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23 February 2016 @ 09:50 pm
Hit & Run (i of ii)  
Title: Hit & Run
Pairing: Takaki/Inoo
Genre: Romance, angst-galoreness
Rating: PG-13 for immense awkwardness

for tasuku_kyota

It was a crisp, wintry season, as the crowded street bustled with activity. People rushed through the crowd with hasty paces, not caring in the slightest about their surroundings. Pedestrians strayed across the length of the street as Inoo sat by the curb, looking up at the faces of those who passed by. His stomach growled in dissatisfaction, but he had to hold his hunger in, until someone took enough pity upon him to offer some sort of edible objects, or if he was lucky enough—money.

The rain poured, heavily so, it’d been occurring a lot lately, but it was not particularly uncommon in the midst of this winter season. Inoo sat still, as the sky pattered down his shoulder, sending the pure smell of nature inside his nostrils, the coldness drenching his body. It felt refreshing though, especially thanks to the moisture seeping through his dirty clothes, he hadn’t bathed for a long time anyway.

It was supposed to be a somewhat moderate day for him, but apparently someone up there had desired for something else.

Had life been different to both of them, if, let’s say—they’re not meant to be fated together, or whatever crap those romantic movies spewed nonsense about, maybe life would turn out…quite differently for both. Inoo, the helpless down-and-out, and Takaki, the powerful, affluent man. Quite a bit cliché for even the both of them, discovering each other’s presence amidst the pouring rain as Takaki held out an umbrella above Inoo’s head, Inoo confusedly gazed up at the silhouette of a bulky person before him.

It probably was destined to be this way, and Inoo believed it within the core of his being. He was meant to be brought back to Takaki’s traditional house, to be Takaki’s guide, his anchor. If only Takaki knew that everything was just reversed, it’s Takaki that was Inoo’s guide, anchor, and much much more. If only.

Takaki had taken pity upon Inoo’s current poor living condition, and Inoo—unlike those who loathed such distressing looks sent over their way, had smiled gratefully (apparently his ego was overwhelmed by starvation and naive hopefulness), as Takaki’s eyes widened in slight surprise at the gentle smile. After only a small talk, Takaki immediately offered him a shelter without seemingly much thought. Somewhere to live—an accommodation, a home. Inoo wasn’t hesitant, if anything, he was desperate, excited. He nodded a little enthusiastically. Takaki held out a hand, which he gladly took. There wasn’t much anything that Inoo had, so he left everything behind, and became adamant on starting anew.

Takaki’s traditional house came into view and Inoo watched intently as the automatic gate opened, revealing a much wider front yard, and a set of well-landscaped garden surrounding the car path. Takaki’s mansion was located in the middle of a rice field in the countryside, a perfect place to seek distraction from the hectic life of that in the city. The weather here was marvelously warm with just the right temperature, and he relished everything while it lasted, every breath of breeze upon his face, the outline of Mount Fuji basked in eerie fog, and the sweetness of the smile that came from his now-established friend.

For a moment he thought of waking up from his dream, despite the slight tremor upon his mind, if this was ever a dream. The very thought of him dreaming everything up, was – honestly, frightening. Maybe he’d gone mental; maybe he’s imagining everything due to the uncontrollable desperation. Maybe, maybe.

But maybe it was merely real; maybe he was one of the lucky ones that were fortunate enough to be offered a home. Maybe it’s just his destiny. Or—well, perhaps, Takaki was actually a yakuza that took in underage homeless people for the sake of entertainment. There was no doubt that Takaki was a yakuza anyway, if the two bodyguards of his, minus the driver, or the occupants from the SUV behind theirs, with similarly shining black, expensive suits, that looked too fancy for his liking were any indication at all. But the rich man had looked too kind, too gentle to be a sadistic psychopath.

“We’re here.” Takaki broke the confusion swirling on his head. He nodded.

His jaw dropped at the two rows of identical men kneeling down on the ground on each of Inoo as well as Takaki’s sides as he hopped down the car, welcoming their master home with a rather enthusiastically loud yell. Takaki waved them with his hand, as they kept their heads bowed down in some form of undeniable respect and loyalty. Inoo stumbled to keep up the pace, and as his confusion grew by each passing minute, he felt himself became a little too self-conscious by the questioning gazes emanating from these men.

“Don’t mind them.” Takaki said as his head slightly turned just barely to meet his eyes, Inoo gulped at the potentiality of how powerful Takaki could be.

After what seemingly an endless journey just from the front yard to the inside, Inoo finally took in the prestigious atmosphere despite how traditional it was, as he basked in the most enormous genkan he’s ever seen, been, or dreamed – for that matter, in his entire life. It’s huge, and as an array of shoes were organized neatly before him, he hesitantly took off his cruddy, disgusting pair of shoes, and he paused slightly as he picked up soft sounds of paddings gradually came closer, before a man of Takaki’s age appeared from the hallway.

His appearance was different from the others, he noticed. This man radiated that of higher power, as he wore a traditional yukata, his haori jacket adorned with an ukiyo-e wave pattern, resembling Hokusai’s design, however a bit less formal. His features were, okay, Inoo supposed, perhaps a bit on the handsome side. Okay, a little too much on the handsome side, but he wasn’t playing that team anyway.

That man’s scrutiny upon Inoo was intense as he felt his cheeks reddening. Inoo’s head was bowed down to avoid any eye contact, also for the sake of respect. The man was intimidating, but in a whole different level from Takaki. He looked powerful, but intelligent, as Takaki seemed almost reckless, one of those yakuzas that tended to act somewhat naturally, purely based on instincts. Takaki greeted him with a grunt, and proceeded to reason with him, kindly explaining the situation, and Inoo chanced to look up; just in time to see that man’s eyes almost bulged out his sockets incredulously. The man then, with a weary sigh, as if this was nothing new—then turned and landed his eyes upon Inoo, observing every inch of him. Inoo swallowed air, hoping it would ease his nervousness somehow, of course to no avail.

“Inoo Kei, huh? What the fuck do you want with Takaki?”

Inoo warily switched his gaze upon the two. What had he got himself into?


Inoo had anticipated some kind of punishment that would be imposed on Takaki, or more likely himself, since he was the subject of lecture anyway. This man reprimanded Takaki like a mother would to her son, but Takaki was as hot-headed as he was, his reasoning had long since turned into nothing but half-yelling.

“—I still don’t understand why someone as dumb as you are going to be the next kumicho of the biggest yakuza organization in Japan!”

“I didn’t even sign up for this shit! I’d rather be working as a clerk at some supermarket!”

The conversation had shifted albeit slowly, strayed into an entirely different topic, which seemingly what they both had wanted to vent out. Minutes later, after what seemed to be an eternity later, they finally stopped. And Inoo was finally able to organize his worn shoes neatly beside the already well-ordered pairs, feeling his awfully out-of-place. His ears finally picked up the name of that intimidating man. Takaki had called him ‘Yabu’, and from his tone of voice Inoo could safely identify him as the saikou-komon of the group, or in another term, senior advisor of the kumicho—which surprisingly wasn’t Takaki himself.

Rooms upon rooms they passed by, and Inoo finally arrived at a large rectangular room, large enough which could easily fit a hundred of grown-up men. The tatami mats felt soft beneath his feet, and the cushions upon it matched the colour of the walls. There, in the center, sat an old man in perhaps his sixty’s, guarded by four men who dressed similarly with the ones he saw earlier. Their postures stiff, hands clasped together in front, handgun holsters strapped tightly to their waists, hidden by their dark suit jackets.

The old man (who Inoo supposed, was Takaki’s father, and the oyabun himself) regarded Takaki with a motionless observance, his face devoid of any emotions, and then—with a flick of a hand, the women who sat not far from the intimidating kumicho immediately scrambled, quickly disappearing behind the shoji partitions of the zashiki, while Yabu quietly had left even before they reached this room. Inoo watched everything before him, deciding that everything that’s happened was by far—confusing, and he felt somewhat nervous under the old man’s intent scrutiny, perhaps he should’ve had thought about this twice. What if he were to be sold off to the market for prostitution? Although he didn’t look like a human trafficker, you never know what could happen in this set of circumstances.

“Sit.” The old man broke his disarrayed thoughts; his voice radiated power and superiority, the tone held a certain roughness and rustiness from his age, however not lacking any less authority above the rest of the house occupants. Takaki sat immediately at the order in seiza, as Inoo wordlessly followed.

“Yuya,” The old man regarded him first, and Inoo could see from his peripheral vision that he bowed slightly at the tone of his father. It was intimidating, and Inoo resorted to look down to his lap, idly fiddling his thumbs. “Explain yourself.”

,” Takaki started, pausing ever so slightly, but continued. “I saw this man in an alley fighting thugs that weren’t supposed to be there, they barged into our territory and terrorized pedestrians, I simply lent a hand and chased them away for good. I gave them a warning before they ran off. I brought him back because we may need more fighters in our midst, as just a week ago; several of our yakuza members were killed by one of the Yamada-gumi subsidiary group. He’s homeless, father, we may use this man to our advantage.”

Minus the homeless part, it was a big fat lie—Inoo didn’t understand why Takaki had to, but he supposed it was necessary to get into the oyabun’s good side. Maybe even get accepted into one of the syndicate regional groups, even if he lacked that physical ability that Takaki had kindly described to his father of him. He wasn’t built to fight. His lithe body was only capable of survive, not to attack. But he always wanted to learn martial arts, perhaps some karate or some other badass kick-ass moves.

Takaki’s father nodded slightly, almost in some twisted pride, and Inoo glanced at him. The oyabun’s eyes were closed, as if he’s thinking, the smoking pipe kept spreading across him a certain essence that Inoo hated, however forced to bear. The old man would bring it between his lips, inhaling before puffing the smoke out from his nostrils. It was a long pause, so Inoo resorted his gaze back to his lap, finding it to be the safest view. Not long after the group of women Inoo saw earlier scrambled back in, bringing trays of drinks and light snacks, and that’s where Takaki stopped talking.

Takaki’s father, with another wave of his hand, that seemed to motion some sort of sign to the women, says authoritatively, “You have to clean up. Everyone under this roof have to behave—” His eyes darted to Takaki, almost warningly, before continuing. “—And dress properly.” Inoo assumed that the oyabun was talking to him, so he looked up to meet his eyes.

Inoo squirmed in his seat, and before he knew it
quickly dragged by the women to a large room at the back of the house. He let out a resigned sigh before allowing himself to be hauled. On his way to what he would call ‘the torture chamber’, he passed by a big opening that led to the garden in the middle. There was a koi fish pond in the middle that seemed to be the main feature, red bridge that stretched across, and of course,shishi odoshi, a bamboo water feature that’s used to scare away birds with their clack sound that resounded every time the end crashes against the rock. Bamboos and other plants were also a part of the design, adorning the garden, heavily so on the edges.

Inoo, if he would ever had the money, would’ve gone to architect school, as he’d always been fascinated by the artistic and modernistic features that buildings could bring out to the world. While poems and poetry, some other forms of art, are almost exclusively indoors, Inoo wanted to bring art outside, and from several buildings that he’d seen during his time living in the streets, needless to say he was marvelled by the outrageously beautiful designs of the buildings.

He gazed upon the garden once more, and he smiled inwardly to himself. He didn’t realise that there was some kind of rock gardens that sat beyond the pond, the sand and gravel raked into some pattern to symbolise rivers, and the rocks portraying the illusion of seeing mountains from afar. All in all, it was marvelously eye-catching.

“Your garden is very beautiful.” He found himself saying, smiling slightly to one of the nee-sans.

“Takaki-sama wanted to bring out the nature side to our headquarters, so he and Yabu-sama designed the garden themselves.”

“I see.” Inoo glanced sideways to her. “Are they close?”

“Yes, of course. Yabu-sama has been with the family ever since Takaki-sama’s this small,” She used her hand for a rough estimation for Takaki’s height then, it was almost her waist. “They often play together, but bicker just as much. And now, you may not see it, but they’re as close as one can get. Their friendship truly runs deep—Ah, this way.”

Inoo was led to a room in the right and arrived at a large space that was the bathroom, a huge tub in the middle, the glass doors were so clear he almost ran into it, if not for the women keeping him locked where he was. The bathroom, as the nee-san had kindly explained, was Takaki’s, and Inoo scrutinized around to find it a little bit more—modern than the rest of the house. Whoever designed it obviously took a minimalist reproach, with neutral colors that seemed to blend modern with traditional perfectly.

Inoo yelped when one of the nee-sans grabbed his clothes to tear them apart, and he knew his ditry clothes bothered them. He let himself be ‘violated’—to a certain extent—by the nee-sans’ hands upon his body, and he was forced to stay still at the tub, as they scrubbed his body clean. Powerless, Inoo finally settled down and let them do their job. After bathing, they proceeded to cut away his hair, nails, all the while giggling to each other at the lack of facial hair, and also the one down there. Inoo then was led somewhere else and soon was dressed in an expensive silk light blue yukata, and as he raised one of his foot to slip his toes onto the geta, he felt a strange sense of immense happiness that made him slightly teared up.

“Oya, are you okay?” The nee-san worriedly came over to look over Inoo’s teary eyes. He huffed a row of laughter, shaking his head slightly.

“Happy. Just really happy.” He hicccuped, wiped the tears with the pad of his palm, not wanting to stain the expensive garment on his body. The nee-sans cooed on how cute he was, and he almost—almost, wanted to pout, but all that painted his face was a smile, showing his row of unusual pearly white teeth.

He was escorted to the living room, this time several yakuzas were occupying on the corner, talking. He thanked the nee-sans with a bow as they reciprocated as well, and later spotted Takaki in the corner talking almost animatedly with Yabu, who seemed to do nothing but nod once or twice every once in a while. Inoo came over with a small greet, and when Takaki looked up at Inoo, Takaki’s jaw visibly dropped.

He marveled at how the colour of the yukata, ‘his’ yukata that Inoo’s now wearing, complimented everything, everything, from Inoo’s silky black hair, pale skin, gentle black eyes, long slim fingers, narrow waist. As if he’s exclusively made for it. He swallowed a big lump on his throat, and he could see that Yabu was slightly out of breath as well.

“You look…nice.” Takaki said instead, coughing to his fist as he felt his cheeks reddening.

Blood rushing up to his cheeks, Inoo looked around to find some other yakuzas were ogling at him as if he was a piece of meat, and he instantly shuddered. Quickly he took a cushion and sat upon it seiza-styled, feeling slightly, no—highly, uncomfortable under everyone’s gaze. Takaki seemed to notice this, and he smiled reassuringly gently at Inoo, patting the top of his head as if he just did something worth praising.

“You’re so cute, nee-san!” Someone cooed from afar, and Inoo’s head turned to face them with an indignant glare. Who’re they calling cute?! Wait, who the hell are they calling a nee-san!?

He huffed, deciding not to voice out his thoughts. They’re yakuzas, after all, he’d be dead before he could manage until midnight. He instead looked upon Yabu’s state, and he wasn’t faring much, if his reddened cheeks were any better, and Inoo’s gaze fell down upon the cup that’s protectively clutched with his palm. Maybe Yabu’s just intoxicated from the sake. That must be it.

Minutes later, they were ushered to another room right beside the living room. The dining room walls were similar from the room before, a traditional ink-wash painting hung on the wall, with red and white plum colours decorating the Japanese paper. There was a dark wooden table at the corner that served as decoration; a box of glass sat atop, and what’s inside was a black shiny katana from the koto period. Inoo was tempted to go over and inspect closer, but even if he was homeless, he knew basic manner. So with great forbearance, he followed one of the yukata-worn women and sat on top of a tatami zaisu chair, noticing that this time it’s pearly white coloured as the back is hinoki cypresse, a traditional wood often used for furnitures. The women—with such elegance and femininity that slightly baffled Inoo, poured down sake on silver sterling cups that glistened against the light above them.

He stared as other women came and served big portions of food in large plates, setting them up in the middle of the zataku table, and his eyes wandered over to the food sitting in front of him. Piles upon piles of food, with all their aroma puffing out upwards in soft steam, trailing towards Inoo’s nostrils and he inhaled every bit of smell, finding himself liking what he saw, or smelled—very much. These could feed even fifty people—which was not surprising considering how many people lived in this mansion. Inoo’s mouth watered—as his eyes followed along the women’s movement, moreover, the aroma that tickled his nostrils.

“Itadakimasu!” Takaki clasped his hands together as his thumbs clutched the wooden chopsticks, and eventually dug into the pyramid of food, while the kumicho decided to merely sip on his sake after shooing the women away with a wave of a hand. His pipe was suddenly nowhere to be found, Inoo faintly noticed this, however not a second later shrugged it off and proceed to dig into his food and brought it to his mouth.

Inoo kept glancing back and forward, to Takaki and then to his father as they ate silently. Feeling himself wanting to break the rather awkward silence, he found himself blurting out a question without thinking, “So, Takaki-sama, how old are you?”

Wrong move, his mind warned him, as literally everyone stopped at whatever they’re doing. He looked to where oyabun sat, his face unreadable, but not much difference from earlier. Yabu seemed comforted with the presence of his cup of sake, which he took sips from. Takaki seemed to stare at him, not providing any evidence of incredulity, but perhaps a little surprised. The rest of the yakuza members, however, stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

Inoo shook his head, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I-I’m sorry if I said som—”

“I believe he’s asking you a question, Yuya.” The oyabun, not meeting anyone’s eyes—spoke.

“Ah…yes.” He bowed respectfully to his father before looking to Inoo, observing him carefully before replying with a low, serious tone. “I turned twenty four this year.”

The oyabun grunted, then turned to stare at Inoo instead. Panicked, Inoo babbled almost instantly at Takaki. “I’m twenty four too! Well, last June. Twenty second of June. That’s my uh—birthday. Mm.”

“That’s great.” Takaki smiled, while Inoo chose to pick at his food.

And with that, the rest of Inoo’s dining experience was history.

Inoo was inside his room (guest room) when Yabu summoned Takaki for a meeting. To his surprise, his appointed room was located right in front of the garden, directly facing it and was only separated by afusuma, a traditional Japanese sliding door. Inoo sat by the hallway, the raised level of the house causing Inoo’s legs to dangle upon the edge. His eyes look up to the dark sky and his mouth formed a small ‘o’ at his surprising discovery.

The mash of colours; molten, sequin, and silver coming from the stars were mesmerizing as they scattered across the sky like moon dusts, gleaming and twinkling happily upon the cloudless sky in the dead of night. The moon was nowhere to be found, maybe somewhere hidden behind the roof, but it’s something Inoo couldn’t seem to pay heed on.

He sighed dreamily as he thought back to his knight in shining armor. Takaki Yuya was handsome, dorky, and cute at the same time. Those mixed together were unlikely compatible, but there’s nothing else to describe him at all. With his high cheekbones and sharp, obsidian eyes, Inoo would guess that women flock to him all the time for that mystique aura that seemed to enthrall not only to one gender, but both men and women. The way Takaki seemed to respect highly of his father was rather cute, and the way he instructed his underlings was particularly—dare he say, sexy.

It wasn’t love at first sight. Inoo wasn’t gay in the first place; he hadn’t had any girlfriends in the past, no anyone really. So needless to say, he had been slightly sexually frustrated. He’s a man after all, and his testosterones ran high. But Takaki had been different, he’s so attractive that even Inoo fell for his charm. The sight of Takaki’s masculinity sparked something inside him that made him want to, want to—

—But it’s not possible, was it? A man like he, homeless, poor, low in status, a nobody, would ever be compatible with a rich, strong, sexy man like Takaki Yuya.

Inoo sighed, so deep in thought that he had been unaware of a presence of someone else beside him. The slight rustle that came from Takaki was the only thing that snapped him back to reality. He gasped with a surprise and looked up at Takaki smiling down at him. “W-What are y— Where did you come from?”

“Meeting.” Takaki said, his smile still on his lips. “Enjoying the view? It really is beautiful here, isn’t it? The night skies are always like this regardless of the season. I’m sure you’ll find it enjoyable living here. I can assure you that it’s better than the street.”

Inoo sighed, looking down to his lap in forlorn. “I—I don’t think I belong here, Takaki-sama—”

“Just Takaki is fine,” The yakuza intercepted, “You belong here as much as the rest of us do.” Takaki brought his hand to Inoo’s right ear, brushing a wild strand back to tuck it behind his ear. “Just trust me, Inoo.”

Inoo shivered slightly as the hand came into contact with his cheek, albeit briefly. It was the first time anybody would treat him like a delicate flower. Inoo’s frame may be lean and slim, but he had gotten into fights once in a while, it’s something not unusual when you lived in the street anyway. But this special treatment that Takaki had showered him with, was a welcome, albeit slightly embarrassing.

“I just don’t understand, why did you—” pick me?

Takaki found a way to be in contact with Inoo’s hand, grasping it lightly, and Inoo duly noted that when Takaki took his hand, the yukata shifted, showing a tattoo on his wrist. “I don’t know, I just saw you sitting there, all drenched from the rain—looking as if nothing mattered anymore. You might not know this, but contrary to popular belief, yakuzas aren’t that much of an asshole, only when you really aggravate them.”

Inoo chuckled, hovering a free hand over his mouth in a polite manner as Takaki stared. “You’re—it’s unbelievable, I mean—no offense, but, homeless people aren’t supposed to know, mm—basic manner.”

“It just happens naturally, I guess,” Inoo shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot about it from TV.”


“Yeah, I—” Inoo bit his lip. “I used to have a home. But it’s gone now—anyway, doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Hey,” Takaki gently lifted Inoo’s chin to meet his black eyes. “I’m here, okay? Whenever you want me. I can be a very good listener, I am the best even, everyone comes to me for advices all the time, that’s how good I am.”

Inoo smiled, his cheeks reddened at the mere centimeters that separate his mouth from Takaki’s. “T-Thank you, for everything.”

When Takaki ruffled his hair afterwards, Inoo threw all common sense and relied on pure instincts. Inoo could do nothing but to lean forward and eventually, rested his lips upon Takaki’s chapped ones.


The suzumushi outside his chamber cricketed loudly, but the room was gloomier due to his current state of mind on havoc. His eyes flickered to the ceiling, and then to what’s across his futon. Millions of things were running through his mind at the same time that he had trouble processing each one. Takaki sighed loudly. The accident earlier left him speechless even now, it had been so sudden that Takaki was shocked to even react.

From Inoo’s hurtful eyes, Takaki knew he’d somewhat upset the pale man by his lack of response. To his defense, this was entirely an unforeseen action, and coming from a man who he saved and met on the very same day, no less. First and foremost, he was a yakuza—thus he had a duty to be aware of his surroundings even in his own house, so why had he been—so careless?

Takaki stirred and turned, finding his eyes locked upon the alarm clock beside him that displayed the time with its minimal backlight. To his surprise, it was already 4 o’clock in the morning. He felt more awake now, and if anything, he's growing restless; desperately racking his brain on ways to approach Inoo later to enquire about what had possessed Inoo to do—that, to him out of the blue.

Inoo was—beautiful, that’s for sure, he's someone that Takaki had never met before. It’s certainly a plus that his gentle and kind personality wrapped the whole package together. All in all, Inoo was perfect in every way. But the only problem was of course—lies to the fact that he’s a man, and growing up around this kind of environment, to this family’s customs, it was unacceptable to even think about it. Takaki’s family was as traditional as one could get, especially with his lifestyle—

Takaki slapped himself at the thought, was he even thinking of being together with Inoo? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He had to have a talk with Inoo tomorrow; he made his resolve and closed his eyes to rest them a little bit.

In no time, he was already slumbering soundly, accompanied by the ever-faithful sounds of suzumushi in the garden outside his room.

. . .

Takaki awoke by a harsh shove on the stomach as he groaned loudly to his pillow that's now on top of him. He prompted to kick off the mysterious person to make him go away, but before being able to do so, the man in question wrenched the futon blanket away from Takaki and kicked him squarely in the crotch.

“Motherfu—!” Takaki’s hand immediately flew to where his balls were, silently counting if they were still there. This fucker was definitely dead.

He threw the pillow to whoever’s that was, not caring in the slightest if he was the freaking prime minister. But he finally found his answer when a loud, “Dumbass!” was said harshly from the man, and Takaki opened his eyes to see Yabu staring down at him, all dressed nicely and of course, looking real pissed.

“The fuck?!” Takaki asked, his voice menacingly sharp and full of warning, unlike anyone who just barely woke up.

“It’s Inoo-san,” Yabu calmly explained, Takaki widened his eyes slightly. “Oyabun saw you both—last night. You should’ve known better.”

There was disappointment lacing Yabu’s tone that made Takaki flinch, but more than anything else, he was worried for Inoo. He knew Inoo did nothing wrong, he basically had done that in pure instinct, if Inoo’s gasp and surprised expression after the kiss was any indication at all. And he knew Inoo had no idea what kind of trouble he would get into if they were to get caught.

As Takaki racked his brain to find out how to deal with this unforeseen problem, Yabu beat him to it, “Go to oyabun, he’s in the drawing room, I’d suggest you have some sort of alibi—if you had one at all, and prepare for the worst. Wouldn’t want our little boy to be sent back to the street now, would we?”

There was a sadistic yet sarcastic tone that didn’t go unnoticed by Takaki, but he refused to comment on it. Takaki wordlessly stood, and promptly shooed Yabu out with a wave. He went to his dresser and changed his clothes.

Meanwhile, Inoo was nervous.

His face was terribly pale and white under the oyabun’s narrowed eyes. He couldn’t help but feeling worried for his life, having no idea whatsoever why he was summoned all of a sudden, and at six o’clock in the morning, no less. Was there a schedule or something on when to summon guests? Inoo had thought hard on the reason the oyabun demanded his presence and not being told anything at all so far. What were they waiting for anyway?

Judging by the oyabun’s expression, which showed some kind of slight irritation, Inoo guessed that it probably was because of Inoo’s lack of manner the day before, like the time when he had asked Takaki in the dining room out of the blue, disrespecting the oyabun. Or—Inoo assumed, that it would be because of the kiss, which he supposed, was something Takaki wasn’t really consented to.

“Inoo-san,” Takaki’s father called him, and Inoo was brought back to reality. “I’ve heard from one of my men—that you and Yuya were doing something last night, that we would call, highly inappropriate, in our tradition. Are you aware of that?”

Inoo widened his eyes, but his posture didn’t turn stiff in surprise, if anything, he’d expected this. “Yes,” He said calmly, didn’t know where that bravery came from.

“Ah.” The oyabun brought his smoking pipe to between his lips, then puffed out the smoke from his mouth. “—Then you are aware of what would befall you and him, boy?”

“Yes.” Inoo wasn’t. He didn’t know yakuza’s traditions, but he wasn’t scared, if he didn’t have anything to lose, then why would he be?

“So you do not care in the slightest, of what punishment would be imposed to my son?”

Inoo looked up at him questioningly. “What do you—”

Yubitsume.” The oyabun said, and this time, Inoo visibly stiffened. “You do know what that means, don’t you?”

Inoo was silent for the longest time, but eventually nodded.

Yubitsume was the act of cutting off a part of the fingers, the word meant finger shortening, and it’s their customs to cut a part of the little finger. This gruesome act would be conducted whenever the members highly offended the kumicho, either that—or for them to show apology and display immense regret. Inoo bit his lip as his blood ran cold, slightly tearing up.

Despite the turmoil in his head, his expression didn’t falter. “With all due respect, Takaki-dono,” With this he inhaled oxygen, hoping it’d ease him slightly. “I was the one who was doing the act upon him—Takaki-sama, I mean. If anything, please punish me however you see fit.”

“So you’re telling me,” The oyabun exhaled the smoke once more, settling the smoking pipe down on his lap. “That you’ve forced yourself on my son?”

Inoo this time looked away from the intensity displayed from the most powerful man in Japan, his body shook slightly, but he was adamant on telling the truth. There was a thick atmosphere hung within the air, as everyone stayed silent. Inoo finally looked up again at the old man’s unwavering gaze. “Yes, I did.”

“Uh, actually, I did.”

Everybody turned to the new presence in the room.

“Yuya, how nice of you to join us,” The oyabun motioned to him to come closer.

The air was choking him, and the room was suddenly too small and people were suddenly too close. He wanted to vomit at his nervousness, or to run far from here, whatever's more convenient for him. This was killing him. Inoo looked down to his lap, both of his hands had long since turned into fists upon his lap, positive that if he were to meet Takaki’s eyes, he’d lose it for sure.

From the rustling, he was aware that Takaki had picked up a cushion to sit right beside him, and the sudden touch upon his shoulder certainly made Inoo shudder violently. And he choked, finding it difficult to breath, all he wanted to do was to apologise to Takaki for this stupid mistake of his. Inoo wasn’t even sure what had taken control of his body to daringly kiss Takaki in the mouth last night; it was so stupid of him.

“You’re stupid.” Inoo whispered to Takaki, and from his peripheral vision he could see Takaki’s questioning gaze upon him. With the last remnants of his power he could muster, he clutched his thighs with his fists, looking up to meet the oyabun’s eyes once more, looking more determined than before. “I did it. Takaki-sama’s lying, punish me, not him. He’s innocent, a victim—”

“Wait, Inoo—”

“It’s my fault, Takaki-dono.”


“Shut up and let me finish, Takaki!” Inoo finally snapped at him, losing control all of a sudden.

What’s surprising was the oyabun’s sudden chuckle resounding across the drawing room. Inoo stared at him blankly, and Takaki was positively looking scared for his life. Literally everyone in the room was shocked and did nothing but to stare, torn between rushing to help the oyabun’s sudden action or run for their lives.

“Interesting,” The oyabun was still chuckling, inhaling the smoking pipe once more. “You’re interesting, Inoo-san.”

Inoo and Takaki blinked bemusedly.

“I certainly didn’t expect you to be this—straightforward.” The old man said. “Very well, I’ll forgive you this time, Inoo-san, but there won’t be a next time.”

Inoo nodded. “I—I won’t,” He glanced sideways to where Takaki sat, nodding to himself. “—do it again.”

. . .

Later that evening, Inoo was called by the oyabun and introduced to Takaki’s personal bodyguard. He’s a tall, nice and funny guy, looking more or less like your normal, friendly college guy (his style’s rather casual, with simple t-shirt and jeans), and obviously much less traditional. Needless to say, when Inoo first saw him, he knew that they could be very close friends. Yaotome Hikaru was his name, and Inoo bowed at him respectfully, earning a laugh from him.

“Dude. Come on. There’s no need for formality.” He waved his hand. “So whatcha’ up to?”

Inoo stared at him for the longest time, before replying softly. “Nothing, just watching the garden, and all that.”

“Yaotome will be teaching you martial arts today.” The oyabun suddenly spoke up, reminding Inoo of his presence. “If you’re going to stay here, might as well teach you a thing or two. Yaotome.”

Yaotome nodded at the oyabun, “Roger that, Takaki-dono, I’m sure we’ll have a fun time. Right, Inoo-chan?”

“There’s no need for –chan, really.” Inoo mumbled, but nodded. Yaotome quickly ushered him out the drawing room before Inoo stopped on his tracks, turning around to face Takaki’s father. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Takaki-dono. I won’t disappoint you.”

The oyabun felt a smile tugging upon his lips when he saw Inoo disappearded behind the fusuma partition. That man was truly one of a kind.

Yaotome Hikaru was more or less, a chatty guy.

He led Inoo to a totally different part of the house, this time they went across the red bridge of the garden, passing by the rock gardens and to his surprise found a separate building in the same compound. It was a multi-functional dojo (and Inoo wondered how big the mansion actually was) that yakuzas use to train martial arts in; Hikaru and Inoo walked in, a gi bag slung over their shoulders. Inoo listened intently to whatever Yaotome said as the bodyguard explained what the dojo was used for, occasionally replied whenever he’s asked. The smell of the dojo was oddly full of…rubber, perhaps from the dojo mat beneath his feet.

Yaotome threw him a set of white set of clothing with some skirt-like pants. Inoo stared down at the crumpled clothes on his hands. “Hakama?” Inoo asked eventually.

“What all aikidoka wear,” Hikaru explained. Inoo widened his eyes. “I’ll be teaching you basic techniques, Originally I’ve wanted to teach you kendo, but Yabu recommended that I should be mentoring you aikido instead of something else.”

Inoo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Yabu-sama did?”

“Yup! Oh, speaking of which—Yabu’ll be coming by later to substitute me for a while; Takaki’ll be out for a meeting outside the HQ so I need to be there! Besides, I’ve been absent for a while so yeah…” His eyes formed a crescent shape as he smiled brightly, looking slightly sheepish. “…Anyway, let’s go change.”

Inoo nodded—locating the changing room easily, he promptly changed his yukata.

Aikido is known to be very effective when it comes to self-defense, but as you may or not know—everything takes a little longer to get used to. So it will be a while until you get to be comfortable with it,” Yaotome explained as they both sat in the middle, seiza-styled facing each other after they finished. “Techniques are quite easy, I don’t really remember how hard it was when I first started, but I can teach you a few tricks for you to learn it easier and faster, since those are bare necessity for us yakuzas.”

“Understood,” Inoo replied simply, silently taking in the reflection of his form in the huge mirror ahead of him.

Yaotome took Inoo’s hand and they both went into stretching. Yaotome taught him a little differently than the regular stretching that people usually do before exercises. Yaotome explained when Inoo asked him, “You’ll have a better understanding of your posture and how the parts of your body connected.”

Inoo had no idea what that meant, but chose not to comment.

“Firstly, aikido doesn’t rely on strength, which both women or men can find very practical, the techniques are graceful, almost elegant, so I think I get the reason why it fits you, Inoo-chan.” Yaotome smiled again, then continued. “You might wonder why you need to know all this, but what’s important is you doing while knowing, rather than doing without knowing. Get what I mean?”

As this time Inoo nodded in understanding, Yaotome explained more. “The meaning of aikido is literally, the way of blending with the energy around you. So remember that. Now I want you to stand up from your seiza.”

Inoo blinked, but when he moved his leg, but Yaotome was so quick that Inoo missed the chance to see him smack Inoo hard in the calf, that made Inoo winced and immediately sat back in seiza. Yaotome’s expression had transformed into one that’s strict and serious. “That’s not how you do it, Inoo-chan. Try again.”

Inoo, was frustrated by the lack of explanation of the technique, rather than the history itself. He tried again and again, until he was positive his calf was now red and bruised. He was adamant to do this single thing however. And besides, he had wanted this. If he couldn’t so something as simple as getting out and into a seiza, how could he handle a much more complex one in the future?

After what seemingly a thousand attempts, Yaotome explained to him that it should come from the heart, another thing that Inoo found himself not understanding at all. “Everybody knows how to get out of a seiza, Inoo-chan.” No, they don’t, though, Inoo thought.

When Inoo’s finally done something right, Yaotome applauded him, looking ecstatic, more or less like a proud sensei. Inoo smiled at him, feeling himself proud, although it was only something as trivial as standing up from a sitting position, as stupid as that sounded.

Yaotome then proceeded to teach him ukemi, basic hanmi, and a bunch of other stuffs that Inoo didn’t really remember. It was a thoroughly exhausting exercise, and Inoo was taught a basic technique called ikkyo
a part of the tachizawa techniques—which basically meant frontal attacks while standing.

It was when Yaotome went into depth about ikkyo that Yabu came in, steps confident and almost arrogant as he strode inside, fully ignoring Inoo’s gaping face and Yaotome’s amused expression. He walked near to them and nodded to Yaotome, who looked back at him sheepishly.

“Oh, already?” Yaotome then looked at Inoo, his expression was something akin to apologetic. “Sorry, Inoo-chan, we’ll continue this later. See you tomorrow?”

“Thanks for today, Yaotome-sama.” Inoo softly said, smiling at him.

“Oh, please. It’s nothing. I haven’t really got into the awesome stuffs, though. Ah. Yabu here has some really cool moves! He can teach you some! Right, Yabu-kun?”

Yaotome poked Yabu in the cheek with his forefinger, earning a glare from the taller man.

“Oh, shit. I gotta go. Bye guys!” And with that, he was gone.

Inoo looked at everywhere but at Yabu, but Inoo gasped in surprise as Yabu was suddenly grasping Inoo’s wrist tight, that spun him around so that Yabu faced his back, and his arm was twisted, not to the point where it hurt, but he felt mostly embarrassment. “W-Wait—”

“Don’t let yourself get distracted,” Yabu behind him said, voice huskier than usual. “Enemies are still enemies.”

“You’re not though,” Inoo replied as-a-matter-of-factly, and he was released sooner than expected.

When Inoo looked at him the eyes, he could feel that Yabu’s face was red, but before he could inspect further Yabu was already leaning back, creating space for both of them. And Yabu could feel the obvious disappointment coming from Inoo. “Start again,” Yabu suddenly prompted as he moved forward.

“Start wha—AH!” Inoo’s right wrist was pulled by Yabu, which he then raised above his head as he fluidly turned around in such grace, and before Inoo knew it, he was already on the ground, arm locked behind his back as Yabu was suddenly in his seiza, his knee locking Inoo in his place.

Katatedori aihanmi technique.” Yabu whispered, “Remember that, newbie.”

Inoo huffed. “If you’d do it slower this time—Ah!” Inoo’s elbow was bent all of sudden and it hurt like a bitch. “Why—Why’d you—?”

“So that you won’t do anything stupid.” That seemed to have a double meaning.

“Let me go, Yabu-sama.” Inoo asked him, and when Yabu didn’t, he began to struggle. “Let me go!”

“No,” Yabu’s harsh voice sent trembles upon Inoo’s frame. “Until you tell me what’s going on between you and Yuya.”

Inoo stopped struggling. “There’s nothing going on.” He whispered. “He saved me, I owe him a big debt. Nothing more, nothing less. Now let me go.”

“Lies,” Yabu said. “Tell me the truth.”

“That’s the truth! What else do you want me to say? I felt grateful so I kissed him, that’s it!”

“Do you like him?”

Inoo fell silent. Then, “No”.

“So you do.”

Inoo spluttered. “I just said

“Then prove it.”

Inoo widened his eyes; feeling terrified all of a sudden. “I won’t have sex with you.”

“Not that, you idiot.” Yabu crossed his arms. “I don’t know, maybe

“I don’t want to kiss you either.” Inoo shook his head.

“I just taught you something, you should be grateful.”

Inoo stared as if Yabu’d grown a second head, he must be joking. This was crazy. “I don’t kiss everyone I’m grateful at!”

“But Yuya’s a special case?”

“No! It’s just—” Inoo stuttered. “I—I don’t…”


Inoo sighed, admitting defeat. Yabu got him on this one. “Fine.”

Yabu blinked. “You sure?”

“Yeah, you dumbhead. Now let me go!”

Yabu released him and as soon as he did Inoo slumped downward, finally rested his head forward to press his cheek against the mat, feeling drained from the continuous struggle. He shifted, laying his back, now facing Yabu who was practically straddling him. Inoo felt wrong, but it should be okay, since he and Takaki—they’re never meant to be, anyway. Yabu was—well, he’s arrogant, rude, and a downright douchebag, and Inoo hated him sometimes.

“You like me, don’t you?” Inoo asked as his eyes flickered to Yabu’s lips for a moment, who in turn did nothing but to stare down at him for the longest time.


“Right…” Inoo wasn’t stupid, Yabu must’ve felt some feelings for him, why would he request such a ridiculous thing if otherwise? Inoo got his elbows propped up and as he was going to lean upward to just briefly, very briefly, touched his lips upon Yabu’s ones, halted when he heard the silent mumble emanating from Yabu’s mouth.

“…Because I like Yuya.”


One, two, three, four, five seconds later.

“…What?” Now this was news.

Yabu was clearly hesitant; his lips froze slightly as he pondered upon what to say. Inoo watched thoughtfully as Yabu revealed himself. “But he never recognized me in the first place, and now you’re here and I just—I feel different and—” Yabu trailed off—eventually shook his head, his look telling Inoo that there wouldn’t be any more elaboration on his part. “Forget it.”

Inoo was dumbfounded. He was more than certain that to ‘forget’ this kind of thing would be more or less, impossible. It’s already stored at the back of his mind, and it’s running with the thoughts of how to make a proper response to that information, also Yabu who’s now slowly rising to his feet, not caring in the slightest about the proper getting-out-from-seiza technique earlier Yaotome had taught him. Inoo was—for once, found himself rendered completely speechless.

“Inoo-san, it’s been a pleasant evening for me to have been able to teach you. Thank you for your wonderful company. Please do take care as I’ll take my leave now.”

And Inoo was alone, and felt even lonelier in this suddenly big, empty space, feeling like there was something amiss that he had failed to retrieve. His ass was suddenly hurting, so he leaned back to lie on the hard rubber mat. He rubbed his wrists idly; they were still throbbing from the way Yabu held them earlier. His eyes flickered to the ceiling, and came to a realisation that it would’ve gone better if he had just kissed Yabu and left that bit of information unsaid.

Feelings were such difficult things to comprehend. If only they had textbooks for Inoo to read. These jumbled feelings that he had difficulties interpreting, the weird beating heart of his that exponentially jumped whenever the subject of his affection were in range. The weird—sadness, which stuck upon him like glue, not knowing how to soothe, or even mend, these pieces of something that he himself didn’t know.

Exhaustion looming around at the back of his mind, he closed his eyes, and soon, there was steady breath, slow rise and fall of chest, soft snore, and other indications that Inoo already succumbed to the exhaustion.

(Not long after, amidst the darkness from the lack of lighting in the dojo, a silhouette appeared behind the sliding door. Soon there was a sound of sliding of a door, footsteps, a sigh, and rustling. And then silence. That night, the dojo was bereft of any human.)

next chapter here.
j_memoirs: Y_two thumbs-upj_memoirs on February 24th, 2016 03:02 pm (UTC)
Love it, I have some japanese words and yakusa themes (later on) in my fic too.. Not advertising, just saying XD
But I also love the pairings coz Im rootign for some yabuhika in the end fufufu