House of Cards: 18/??

[andrew_in_drag]

Title: House of Cards
Author: andrew_in_drag
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Kyo/Toshiya, Kaoru/Toshiya, Die/Shinya, Aoi/Uruha
General Warnings: AU, slash, violence, language, yakuza theme, character death
Chapter Warnings: none
Previously: The Prodigy | The Rent Boy | The Escort | The Imposter | The Professional | The Shateigashira | The Bargain | The Addict | The Rookie | The Long Night | The Lights | The Chase | The Brothel | The Pits | The Memory | The Truce | The Plan | The Shateigashira's Game
Notes: this is the prequel to Protect Me. For the yakuza terminology and hierarchy that I'm working with, please see here.


When a young prostitute is found with blood on his hands, he catches the eye of the Inagawa clan's prodigy and quickly finds himself tangled up within Osaka's criminal underworld. Taken into a yakuza house and pimped by the mysterious shateigashira, he is desperate for any means of escape - but in a house of cards, can anybody really be trusted?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE OYABUN

In a beautifully light and airy sunroom in uptown Osaka, Katsuro Inagawa shut his papery eyelids and smiled. Outside it was cold, but in his room of windows the sunlight was warm on his face. His first cup of tea of the day was hot and bracing, delicately scented with jasmine; and, if the sound of approaching footsteps were anything to go by, his esteemed guest was as punctual as ever.

He felt for the carved handle of the walking stick he kept next to him and got to his feet, supporting himself carefully: at seventy-two years of age, the oyabun of the Inagawa-kai was finally beginning to discover that he wasn't as young as he used to be. Still, he believed firmly that there was much life within him, yet: life, he was starting to realise, was not as finite a thing as he had always thought – there were ways to be immortal, outside of alchemists' stones and pacts with the devil. Never a family man in the widely-used sense of the term, Katsuro nevertheless believed that it was possible to live on through his descendants.

The footsteps grew closer. There were two sets of them – the almost silent shuffle of the maid and the sturdier footsteps of his guest. He gripped the handle of his walking stick and waited as the maid opened the door, bowing tidily as she did so.

“Isn't it a beautiful morning, Miss Umeko?” he asked genially. “And yet I suppose you're going to tell me that it's colder than death outside.”

The maid was a pretty young woman – just Katsuro's type, if he'd been forty or so years younger. Her smile was much more restrained than his, but there was warmth in it, and she nodded her head in agreement.

“It is cold, sir. Your guest—”

“On the stroke of the hour as always – come on in, Kyo.”

Katsuro's guest was not the kind of man who usually took pleasure in being ordered around, but he obeyed the elderly man and bowed his head respectfully as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“Father,” he greeted formally.

“Sit down, Kyo. Umeko – a cup for my guest, if you would be so kind.”

“Pardon me, sir, but I brought two cups in earlier. The other is already on the table.”

Katsuro chuckled.

“An old man's mind,” he said. “Very well – you may leave us, then.”

She did as she was told, recognising the dismissal, and closed the door almost soundlessly behind her. Katsuro nodded happily. Kyo still hadn't sat down, but he was waiting by a chair; Katsuro grunted slightly, sinking down into his own seat, and immediately Kyo sat.

“Good household staff,” the elderly man announced, “Are worth their weight in gold. Forgive me about the cups – if she suspects my mind is feeble, she takes much better care of me.”

He beamed at Kyo broadly, but the shateigashira only managed a small smile in response. He looked rather pale and very, very tired; the skin below his eyes was a deep, bruised blue and it seemed his cheekbones were more prominent than they had been on his last visit. Kyo was not a demonstrative man anyway, but Katsuro thought he read more exhaustion than restraint in that small smile. He folded his hands neatly on the tabletop. His skin, tanned though it was, looked tissue thin. At the tops of his wrists, Kyo could just about see where his tattoos started, a whole inked sleeve in riotous colour that followed the old man's body like a suit coat.

“I expect you're wondering why I've called you here,” he stated, and Kyo inclined his head slightly.

“It's crossed my mind.”

“Reserved as ever, I see – in which case, I won't waste your time with sentimentality. Let me suffice to say that I am reaching the point in my life where I have to start thinking about appointing an heir.”

There was no mistaking the effect of his words: Kyo didn't move, but his eyes immediately sharpened.

“I thought,” he said, taking pains not to rush his words, “That Ryoichi Sugiura...?”

“Do you think Sugiura would be a good choice?”

Kyo eyed the oyabun suspiciously, but shook his head.

“No,” he said quietly, “I don't.”

“That's interesting. Do you have a reason? I'd like to hear it.”

“I have several reasons. Excuse me for speaking plainly, but I don't believe in mincing words. I think Sugiura lacks commitment. He has the manner of a petty crook. He's an embarrassment, and an inappropriate figurehead.”

Finally, Kyo reached for the china pot and poured himself some tea. “And, of course,” he added after taking a sip, “I'd like the role myself.”

He smiled wearily.

“I'm sure you can't be unaware of that.”

The oyabun's eyes seemed to twinkle; he was enjoying this. He leant forwards slightly, grasping his teacup in both hands.

“Succinctly put – and of course, you're quite correct. Now, if I was to ask you to perform the same judgement on yourself – that you just inflicted on poor Ryoichi Sugiura – what would you say makes you unfit for the job?”

Kyo's mouth was set in a grim line, now.

“Unpopularity,” he stated flatly. “My subordinates lack faith in me.”

“Why?”

“My youth. And their...short-sightedness.”

“I can't imagine your youth being a long-term issue.”

“With respect, sir, first impressions are difficult to undo.” He paused. “I've made unpopular choices.”

“I assume you're referring to your latest triumph?”

“Amongst other things, yes.”

Katsuro sat back in his wicker chair, looking pensive.

“I must admit, I've spent some time mulling over your possible motivations.” He eyed Kyo expectantly, and the shateigashira shrugged.

“Good business,” he replied shortly.

Katsuro took a long sip of tea. “Come now,” he said comfortably.

“Sir...?”

“You've visited this boy, yes?”

“Even locked up, he's a flight risk.”

“So you're attempting some kind of manipulation?”

“Yes.”

“That seems like a waste of time for a man of your talent.” Katsuro smiled. “Relax yourself, Kyo; I'm not trying to accuse you. Every man needs his release—”

“Excuse me, sir, but I wouldn't disrespect my senpai's memory by keeping his killer alive purely for – for my gratification.”

“Nor am I suggesting that – again, relax yourself. All I am trying to do is broach the fact that you do have some fascination with this boy. Perhaps I approached it clumsily – conversational segues are not my forte. That doesn't matter. My only concern is the nature of your relationship with him.”

“Sir?”

“Well, stoic though you are, I believe you know the difference between a romantic relationship and a sexual one – not that the two are always mutually exclusive, of course, but I'm sure you understand my point. So: is it affection or lust that moves you?”

Kyo pressed his lips together, a frown furrowing his tired face. He thought of Toshiya tied up on his bed and gasping with need, begging for his climax; he thought, d'you ever think about heaven?

His hair was so soft.

Dark, dark eyes. Fighting with Aoi, fucking himself on Kyo's fingers, crying silently on that sweltering August night.

Staring out the window and thinking and dreaming.

D'you ever think about heaven?

“It's just physical, sir. I think we both understand that having any – any affection, for somebody like him...it'd be foolish.”

The oyabun was quiet.

“Very good,” he said finally. “One more question?”

Kyo inclined his head slightly, and the old man touched his wrist.

“How is your father?” he asked.

They had buried Kyo's father in a very small graveyard in the hills surrounding Kyoto, not far from where he had been born. Kyo hesitated.

“He's fine, sir.”

If the oyabun was disappointed by this answer, or expecting anything less, he did not show it.

“Well then...I won't keep you.”

His tone was light, but the dismissal was clear: Kyo got to his feet and bowed one last time, looking more tired than ever.

“Oh – Kyo?”

He was already at the door. “Sir?”

The oyabun was still seated, and he had knitted his weathered old hands in front of him seriously.

“If the situation changes,” he said gravely, “With this young man...if you, perhaps, change your mind about what does and does not constitute – ah – foolishness, in this matter...you will take your shortcomings into account, won't you?”

“I don't understand you, sir.”

“Well,” the oyabun elaborated, “Your unpopularity, as you call it. Perhaps I should take a leaf out of your book, and not mince my words: there are people who want to take you down, Kyo. I simply wanted to point out that, in the presence of enemies, it is important to furnish our dear ones with a little extra protection – don't you think?”

“Anybody using Toshiya to get to me would be wasting their time.”

The oyabun, for once, did not smile.

“Try your best, then,” he said carefully, “To keep it that way.”

Across town, in the south of the city, Aoi and Toshiya lay on their backs on Toshiya's single bed, uncomfortably squashed together. Both men had slender framed bodies, which unfortunately meant they were full of points: Toshiya's elbows seemed to be jutting into Aoi's ribs no matter how much he shifted, and Aoi's hipbones jabbed Toshiya's waist every time he breathed. Occasionally the room filled with the low-toned, ruffled sounds of their mumbled complaints – “ow, stop fidgeting”...”it's not my fault”...”keep your knees on your own side!” – but afterwards they would lapse back into their thoughtful silence, gazing up at the plain white ceiling for inspiration.

“So I leave,” Aoi said, perhaps for the third time in as many minutes, “And hire Uruha...”

“Ouch, Aoi, you're lying on my hair—”

“Oh, suck it up. Assuming I can get the money to hire him – and pay for plane tickets – well that's not a question, I'll find a way somehow, even if I have to steal it...”

“Steal it from the cash register downstairs,” Toshiya yawned, “That'd be sweet.”

Aoi snorted loudly.

“Yeah, thanks, Toshiya. I'll have you earn my plane tickets on your back.”

“It's getting out that'll be the problem,” Toshiya mused, ignoring the other man, “With Uruha, I mean. You'll have the lift key, but that'll just take the two of you right down the lobby.”

“No, I think that's okay.”

Aoi turned over onto his side suddenly, his elbow pinning such a large quantity of Toshiya's hair to the pillow that the other man squealed. “The proprietor's on our side,” he said.

“Don't be mad.”

“Of course he is! Look, nobody's here by choice, I've told you that. We're all forced into it somehow – well, the proprietor's no different.”

Aoi smiled wickedly.

“You know, I got him over a barrel once. I kept jabbing at him – how can you keep us here, how can you keep us here – and he broke down crying! Says he's got a wife and two kids at home and the yakuza's got all sorts of stuff on him – I didn't ask what, I mean, who cares? But—”

“You've really got a heart of gold, haven't you?”

Aoi yawned grandly, and sat up.

“Move over,” he said, poking Toshiya in the side with a sharp finger, “And listen. He can't just let Uruha out – not if he's trying to keep Mrs Proprietor and the juniors safe – but he can...put up a weak fight, you know?”

Toshiya sat up, rubbing his side pointedly.

“Yeah, I think I see.”

“But I'll have to tell him.”

“Aoi! No!”

“Toshiya—”

“No, what if somebody catches on? What if someone gets it out of him? You said he's got a family; that just means he's got higher priorities than us! He'll turn us in, I know it.”

“He's a good guy, Toshiya, I promise! Plus, he'll hardly have the time.”

Aoi bit his lip. “I'm thinking of leaving tomorrow. I've already told him that much, and – and he's agreed to get Uruha here for me on Friday.”

“Aoi!” Toshiya could hardly believe his ears. “Are you mad? That's not enough time! You'll—”

“I don't care!” Aoi fired back hotly, “You were the one who said it had to be now! You were the one who said he was weak! I'm not hanging around waiting!”

“You're going to get money for a plane ticket in a few days?”

“I'll rent a car,” Aoi said smoothly. “You know you don't have to pay for it until you drop it off, so if I never drop it off—”

“Then it's stealing a car.”

“Borrowing a car! They'll get it back. Listen, I've thought about it; I can drive us all the way south, along the coast, and then we can get across to Tsushima Island on the ferry.”

“And stay there forever? Great hiding spot—”

“And then travel on to Korea,” Aoi said calmly. “See, I've thought about it.”

“Aoi, that is an insanely stupid plan.”

Aoi crossed his arms.

“It's all going to be stupid,” he muttered sulkily, “See how stupid you look when it works.”

His expression faltered, and he touched Toshiya's arm gently.

“I've got to try,” he said, “Don't you see that?”

Their eyes held for a few moments, and Toshiya groaned.

“Fine,” he said fiercely, and drew the other man into a sudden, bruising hug, “But get it right, okay? Because if you don't, I'll...I'll haunt your ghost.”

And then Aoi laughed, and Toshiya laughed too. It sounded more like they were crying, but in that room they only had each other, and neither one of them would have admitted to a thing.

A/N: 1. Who the fuck is the oyabun...Dumbledore?

2. I'm writing this on open office, so it tries to auto-fill long or hyphenated words. Long story short, it keeps trying to complete 'finger' to 'finger-fucked'. Dear god.

Comments

[velvet-liquor.livejournal.com]

I absolutely adore the way Kyo told the oyabun his father was fine. I also would love to see someone try to take Toshiya away from Kyo. I'm sure he would not be pleased...

I want more, woman <3

[andrew-in-drag.livejournal.com]

OH YOU.

Well, more is coming. A LOT more.

_{seriously this will never be done}

[velvet-liquor.livejournal.com]

This is exactly what I wanted to hear 8D

[doraemi-san.livejournal.com]

I have a *big* thing for old man, and the oyabun omfg ;__; I just love the conversation between him and Kyo ;__;

The oyabun, for once, did not smile.
“Try your best, then,” he said carefully, “To keep it that way.”

Because you said a lot more is coming... so... I'd love to read more about the oyabun, like his past, his stories... something that help him to acquire this kind of experience ;___; Sorry I just can't stop fangirling about this absolutely high-class-old-man ;___;

And I have a bad feeling about Aoi's plan...

[satanicangel1.livejournal.com]

I hope Aoi's plan works out but, don't think it will. I am happy Kyo lied about his father and said he was fine, I highly doubt anyone can take Toshiya away from Kyo and, if they try it would not end pretty anyway so, what's the point. I would like to know more about the oyabun, like his back story.

[random-x13.livejournal.com]

oh lawd Open Office is silly.
It remembers strange words you've typed out before. Fun, huh? XD

Oh Kyo, you lying sack of shit, you know you feel something for Toshiya!

And Aoi, your plan better work. You rescue Uruha and go to Korea and live happily ever after!

0.0

<//3