abruptly. “He didn’t want to go! And I sure as hell didn’t ask him to help! He came on his own, ok?” The last thing I expected was for him to come to my rescue.

Tamao strode over to him, grabbing the front of his shirt. “He could have died!”

Tokio struck, and Tamao stumbled backwards, wide-eyed in shock. He held his cheek in shock. Tokio took a few shallow, quick breaths.

“When the hell did you ever ask about how I was, huh? Do you even fucking care!?”

Tamao stood. “Of course I did, dumbass!” He’d never called Tokio a name like that before but then again, Tokio had never hit him. “What the hell is this all about?”

“Fuck you!” Tokio hissed out, dragging a hand through his hair before he headed toward the door. “Seriously. Fuck you.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to see my mom. And I have classes today.” Tokio’s voice was back to a calm, normal tone, but it shook with suppressed anger and something else that Tamao couldn’t identify.

Tamao stood there, staring after Tokio. And then he slid down into a crouch.

“Fuck.”

He’d been screwing everything up lately, it seemed.

---

Izaki had always hated the thought of Genji being the head of a yakuza. It was a dangerous job and Izaki worried about him, after all. But there were several more reasons, reasons he discovered when he went to meet with him at his main office.

First he was patted down three different times to make sure he didn’t have any weapons.

The second and third times were completely unnecessary. He’d have gotten into a fight if it weren’t for Atasuke who’d come down to meet him and waved them off. He gave Izaki a once over.

“You’re l-looking b-better than l-last night.”

Izaki’s eyes narrowed a bit in confusion. He hadn’t seen Atasuke there the night before but he didn’t remember much…all he remembered was that Genji grabbed him before he was out of it. “Genji asked to see me.”

Atasuke nodded. “I’m s-sorry you h-hard to c-come here. I kn-know it’s hard for y-you but Takiya-san n-needs to be p-protected for the t-time being.”

Izaki stilled. “Is he in danger?” Was someone after him? Had Izaki been so absorbed with his own problems that he hadn’t paid attention to Genji’s? He felt bad now, worse than the aches and pains that racked his body from the fight the night before.

Atasuke shrugged, giving a small smile. “N-nothing m-more than the usual. B-being a yakuza l-leader is a d-dangerous job.”

Izaki looked down at the ground. “I wish he’d never become the head.”

Atasuke gave a small nod. “Me too.” There was no stutter this time, and Izaki knew it was his real voice and real emotions as he looked up into his face and saw—regret? What was Atasuke’s connection with Genji?

Atasuke led him to the elevator and the ride up was silent. As soon as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open Atasuke stepped out, motioning for Izaki to follow. Izaki looked around the floor in silent contemplation.

It didn’t seem like the type of place for Genji at all. Everything was businesslike and professional. This kind of place would stifle him if he stayed here too long. Genji liked the streets and being the boss of the Yakuza was forcing him to remain holed up, safe, not on the front lines where he loved it.

Atasuke knocked on a door at the end of the hall.

“Come in.” Genji’s voice was snappish and tired, exactly how Izaki had expected it to be. He probably hadn’t slept at all.

Atasuke opened the door and held it open for Izaki, who walked in feeling a bit uncomfortable. He stood in shock at the sight in front of him. Genji was sitting behind a lacquered desk…in slacks and a dress-shirt.

Genji gave a sharp nod and Izaki turned to see Atasuke do the same, closing the door as he left the two alone.

Izaki looked back at Genji.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Genji winced. “Just sit.”

Izaki smirked, walking over and slumping down into the chair in front of the desk. He leaned back in it, eyes closed. He felt Genji watching him but he was too tired to speak first.

“Are you feeling alright?” Gruff and uncomfortable, but Genji was never good with talking to people.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I just needed to sleep.” Izaki opened his eyes wearily and stared up at the spackled ceiling. “This place is nice.”

“I hate it.”

Izaki laughed and winced at the same time, the movement making his ribs ache. “Yeah.”

Genji merely leaned back in his chair, looking Izaki over. He was pale, but better than before. He seemed healthier now and Genji was relieved. It meant Kang-Dae was wrong and he wasn’t terribly sick, right? It was probably just a cold or something and the fight the night before couldn’t have helped.

Thinking of the fight pissed him off because it reminded him of how he’d found him.

“Any reason you were with Tokio?”

“I heard some guys talking about him getting jumped, so I went.”

“You didn’t call for help.”

Izaki shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d need it. We took care of them well enough.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” Izaki’s voice was strained now, a warning.

Genji ignored it. “Why the hell didn’t you answer your phone?”

“When did I need to answer it every time you called?” Izaki muttered. Why the hell was everyone so worried about whether or not he was fine? Tamao had become overprotective as well and it was pissing him off.

It pissed him off because he knew that it would only get worse from here and they’d get hurt even more.

Genji frowned. Izaki was getting defensive, but he’d kind of suspected it. Or rather, Atasuke had suspected it and told him—and that was awkward because he hadn’t known Atasuke had noticed anything in the first place—and because Genji could never understand people, no matter how close he was to them.

What had Atasuke told him to do now? Dammit…

“Are you going to class today?”

Izaki nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He closed his eyes again, still tired. “I have some this afternoon.”

“You should go see a doctor first.” Genji stood. “We can go now.”

Izaki’s eyes flew open and he gave Genji a flat stare. “I’m fine. I’m not going to see a doctor.” He slowly stood.

“You’re going to see a doctor.” This was not what he was supposed to do to keep Izaki calm, he knew, but he’d never been good at deflating a situation and he was the type that got to things directly.

“I’m leaving now.” Because this situation would get bad if it continued. Izaki took a step toward the door,

“Stop being so damn reckless.” Genji was getting angry now. The sight of Izaki bleeding and breathing so heavily and coughed and god there’d been so much blood! had made him infuriated and more than a little worried. Once Izaki saw a doctor and Genji knew everything was fine he would be able to stop worrying. Couldn’t Izaki see that?”

“Before you talk to me about being reckless, look at yourself in the mirror.” Izaki snapped.

Genji blinked stupidly. “What?”

“You’re a yakuza boss. People try and kill you every day. You’re constantly in danger.” Izaki clenched his fists tightly in anger. “Don’t talk to me about making stupid decisions.”

“This has nothing to do with—”

“It has everything to do with this.” He looked around the room. “And us. All of us.” Because he seemed to need to specify. “All of your friends, Genji.”

“I was going to do this from the beginning. Ever since I transferred to Suzuran. You never had a problem with it before.” Genji growled out. “You followed me and helped me obtain it, didn’t you?”

Izaki gave a shallow laugh. “Heh. Yeah, I followed…but I never wanted it from the beginning.” He’d hoped above all else that Genji would see that it was wrong, that it was too dangerous and he should stop. He’d thought after Housen he would have realized it.

“…what are you talking about…?”

“I wish you’d never come to Suzuran.” Izaki whispered—he was tired, oh so tired…

Genji’s eyes narrowed in pure fury, and his blood boiled. He moved before he knew he did, slamming Izaki against the wall. He heard Izaki let out a small cough but he ignored it—he was hurting him, he should stop, he needed to stop!—but he merely let out a shaky breath.

His face was mere centimeters from Izaki’s, and he stared down into his eyes. “I don’t regret this, even if I die.” Because I met everyone…I met you.

“You will die, you idiot.” Izaki whispered.

“Shut the fuck up.” Genji snapped, and he acted on his impulses once more and leaned forward, closing the distance between them as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t long because it was uncomfortable and he was afraid. He took a step back and they were both breathing harshly. Izaki was staring at him in shock and Genji was sure that his surprised look mirrored his own.

He hadn’t meant to do that. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the hell had he just done?

Izaki swallowed before he turned around and headed for the door.

“Izaki—” But the door slammed shut and Genji winced.

He let out a low groan, sliding down the wall, burying his face in his hands. “Goddammit…”

---

Izaki pushed past Atasuke as he walked down the hallway.

Atasuke grabbed his arm, turning him around to face him. “W-what’s g-going on?”

Izaki whirled around, jerking out of his grasp. He looked furious but something else as well, and Atasuke’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What happened?”

Izaki was silent, before he grabbed Atasuke and pulled him forward.

“If he dies, they’ll never find your fucking body.” And he shoved him away, stalking down the hall.

Atasuke stared after him in mild surprise before he gave a small smile. Obviously he’d never let Genji get hurt.

But to see that someone else was as worried as he was made it all the better.

It was good that his little brother had someone else reliable enough to watch his back.

Rated M for violence and mature situations
fact: a flock of crows is called a murder

---

Chapter XIII

---

Tamao shoved a middle-aged businessman out of his way on the bridge, not looking back as the man turned around and yelled at him.

“Hey! Kid!” But the businessman shut up the moment Genji passed, mostly because he was followed by several black-clad yakuza.

“Where do you think he would be?” Genji growled. “Fuck this…”

“C-calm down, s-sir.” Atasuke gasped, running beside the two, seemingly out of breath. “We c-can t-try and triangulate his p-position with h-his c-cellphone…”

“That’ll take too fucking long!” Tamao snapped, pushing past the glasses-wearing assistant.

Atasuke frowned.

Genji ignored them both, scanning the street frantically. Once he had met up with Tamao they’d begun a thorough search of downtown Tokyo. He’d already called the others. Tsutsumoto, Makise, Chuta, and the Mikami brothers were off scouring the streets as well.

They’d tried calling Tokio but he hadn’t answered his cellphone. That seemed to worry Tamao even more though Genji wasn’t sure why. All Tamao said was that Tokio and Izaki had disagreed about something the night before and it hadn’t gone over well.

They’d hoped to get Kirishima, Sugihara, and Honjo but the only person who knew their numbers were Izaki himself and Tokaji.

And well…Tokaji hadn’t been helpful at all. He hadn’t even picked up his phone. The only thing they got was an away message.

“This is Tokaji. What the hell are you calling my phone for? If I’m not here don’t leave a fucking message. I have fucking caller ID so I’ll know who it is. Dumbasses…”

“I swear…” Tamao bit out. “If Kang-Dae took him…”

“I don’t think so.” Genji muttered. “I don’t think he’d go looking for him.” He was trying to keep himself away from Izaki, wasn’t he? So he wouldn’t go looking for him…

Tamao didn’t look convinced at Genji’s words, and Genji only hoped he would have a little more conviction in his own as well. Because with the way Kang-Dae had spoken if he did find Izaki…

They needed to find him first, that was all there was to it.

---

Tokio ducked just as a metal pipe whistled past him. He slammed his fist into the man’s stomach, pushing him out of the way a second later so he could dodge the baseball bat of another assailant.

He let out a choked grunt as he was kicked in the ribs. He stumbled backwards a few steps, cursing. This was not good. He’d been fighting for too long and he was outnumbered. And they had weapons. Shit. Shit. Shit.

FUCK.

His legs buckled as a baseball bat came down on his back, throwing him to the ground. He gasped as his breath was knocked out of him, spitting up a mouthful of blood. Hands grabbed him, hauling him off of the ground and holding him still.

He struggled in their grasp but it was like iron, and his entire body throbbed, the bruise from the baseball bat burning like a brand.

Miyuki’s boyfriend smirked as he walked up to where some of his men held Tokio in place.

“Not so cocky now, are we?”

“Fuck you.” Tokio spit, then grinned. “But maybe not. I can see why Miyuki came to me.”

“Bastard!” The man punched him in the face and Tokio’s head snapped to the right. He winced, his eyes clenched shut as the onslaught continued. His stomach would be one giant bruise and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already broken a rib or two.

God it was getting hard to breathe. He coughed just as a knee sank into his abdomen. Among the shouts and curses and his own harsh labored breath he heard the door to the warehouse burst open.

Silence.

He slowly opened his eyes—the right was so swollen it was almost impossible to see out of it—only to see a shadowed figure, illuminated by the pier lights. He squinted, unable to make the person out.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

He recognized the voice instantly.

“…Izaki…” He whispered in shock. Why…would Izaki come save him? And how had he known to find him? After their fight the night before and what he’d said…it would be no surprise to him if Izaki would leave him there to die if he’d ever found out where he was.

“What the hell do you want?” Miyuki’s boyfriend snarled, turning to Izaki. “We’re busy.”

Izaki merely stepped into the warehouse and headed toward them, slipping off his sunglasses as he went, his bags placed neatly at the door.

“I asked you what the fuck you were doing you little bas—” Izaki’s fist connected with his jaw, sending the man flying backwards. Tokio elbowed the man holding him in the nose, fighting out of the grasp of the other one. A second later he bumped into Izaki’s back.

He turned briefly, breathing heavily as he noticed that Miyuki’s boyfriend and his gang was surrounding them. “We’re not going to make it out of here.”

“Fight back to back.” Izaki’s voice was cool and calm, but Tokio could see that his body was shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was from a fever, fatigue, fear, or excitement. He was breathing a bit hard, but Tokio suspected he’d run the entire way here.

He’d come to rescue him.

Tokio merely grinned. “Right. Let’s take these bastards out.”

Izaki gave a smirk.

The crowd lunged, and the fight started.

Izaki ducked and Tokio swung his leg around, his foot connecting with the man’s head, sending him reeling back into the crowd. Izaki came up from his crouch to give an uppercut to the man in front of him. He groaned, coughing up blood as he fell.

Another man came at him with a baseball bat. He dodged the first swing, grabbing the man’s hand and snapping his wrist. The guy howled in pain, dropping the bat. He was unable to put up his arms in time to block a punch to the jaw.

Izaki shoved him out of the way, turning just in time to see Tokio launch himself off of the back of one of his fallen opponents to send a kick into the chest of another. Tokio grinned as he landed, continuing the movement and punching another man in the stomach. He seemed to have inherited Tamao’s fancy for finishing off an opponent with a kick.

Tokio hopped back, gasping for breath, wiping the blood from his mouth—a well-placed punch had split his lip open. “They just keep coming!”

The two regrouped seconds later in the middle of the warehouse floor. A few of the men were lying on the ground moaning, unable to fight any longer.

“We just have to incapacitate them.”

“No shit.” Tokio muttered, snorting, dodging another hit. A baseball bat slammed into his stomach and doubled over in pain, gasping as his vision danced and pain exploded throughout his body. He felt pressure on his back as he was wrenched back and his place taken. As he blinked away the spots in front of his eyes he saw Izaki giving a well-placed judo chop to the man’s neck.

“Heh. I should have known you knew how to do more than just brawl.” Tokio snickered, before seeing a man coming up from behind Izaki. He really should have expected that Izaki could probably snap a man’s neck if he needed to. It was exactly the kind of thing Izaki or Tokaji would know.

“Dammit!” He leapt forward, grabbing a bat from a fallen ganster’s limp grip and taking out the other guy’s legs, slamming the bat into his stomach a second later.

Izaki looked around at the group of fighters still surrounding them. There were at least fifteen or so left that looked fit enough to fight well enough to be a threat. He and Tokio were both completely worn out and aching.

He stumbled as his vision swam. Dammit….not now…he silently urged himself not to faint, but at that moment when he wasn’t paying attention, Miyuki’s boyfriend came at him from his right, his fist slamming into Izaki’s stomach.

Izaki coughed, his breath leaving him in a painful exhalation. Miyuki’s boyfriend had been wearing metal-studded gloves.

Izaki doubled over, falling to his knees. He couldn’t breathe…oh god…he held his stomach, wheezing. Each breath made his throat burn, and a second later he bent over and threw up several mouthfuls of blood.

“Izaki!” Tokio had turned just in time to see Izaki fall. He dropped the man he’d been beating the shit out of onto the ground, heading toward Miyuki’s boyfriend. “Bastard…don’t you dare touch Izaki!” He didn’t understand the blind rage that welled inside of him at the sight of Izaki falling. He only ever got like that when Tamao was injured or when Genji had gotten into bad fights in junior high.

He pushed Miyuki’s boyfriend and he stumbled back in surprised at the force. Tokio’s fist connected with his jaw and he fell, Tokio landing on him. Tokio grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling his face up. He punched, and he kept punching, seeing nothing but a haze of red in front of him. His fist was drenched in blood and he heard Miyuki scream in the background but he didn’t stop.

Her boyfriend was making odd gurgling sounds, and he’d stopped struggling, hands falling limp.

Tokio lifted up his fist for one final hit, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. He turned around wildly only to see Izaki looked down wearily at him, shaking his head. Tokio took a few shaky breaths, looking around. The other members of the gang were either unconscious or in so much pain they couldn’t move.

“Let’s go…” Izaki whispered.

Tokio nodded, standing. He caught Izaki just as he began to fall, propping him up on one side. “You ok?”

“Yeah.” Izaki nodded gruffly, but he didn’t move from his position.

Tokio grinned. “Let’s get out of here.” He cast one look back at Miyuki, who was staring at the two in horror, before turning back to Izaki and leading him out of the warehouse.

---

The rooftop was surprisingly cold. Kuma stood at one end and Dong-Yul at the other. It was deathly silent, and both remained unruffled, as if they weren’t staring each other down on a deserted rooftop.

“What do you need?” Dong-Yul drawled casually, “I have a lot I need to do before tonight.”

“Stop.”

Dong-Yul blinked behind his sunglasses. “Hm?”

“Kang-Dae told you not to kill anyone, especially not Serizawa.”

Dong-Yul snorted. “I have things to do…”

“Stop it, Dong-Yul.” Kuma’s voice was colder than usual, a biting tone to his usual emotionless voice. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing strangely casual clothing, Dong-Yul noticed. Kuma always wore slacks and a vest at the very least if he wasn’t training.

“I don’t recall asking for your advice. You know as well as I do that in order for Kang-Dae to be happy, this needs to be done.” Dong-Yul wasn’t going to be intimidated, not even if he knew that Kuma was stronger. Everyone knew that, but Dong-Yul would not be bullied by him. Kang-Dae’s happiness depended on this.

Kuma took a step forward. “Wouldn’t you rather do what’s best for him?”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” Kuma snapped. “You’re going to make things worse.”

“I’m making him happy.”

“You’re destroying him.” Kuma growled, slamming his fist forward. Dong-Yul dodged at the last moment, reacting with a spin kick that Kuma blocked. The two stepped away from one another and Kuma spoke again. “You’re feeding his obsession by giving him everything.”

“You did the same.” Dong-Yul looked for an opening, a weakness. He’d have to act quickly and not get hit. If Kuma landed a punch than it would be over. And what better weakness is there than an emotional one? He just needed to chip away at the old wound, make it bleed again.

“I know that it’s wrong now.” Kuma argued back. “Don’t you realize that it will end up killing him? He’s going to ruin any chances he has of being like he used to.” He’d sacrificed everything for Kang-Dae…everything…but it never seemed to matter. He realized now, after thinking of only Kang-Dae’s happiness, that he should think more of what was best for him. Because in the end, Kang-Dae would only come to hate himself if they continued as they were.

“Shut up.” Dong-Yul hissed, “I’m going to make him happy.”

“You’ll kill him.” Or rather, he’ll kill himself. “Do you think that Izaki will accept him if he does anything to Serizawa or the others?”

“Shouldn’t Izaki hate Serizawa?” Dong-Yul questioned coldly. “He caused his sister to be crippled.”

Kuma shook his head roughly, swinging again. If he got one good hit in it would be impossible for Dong-Yul to continue this way. He wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone. Just one good hit…

“Haven’t you and I always sacrificed ourselves to protect him?” Dong-Yul’s voice was softer now. “Haven’t we given up everything?” The wound, he could see it festering beneath Kuma’s skin, a few more words and it would bleed anew, and then he’d be able to strike.

Kuma took a few harsh breaths. “Stop…”

“You understand giving up everything to make him happy. I don’t care if he hates me. For him, you even—”

“Stop it!” Kuma roared, his fist connecting with Dong-Yul’s stomach. Dong-Yul coughed, doubling over Kuma. Kuma felt something warm trickle down his back. Dong-Yul weezed a few times, struggling to stand by himself, and that was when the door to the rooftop slammed open.

“What are you two doing!?”

Kuma turned in surprise, just as Dong-Yul slid to the ground, gasping. “Kang-Dae.”

Kang-Dae knelt next to Dong-Yul as Renjira ran up to the group from where he’d stood at the doorway. He looked from Kuma to Dong-Yul in confusion.

Kang-Dae looked up with a glare. “What were you doing?”

Kuma said nothing.

“Dammit Kuma, if Tadao hadn’t found out where you two were…” Kang-Dae helped Dong-Yul stand.

“I’m fine, bosu.” Dong-Yul whispered, trying to stand on his own. He only managed to cough up a bit of blood in the process.

“I was trying—” Kuma began, but Kang-Dae cut him off.

“I told you two to never fight again! You promised me!”

“…Kang-Dae…”

“Get out of here, Kuma. And don’t come back to the house tonight.” Kang-Dae whispered. “I don’t want to see you right now. You…broke a promise to me…”

“Kang-Dae!” Renjira looked to his leader in shock, “I’m sure there’s a reason…”

“GO!”

Kuma flinched at Kang-Dae’s tone but he gave a small nod, his face the emotionless mask he was known for. “Of course.” His voice was a soft, strained whisper. He turned, and as he turned from Kang-Dae he felt his chest throb with pain.

He didn’t look back.

---

Tokaji let the last soft note of his cello drift into silence. He remained where he was in the study room, frowning. Something had sounded off about that last sequence. He pushed the button on the CD player.

He closed his eyes, listening to the part with the whole orchestra and frowned. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but the cello part of the song seemed off from the music sheets he had in front of him. He rewound the part and played it again, looking down at the score sheet.

That was it. He scribbled a message in red ink at the bottom of the section, giving a small nod before he grabbed the beer from the desk, taking a swig.

“…hai, hai, Reiko-chan! I think they’ll love it…!”

Tokaji’s eyes narrowed as he heard his mother’s voice from the other side of the door, muffled from where she talked in the kitchen.

“…hai, hai. Oh really? Hai. No…that wouldn’t be good. Maybe we could hire someone…”

Reiko was Izaki’s mother. “What the hell are they talking about?”

He sighed, deciding to block her out. He had to continue practicing…he’d practically locked himself inside the room for several days to practice nonstop. He didn’t want any distractions and he was sure his mother was worried.

“Honey?” A swift knock on the door.

Tokaji turned off the CD player. “What?”

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“But…” His mother sighed. “Ok, ok…I’ll leave some food on the table for you when you’re hungry. My shift starts soon so I’ll be leaving…hm? Of course they’ll love it Reiko-chan!”

Tokaji rolled his eyes. He really didn’t want to know what the two were planning.

Although he was sure it would be at his and Izaki’s expense…

---

Tokio wasn’t sure how they’d gotten to the abandoned pier, only that he’d practically carried Izaki the entire way and that scared him slightly. Izaki’s breathing had been ragged and liquidy, if Tokio could use the word to describe breathing.

Tokio winced as he shifted on the dock, his ribs aching. The wince caused his split lit to throb and he hissed. “Fuck…”

Izaki said nothing, breathing softly and haphazardly beside him.

Tokio watched his hunched over form as Izaki dug through one of his bags. He noticed that it was if Izaki had packed his entire room into them. Had he decided to leave Tokio and Tamao? He remembered Izaki’s words from the night before when they’d fought.

“Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t want anything to do with either of you bastards anymore.”

So Izaki had been serious. He’d left, and he hadn’t planned on coming back. But then why…why had he helped him? Why had he gone out of his way and found him and fought with him?

He was sick, and it was even more obvious now.

Tokio stared down his hands. Miyuki had lied to him. Inwardly it hurt, but he was glad he hadn’t known her long enough to become so emotionally attached that it broke him. It was just an ache in his chest—because she’d been his first and that was a sign of trust—and anger at being betrayed almost overrode it.

But he should have expected it.

“It’ll sting.”

Tokio blinked just in time to see Izaki hold out a small cotton pad. He grabbed it tentatively and stick it to his cheek, hissing. “Fuck! What the hell is on this?”

“Disinfectant.” Izaki drawled, and he grabbed it front him, cleaning the wound himself as Tokio twitched with the stinging pain. “Tokaji was right. Rich kids are pansies.”

“I’ll kick your ass for that.” Tokio muttered, “And Tokaji’s too, that bastard.”

“Heh.” Izaki chuckled, but it came out a cough as he turned his head. He coughed into his shirt and it was dark but Tokio knew that there was a fresh blood stain there the moment Izaki pulled away to look him in the eye again.

“You’re good at this.” Tokio whispered—apologetically?—after a few minutes of silence as Izaki cleaned the wounds and put bandages on them. He’d seemed to have an entire first-aid kit in his bags.

“I’m used to it. I had to do this on my own and…Aki’s.” Izaki trailed off and Tokio felt as if he’d been let into Izaki’s world a little. Izaki never mentioned his sister to anyone who didn’t already know her, after all. Tokio had seen her only one before at the Shun family store when they’d begin rebuilding it.

He realized that Izaki and Tamao were a lot alike, even if they didn’t know it. Both of them held everyone else at arm’s length, only letting a few people into their inner circle. Tamao…Tokio sighed. He knew that it was killing Tamao to live with Izaki this way and not have some closure, and the knew that closure was desperately needed—for all those involved.

“…Izaki, about Tamao…” Tokio trailed off because he was unsure of what else to say, worried he’d overstepped his bounds and broken the small little trust the two had just built up.

The silence that followed seemed to confirm it and he inwardly berated himself for being so stupid. He should have waited. Surely he could have picked a better time to think about it than now. Izaki was tired and worried and probably emotionally fatigued—and physically wounded and sick and—

“I don’t care anymore.” Izaki whispered, “It’s all in the past.” But in reality it was fresh in his mind—he didn’t think the memories and emotions would ever change—it just hurt too much to hate someone he still loved.

Tokio was surprised at the bluntness of the statement. “But then…why are you avoiding Tamao?”

Izaki finished cleaning his wounds, seemingly ignoring Tokio’s last question. Tokio realized that he should probably stop. Izaki was tired and sick and well…he really believed he needed to call the others and get him to the hospital or something.

Izaki closed his eyes. He felt tired…so uncommonly tired…

He heard the labored breathing of Tokio and for some reason it soothed him. He gave a small sigh and leaned his forehead on Tokio’s shoulder. The contact was intimate, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. For some reason it felt right and even though Tokio stiffened at first, looking down at Izaki in surprise, he relaxed and, feeling that his entire body was one gigantic ache, did the same.

And that was how Genji and Tamao found them.

Rated M for violence and mature scenes
fact: a flock of crows is called a murder

---

Chapter XII

---

It was one of the worst mornings of Tamao’s life.

Tamao lay in bed for several minutes, eyes closed as he heard Izaki walk out of his room, down the hall, and to the door. The sound of it shutting echoed in the silence, more effective than a slam.

An hour or so later he found himself sitting at the kitchen table with Tokio. It was tense and silent as the two ate cup ramen, the only thing they found in the pantry that they could make. Tamao slurped a bit loudly and winced at the sound. It was loud because the house was silent, and it bothered him.

Tamao didn’t like awkward silence.

And he didn’t like his best friends fighting.

Tokio seemed to be in his own little world, staring down at his ramen but not really looking at it but at something far away.

“You have classes today?” Tamao broached.

“Yeah.” Tokio’s answer was short and curt.

“Where were you the night before last?”

“What are you, my mother?” Tokio snapped, and he looked reproachful the moment the words came out, but he didn’t apologize.

The silence stretched again, and Tamao poked at his ramen, not really hungry. “…I heard girl voices on the phone.” And why did that piss him off? The fact that Tokio had went somewhere without telling him…or that he’d gone somewhere without telling him with a girl?

“Heh, maybe Izaki was right. You do worry too much. Cut it out.” Tokio growled, putting down his chopsticks and grabbing his water glass, taking a sip.

“Do you know why Izaki left so early?”

The glass hit the table with an almost shattering force, the loud bang resounding in the otherwise empty apartment. Cupcake whined and ran down the hall from where he’d been lying beneath the table.

Tamao winced.

Tokio stood abruptly, grabbing his bag. “Like hell I’d know. He doesn’t have classes till the afternoon.” And he walked off.

Tamao heard the door open and slam a few moments later.

“Fuck…” He whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair. He was just fucking everything up this morning, wasn’t he? He stood, taking the ramen cup to the kitchen and throwing it in the trash. He looked around the empty apartment from the kitchen doorway and grimaced.

He hated silence, and he hated being in the damn apartment alone…

“Cupcake?” The little dog had gotten scared by Tokio’s outburst. He’d better find it before it chewed up someone’s shoes or something. He headed down the hallway, looking first in his own room.

No dog.

He saw that Tokio’s door was left open and so he peered inside. No Cupcake there either.

“Oi, dipshit!” Tamao snapped, angry at himself and everyone else and not in the mood to look for the little dog. “Where the hell are you?” he’d searched every room in the apartment save for one.

Izaki’s.

He stopped in front of the door, hesitant. This felt different than the first time he’d gone in uninvited. This time it felt like he really was intruding, as if he’d break a seal on the door and the room wouldn’t be the same once he’d done so.

He put his hand to the doorknob and only a few seconds later did he twist it and pull the door open.

Cupcake was sitting in the middle of the room, but that wasn’t what caught Tamao’s attention.

His hand slid off of the doorknob and fell limply to his side.

The room was empty.

The only things left where the dresser, desk, bed, and lamp that had been in the room before he’d moved in. All of Izaki’s things—books, pillow, sheets, clothes, pictures—all of it…was gone.

Everything was gone.

Izaki had left.

---

Dong-Yul took a long drag on his cigarette, squinting as a sharp breeze flew past him. It ruffled the edge of his black trench coat as he dropped the cigarette stub on the ground and ground it under his boot heel.

He peered out across the hotel roof toward La Tour Abodai.

It was an oddly cloudy overcast day, the perfect weather for someone who didn’t want to be seen. A sniper had a better chance of taking out a target in this kind of weather. The lack of sunlight made it less likely that a sniper scope would catch a few rays of light and give away their position.

He stared into the large glass windows that he knew belonged to Serizawa Tamao and Shun Izaki. The curtains were pulled tightly, making it impossible to see inside. He knew that no one was home, since he’d seen Shun Izaki leave early in the morning and the others had left shortly after.

He’d just wait for Serizawa to return.

He didn’t particularly want to kill him. Serizawa Tamao was a legend of sorts in Tokyo. Dong-Yul respected him as a fighter at the very least.

But this was for Kang-Dae’s happiness.

Nothing stood in the way of that. Not the law. Not his own personal feelings. Nothing.

Dong-Yul would die for him…and he was pretty sure he would one day.

“Dong-yul! Come here.” His mother’s shrill voice cut through the playground and the raised voices of the other children playing. Dong-Yul blinked, running up to her. She was standing next to another woman—she looked haggard and worn, but she seemed as if she’d been extremely beautiful before at some point.

Beside her stood a young child a year or so younger than himself.

“Dong-Yul, meet Kim Mi Soo and her son, Kim Kang-Dae.”

His hair was long and hung in his face and he was freakishly feminine in his looks. If Dong-yul hadn’t heard him being introduced as a boy he would have definitely thought he was a girl. The boy looked as if he wanted to be standing there just as much as Dong-Yul did. Dong-Yul cast a forlorn look at the playground where the other kids were running around, playing tag.

He looked back to Kim Kang-Dae and his mother. His mother’s outfit was well-made, expensive and stylish at some point. As if she’d once been an elegant rich-man’s wife. Dong-Yul looked to his mother expectantly. He wanted to get back to his friends and their game.

“Be polite and introduce yourself, Dong-Yul.”

Dong-Yul pouted, but gave a small nod. “I’m Park Dong-Yul. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He cast an expectant glance around and noticed that there were men in suits behind the trees and a few standing next to a black corvette.

Kkangpae. Korean mafia.

He looked expectantly to his mother. Who was this? His own family was a member of the Gyeonrong Family, a prominent mafia organization. His father had served the head for years.

His mother turned to him with a tight smile. “Kim Mi Soo is the new wife of the Gyeonrong head.”

Dong-Yul turned to the haggard woman in surprise and noticed that she seemed more beautiful now, even though she looked so terribly world weary. It was her eyes. They glittered brightly like gemstones.

He cast a wayward glance at the son.

Her son had inherited them.

“Kim Kang-Dae is his new son.” She stressed the word ‘son’ and Dong-Yul knew that it was synonymous with ‘heir’. It surprised him because Kang-Dae was obviously not his blood son. Dong-Yul had seen the Gyeonrong head and there was no resemblance at all. Was it because the Head didn’t think he’d produce an heir before his death?

“And?”

“And I want you to take care of him, do you understand?”

Dong-Yul stiffened, before turning to the young, silent boy once more. He knew.

He knew that his childhood had just ended.

‘Taking care’ of an heir meant one thing and one thing only. Be a decoy. It was his job to protect Kang-Dae with his life, to become a human shield and a stand-in. They would grow up together and he would make sure that Kang-Dae was safe, even if it was at the cost of his own life.

Dong-Yul had hated Kang-Dae from the start. He wasn’t even fully Korean! He was a little half-Korean, half-Japanese brat. And he was effeminate. And he was quiet. And he didn’t speak Korean in the beginning!

Dong-Yul had hated him because he was just a spare part and everyone saw him that way.

But that had changed.

They were ten.

“Young boss, are you hungry?”

Kang-Dae gave a small nod. “I guess.” He’d become even quieter after his mother’s death. Her work before she’d become the Head’s wife had stressed her to the breaking point and she’d lived only a year before passing away. Kang-Dae had become more introverted after that.

Dong-Yul shrugged, slouching back in the seat of the car. He was sitting in the window seat, and he peered outside as the car drove past a few houses.He was in the window seat because if anyone tried to shoot Kang-Dae, the shot would most likely hit him first. He was bored, and he was angry. He’d been up the entire night before for ‘training’. He had to know everything he could to ensure Kang-Dae’s safety after all.

Kang-Dae turned to him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Dong-Yul snapped out gruffly, wincing at the swift glares from the guards that told him he’d get a talk about snapping at the young boss with that tone.

Kang-Dae gave a small nod. And then his eyes widened in shock. “Get down!” He grabbed Dong-Yul and pulled him down in the seat just as the glass of the window shattered. The car swerved and all Dong-Yul heard were gunshots. He felt something warm on his face.

He blinked, shaking and pale and not quite sure what had happened.

Kang-Dae was bleeding. Glass had cut his arm and it was dripping onto Dong-Yul, staining his t-shirt.

“…Kang-Dae…” Dong-Yul whispered.

Kang-Dae gave a pained smile, and Dong-Yul could tell he wanted to cry. “You’re ok. That’s good.”

After that moment, Dong-Yul had served him loyally, even after the beating he’d gotten for letting Kang-Dae be injured in trying to protect him. There had been several assassination attempts on Kang-Dae’s life, before his journey to Tokyo and afterwards, especially after he’d been announced the true heir of Gyeonrong.

The wind blew again, sharply, just as the sound of a door clicking shut brought Dong-Yul out of his thoughts. He turned to see Kuma standing at the stairwell door, looking as serious as always.

The two had never gotten along for their differences in what defined Kang-Dae’s ‘happiness’. They’d met often after Kang-Dae had taken Kuma in and the two were always at odds. Kuma had become Kang-Dae’s second bodyguard in the mafia and had followed him to Tokyo after Seoul while Dong-Yul had been entrusted with watching over the mafia.

They were his most loyal servants.

And they hated each other.

“We have to talk.” Kuma’s voice was emotionless.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Dong-Yul’s voice was like ice.

Kuma stopped him, turning to him coldly. “Well I have something to say to you.”

---

Tokaji woke up with a small groan. He blinked sleepily a few times, wondering why his back ached and what he was leaning against. It was hard and flat…not at all like his bed. He slowly sat up and let out a curse. He reached up and grabbed the paper that had stuck to his cheek off of it and placed it on the table he’d been sleeping on.

So…he’d fallen asleep while practicing it seemed. He looked around the room—his mother had converted her old office into a music study room for him when she’d learned he’d gotten into the school and he’d just now started to use it—and noticed that the floor was littered in music sheets.

All of the sheets were covered in red pen.

He groaned, and as he ran a hand through his hair he noticed that his fingers ached. He’d thought that after years of practicing his cello he would be fine, but his fingers had already begun to bleed from so much work and they were swollen and achey from so much practice.

But he felt good. He was tired, he was cranky, he ached…but he felt good.

And that pissed him off, obviously, because Yuji Tokaji wasn’t supposed to feel good about playing a pansy-ass instrument.

His mother had become excited ever since he’d begun practicing in earnest, thinking that he was doing well in school. She’d told him that he had to tell her before the orchestra performed and had dropped hints—and coffee and tea—his way for the past few nights.

He didn’t know why he didn’t tell her that he’d dropped out.

He didn’t know why he still played.

All he knew was that he never wanted to see that disappointed look in Shige’s eyes again.

And he didn’t know why it made him feel awkward and embarrassed besides the fact that it was sentimental shit that he hated. He didn’t know why his chest hurt a little when he thought that Shige would be disappointed in him.

And that fucking pissed him off more than anything.

---

Tokio sighed, leaning against the desk, staring boredly at the board. He’d contemplated taking notes but it was basic trigonometry so he didn’t really need it. He instead started doodling on his notepad.

He really shouldn’t have yelled at Tamao like that.

And damn…he really shouldn’t have hit Izaki either. His head still throbbed from the cut and even the painkillers he’d taken were starting to wear off. He winced. Wasn’t Izaki sick? Dammit he really shouldn’t have gotten carried away like that but it had been so long since he’d fought and he’d been so angry…

Oh man, life was going to hell in a hand basket as quickly as it possibly could.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. He looked around, noticing that the students were filing out of the classroom.

“What were you thinking about?” Miyuki purred, sitting in the empty seat next to him.

Tokio grinned. “Nothing. Just schoolwork. I was up late last night working on a project.”

“Tokio-kun, you should take me out to make up for leaving so early yesterday…” She began playing with a few locks of his hair.

Tokio gave a wry smile that was half-regretful, half-coy. “Sorry Miyuki-chan. I don’t think I can stay out tonight. I haven’t had time to spend with my friend Tamao…” because he really felt guilty. Really, really guilty…

“He isn’t your boyfriend you know.” Miyuki muttered, before smiling and pulling him along. “Come on, you owe me a shopping trip.”

---

Tamao was out of breath. His sides ached from running but he kept at it, ignoring the startled looks of the people he ran past or the angry shouts of those he’d shoved out of his way.

He had to find Izaki. He needed to find him.

He’d already checked the normal places, obviously. He wasn’t at the Shun family store, and he hadn’t stayed long because he knew that Izaki’s father didn’t like him very much. His mother seemed not to worry about him too much—she’d liked him enough when they were in junior high—but his father…that was a different story.

Not that Tamao could blame him.

But the fact of the matter was that Izaki was nowhere to be found.

Something was wrong with Izaki and he was sick, dammit…why the hell did he do this? Tamao hated the desperation and fear that filled him at the thought of Izaki being hurt somewhere.

And Aki’s words hadn’t helped, not really. They’d only made his feelings that much more prominent.

Tamao knocked on the door frantically.

“Coming!” A young voice called from the other side of the door. A few seconds later it was opened and Aki looked through the crack before letting out an “oh!” and opening it fully. “Tamao-san?”

“Aki-chan!” Tamao nodded at her, “Is Izaki home?”

“Hm?” Aki’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Doesn’t he live with you and Tokio?”

“You mean…he didn’t come home tonight?”

“No.” Aki shook her head. “Tamao-san…is something wrong?”

Tamao shifted awkwardly on the porch, trying to decide between talking or running off to search for Izaki more.

Aki spoke again, “I think there’s something wrong with him, Tamao-san. Something’s bothering him but he won’t tell me what it is….” She gave Tamao a once over, “Something’s wrong with you too. Did niichan yell at you?”

“Eh?” Tamao blinked stupidly.

Aki smiled softly. “I just know that you used to make that face when he got mad at you when you guys were younger,” Her gaze darkened a bit, “…and when he yelled at you after I got hurt.”

Tamao swallowed, feeling more uncomfortable than ever.

Aki smiled. “But it’s ok. You know how niichan is…he pushes the people closest to him away when he’s hurting because he doesn’t want them to be worried. I think he just cares too much for you to tell you what’s wrong, Tamao-san.” She paused, pursing her lips in thought before continuing earnestly, “He really does care, Tamao-san, no matter what he says. He really does.”

“…Aki-chan…”

“So find him and look out for him, ok? He needs you more than he says.” She smiled brightly before motioning down to her phone. “I’ll call the apartment if he comes home, ok?”

Tamao had always known Aki was observant, but he hadn’t known quite how much. She must have inherited that thoughtfulness from her brother. Tamao was just glad that Aki had told him that. Even if he didn’t completely believe it—because he didn’t think Izaki could ever not hate him—it made him hope.

Hope that Izaki could get over his hatred.

But none of that solved the problem at hand. Izaki was gone.

He was hurt.

Kang-Dae was out there somewhere, the sick fuck. What if Izaki ran into him?

Tamao felt desperate, too desperate to do anymore on his own. He needed someone to talk to, someone he knew could shoulder some of the weight and understand…and so he fished out his phone and dialed the number instantly, wondering if what he’d done was right.

Because he and Genji didn’t hate each other anymore, right? They were almost friends, in a sense.

“Serizawa?”

“He’s gone. I can’t find him, Genji.”

“…Tamao…?”

“He’s gone.” Tamao’s voice cracked—he didn’t even register that it was the first time that Genji had called him by his first name. “He’s gone.”

…

…

…

“Where are you right now? I’m coming.”

---

Izaki walked down the crowded street slowly, not paying much attention to what happened around him. His schoolbag was slung over one shoulder, heavy. The strap dug painfully into his shoulder. He was glad for the collar of his coat. It hid his bruises, and that kept the stares away. In both hands he held bags, the things he’d taken from the apartment.

It would be better if he left now. If he left while the wound was fresh, it would be a clean break. Tokio hated him and Tamao was hurting…it would be best. If they all thought he hated them than they wouldn’t care as much.

Because it could only get worse from here.

“Izaki-san, it will only get worse as time goes on. Once the first signs start appearing, without treatment…”

Izaki sighed, looking out across the city. He was standing on a bridge—he’d planned on staying with Sugihara for a while and his home was on the other side of town from the apartment. He’d already called and asked for a place to stay and Sugihara’s was the best for the time being. And Sugihara wouldn’t talk or tell anyone what was wrong.

It would only be for a few days anyway.

He put down one of the bags, placing his hand on the railing. He looked down thoughtfully at the water rushing by.

If he fell from this height he’d die before he hit the bottom, most likely. At this point, the water was shallow. If not he’d drown. No one could swim past that current if the water was deep enough to soften the drop for him.

It would make it easier for everyone else, wouldn’t it? No one would worry and the ones who would well, he’d been an ass recently so it didn’t matter. And it was all for the better anyway. His grip tightened on the railing, his knuckles turning white with the pressure.

“..Yeah, Sempai’s chick is taking him to the docks right about now…”

Izaki blinked. He recognized the voice as the one he’d heard before he’d passed out from his fever in the alleyway. The ones who were in a gang with Miyuki’s boyfriend.

“Heh. That guy will be lucky to get out alive.”

Izaki’s eyes narrowed as he turned around, slamming his bag into the back of the first man’s head, ignoring the screams and surprised shouts from the other people on the bridge. Before the second one could react he slammed his bookbag into his chin. The man hit the ground, groaning as he coughed up blood.

Izaki grabbed the jacket of the first man and pulled him face to face.

“Where is the bitch taking him?”

The man coughed and blood speckled the front of Izaki’s shirt. “…fuck…you…”

Izaki sighed, dropping his bag and ragging the other man toward the bridge railing.

“Wait what are you—holy fuck!” The man yelled out as Izaki tipped him over the side, holding him upside down off of the side of the bridge.

“Let me up! Fuck you! Fuck!” The man’s voice was high pitched with fear and he sounded close to tears.

“If you move around too much I might lose my grip.” Izaki drawled, lowering him a few more inches.

The man let out a very feminine screech.

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you! FUCK!”

“Where did she take him?”

“The Shinagawa docks. The fourth on the left after the pier. Fuck.”

Izaki hauled him back up, throwing him on the ground. He grabbed his bags before bursting into a run in the direction of the docks.

He had to save Tokio and he didn’t have time to call for help.

Because it would kill Tamao if something happened to him.

Izaki didn’t want to admit that it would hurt him too.

And besides…Tamao would need Tokio...if Izaki didn’t make it.

---

Tokio moved his hand to the small of Miyuki’s back as they walked. It was getting dark, so he slipped off his sunglasses and turned to her, “Why are we here?”

“I thought the docks were romantic.” Miyuki smiled sweetly, hugging his arm. “They light up the pier. I thought we’d take a walk down and have some champagne…”

Tokio grinned—it was strained, but he tried really hard because he really liked her didn’t he?

“I already left the champagne in the dock over there.” Miyuki pointed. “My father owns it so I use it a lot…it even has a bed.” She gave him a meaningful glance before dragging him toward it.

“Er…” Tokio coughed, feeling uncomfortable and made at himself for feeling uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be, right? He liked Miyuki, he really did. Straight men liked girls.

Straight men really liked girls, especially hot, nice ones.

His brow furrowed a bit as they entered the large warehouse. It was dark, save for a few lights hanging far up on the ceiling, giving an eerie lighting to the whole place.

“Where’s the champagne?” Tokio tried to make his voice as normal and carefree as usual.

Miyuki smiled. “Actually, I don’t really feel like drinking right now.” And she stepped away from him, just as someone else—several others—stepped into the half-light.

Tokio looked around warily. “What’s going on?”

The one who looked to be the leader of the gang—the one Miyuki had latched herself onto—gave a rakish grin. “So…you thought you could touch my woman and get away with it?”

“…your…woman…?” Tokio murmured, looking from Miyuki to the group of men circling him. Several had baseball bats or pipes.

Miyuki had betrayed him. Or rather, lied to him.

Fuck.

Miyuki’s boyfriend’s grin grew. “So…let’s end this quickly shall we? Why don’t you get on your hands and knees and kiss my feet? If you ask for forgiveness and admit you were wrong I might let you go.”

Tokio’s eyes narrowed, and he gave a sly grin. “So all I have to do is kiss your feet? That’s pretty strange. I kissed a lot more of Miyuki-chan last night.”

“BASTARD!” The man roared, looking to his men. “Get him!”

Tokio sneered, clenching his fists. Well, this was one way to get all his anger out, he supposed.

If only he hadn’t been so horrifically outnumbered, it might even have been fun.

Rated M for violence and mature scenes
fact: a flock of crows is called a murder

---

Chapter XI

---

Genji wasn’t sure why he was standing in front of La Tour Abodai at two in the morning, but he was. It was pitch black, and Atasuke leaned against the car a few meters away. He hadn’t liked the idea of going out so late but he’d accepted it—mostly because Genji seemed adamant and he didn’t believe that there would be an attack on Genji’s life that night.

So Genji stood, staring up in the darkness at the hundreds of illuminated windows on the large building, warring within himself on whether or not to go up.

Izaki could be hurt. He needed to check on him, right? Blood brothers and best friends and all that shit. He needed to make sure he was ok…right? Because there was nothing more no matter how much Tokio or even the Mikami brothers liked to imply it. Really. Or so he kept telling himself, at least.

But it didn’t explain the panicked, tight feeling in his chest as he looked up at the building. He should…he should call Serizawa. He’d promised him that if he got any info on Izaki he would tell him. He gave a small sigh, taking out his phone and dialing. A few seconds later the phone began ringing—and so did Serizawa’s.

Genji blinked, because the sound was very close. In fact…Genji walked a few feet toward the gate of the compound.

Tamao was sitting down, leaning against the stone wall and looking out into the darkness.

“Serizawa?”

Tamao jerked a bit before looking up at Genji and then down at the phone he’d mechanically fished out of his pocket. He shut it, giving a grunt as he stood slowly. “What do you want, tall ass freak?”

His voice sounded different, but Genji couldn’t quite distinguish what the problem was.

Tamao didn’t get an answer fast enough, apparently, because he continued in his gruff, strained voice. “It’s two in the fuckin’ morning. What the hell could you possible want?”

“Is Izaki home?”

Tamao stilled, shoving a hand into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette and his lighter. “I just got back. Do you know where he is?” The tone changed, a bit more hopeful than before. Desperate even.

“You haven’t gone up to check?” Genji’s tone was disparaging. “Idiot.”

“Dumbass.”

“Hobbit.”

“That isn’t fucking funny.” Tamao snapped. “I watched that whole fucking Trilogy, you know. There ain’t nothing wrong with the damn Hobbits.”

“…what?”

“Nevermind.” Tamao muttered, taking a drag on his cigarette and scratching the back of his head, looking embarrassed. Or as embarrassed as Genji could tell in the darkness. It was hard to discern anything at all with only the pale light from one of the streetlamps.

And that was when Genji saw it—a flicker in the half-light—and it all made sense: Tamao’s gruff voice and his slumped over manner. “…have you been crying?”

“Shut the fuck up, bastard.” Tamao snapped out defensively. “Like hell I’ve been crying.”

Genji shrugged, realizing he shouldn’t broach the subject. But he felt…a little odd. He felt like he needed to say something to fix it, even though he figured he wasn’t the problem. Was it Izaki? Had he been crying because he was worried about him?

That pissed him off, because no one needed to worry about Izaki except for himself, because no one else had the right. Especially not the dipshit who ruined their friendship in the first place—because even if he didn’t know the details it was obviously Serizawa’s fault. But the anger slowly dissipated.

Because…wouldn’t it be safer for Izaki if more people worried about him anyway? Izaki was quiet and he never talked—and Genji well, he was not good with people. Tamao—begrudgingly—seemed to know him better, had definitely known him longer so it only made sense that he would be able to tell if something was wrong.

And Kang-Dae had said something was wrong.

But he was a sick fuck so who would believe him anyway?

But his worry for his friend\brother\lover—not the last one, of course not—overrode his hatred for Kang-Dae, just a little bit. So he came to the conclusion that perhaps it wasn’t bad that Tamao had been Izaki’s best friend—and a current one maybe but definitely not his closest because Genji definitely had that spot covered.

Well, if Tamao was a friend that he could trust—because when you shed blood together it built up a kind of trust that passed even hatred—than he could trust him to help watch Izaki…and trust him with the information that Kang-Dae had given him.

“I met Kang-Dae today.”

Serizawa stiffened in surprise and the tired, weary look on his face was replaced with anger and—fear? “What…did you just say?”

“I saw Kang-Dae today. We talked.”

“That fucker—what did he do?” If Tamao had seen him…the bastard wouldn’t have made it out alive. Why the hell was he back in Japan? Dammit, if he found Izaki…Tamao looked up at Genji in building horror. “…Izaki…”

“He…knows he’s here.” Genji muttered. “He found him last night.”

“Fuck.” Tamao grabbed Genji’s jacket, pulling him down face to face. “Where the hell is the bastard? Dammit the fucker has Izaki! How could you walk up here like that without getting him back—dammit!”

Atasuke had started toward them, but Genji caught his eye and shook his head before looking back to Tamao. “He doesn’t have him now. Izaki left. He’s supposed to be back home.” He jerked his head in the direction of the building.

Tamao seemed disbelieving, Kang-Dae wouldn’t give Izaki up if he had him, he’d definitely keep him and who knows what the hell he’d do to him the sick fuck, “You’ve got to be kidding me. So Izaki…is home…?” He slowly let go of Genji, taking a step back. His entire body was rigid and he shook with barely controlled anger and yet, relief. Izaki was safe…he was safe…

“He says he’s sick.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Haven’t you realized Kang-Dae is a sick-ass bastard?”

“Not Kang-Dae.” Genji scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Kang-Dae said there’s something wrong with Izaki.”

Tamao blinked slowly. “Something…wrong with him…?” The fuck? There can’t be anything wrong with Izaki. Izaki is fine…he has to be fine…The urge to push Genji aside and run up to the apartment and check on him overrode all else, but Genji grabbed him, pulling him back.

“Dammit!” Tamao growled out, but stopped at the serious look on Genji’s face.

“Oi, Serizawa…you’re gonna scare him.”

Heh, it was sad the day that Takiya Genji talked sense and Serizawa Tamao didn’t, but Tamao knew that he was right. Izaki, at this point, would be defensive—and probably scared if he’d spent the night with that fucker who knows what he did to him, dammit Kang-Dae, I’ll kill you! If Tamao just ran in there right now…it could get bad.

But he needed to make sure that Izaki was ok. Worry gnawed at his stomach, a gut feeling. Izaki needed him. He knew it. He’d lost one friend today, a love he’d never see again.

Like hell he’d lose another.

“Serizawa.”

“What?” Tamao snapped out, angry and frustrated and damn he was going to cry wasn’t he? He blinked away the angry tears, glad for the cover of darkness.

“…make sure he’s ok, k?” Genji whispered.

Tamao wasn’t sure what to think of that statement, even as Genji walked away toward his car where his bodyguard stood. Had Genji just…trusted him to look after Izaki? Look after his supposed best friend? Tamao wasn’t sure what to do, so he stood there, watching as the car drove away.

Even as he stood alone, he waited a few more moments in silence before looking up at the apartment building.

Izaki…dammit…why do you and Tokio always cause Genji and I so much fucking trouble?

---

Izaki woke to his stomach growling. He winced at the sound, and the weight lying on his empty stomach. He was afraid it would cave in. He blinked sleepily, just then noticing that the weight on his stomach was Cupcake who had decided to use him as a pillow…again…

He sat up, making Cupcake growl in annoyance as he sleepily fell off of Izaki and curled up in the pile of blankets on the bed. He stretched in the darkness, taking a deep breath. Aside from a small headache he seemed to be close to normal again. His fever was gone thanks to some medicine, and he wasn’t feeling nauseas.

But the doctor had said it would come in spells, and they’d gradually get worse…

Izaki closed his eyes wearily. He couldn’t think about it. He’d ignore it for now, because there was nothing else he could do. He slowly slipped out of bed, looking over at the alarm clock on his bedside table.

2:34 am.

He’d get something to eat and take some more medicine. Then he’d be able to head to classes in the morning… he winced as he moved his neck. Damn the bruises hurt badly. It was good that no one else was awake to see it. He’d have to wear a scarf or a high-necked shirt the next day to cover it and try not to wince. If he so much as twitched awkwardly he knew that Tamao would know something was wrong.

He slipped out of the room and headed down the hallway tiredly. He’d slept since around seven so he’d gotten a good amount of sleep but he’d been sick so he needed all the sleep he could get and he was still unnaturally tired.

As he headed down the hallway and wound up in the living room, he stopped. The kitchen light was on, golden light pooling out of the doorway and onto the living room floor.

Fuck. Someone was up.

Was it Tamao?

He turned, ready to slink back to his room when Tokio popped his head out of the doorway, “Oi, what are you doing up?”

Izaki shrugged. “Hungry.” His entire body seemed to loosen from a nervous tension he hadn’t known it possessed.

Tokio nodded. “Me too. I made some udon.”

Izaki blinked. “…you made udon…?”

“I do know how to cook something, dumbass.”

Izaki smirked. “I thought rich boys couldn’t do anything worth shit.”

“Bastard…” Tokio grumbled sleepily. He didn’t look like he’d gotten much sleep since he’d gotten home and gone to bed. Izaki wondered if he’d been awake the entire time.

Izaki walked into the kitchen, keeping his head down. Luckily the lights were dimmed so it wasn’t too bright, and the shadows made it hard to see his bruises. Tokio hadn’t looked up from his bowl of udon anyway.

Izaki grabbed a bowl and looked at the trashcan. The udon packet stuck out the side and was barely visible. Izaki gave a small laugh but didn’t say anything else. He’d let Tokio have his moment of glory. Besides, he was hungry and it didn’t matter if it was homemade or store-bought udon.

They ate in silence for a few moments, the only sound was the occasional slurp. Tokio was silent because he still felt uncomfortable around him. He wasn’t sure how at all he was going to face Tamao or Genji. Oh god it was so fucking embarrassing… Izaki was silent because he was trying to think of a way to broach the subject of Miyuki. Damn this was not going to go over well…at all…

“I have something I need to tell you—”

“What the fuck happened to your neck?” Tokio coughed over his noodles, pointing.

Izaki blinked, one hand going tentatively to the bruises. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“The fuck it’s nothing. What the hell happened?” And Tokio was almost horrified that he was genuinely concerned. What had happened? Had he gotten into a fight? Was there something he wasn’t telling the others?

“This isn’t about my bruises, dumbass.” Izaki snapped out, trying to get off the subject. Dammit, if Tokio told Tamao… “I need to tell you something about Miyuki-san.”

“Eh?” Tokio blinked in confusion, before grinning. “Yeah? What about her?”

“She’s using you.”

“What?”

“I overheard some guys talking last night.” Izaki continued, placing his bowl of udon on the counter. “She’s some other guy's woman—”

“Shut the hell up, Izaki.” Tokio snapped. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Look,” Izaki turned to him with a frown. “I’m just telling you what I heard.”

“Bullshit.” Tokio growled. “Miyuki-chan wouldn’t do that.”

“You’ve only known her a few days.” Izaki snapped back. “How can you be so sure? Her man is the head of a gang. This is dangerous, Tokio.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That bitch is using you—” He stopped as pain exploded on the right side of his face. He stumbled a bit, recovering from the punch.

Tokio stood a few feet away, fists clenched.

There was a moment of silence as they both stood there, glaring at one another.

“…bastard…” Izaki snarled, lunging forward.

---

Tamao slipped his key into the lock, turning it with a sigh. He supposed that Izaki would be asleep so he’d check on him in the morning. Tokio would be asleep too, so he couldn’t interrogate him about whatever it was that was going on at school and the reason he was late. He’d get to the bottom of that too.

But sleep was the first thing on his list. Or maybe food.

He walked down the hallway until he heard a loud crash. He stilled in shock for a moment before running toward the source of the sound only to see Tokio go flying into the couch in the living room.

“Fuck you!” Tokio yelled, leaping up and running toward the kitchen where Izaki stood in the doorway. He tackled him and they both went flying.

“What the fuck!?” Tamao roared, rushing into the kitchen. Izaki was supposed to be sick! Something was wrong with him! And It hadn’t been that long since Tokio’s surgery. What the hell did those two think they were doing? Did they think they were immortal or something? Dammit!

His eyes burned from the bright light but he blinked quickly, taking in the scene in front of him. Izaki and Tokio were rolling on the kitchen floor, punching and kicking and—damn a headbutt, that had to hurt and it couldn’t be fucking good for Tokio dammit!

Tamao grabbed Tokio and threw him off of Izaki. “Stop it! What the hell is wrong with you two!?”

Tokio struggled in his grip but went lax a second later, breathing heavily. Izaki sat up from where he’d been lying on the floor, heaving. Both of them sported bruises and cuts—Tokio’s forehead was bleeding and Izaki had split his lip.

“What were you two doing, huh?”

“Let go Tamao. Let me kick his ass!” Tokio snarled, trying to wrench out of his grasp.

“Fuck you, bastard.” Izaki coughed. “Screw you. I don’t care what happens.” And he stood slowly, looking as if it took some effort.

“What. The. Hell?” Tamao whispered dangerously.

The two stilled, and Tokio relaxed in his grip, looking over at him worriedly. “Oi, Tamao…it’s…”

“It’s none of your business.” Izaki finished blandly, turning to head toward the door. Damn, now his face looked even worse…

And that was when Tamao saw it.

The bruises on Izaki’s neck, in the form of hands.

He let go of Tokio quickly. That wasn’t from their fight, that much was obvious. The bruises wouldn’t have shown up so quickly.

“What happened to you?”

Izaki blinked. “Hm?”

And it clicked. Kang-Dae. He’d been with Kang-Dae.

Tamao’s eyes narrowed in fury. “What the hell did that bastard do to you, Izaki?”

Izaki took a step back, hand going to his neck. Tokio looked from one to the other, feeling a bit lost, but his adrenaline was still pumping from the fight and all he wanted to do was punch someone, preferably Izaki.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What the fuck did Kang-Dae do to you!?” Tamao walked up to him quickly before he could move away, grabbing his arms and wrenching his forward. “What the hell happened?”

“How did you…?” Izaki began softly, before he looked away, feeling uncomfortable at their closeness and the panic in Tamao’s eyes. Dammit this is exactly what he’d been trying to prevent! “It’s nothing, I swear.”

“Like hell it isn’t! Izaki! Don’t lie to me!”

“Why the hell do you care?” Izaki shot back. He pushed Tamao away roughly, looking between him and Tokio. “Why the hell do either of you care? Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t want anything to do with either of you bastards anymore.” And he stormed away.

“Izaki…” Tamao whispered. “Izaki! Oi! IZAKI!”

But he was gone. Tamao took a deep, ragged breath, trying not to let his panic show.

Tokio couldn’t understand why he felt like he’d just been punched in the gut at Izaki's words.

In his own bathroom, Izaki promptly threw up his udon.

---

Jomei grinned wildly as he ducked, his opponent’s fist whistling past him. He slammed his own into the man’s stomach, watching him gasp and fall to the ground. He gave a few practice jumps, pumping his legs and putting up his hands in the traditional boxing pose.

“Oi, Kuma, come on! I want a real opponent!”

Kuma snorted, giving a rare half-smile. He never showed much emotion, and the only two who ever seemed to see it were Kang-Dae and Jomei. Jomei and himself had gotten close over the years of working with one another, and Jomei looked up to him like an older brother. The two were rarely apart.

And Jomei’s cheerfulness was rather contagious at times, too.

Jomei hopped impatiently a few more times. “Oi, Aniki!” He pouted. “Come on!”

Kuma shook his head. “Not today. Kang-Dae wants to see me.”

“Sempai?” Jomei murmured, and he noticed Kuma’s worried look. He wasn’t sure what Kuma was worried about, but he got the gist of it. He didn’t like Kang-Dae’s obsession with Shun Izaki either. It was dangerous for both his physical and mental heatlh, and Jomei was worried that Kang-Dae was going to get hurt, no matter what happened.

He was afraid Kang-Dae was going to do something he’d regret, hurt Izaki, and destroy himself in the process.

Jomei knew that not many people could handle being around Kang-Dae and that he and the others were his only friends. Their other followers followed because Kang-Dae was powerful and their own leaders followed him loyally. There was no actual thought behind it.

But all of the others…Jomei knew that each of them had a strong reason to follow Kang-Dae and that they’d do so till the end.

Kang-Dae had saved Kuma when he was young. He’d shown him that it was ok to defend himself, had first practiced with him until he’d been able to go into MMA tournaments. Kuma had followed him ever since because he’d given him a reason to live.

He’d saved Renjira’s life after his second-in-command in the yakuza had betrayed him. He’d been bleeding out in an alleyway and Kang-Dae had found him. Renjira hadn’t trusted anyone for a long time, and Jomei wondered if he even trusted anyone besides Kang-Dae now.

Tadao had lived a rather normal life before joining their group. He’d even had a fiancé. But she’d left him for another man and he’d been contemplating suicide for a long time. It had only been Kang-Dae that had kept him there. Now Tadao would do anything for him. And Jomei knew that meant anything…even if it meant that Kang-Dae might hate him for whatever he did, as long as he was safe and happy Tadao wouldn’t care.

He didn’t know Dong-Yul’s story, so he couldn’t say. He supposed Kuma knew.

And as for himself…he’d been a misfit, a wannabe yakuza since his first days in highschool. He’d had his own smalltime gang until he’d gotten involved with a larger one. They’d been outnumbered and who came to his rescue? His senior at Sohko…Kang-Dae.

Jomei gave a small smile as he stretched, ignoring Kuma’s inquisitive glance.

Kang-Dae was the type of person that deserved respect and he also deserved happiness.

And Jomei knew that he and the others would do anything they could to help him attain his dreams.

Even if it meant destroying themselves.

---

Tokaji wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten to the music store to begin with. He’d woken up, eaten breakfast, and before he knew it was standing at the entrance, completely confused as to how he’d gotten there in the first place.

But since he was there…

Tokaji walked down one of the aisles, ignoring the disapproving and surprised glances from all of the customers and staff of the store. It was a prominent music score—most musicians centered around Tokyo used the place as their musical reference—so it wasn’t a surprise that the sight of Tokaji in his torn up jeans and black, worn-out shirt was out of place and shocking to them.

Still, Tokaji inwardly seethed and promised them all long and painful deaths under his breath as he headed toward the CD section.

As he walked, he noticed a poster on the wall. In fact, it seemed to be everywhere around the store. He stopped to read it, curious.

Lorin Varencove Maazel

Guest Appearance in Tokyo on April 26^th

Conducting the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra at the Tokyo College of Music

Tokaji had heard of the man. He was a prominent conductor and composer, a prodigy in his field. Why was he coming to the Tokyo College of Music though? He shrugged it off. It wasn’t like he cared. Why should he? The man wasn’t Hirase Shige, so why did he matter?

Wait, why did Tokaji care about Hirase Shige? Hadn’t he already sworn he didn’t care about her anymore? Or at all, because anymore implied that he’d liked her in the beginning and he didn’t obviously.

He finally found the CD he’d been looking for, turning it over and reading the list of songs. Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 9, performed by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. He wasn’t sure why he wanted it or needed it or why the hell he was buying it.

He placed the CD down on the counter, looking pointedly at the cashier.

The cashier gave a thin smile. “Did you find everything you needed, sir?”

“Yeah.”

A curt nod. “Of course. That will be…” But Tokaji had already placed the right amount of money on the counter and grabbed the CD, walking out. The cashier blinked, looking after the man in shock.

“…what an odd one…”

Tokaji also didn’t know how he managed to get back to his apartment. He found himself sitting in the living room, his score sheets for the piece scattered across the coffee table as the piece played from the CD player that sat next to him.

He listened for a few moments before he stopped the song and grabbed his red pen, jotting down a quick note on his music score. Hold the last note in the section for two extra beats to blend with violins and make a smooth transition.

He turned the music back on and listened, red pen at the ready.

Rated M for violence and mature scenes

fact: a flock of crows is called a murder

---

Chapter X

---

Tokaji spent the rest of the afternoon pacing around his room and pretending that his cello did not exist. His mother left an hour or so earlier, telling him that there was food in the fridge if he was hungry and asking if he had class that day.

He’d said no and waved her off. She didn’t ask, but he knew that she knew he was skipping.

It wasn’t long before he found himself sitting in the living room with his cello, shuffling through the music sheets for the orchestra performance. Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 9. It was a rather difficult piece even without its length, which was immense. It would be the only piece they’d be playing. It was their first Orchestral performance of the year but for some reason it seemed more important than most.

Tokaji stared down at the music. It was an extremely difficult piece, one that he never would have tried to play on his own if he hadn’t joined. He flipped through the sheets, his frown deepening.

What was the point in playing it now anyway? He wasn’t up to their standards and he’d already decided he would quit the school anyway.

So why…did he suddenly have the urge to play?

Tokaji mumbled a curse before picking up his bow and beginning.

---

The small café on the corner of their apartment street was crowded, not that Tamao would have known the difference. He’d never entered it before, but he’d walked by it on occasion. He sat across from Yoshike, looking extremely uncomfortable in the fancy, antique-styled building.

Yoshike was sipping coffee, blowing on its surface, trying to distract herself from the tense silence. Tamao watched the coffee ripple alone its surface. He’d ordered a bagel or scone or some kind of fancy pastry shit—Tokio was going to have another aneurysm when he realized how much of his money Tamao wasted, ok bad metaphor…Tamao silently winced at it.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Yoshike smiled into the awkward silence.

“I haven’t seen you in seven years.” Tamao stated bluntly.

Yoshike’s smile faltered at his flat tone, giving a small nod. “Yeah…seven years…I’d forgotten how long ago it was…” She ended in a wistful whisper.

“You look different.” Tamao finally spoke again after the silence stretched and she’d gone back to playing with her coffee.

She looked up in surprise at the comment, giving a sheepish smile as she tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “I do? Yeah I guess…” She gave a small laugh. “I look a lot different than when you, Izaki, and I played together. I would have never been seen in a dress back then.”

Tamao gave a dry smile. “Yeah, can you still hit?”

She grinned, clenching her fist and pumping it into the air, “Of course! My right hook is as mean as ever!” Soon the two were grinning at each other like the old days, and the awkward tension disappeared.

Yoshike had known Izaki and Tamao since grade school. The three had hung out for years until Yoshika had suddenly left without a notice when they were twelve. The year after that was when Kang-Dae came. Suddenly the awkwardness seemed to return as the memories of her sudden disappearance came with it.

“I’m sorry for not telling you guys.” Yoshike murmured. “I’m sure that Izaki was hurt. He was always the most sensitive.”

Tamao shrugged. “He seemed ok.” Outwardly…but didn’t you think I’d hurt too? Tamao almost physically winced, realizing how sappy it sounded in his head. When had he turned into a sentimental little bastard? Living with Tokio was killing his masculinity…rich boys always seemed more feminine than everyone else.

“I’m sure you were wondering why I left.”

“No shit.” Tamao hadn’t meant it so harshly, especially when she flinched. He felt guilty, but at the same time he didn’t. No one in the café seemed to be listening to their conversation but Tamao still felt as if it were being said on a loudspeaker. He was uncomfortable, because this was the kind of subject he didn’t like to televise, but Yoshike seemed comfortable. In fact, the more he thought about it, she would definitely feel more comfortable talking here than alone.

“It was my brother.”

Tamao frowned. “Your brother? What about him?”

“He left.” She laughed softly. “To be with the woman he loved, he gave up on being the company heir.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s…that’s why I left, Tamao.” Her smile was brittle and strained. “I have to become the heir that my brother couldn’t be. I can’t let me parents down like he did.”

“What do you owe them?” Tamao snapped. “You don’t owe your parents shit.”

Yoshike’s smile was strained. “You never really understood family, did you?” Unlike Yoshike and Izaki, Tamao had grown up with an abusive father after his mother’s death. Familial love and loyalty was a foreign topic to him. He’d never understood why Izaki had been so attached to his own family either. Yoshike continued, “It’s why you’ll never be able to understand Izaki either.” Her gaze was meaningful there, but Tamao didn’t quite catch it.

He was too angry and confused. “So you left because you had to become the heir? That’s bullshit. Why did you have to leave?”

“Well…” Yoshike took a sip of her coffee. “I was sent to a school in America so that I could get a better business education. Then I was engaged.”

Tamao stilled. He’d been about to speak before she’d said the second sentence. The world stilled, and he could only stare blankly. He was oddly numb.

“…engaged…?”

Yoshika nodded, softly murmuring, “Yes. He’s very nice. His parents’ company is working alongside my family’s so it’s beneficial to everyone. We’re expanding soon. He lives in the same apartment complex as you do. I was so surprised that you were there and…” Her words had sped up the more she spoke until it ended in a jumbled mess that faded into uncomfortable silence. She was staring at him desperately, as if there were words she wanted to say but couldn’t.

…

…

…

“…engaged…?”

Another nod.

Yoshike watched him, and she saw something break inside of him. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She’d expected to never see him again and have him and Izaki continue hating her for the rest of their lives. It would have been easier than explaining things. Izaki had been like the elder brother of the group, watching out for the other two—because they always got into trouble wherever they went. She didn’t want to see the disappointment there—or would he have understood that she was doing it for her family and helped her convince Tamao that this was needed? Tamao…

She swallowed. Tamao had been her first crush. He’d been a wild child, but he had his sweet side. It was hidden and difficult to access, but when he let you in it was like…you became his world, if she had to describe it in one way. Tamao’s world was small and secure because he was instinctively afraid of getting hurt. He played the part of the tough guy, but she knew better, and she knew that Izaki did too. And so when you became someone he trusted…you became something more than just yourself, because you were something important. That was how she’d always seen it, at least, and she’d valued that friendship…

…and she’d secretly wanted more. She’d been unsure in the beginning on whether or not Tamao liked her as well. When she’d realized it was mutual it had been too late. Her brother had abandoned the family and she’d been forced to make a choice…decide between her family and love. At first there’d been no decision. She’d told her family they could disown her, that they could do whatever they wanted because it wasn’t fair that she couldn’t choose who to love.

She’d been angry at her father and furious at her brother. It was his fault. He’d sacrificed his little sister’s happiness for his own.

Then she’d seen them together.

She’d seen her brother and his wife and she’d…she’d understood. The two were so in love it was almost painful. How could she have broken that up? And so, for once in her life, she didn’t rebel. And it had hurt, hurt her almost as much as she was sure it had hurt Tamao.

“Is he going to be good to you?”

Yoshike looked up in surprise. She hadn’t known Tamao had been talking to her, or watching her so intently. It was odd, because he looked strangely calm. She’d expected anger and yelling, a curse or two at the least. A sardonic smile, maybe? But no, just a nod. And it told her more than anything that she’d hurt him.

“I think so.” She whispered, “…I think he won’t be bad to me, at least.” She stood. “I…I really should be going.”

“Yeah.” Tamao nodded, because his body was numb and yet it hurt all over at the same time. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the feeling. All he knew was that he didn’t like it at all. “…yeah…”

Yoshike walked ahead of him and Tamao realized that was how it had always been. Strangely enough, Izaki and himself had always followed her, no matter what they were doing.

They left the café in silence, an uncomfortable but needed one. Tamao was afraid that if one of them spoke they would say something that they’d regret.

“Tamao?” Her voice was hesitant…afraid and worried.

He turned, “Hm?”

She kissed him.

Her lips were soft. It was his first kiss, if he really thought about it. She pulled away quickly because it seemed awkward for them both, and Tamao didn’t pull her back. For some reason…the kiss was filled with more bitterness and pain than pleasure.

It hadn’t been enjoyable at all.

She was crying, but she was smiling as she pulled away. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and she gave a small half-sob, half-laugh. “Sorry I just…had to do that…”

“Aa.” Tamao murmured, nodding gruffly.

“I wanted to make my own decision for once.” She whispered, and she seemed to be waiting for something. Whatever it was she was waiting for never came because she gave a nod. “…I’d better get going.”

Tamao nodded, following her down the street to where she hailed a taxi. She looked back at him one last time as she opened the taxi door. “Tamao?”

“Mm?”

“I loved you.” And then she was gone as the taxi drove slowly away.

Tamao knew he would probably never see her again.

---

Tokio walked down the hall toward the apartment in contemplative silence. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d left Miyuki’s home only that he’d done so and wound up back at the apartment. The duration of his elevator time was spent wondering what he should be feeling at the moment.

He liked Miyuki. She was sweet, and pretty, and rich. She had a lot going for her, right? It was only natural he would like her. And they’d just had sex, which wasn’t something that Tokio did with just anyone.

But why did it feel like he’d done something…dirty?

And why the hell was he not bursting with joy right now? He’d just had sex with a hot chick and what did he do? He went home to the apartment because he didn’t know if he could look at her without feeling guilty.

Guilty about not liking her enough? Or guilty because he’d been thinking about guys the entire time he was fucking her?

Dammit, why was life so complicated?

He was not gay! Tamao was his best friend! Genji was his former best friend! And he hated Izaki! Why the hell was he thinking about them at such a crucial moment? That wasn’t important…he had to just not think about it.

Maybe he’d been around guys so much that there was too much testosterone in the air and he couldn’t think of anything but guys. That had to be it. Once he was around Miyuki more often he would be fine. He would become a normal, hot-blooded, straight young man. No problems. None.

He gave a semi-confident grin and a nod as he unlocked the door and walked into the apartment. The first thing he noticed was that the lights were off and the window blinds were open—Tamao hated the blinds open so it couldn’t be him.

He heard a soft whine as he walked down the entrance hallway and Cupcake trotted up to him. He bent down, “Oi, dog, what’s going on, huh?” The dog didn’t answer, naturally, but wagged its tail and looked up at him endearingly. He sighed, picking it up. “We need to get you some dog food. Eating Chinese isn’t healthy for you…”

He stopped as he entered the living room.

Izaki was slumped against the couch, the TV turned to the news and several books in his lap. He was scribbling away furiously in a notepad.

“The lights are off.” Was Tokio’s first comment. “Where’s Tamao?” Was his second.

“Sunlight is better.” Izaki murmured, “Tamao wasn’t here when I came in.” He didn’t look up from his note taking.

“Ah. Did you guys have fun without me last night?”

Izaki looked up briefly and something flashed in his eyes that Tokio didn’t understand. Fear? Apprehension? It disappeared behind the usual Izaki façade quickly.

“I went home last night so I wasn’t here. Someone answered the away messages so Tamao must have been here earlier. He probably left sometime this afternoon.”

“…Oh…” Tokio nodded. He felt relieved a bit that Tamao and Izaki hadn’t been alone for the night. He wasn’t quite sure what would have happened, but he knew that he probably wouldn’t have liked the outcome either way.

And that was when he noticed it.

“Are you sweating?”

Izaki shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Tokio’s eyes narrowed. It was hard to see in the soft sunlight, but there a definite pallor to Izaki’s usually tan skin. He eyes, when he looked up, were tired and weary. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. I may have caught a cold or something at home. I took some medicine for it.” He motioned to the steaming cup of tea sitting on the coffee table.

Tokio nodded. It was a believable answer after all. But something told him that there was more to this.

He’d hidden his sickness most of his life. He knew when someone was lying about their health.

But he didn’t say anything more because he didn’t really want to know and because it felt uncomfortable being near him when the night before he’d had…less than innocent thoughts about him.

Oh god it was so awkward!

“I’m going to take a shower.” Tokio grunted, putting Cupcake down on the ground again. Cupcake gave a small whine before jumping up on the couch next to Izaki.

“Mm.” Izaki nodded his head, going back to his books. Izaki waited until he heard the door to Tokio’s room close with a click before he let out a loud sigh, leaning back on the couch, clenching his eyes closed as his head throbbed.

Dammit…the tea and meds had better start kicking in soon or Izaki would have a hard time keeping Tamao from noticing. He could always tell when something was wrong with Izaki, after all. Luckily for him Tamao hadn’t been home when he’d stumbled into the apartment out of breath and more than a little disoriented.

Tamao hadn’t seen him throw up until he felt like he’d lost every single drop of moisture in his body. He hadn’t seen him collapse on the ground beside the kitchen sink, dry heaving for an eternity as cold chills and aches shook his body until he could finally drag himself to the bathroom, clean up, and get some food and fluids down. Izaki knew that he would be sick after stressing his body so badly after his fever.

He’d run the entire way from the hospital, after all.

Izaki let out a small groan as he turned over. The sheets smelled odd…as if they’d been disinfected a million times over. It wasn’t a particularly appealing smell, and he was already feeling a bit nauseas. His fever hadn’t helped matters, it seemed…

His eyes flickered open as his memories of the night before came to mind and he sat up quickly in bed. There was a bit of dizziness but it faded as he looked quickly around the room. Kang-Dae! He had to get the hell away from him!

He blinked in surprise.

He was lying in a hospital room.

He looked down at the crisp white sheets pooled at his waist and at the clean, white-washed walls. A hospital. He was in a hospital. He put a hand to his neck and winced. The bruises were sore and he was sure that they would only darken as time went on, becoming more prominent before the day was out. Kang-Dae hadn’t even strangled him hard but for some reason he’d bruised easily enough.

Where was Kang-Dae? He had to get out of the place and fast. He couldn’t afford the hospital fees this was going to cost…the sooner he left the better! That was when the door opened and a nurse walked in.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

A nod.

The nurse headed toward him with a bright smile. “That’s good. You have a nasty fever and some severe bruising. What happened?”

“Who brought me here?”

“Your friend.” The nurse nodded. “A handsome Korean boy. He was so worried about you. He carried you up the stairs to your room. He was so concerned, it was rather cute. Childhood friends?”

It was painful, and the words stuck in his throat. “Yeah…” he managed to whisper, before looking down at his hand. It was shaking slightly.

“The doctor wants you to stay the night, he says that the bruises will fully form and we’ll be able to tell what exactly happened. You friend said that you were unconscious and feverish when he found you…” Suddenly her face darkened with concern and worry. “Sir…do you know that you—”

“I know.” Izaki murmured. “Don’t worry about it. How…how much is the cost? I’ll be leaving today.”

“You really shouldn’t…” the nurse frowned. “besides your friend paid for everything.”

Izaki stilled. “…where is he…?” Because he was scared, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Downstairs at the moment, I believe. He was talking with the doctor and was going to go pay the medical bills…”

“I need to leave.” Izaki threw his legs over the bed, standing shakily. His strength was returning quickly, however, and the adrenaline pumping through his system was helping him to keep going.

“Sir—”

“Now.”

Izaki lifted a hand to his neck once more and flinched. It was bruised worse now, and it hurt to move. He was glad Tokio hadn’t noticed it. He’d kept the lights off and used the rapidly disappearing sunlight to help hide the bruises and his pale face. The fever was gone but the sickness remained. He was still breaking out into small cold chills and his headache was horrible.

He would sleep it off. He’d be perfectly fine after that. He took a deep breath, gathering his books as he made his way to his room. He’d get to his room before Tamao could come back and question him.

Because Tamao would know.

Tamao always knew.

And in the morning he’d talk to Tokio about his female friend. With a plan in mind he closed his door and slid beneath his covers. He closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep as he wondered whether if this was only the beginning…and if it would only get worse from here.

---

Genji walked down the street with Atasuke, feeling more than a little paranoid. Ever since the attack on his life he’d been feeling as if there was an enemy at every corner. At the same time, however, he knew that the most competent person to protect him—and damn that hurt his pride to say—was the man walking beside him.

“S-sir, your f-father wanted to speak with y-you at s-some point this w-week.” Atasuke stuttered, giving a pointed look at his boss. “Have y-you not been c-communicating with h-him?”

“We don’t talk much.” Genji muttered.

“Mm.” Atasuke nodded.

Genji really hated the fact that he needed bodyguards at all. Not only was Atasuke at his side, but there were a few other members tailing them, and there’d been hell when he’d said he wanted to walk instead of ride. He hadn’t been in the office too much because Atasuke was handling most of it. It was a good thing too, because Genji hated sitting and doing nothing.

If he’d wanted that he would have gone to college with Izaki and Tokio.

He was feeling more than a little deprived of his time with his best friend. And he was even more worried over the fact that he and Tamao hadn’t found him yet. His cellphone had been turned off every time he or Tamao had tried to call and Tamao—begrudginly—had promised to call Genji if he found him before Genji did.

No calls yet.

It was too late at night to go and check to see if Izaki had made it home and Tamao had just decided to be a bastard and not tell him. He supposed he could call Tokio…

“We should p-probably h-head back, sir.” Atasuke murmured, looking up at the darkening sky. The sunset painted the entire thing crimson with streaks of pink and purple. It was pretty, but Genji didn’t like pretty things so he didn’t dwell on it.

He merely grunted and gave a nod.

Atasuke pulled out his phone. “I’ll c-call for the c-car.”

“We’ll walk.”

Atasuke hesitated, before giving a small nod and slipping the phone back into his jacket. The two headed down the street in silence until two people walked out of a side street and intercepted them.

Genji stilled.

Kang-Dae seemed mildly surprised at seeing him there, but at the same time he looked as if he’d been expecting it.

Atasuke and Dong-Yul merely sized each other up silently.

“Takiya.”

“Bastard.” Genji growled back. Dong-Yul’s eyes narrowed, even as Kang-Dae stepped closer to Genji and Atasuke.

Kang-Dae seemed unruffled by Genji’s curse—which pissed Genji off. Genji wanted to kill him. No one did that to Izaki while Genji was there.

Wait…did that mean Kang-Dae was back for Izaki? Bastard…

“Have you seen Izaki lately?” Kang-Dae asked calmly.

Genji’s eyes narrowed to pure slits as he decided that the implication in Kang-Dae’s statement meant he had something to do with Izaki’s disappearance. The sick fuck… “Where the hell did you take him, bastard?”

Kang-Dae’s eyes flickered with anger, annoyance, and fear? Genji wasn’t sure about the last one. The only thing he was sure about was that he wanted to break Kang-Dae’s jaw.

Kang-Dae’s smile was a bit triumphant, a smirk that told him that he was enjoying Genji’s annoyance. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Sick fuck.” Genji snarled, lunging forward, ready to beat the information out of him. “What the fuck did you do to him!?”

He didn’t get far, because Dong-Yul and Atasuke both moved at the same time.

Kang-Dae and Genji stared in shock at the weapons pointed at their respective foreheads.

“A Beretta U22 Neos.” Dong-Yul murmured appreciatively, and his voice was cold as steel. “Nice choice.” He looked pointedly at the weapon in Atasuke’s hand.

“A Desert Eagle Mark XIX. Not bad.” Atasuke nodded back, seemingly unfazed at the fact that a gun was pointed at Genji’s head. His own did not waver from its place at Kang-Dae’s temple. “If you would be so kind as to remove the weapon from Takiya-sama’s head…I would be much obliged.”

Dong-Yul’s eyes narrowed and he gave a chiding smirk, “If you move, they’ll never be able to get the bloodstains off of the pavement.”

“I suggest you do not joke with that kind of thing.” Atasuke’s voice was deadly calm, and that bothered Genji more than the gun pointed at his head.

Neither of the moved for a long time until Kang-Dae finally spoke.

“Put your gun down, Dong-Yul.”

Dong-Yul’s eyes flickered to him uncertainly before going back to Atasuke. It wouldn’t do for him to be caught unaware and distracted.

“Put it down.”

“Atasuke.” Genji’s own voice was strangely calm—he’d expected it to waver—as he spoke. “Put it away.” His anger at Kang-Dae and his fear of the gun seemed to have collided to make him oddly numb.

“I can’t do that, Bosu.” Atasuke’s smile was dark. “Not until he puts his own down.”

“That is an order.”

“I don’t follow orders if they put the person I am in charge of protecting in danger.” Atasuke drawled. “Please forgive me.”

“Takiya.” Kang-Dae hissed out. “I would not be here if I did not wish to be. I have something to say to you.”

“I don’t want to hear any of your shit.” Genji growled back, and he felt the barrel of Dong-Yul’s gun press against his skin. He shivered, but his face remained calm.

“It’s about Izaki.”

Genji let out a low growl in the back of his throat, a feral sound. “What have you done to him, bastard?”

“He’s sick.” Kang-Dae whispered, and his voice shook.

“I don’t trust a word you say. What makes you think I’ll believe it?” Genji barked back. You’re the sick one, you sick fuck.

Kang-Dae shook his head. “He needs help, Takiya.”

“Fuck you.”

“…one more thing…” Kang-Dae whispered, and there was a panic in his eyes. “Keep him away from me.”

Genji stilled. “What?”

“Keep him away.” Kang-Dae shook his head. “I don’t know…just…keep him away.” He stepped back slowly and Dong-Yul moved with him. The cool metal of the gun was replaced by air on Genji’s skin, but it wasn’t any less frigid.

“What the hell—” But Atasuke grabbed him and pushed him behind himself, making a shield. His gun never left Kang-Dae and Dong-Yul’s retreating forms.

“Keep him away.” Kang-Dae was serious, but panicky at the same time. And then he turned around and began walking back down the street. Dong-Yul walked backwards a few steps, his own weapon trained on Atasuke before he gave a smirk and turned to face Kang-Dae.

Atasuke slowly lowered his own weapon. He turned to Genji. “Bosu, you’ve made a powerful enemy.”

Genji’s eyes followed Kang-Dae’s disappearing form.

“He’s picked the wrong person to fuck with.” No one touches Izaki…no one.

Rated M for violence and mature scenes
fact: a flock of crows is called a murder.

---

Chapter IX
---

Izaki let out a small groan, shifting in his sleep. Waking up was like coming out a dense fog. He felt like he was swimming. His body ached and his muscles were slow to react. He had to forcibly tell his arm to move. His eyes were still closed because he couldn’t muster the energy to open them.

Someone was brushing the hair out of his face. Cold fingers, they felt nice.

Did he have a fever? He wasn’t quite sure, because thinking was difficult. Perhaps he shouldn’t have gone out in the rain…

He couldn’t think, why was he trying? Sleep…he needed sleep…

“Drink this first.”

A voice. Familiar? It seemed safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that it was someone he knew.

That meant safe, right?

Something cool touched his lips and he opened them wider, letting a cool liquid slid down his throat. Water? It seemed tasteless but his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, so he wasn’t sure of anything.

And so he closed his eyes and slept. Because oblivion was more appealing than waking.

---

Tamao woke up on the couch with ice cream in his hair and Cupcake licking it off of his cheek.

“…the fuck…?” He grumbled, sitting up. The TV was still on, playing another movie. He wasn’t sure what it was…only that he’d spent the entire night watching foreign films.

And that he wanted to start a Fight Club. Now.

Foreign movies were the best shit in the world, or so he’d decided around three in the morning. He looked around the room with a frown. No one else was up? He stumbled to the telephone, because the light for a message was blinking. A missed call? He pressed the button—hoping it was the right one, he was fucked when it came to technology—and listened.

“Yo! Hey guys, it’s Tokio. I’m a little busy right now so…I don’t know if I’ll be coming home tonight. Don’t wait up for me. I have a key so don’t forget to lock the door, obviously. I don’t have classes tomorrow so Izaki, go without me. And Tamao, don’t sit around eating icecream and watching TV all day! Walk the little poodle thing or something. Bye!”

Tamao blinked in confusion. What…was that? His eyes narrowed in suspicion. There had been whisperes and giggles in the background of the message…what the fuck was Tokio doing exactly? If he’d been more awake he probably would have put two and two together and realized that it was someone and not something. But Tamao was not the most observant in the morning, especially when he was cursing over the fact that he needed to take a shower to get the ice cream out of his hair and clothes…and thought about doing it at the same time until he realized that they had a washing machine for clothes now…

Before he moved away from the telephone he did a doubletake at the digital clock attached to it.

“…the fuck…?” He muttered for the second time in five minutes, noticing that it was 10:09am. He listened intently. No sounds coming from the kitchen or bathrooms…

Izaki never slept in this late. He always woke up at 7:30 in the morning—not that Tamao timed it or anything—and he would have already made breakfast. And he’d have probably cleaned up a little and woken up Tamao and told him he was a messy fuck.

“Izaki?” He didn’t particularly want to go and check in his room and have a confrontation or anything, because Izaki seemed even more distant from him than usual. Ever since college had started he’d reverted more and more toward his old self from when the two were enemies.

Cupcake gave a small wine. Tamao picked him up. The dog needed a shower too, might as well hit two birds with one stone.

Wait, dammit…he didn’t have to do that. They could waste as much water as they wanted here…he had to get used to that.

The door to Izaki’s room was closed, as always. He hesitated outside before opening it.

Empty.

Tamao stilled. Something was wrong. He knew for a fact that Izaki didn’t have class that day and that Izaki would tell them or leave a note if he was going somewhere and he hadn’t.

Izaki was gone.

He was going to wash the ice cream out of his hair and then search for Izaki. He shouldn’t have been so worried.

Izaki was probably with Genji, after all.

And that thought pissed him off and worried him even more.

---

Genji pulled his sunglasses down a bit and squinted up at La Tour Abodai.

“Is this the b-building s-sir?” Atasuke pushed up his own glasses, clutching a manila folder in his arms and looking up at the building in wonder. “It’s r-rather i-intimidating, ne?” He still stuttered in that awkward way of his, making Genji wonder if what he’d seen the day someone had tried to shoot him was all just a hallucination.

“Mm.” Genji mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He was glad for his old turtleneck jacket. It reminded him of the old days and the fact that even though he was the yakuza head, he was still the same Takiya Genji who had almost ruled Suzuran.

Atasuke watched Genji closely. He knew that Genji didn’t particularly want to be surrounded by bodyguards but his assention as the head of the Ryuusekai was shaky. Until all of the competition had been dealt with he needed to be kept safe. Afterwards he would be back to acting normal, with men only following at a distance.

Until then, Atasuke would be attached to him permanently. He was enough to deal with most anyone who came for Genji anyway. If not, backup was close enough that he could hold them off until then.

He looked around the building and the outlying buildings as well. His eyes narrowed as he scanned them. A few weaknesses were seen immediately, and he positioned himself so that he blocked these weak spots. “Bosu, are w-we g-going inside?” It would be safer in a crowded room.

Genji nodded gruffly, heading toward the steps.

The moment they reached the entrance the glass doors slid open and Tamao walked out, a towel around his neck as he quickly dried his hair. He stopped, blinking. “Oh.”

The two stared at one another, even as Atasuke looked to Genji and back at the other boy. “D-do you know him s-sir?” Of course Atasuke already knew him. He’d done a quick background check on all the people that would be at the apartment. This one was Serizawa Tamao…

Tamao looked the dorky man over with a small sneer, turning back to Genji. If Genji was here and Izaki wasn’t…

“…where’s Izaki?” Tamao snapped.

Genji’s eyes narrowed. “I came to see him. He isn’t at the apartment?”

“No.” Tamao muttered, and he suddenly felt panic rush through him. Izaki hadn’t come back that night and Genji didn’t know where he was…something was wrong. Shit, he needed to find him fast. He’d head over to the Shun family store first…

Genji rolled his eyes, walking past him. Tamao grabbed his shirt before he could get all the way past, wrenching him back and holding him there. “…stop coming here and looking for him.”

“I can do whatever I want.” Genji drawled back. Atasuke had already taken a step forward at Tamao’s movement and was going to wrench Tamao away and throw him against the ground and away from his boss…but he was currently making a good human shield in case someone tried to attack.

“Leave Izaki alone.” Tamao growled out.

“The fuck I’m going to leave him with you.” Genji snarled back.

“Fucker—” Tamao began, but Atasuke moved, grabbing his fist before it connected with Genji’s face and slamming him against the wall.

“Don’t touch him.” He murmured coldly.

“Get the fuck off!”

“Let him go.” Genji ordered. “This is between the two of us. Don’t interfere.”

Atasuke hesitated before doing as he was told. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, before he saw a flicker of movement in a window of the building to their left. He looked up suddenly, before turning back to Genji. “If the two of you are going to fight…perhaps we should have this discussion somewhere else?”

“What the fuck happened to your stutter, bastard?” Tamao growled out, but followed as Genji gave a nod.

“Let’s go then…” Genji muttered, and Tamao followed.

This needed to happen sooner or later…Tamao was glad it was happening now. He hated waiting after all.

Atasuke cast another warning glare at the window before following Genji and Tamao down the street.

---
Dong-Yul looked out of the curtains, eyes narrowed in the direction of the glasses-wearing assistant. So…Takiya Genji wasn’t completely incompetent. He had a skilled assassin working for him. That meant this was more dangerous for Kang-Dae than they had originally thought…he and the others would have to have a talk about this.

He’d planned on taking out Serizawa when he came out of the building, but then he’d seen Genji and had figured it was a good opportunity to take him out first. He’d never have another chance like this to take out the head of the Ryuuseikai and another contender for Shun Izaki’s attentions.

But Genji had been ready…

Dong-Yul flipped open his cellphone. “Tadao-san…I need information on the top assassins of the Ryuuseikai.”

---

Tokaji let out a frustrated sigh, looking up at his spackled ceiling. He’d been lying on the bed since he’d woken up two hours earlier. He looked over at the clock. 1:05pm. Fuck it. He’d been in bed all morning and part of the afternoon.

He took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling loudly. He expected his mother to come barging in, but after her tirade the night before she’d been quiet. She’d seen his anger rising and had gone to bed without any answers, even though he knew she was burning to ask him questions. She probably thought he was having a steamy love affair with his orchestra conductor.

Ha, if she’d seen the lost, disappointed look in Shige’s eyes she would have thought twice about that. She’d looked…completely disappointed in him. Not angry like he’d expected, or condescending, or judgmental. Just…tired and disappointed, and maybe a little sad. Why?

Why did she care so fucking much whether or not he stayed at the school?

It didn’t matter. He’d shoved her out the door. He’d ignored her completely and yelled and snapped at her at every turn, insulted her and tried everything to get her to go away.

He’d given her his fucking coat.

And he’d practically seen her tits.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Why the hell did girls wear those kind of shirts? If he hadn’t found her she probably would have been raped!

She could have been raped afterwards. Somebody could have fucking picked her up after you fucking kicked her out of the damn house.

FUCK.

Now he felt guilty as hell and more than a little worried.

He grabbed his cellphone from the sidetalble beside his bed, dialing a number. The phone rang and a woman answered, “Yes?”

“Is the O-5 orchestra practicing today?”

“Yes. Though the Maestro did call and say that practice would be an hour or so later than usual.”

“Thanks.” Tokaji hung up, feeling a bit more relieved. He wasn’t going to go, obviously, but at least he knew she was safe. He closed his eyes.

He’d practically seen her tits.

“Fuck.”

---

Genji and Tamao had not gotten along.

They’d spent the entire afternoon bickering and fighting and coming close to blows. If Atasuke hadn’t have been there Tamao was sure the two would have physically fought. They’d come close enough to it and had swung at each other a few times.

Why the fuck did Izaki like him, anyway? And why the hell had Tamao decided to follow him and declare him as his leader?

“You already have Tokio, ne? Why are you pushing things with Izaki?” Genji snapped.

“Fuck off.” Tamao growled back. “I don’t have to choose.”

“Yeah, you do.” Genji’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. “There’s no way in hell I’m losing them both to you.”

What the fuck did Genji mean by that anyway? Tamao was the one who was pissed as hell. Tokio was off doing whatever the hell it was he did now—and leaving Tamao alone—and Izaki had disappeared completely.

They’d searched the family store and found out he hadn’t been home since he’d taken Aki to the hospital the afternoon before. Aki seemed suspicious of what was going on, but she hadn’t said much. She seemed more worried than anything else.

“I think…he and the doctor went and talked but I don’t know what happened after that. Tamao-san…make sure he’s ok, ok? I know he can depend on you, and I think he knows it too.”

Yeah, if only Tamao could find him. That was the fucking problem.

He walked through the first floor lobby, frowning in frustration. He stopped in front of the elevator, pushing the button and waiting for the doors tot open. He’d get back up to the apartment and call Tokio and ask if he knew anything. Hell, maybe Izaki had come home while he and Genji were off looking for him.

But…where the hell could he be?

He didn’t have much more time to think about it because the elevator door opened and a young woman walked out, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth as she sobbed softly.

He froze.

Even with the handkerchief hiding the lower half of her face, even though he hadn’t seen her for years, he recognized her instantly.

“…Yoshike…?”

The woman looked up at him in surprise, her red-rimmed, gray-green eyes meeting his own. The handkerchief fell to the ground from lax, limp fingers. She hadn’t changed at all over the years it seemed. Long brown hair hung in sleek waves to her shoulders, and she was still short and skinny, but in a womanly way. There was no youthful boniness to her body now.

“…Tamao…?”

Ajibana Yoshike.

The first person Serizawa Tamao had ever loved.

---

Tokio woke up to Miyuki snuggling her face against his shoulder. One of her hands played with his hair, the other rested on his chest.

Tokio gave a sleepy, satisfied grin. “G’morning…”

“Mmm…” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “Good morning.” She pulled the blankets up further, covering the two almost completely.

Tokio reveled in the warmth and the sunlight filtering in through the window. The night before had been…amazing. And he was sure his mother would approve of Miyuki, and his father as well. She was smart, pretty, and rich.

Everything his family wanted in a daughter-in-law.

He should have felt happier, he knew. But there was something bothering him. An empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. And more than the emptiness he felt shame and guilt.

Because in the heat of the moment it hadn’t been Miyuki he’d thought of.

And that frightened him.

But he ignored it, pushed it aside. Thinking about him, them, any of them…that just wasn’t right. He couldn’t have imagined him\them touching and whispering. It was wrong, so utterly wrong and god he liked women! He’d just fucked one to prove the point.

“…Tokio-kun…?” Miyuki murmured sleepily, snuggling back against him. “…what’s wrong…?”

“Nothing.” Tokio murmured. “…nothing…”

---

Izaki sat up slowly clutching his head with a groan. What the fuck had happened to him? That’s right, he’d fallen unconscious…he hadn’t opened his eyes because his head hurt, a pounding in his skull that wouldn’t cease.

Someone had taken him in, obviously, someone he knew. He cracked his eyes open slowly and was assaulted by sunlight.

“Shit.” He cursed, clenching them shut again. He wasn’t in his own room or home, so he knew that it wasn’t Tokio or Tamao that had found him. Maybe Genji?

He’d been in Bando’s former territory, perhaps he’d grabbed him and taken him back to one of his bases to let him sleep off his fever.

He tried opening his eyes again, because he could feel someone watching him. He finally managed it, blinking rapidly. His head still pounded and as soon as his vision cleared, he stilled.

“…the fuck are you doing here, Kang-Dae…?”

Kang-Dae sat a few feet away in a chair positioned by the bed. His gaze was guarded, and he gave a small smirk. “It’s my house, obviously.”

Izaki was panicking now. He was stuck here. Kang-Dae would probably kill him, he didn’t doubt it. Or would he use him to get back at Genji? No way in hell he was going to let Kang-Dae hurt Genji…

“You’ve been here all night.” Kang-Dae continued conversationally, though his face betrayed his light tone. It was a tight mask, as if he were fighting within himself on what to do.

“I’m leaving.” Izaki growled, swinging his legs around and trying to stand. He fell, legs going out from under him.

“You’re still sick.” Kang-Dae drawled, catching his arm and hoisting him back on the bed. Izaki threw him off quickly, putting as much distance between himself and Kang-Dae as he could. If he had any strength he wasn’t sure if he would have ran or punched him.

Kang-Dae had caused enough problems in his life. He’d thought that he’d finally managed to put it all behind him, to bury his hatred and forget about it because he’d believed he’d never see Kang-Dae again.

But that wasn’t true now, and the anger and hatred was coming back.

Kang-Dae had crippled his sister.

Kang-Dae had burned down his family’s home.

Kang-Dae was the biggest mother-fucker—Izaki groaned, his vision swimming. He gave a small, tired laugh after the dizziness subsided. I guess it didn’t matter much either way, if he got out alive or not, really…

Still, if he died here than Genji and the others would try and take revenge on Kang-Dae and people would be hurt. He couldn’t let that happen. He wasn’t going to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt because of Kang-Dae and his obsessions.

“Say what you want to say and then I’ll leave.” Izaki whispered roughly.

“You’re in no condition to move.” Kang-Dae’s own voice was tight with emotion and—worry?

“Just say it!” Izaki’s head was pounding and the world was still spinning. He was hot and frustrated and tired and scared. He shouldn’t be but he was terrified. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t fucking move and he was in Kang-Dae’s home. There were probably guards at the door, not including his main men.

Izaki was totally fucked.

“You’re living with Tamao.”

Fuck. Totally, utterly fucked.

Izaki stiffened, trying to sit up as much as possible without expending too much energy. “…hai…” Damn, Tamao was in trouble, and Tokio too, probably. If Kang-Dae knew that he lived with Tamao and Tokio he probably knew where the building itself was.

Shit.

“…you’re living with Tamao…” Kang-Dae’s voice was soft with barely contained rage. He was gripping the sides of his chair tightly, knuckles white from the pressure. Izaki knew he was treading on thin ice but he didn’t know what to do to deescalate the situation at all.

“You’re living with the guy who fucking crippled your sister.”

“Fuck you, Kang-Dae. You’re the one who’s responsible for that.” Izaki snarled. “So shut the fuck up!” And that was how he found himself shoved back against the bed, Kang-Dae’s hands around his neck.

Izaki choked, but Kang-Dae’s grip wasn’t particularly strong or painful yet. His fingers tightened ever-so-slightly.

“Shut up.” He hissed.

“Fuck off.” Izaki whispered tiredly. He was so angry he would have fought back but he was too dizzy and tired to move. His body felt like lead and Kang-Dae was heavy as well.

“Why would you live with him!? Why don’t you hate him!?” Kang-Dae’s voice was raised and Izaki was surprised that his men hadn’t burst into the room. Maybe he’d told them to stay away and not come in under any circumstances.

“Get off…” Izaki began to struggle, but Kang-Dae’s grip only tightened. One hand around his neck, the other pressed against his shoulder. Izaki could feel it bruising.

“So you’re in love with him? You can love him but not me!?” Kang-Dae yelled, and he looked panicked down. His eyes were swimming with a torrent of emotions. Izaki had never seen Kang-Dae look like that. Even when he was manic and pissed at the world, his eyes were clear. Not now, not this time, and it terrified him more than the hand around his throat.

“I never said—“

What had happened to the Kang-Dae he’d known and thought of as a friend? What had happened to all of it? Why was he thinking about that now when he was being strangled?

“I’ll change…tell me what you love about him! What you love about him and Genji because I see it in your eyes. Why can’t you look at me like that!?” Because he’d seen it that day, when Izaki had and told him that he would always follow Genji. Maybe he hadn’t noticed it himself, but Kang-Dae had…because it was the look he’d always wanted directed at himself.

“…Kang…Dae…” Izaki couldn’t breath. His chest hurt and his head was pounding and his heart was beating a million times a second as he struggled.

Kang-Dae wrenched his hand away from Izaki’s neck as if burned. He looked horrified at the fact that he’d almost strangled him. He looked down at his hand, and his entire body was shaking.

“…Izaki…”

Izaki coughed, eyes fluttering closed.

“Izaki, oh god…”

He vaguely realized he was coughing up blood as something warm trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

Kang-Dae was holding his head in his hands, tenderly, panicked. What was wrong? Izaki was drifting off again, because he was so, so tired…

“Izaki! Oh god I’m sorry! Izaki! IZAKI!”

Darkness.

“Someone get in here! Get the doctor up here immediately! NOW! NOW!”

The sounds were dulling and disappearing into a vague silence.

“…Izaki! Hang on…oh god…so…sorry…Izaki…don’t…leave…Izaki…”

Title: Murder II
Rated M for violence and mature scenes

Genji leaned back in his desk. He hadn’t known quite how shaken up the assassination attempt had made him until now. He looked at his reflection in the window and saw that he was pale, and his fingers trembled slightly.

He’d almost been shot.

Genji could fight someone head on and knew that he would never fall. But…how could he fight a bullet?

And Atasuke…

He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure what to think about him. He was dangerous, he’d already known that. But now…Genji didn’t even want to be in the same room with him. He’d always braced himself for death because he’d always been ready to fight it off with his own strength. But now…everything was different.

Genji suddenly realized that he couldn’t fight death at all.

The door to his office clicked open and Genji stiffened in fear for a moment before he recognized the man. He forced his muscles to relax as he feigned indifference. “You came?”

“Yes, Takiya-sama.” Jukodo Toshiaki was one of his father’s oldest members. Toshiaki had been trusted by his father for many years as one of his closest bodyguards and members. Genji knew that he could trust him, as much as you could trust anyone in the yakuza. Perhaps more so, because Toshiaki had been with his father since Genji had been born, and he had always looked out for him.

He was graying now, looking much older than the last time that Genji had seen him. Genji had always believed that Toshiaki was invincible. Once again, it made the reality of the entire situation that much scarier. Toshiaki, whom he’d believed infallible, was aging.

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Of course sir.” Toshiaki pushed his glasses up his nose—when had he needed glasses? The last time Genji remembered seeing him, he’d been fine. He had perfect vision. He needed it as a sniper, after all.

“Tell me about Iwahara Atasuke.”

“Iwahara Atasuke, sir?”

“Hai.”

“If I may be so bold…” Toshiaki sat down in the seat Genji had offered him. “Why do you want to know, exactly?”

“I need to know if he can be trusted.”

Toshiaki gave a smile, and the wrinkles around his mouth seemed even more pronounced. “Of course sir. If this is a question of Iwahara-kun’s loyalty I can personally vouch for him.”

Genji’s eyes narrowed.

Toshiaki’s smile never wavered. “Truly. I have worked with Iwahara-kun closely in the last few months before you took over the family business. He was in charge of making the entire process smooth for you. The two of us went around to all of the Ryuuseikai’s allies with your father. I also had the…pleasure to work with him earlier as a member of your father’s bodyguards when he first arrived with the yakuza.”

“I want his file.” Genji murmured, noting the odd change in Toshiaki’s tone when he’d mentioned his ‘earlier’ relationship with Atasuke.

“I’m afraid he doesn’t have one, sir.”

“What?” Genji knew that every single member of the Ryuuseikai had a file. It was mandatory and a reason that his father’s yakuza was so powerful and efficient.

“I suppose…I could tell you what I know of him, sir.” Toshiaki slipped off his glasses, pulling a cloth out of his pocket and beginning to clean them. “I met him when he was fifteen.”

“…he was allowed in the yakuza at fifteen?”

Toshiaki nodded. “I’m not sure what he and your father talked about exactly, but he became one of your father’s bodyguards within the week. He’s a perfect shot, better than myself.”

“Why would my father trust him?” Genji questioned aloud, not really expecting an answer. But he saw it in Toshiaki’s eyes, a hidden secret, something he was unwilling to say as he placed his glasses back on. The look disappeared and he stood, bowing.

“I am sorry I can be of no more help.” Toshiaki straightened his jacket. “Your father needs me.” He had sworn loyalty to Hideo and would stay with him as the elder yakuza boss even though Genji had taken over.

Genji nodded, eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion. “…send Atasuke in as you leave.”

“Of course sir.” And the door closed with a definite click.

---

Tokio slipped on his sunglasses, giving a smirk as he walked through the doors. Music blared through the building, and the floor was a mass of writhing, dancing bodies.

People lined the walls with champagne and wine glasses, laughing and talking or sitting in the many lounges that the monstrous house included.

Tokio was used to the grandeur, so he didn’t stop and stare and comment on the house as the couple behind him did. He merely swaggered inside, weaving through the crowd to where he saw Miyuki talking with a group of friends.

Miyuki spotted him and smiled, her red-stained lips glistening with lipgloss and wine. “Tokio-kun! I was afraid you wouldn’t come!” She looked behind him. “Your friend didn’t show?”

“He was busy.” Tokio sidled alongside her.

“Mmm.” Miyuki smiled. “I guess it’s alright. After all, I get you all to myself now, ne?” And she grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the dance floor. “Let’s dance.”

Tokio blinked in surprise but a second later he found himself in the middle of the floor, a wall of bodies cutting him off from retreat and Miyuki swinging her hips in front of him. She smiled coyly. “Come on, don’t tell me you can’t dance.”

Tokio smirked, grabbed her hips and pulling her against him. “What kind of dancing?”

Her smile grew. The music pounded in his ears and the smoky air blinded him. Tokio didn’t see anything except for Miyuki as the world dissolved into only the two of them.

---

Tokaji stumbled down the street drunkenly, cursing to himself. He almost lost his grip on his beer bottle but managed to save it at the last second. “Fuck…” He coughed, before looking up into the sky, closing his eyes.

Why was it fucking raining? He let the water hit his face before he dragged a hand through his sopping wet hair, trying to get it out of his eyes. Strands stuck to the side of his face, and his sunglasses kept slipping off.

He eventually stuffed them into his jacket pocket. He was glad he’d taken his cello home before going out drinking. The rain would have done hell to the thing…

Dammit, thinking about his cello made him think about the orchestra and about Shige and about the whole reason why he’d try to drink himself into oblivion in the first place.

He’d managed to find the twins and Tsutsumoto and convince them to go drinking with him. The four had bar hopped for a while before finally leaving, one-by-one until Tokaji was once again alone and left to his thoughts.

Fuck.

He was nearing the apartment, because his blurred vision began to pick out familiar landmarks. He hoped Izaki’s mom didn’t seem him like this. She’d end up telling his own mom and then she’d bitch and worry and it would just get annoying…why did the two have to be so close?

It wasn’t like he and Izaki liked each other, after all. Izaki was a little punkass kid that Tokaji didn’t have time for and who everyone else seemed to want to jump.

It was a fucking eyesore, really. What the hell made everyone want to go gay for him?

“Fucking homos…” Tokaji growled, tripping on a rock. Of course, he probably shouldn’t be saying that about Serizawa or his new captain Genji but…who the hell cared? It wasn’t like the two of them were going to find out that he knew they wanted in Izaki’s pants. He wouldn’t be surprised if Genji had already tried. He didn’t usually think before he acted, after all.

It would explain why he never saw the two together anymore…Izaki had probably threatened to castrate him…

And now that Serizawa was living with him he’d probably make his move…would Tokio stand for that? Dammit, why was he thinking about this disgusting shit! He liked to pretend none of it was happening.

He was manly.

Manly men weren’t gay.

Fuck it.

God, it was pouring. He stumbled up to the front of his apartment complex…and froze.

Shige stood beneath the corner streetlight, holding her hands above her head to keep off the rain. It was a rather pitiful, unsuccessful attempt and she was completely soaked, her hair plastered to her face. She looked up when he neared and gave a small, hesitant smile.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He choked out. Dammit, did she know that this was a bad side of town? Girls didn’t just walk alone at night and they didn’t stand in a streetlight so that everyone could see where she was.

She blinked, wincing a bit at his tone before she mimicked playing a cello.

“I told you I don’t want to play anymore!” Tokaji snarled, before grabbing her arm and wrenching her toward the apartment. “Dammit, it’s dangerous here. Why couldn’t you stay the fuck away? You’re fucking soaked.”

They didn’t talk as he dragged her up three flights of stairs. She couldn’t get a word in—metaphorically speaking, obviously—even when he let go of her hand for a moment to shove his key into the lock and throw the door open. It hit the wall with a bang and he grabbed her hand again, pulling her into the darkened hallway.

As soon as he shut the door and flipped on the light did he notice exactly what he’d done.

He’d just dragged his orchestra conductor up three flights of stairs and shoved her into his darkened apartment.

And they were still holding hands.

He let go as if burned, “Fuck!” And looked away uncomfortably.

A touch to his shoulder, gentle and hesitant. He finally looked again, and regretted it. She was completely soaked and looked rather pitiful, in between surprise and worry. Her usually dark curly hair clung to her forehead and cheeks in soaked ringlets, and water dripped down her nose and along her full, flushed lips. She was panting slightly, so they were open just a little bit—

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

She hadn’t worn a coat, as if she’d run over to his apartment without planning ahead properly. She was wearing only a thin blouse and skirt, and the usual scarf wrapped around her neck. Everything was soaked through and he could tell—rather distinctively—that she was wearing a black bra beneath the shirt.

Shit.

She was shivering but trying to hide it, wringing her hands together. She’d probably searched for it all afternoon and had stayed there, waiting for him to come back.

Now he felt uncontrollably guilty. He was such an ass.

But why had she fucking waited for him that long? Why was she waiting there in the first place?

She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a small notepad. She began flipping through the pages only to find all of them soaked, looking desperate as she tried to find one to write on. Tokaji finally grabbed the sticky notes from the kitchen table and handed her one, along with a pen. He refused to look up from the floor.

She took it and began scribbling. Are you coming tomorrow?

“What?” Tokaji snapped out. “Why the hell would I come?” He looked her over again, “Dammit, here.” He grabbed a coat from the rack on the wall—his old Suzuran jacket—and held it out to her.

Silence.

Tokaji looked to see her staring at the jacket and outstretched hand hesitantly, as if unsure on whether or not she should take it.

“Fuck, here.” He stepped forward, wrapping the jacket around her shoulders.

And that was when his mother walked into the apartment.

“Oh!”

Tokaji leapt away from Shige in panic. Looking from her to his mother—and his mother’s widening smile that was turning more mischevious and glee filled by the moment.

“Tokaji-kun…is this your…?” But he stepped in before she said something utterly embarrassing like girlfriend to his already wounded pride.

“She’s the conductor of my orchestra.” Tokaji cut in.

His mother froze, before letting out a loud gasp. “Oh! OH! Y-you’re his conductor? Oh my, let me get you a drink or something! Oh, you’re a girl and his conductor and you two are—oh!” His mother seemed more pleased than he’d ever seen her, practically jumping up and down as she grinned.

“She’s leaving.” Tokaji grumbled, looking back at Shige, who seemed fascinated with his jacket, or perhaps just curious. She looked up at his words and gave him a sad, distant look that had a bit of pleading in it.

He walked her to the door. “…I’m not fucking coming back.” And then he closed it behind her before he could protest.

----

Izaki stumbled down the street, face pale and drawn. He bumped into a few people walking past him, but he paid them little attention, even when a few yelled at him to watch where he was going.

Izaki just kept walking.

He stopped on some steps, taking a deep, shaky breath. His knuckles were white as he clutched the railing…and replayed the last words the doctor had said to him, over and over against in his mind.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck.” Izaki whispered harshly, slamming his fist into the wall of the building to his left. He just felt numb…even from the cold rain that was pounding down on him. It was a sharp contrast to the scalding shower water from before, and he couldn’t quite comprehend that it was raining at all.

He realized after a while, when he’d finally calmed enough to look around and make sense of it all, that he’d stumbled into the downtown area owned by the Armored Front. But not Bando’s section. It was from when the Armored Front had split due to corruption and the remnants following Bando’s enemy now scoured the place.

This wasn’t good.

He could hear voices from behind the alleyway he’d found himself in, and he pushed himself against the wall, keeping to the shadows. Damn, he’d have to get out of here and fast…

“That fucker is messing with sempai’s woman, ya know?”

“Yeah. He’s gonna go ballistic when he finds out. That Tokio bastard is gonna get it.”

Izaki’s eyes narrowed. What on earth…were they talking about?

“I heard Miyuki is using the guy ‘cause he’s rich.” A laugh. “She’s probably playing around with him.”

“I can’t fucking wait. He’s going to get crushed.”

Izaki gritted his teeth. So…the bitch was just using Tokio? There was no way that Izaki was going to let that happen. He backed up slowly, trying to make his way back through the alley. The rain was still making it difficult to see.

He blinked, his vision blurring. He stumbled, and his vision began blacking out.

“Izaki?”

Voice…familiar…

Izaki felt like he was he was hearing everything through water. It was distorted and choppy.

“…I…aki…?”

He was falling, the world around him dimming, and then he fell completely unconscious, feeling himself enveloped in warmth. At least…someone he knew had caught him…his last thought was that at least he was safe.

---

Tamao sat in front of the TV. He took a deep breath, looking around the couch and the coffee table in front of him. Chinese food? Check. Beer? Check. Chips? Check. Pocky? Check. Large ass carton of ice cream?

Tamao look at the open carton of strawberry icecream sitting in his lap.

“Fucking check.”

A soft whine. Tamao frowned a bit, looking over at Cupcake who was curled up on the couch next to him. “What?” Cupcake looked pitifully at the food on the table. Tamao cursed silently before grabbing a bag of chips, opening it, and throwing it onto the couch beside him.

“There.”

He then grabbed the remote and flipped it on.

Three minutes later he was quickly becoming annoyed with his 400+ channel selection. How could you have so many channels and nothing on!? He continued flipping through, grumbling and stuffing his face with ice cream.

He took another bite, the spoon still in his mouth.

And that’s when he hit the foreign film channel.

The spoon fell from his mouth in shock.

Cupcake’s head was stuck in the chip bag.

This song is sooooooo catchy. And G-Dragon is adorable. :D