Chapter 2: Turning Saints Into the Sea
Chapter 3: Did You Fall for a Shooting Star?
Chapter 4: Even if You Cannot Hear My Voice
**Fair Warning: Sex Happens!**
Ken removed his glasses carefully, setting them on the otherwise immaculate desk with a click before rubbing roughly at sore eyes. He knew working at his computer in an dark room invariably led to a migraine; still, he had found that he was often cloaked in darkness long before he even realized it was time for the day to be ending. Ken leaned back in his chair with a frustrated growl. Something, clearly, was not right with the data he was currently reviewing. He could feel it, almost see it even, yet just as he became sure that the problem was about to reveal itself, his understanding of it would pull back, drawn away not unlike the tide, and he’d be left standing on the edge of a dark ocean, unable to make sense of what moments before he would have claimed to have understood.
This had always been Osamu’s forte, the natural genius of the boy never shining though as intensely as it did in matters of family business. But where Osamu’s brilliance came to the boy with innate ease, Ken had been educated, set and reset to tasks as many times as proved necessary for them be mastered. And while Ken understood that the brain could be taught to think on a higher level, faster, even, he held no illusions as to whether or not that level might ever become natural.
No, Ken thought to himself, leaning forward once more to take hold of his glasses, no illusions. And certainly, no hope.
Ken’s breath caught as a cold hand reached out suddenly to wrap over his face, covering his eyes. He inhaled, catching the whiff of freshly soaped skin even as a second hand reached down and took his glasses from his hand.
“Ken.” The simple name was as remonstrative as it was forgiving. Ken felt his body pushing back, trying, as it were, to find the waiting embrace, only to have the arms wrapped around him stiffen, further pinning him in place.
Daisuke ignored Ken’s all but inaudible whimper, certain even that Ken, himself, was not aware that he had made the noise, choosing instead to lean forward to whisper in Ken’s ear, “Where is it?” Ken fought to pull away when he heard the hard voiced request, but Daisuke only tightened his grip, refusing to give the older boy enough room to even shake his head, “Tell me,” he insisted, continuing to hold Ken tight.
Finally Daisuke felt the taller boy concede, only then loosening his grip enough to allow Ken the means to make a small gesture with his head, “There,” came the cautious response as Ken nodded towards the bed, “In the drawer,” he clarified a second later. Daisuke smiled, bringing the hand that had been wrapped across Ken’s chest up to run affectionately though his hair.
“Good,” Daisuke praised, “Good.” He reached out to turn off Ken’s computer monitor, startling even himself by how quickly the room became obscured by the murky shadows. “Stay here,” Daisuke insisted, waiting until he had Ken’s nod of acquiescence before dropping his hands and stepping away from the chair. Even in the practically empty room, it made Daisuke nervous, moving about in the heavy darkness, his eyes fighting desperately to focus on something, anything really, that might suggest that they were becoming acclimated to the lack of light.
Soon though, he was able to make out the shape of small table that sat beside Ken’s bed. Daisuke, unable to stop the relieved sigh at having made it this far without yet walking into anything, pulled open the bottom drawer and began to rummage around. It was easy enough to find what he was looking for, and he stood up, his foot just on the verge of sliding the drawer back into place before deciding against it. Daisuke glanced down at the soft fabric in his hand, unable to stop small perturbed hum from escaping the back of his throat as he made his way back carefully to where Ken still sat, the dim outline of his face staring straight ahead as ordered now clearly visible as a pale ghosting in the otherwise dark room.
“Ken?” he questioned softly as he came upon the boy only to realize that Ken’s body was braced tight, his hands digging into their armrests. “Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh,” Daisuke soothed, running a hand through Ken’s hair, continuing to whisper the soft words.
“See?” Daisuke asked softly, laying a cheek against the top of Ken’s head, “It’s only me,” he promised, “Only me, okay?” Encouraged by Ken’s shaky nod, Daisuke brushed back the hair from Ken’s eyes, settling the opaque mask he had just retrieved in its place, tying it tightly before turning Ken’s chair so that Ken now faced him. Daisuke crouched, bringing his face even with Ken’s as he ran light fingers over the mask, assuring himself even in the darkened room that it lay correctly, with no harsh folds or twists that might hurt Ken.
“See?” he asked again, smiling a bit at the irony of it when Ken nodded in agreement with his simple question. “Good,” Daisuke praised, standing suddenly, pulling one of Ken’s hands with him as he did.
“Stand up.” All softness had left Daisuke’s voice and Ken did not hesitate to obey. No, any resistance on Ken’s part was always quick to disappear, the blinded boy showing little to no similarity to his other self. It was too quick to Daisuke’s mind, and as he stood there watching the boy quietly awaiting his next order he had to fight the urge shake him, to demand that Ken fight him, that he try to escape.
But theirs was a script that had been written years before and there would be no going back to change the story now.
Daisuke led Ken a few steps away from the computer desk before dropping his hand and turning to face him. Daisuke smiled as Ken’s head moved about, trying to sense Daisuke, but unable to see anything from under the dark cloth. Daisuke ran a hand down the side of Ken’s face, chuckling softly when Ken immediately turned in that direction.
At the quiet noise, Ken stepped in Daisuke’s direction only to be halted by a sharp, “Stop.” Ken’s compliance was swift. Daisuke took a few steps back until he was resting against the edge of the bed before holding out a hand in Ken’s direction with a softly whispered, “Come.” Ken moved towards the sound of Daisuke’s voice without hesitation, astonishing Daisuke with the almost innate ease with which Ken was able to latch on to his hand. Daisuke used the grip to pull Ken the rest of the way forward, catching him lightly when he stumbled in the dark.
Daisuke pulled Ken in close to his body, bracing the older boy’s hands against his thighs to offer him some balance as Daisuke reached up to run both hands along Ken’s face, smiling at the little noises Ken made with each ghostly touch. Daisuke allowed his hands to roam lower, seemingly of their own free will until they settled in unison on Ken’s hips.
Daisuke squeezed tightly at the narrow hips, “Get undressed.” Daisuke could feel Ken’s uncertainty in the quick way he tried to draw back, but Daisuke wrenched Ken forward, his fingers pressing into Ken’s hips painfully enough to beget a small cry of pain.
“Ken.” There was little question as to what the harshly spoken name was warning. Still, that was not to suggest that Daisuke did not understand Ken’s hesitance. Up until now, he had always been the one to undress the boy, taking careful note of any distress Ken seemed to be suffering and altering his approach as warranted. But tonight…
Daisuke chose not to dwell on the source of his callousness, opting instead to encourage Ken’s shy hands with a throaty growl even as he reached over to turn on a small lamp sitting on the bedside table. Ken seemed to balk momentarily as light suddenly brightened his otherwise impenetrable darkness, but after a sharp slap across his hip from Daisuke, Ken’s hands rose from where they had been gripping Daisuke’s knees to the small buttons of his dress shirt, where they seemed to find no end of difficulties. After a few mistrials, however, Ken finally managed to undo the first and then the second, moving on quickly to the third to stave off Daisuke’s impatience. Daisuke took this his chance to encourage Ken’s good behavior by nosing past the shirt’s starch stiffened edges to nip at Ken’s collar bone.
“No!” It was the first real word Ken had dared to speak, and yet still very, very much against the rules. Daisuke reached up snare the hands pressing back against his chest, jerking Ken off balance in the process and causing the taller boy to land heavily on his knees on the floor. He gathered both of Ken’s wrists tight in one fist, pulling back with his right hand as if he might slap the boy, only to find himself hesitating, unable to complete the action against the pale face tilted up from between his knees. In the end, Daisuke just dropped Ken’s wrists, reminding him tersely what it was that he was supposed to be doing.
Ken resumed his task, hands shaky even after he had finished and Daisuke helped lift him back into a standing position. Daisuke pushed the still-crisp shirt off of Ken’s shoulders, drawing the boy into a close embrace, his hands circling comfortingly around Ken’s back even as he ignored the small sound of distress that Ken made as shirt fell to the ground in a wrinkled heap. After a few seconds embrace, Daisuke again positioned Ken an arm’s length way, pausing only to place Ken’s arms on his own shoulders before reaching to unbuckle the slim belt clasp at Ken’s waist. Ken seemed to relax somewhat at this return to the more traditional, even making small noises of pleasure as Daisuke’s cool fingers dipped under the band along his waistline.
“You’ve gotten thinner.” It was more an accusation than a statement, and Ken cringed, pulling back to shake his head in denial. Not that Daisuke was buying that for a second. His hand slid down the back of Ken’s still fastened pants, nails scraping along bare skin before squeezing. “You have,” Daisuke insisted, smiling to himself at the way the simple gesture caused Ken to fall forward, the top of his head coming to rest just under Daisuke’s chin.
“Here,” Daisuke insisted, pulling his hand from Ken’s pants and reaching up to bring both of Ken’s hands down to the top button. Daisuke made certain that both Ken’s hands had a grasp on the metal clasp before releasing them and moving on to target Ken’s nipples with an all too impatient tongue.
Ken jumped at the sudden attack. Clearly the older boy had not been expecting Daisuke to move forward so aggressively. Not that Daisuke was concerned. He knew all too well that what benefits Ken received from their meetings were based almost entirely on just how well Daisuke could keep him off balance. Allow Ken any chance to lead and their little game would be over before it started.
And Daisuke had no intentions of allowing Ken to escape so easily.
His tongue darted out again, circling first around Ken’s left nipple and then the right, pausing only long enough for Daisuke’s teeth to scrap along the tiny nub, a not so gentle slap to Ken’s ass reminding him that despite his other distractions, he was still expected to finish the task Daisuke had left him, quite literally, at hand.
Daisuke pulled Ken in closer, sucking at tender flesh until he was sure it had become quite sore, then moving on to his other target, hands kneading the tight flesh of Ken’s buttocks the entire time. Finally Ken’s effort seemed to come to fruition, fabric falling roughly past Daisuke’s hands as an impatient tug by Ken left himself standing only in boxers and socks, the previously challenging pants pooled around his ankles.
Daisuke smiled at Ken’s sudden success, praising gently with a whispered, “That’s good,” as his hands reached down to cup the warmly throbbing flesh, squeezing it softly through Ken’s thin boxers. Ken cried out, unable to stop his body from pressing against Daisuke’s light embrace.
Stepping to the side so that Ken could reach out and touch the bed that Daisuke had, until just recently, been leaning against, Daisuke was able to easily maneuver the dark haired boy up and into a sitting position just on its edge. Daisuke tugged at Ken’s boxers, unable to contain his amused chuckle at the gasping noise Ken produced as the elastic band snapped past his straining erection.
Daisuke smiled down on Ken, his hands fisting in the coverlet as Daisuke took gentle hold on his penis, smearing milky pre-cum across the head. Daisuke dropped to one knee, steadying Ken’s hip with one hand as his tongue darted out to tease the small slit, once, twice and then a third time before taking it into his mouth. Ken’s hands knotted painfully in Daisuke’s hair, somehow managing to both pull and push against Daisuke simultaneously. Daisuke allowed Ken’s dick to slide from his mouth with a growl, reaching up to ply Ken’s hands from his head and trap them against the thinner boy’s chest, ignoring the whimper of protest. Daisuke stood, pushing the boy back against the bed, using his added mass to his best advantage and ignoring the conspicuous way Ken’s erection continued to twitch against his thigh.
“Be still.” It was clear Ken understood the implicit command hidden within the simple statement, unable to prevent a small, almost frightened noise from escaping his throat but still allowing Daisuke to reposition his arms above his head without a fight. Daisuke’s weight disappeared momentarily, the bed creaking as he slid off to reach into the still open table drawer. When he stood back up, Ken was just as he had left him, hands fisted around the topmost edge of the coverlet. “That's right,” Daisuke praised, running the back of his hand down the side of Ken’s face in a gentle, almost loving gesture.
Ken shuddered at the simple touch, turning his face away, his bottom lip caught between sharp teeth. Daisuke fought the urge to sigh, closing his eyes a second in the hopes that it might block out the image of the frail, trembling boy. It did not work. The figure had long since been burned deep into the back of Daisuke’s eyelids. Daisuke briefly considered leaving Ken as he was before deciding against it. It had not taken him long to realize that Ken would most certainly have things his way, whether Daisuke was willing to comply or not. In the end, it was easier for them both just to play along.
Daisuke reached up to gently take Ken’s wrists, binding first one, then the other as loosely as he dared before looping the end of the cord over and around the railed frame of the bed. He tugged the end tight, forcing Ken’s arms up long and straight, before allowing the excess cord to fall behind the back of the headboard and moving his hands downward, massaging light arcs along Ken’s torso. Daisuke paused, bending down to torment Ken’s still tender and erect nipples momentarily with his tongue before suddenly reaching down with a not so gentle squeeze for Ken’s dripping erection. Ken’s hips arched, coming up from off the bed to press into Daisuke’s harsh embrace, the groan erupting from the back of Ken’s throat being more than enough to tell Daisuke the older boy was almost at his limit.
Daisuke braced his hands on Ken’s hips, pushing the boy back against the bedding as he dipped down to run his tongue along the side of Ken’s dick, circling the head once before taking it in his mouth and sucking as hard as he could. Ken’s hips fought the weight pinning them, thrashing first up and down and then side to side in some hope of finagling their own release. Only as Daisuke felt Ken’s building tension start its penultimate crescendo did he sit up, suddenly releasing the pressure on Ken’s hips as he wrapped thumb and forefinger around the base of Ken’s shaft, pinning him in yet another cruel prison. Ken’s hips made use of their newfound freedom, pumping dryly, Ken crying out as the pressure refused to abate.
Loosening his fingers only as Ken’s desperate motions started to still, his heartbeat slowing and his cries morphing into little more than pained whimpers, Daisuke slowly, gently, leaned over the still softly shuddering form to place a cool kiss on Ken’s feverish cheek. He sat back, licking at the salty residue from his lips before nudging at Ken’s side, telling him without words that he was expected to roll over. Ken did as requested without argument, only crying out as his tender erection became trapped between his stomach the quilted coverlet. Not that it was for long however, with Ken quickly scooting up to lean forward on bent elbows, his forehead slanting down to rest against his bound wrists.
Daisuke frowned at the easy compliance even as he reached for the bottle he had placed on the bedside table a moment earlier. In all honesty, he much preferred the nights when the dark haired boy chose to fight more against his rough embrace. That Ken so willingly offered his self up for what seemed to have become perpetual, all but inevitable, abuse spoke volumes to Daisuke about where Ken’s current mental state lay. He shook his head, disliking the story Ken’s actions told.
Daisuke cursed himself when he felt Ken jump. He had become so caught up in his own thoughts that he had failed to realize just how hard he had been squeezing the small plastic bottle, and now a dollop of what was no doubt very cold gel was slowly gliding down Ken’s side, the already hypersensitive skin twitching at the sensation. Quick fingers swiped at the viscous liquid, Daisuke leaning in to warm the recently molested flesh with his tongue, only to nearly growl with frustration when, without thinking, he absentmindedly wiped his sticky fingers clean on his pants.
Sitting up, Daisuke snatched at the bottle of lubricant from where it had fallen on the bed beside Ken, willing himself to focus while fighting the urge to ponder his own continued distraction. It certainly was not because of Ken, kneeling crouched, rear presented, waiting. Slicking down a finger, Daisuke ruthlessly probed Ken’s ass, thankful when, at Ken’s sharp gasp, his own cock finally began to jerk with curiosity.
Daisuke grunted, pressing his burgeoning erection against the edge of the bed and using the sexless friction to escalate his own interest even as he assaulted Ken with a second finger. Daisuke reached forward with his other hand, surprised to find his abrupt intrusion had not slackened Ken’s erection in the slightest. He ran a finger down the length of Ken’s shaft, pressing gently at the silky flesh of the base even as he scissored the two fingers in Ken’s ass, mellowing the resistant tissues in preparation for the third.
Ken’s lithe body pressed back, begging for more contact even as Daisuke continued push his fingers deeper and deeper into him, a strangled sort of gasp finally alerting Daisuke to the fact that he had found the very spot Ken had so desperately trying to force his finger toward. Daisuke smirked, hand reaching around to thumb the slick tip of Ken’s erection even as he purposefully fingered Ken’s prostate again and again.
Daisuke removed both of his hands, reaching down to unzip his own, now very eager, cock, freeing it easily before leaning forward to press the warm flesh against Ken even as softly questioned, “Will you be a good little boy, Ken?” Daisuke pressed his hips even closer against Ken’s, using both hands to pull Ken’s hips in as tightly as their flesh would allow. “Well?” he queried again.
At Ken’s nod of acquiescence, Daisuke released his hips, allowing Ken’s body a momentary respite as he praised, "Good,” quickly slicking his own member with the all too familiar combination of gel and pre-cum. Daisuke carefully positioned himself just at the edge of Ken’s opening, gripping Ken’s hips tightly even as he tried to ignore how easy it was for his fingers to outline the hard ridge of bone. Then, without a word of warning for Ken, he thrust forward, jerking Ken’s hips back so that his shaft buried itself deeply within Ken’s body in one swift motion. Ken’s body tightened painfully around Daisuke, even as Ken tried his hardest to muffle his involuntary cry.
Daisuke did not give Ken’s body time to adjust, starting to move almost immediately, first with long deep strokes, but quickly devolving into shallow, quick thrusts as nature overtook his original intentions. Ken accepted the changing rhythm without words, pressing his face into the coverlet in an attempt to stifle the mewling cries that willpower alone could not halt.
A hand snaked down underneath Ken, massaging his half flagging erection until it regained its previous strength, the slick movement sending wave after wave of pleasure along Ken’s spine, the ripples fighting for dominance against those caused by the pain of Daisuke’s harsh entry. Only when Daisuke could feel Ken’s insides clinching with anticipation, did he lean across Ken’s sweat dampened back, placing a soft kiss right at the nape of Ken’s neck before whispering softly into the blood warmed ear, “That's my good Kenny-boy.” That was all it took. Within seconds, Ken came violently, his cum dirtying the coverlet under his stomach even as Daisuke shuddered forcefully against his body, his member easily sliding from Ken’s body as it slowly lost its rigidity.
Daisuke did his best to keep his full weight from falling against Ken as he counted out the moments until his breathing would return to normal and the heavy haze of fatigue that seemed to make every muscle in his body weak would improve. As his mind slowly started to clear, Daisuke reached up and tugged at the knot binding Ken’s wrists to the top of the bed, relieved when the ties quickly came loose. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently rolled the older boy over, pulling back the sullied coverlet and settling Ken underneath, deftly ignoring the clearly identifiable tear tracks that ran down Ken’s face even as he brushed a few wayward strands of hair away from Ken’s face.
Daisuke smiled sadly, reaching up to switch off the bedside lamp even as Ken turned still-masked eyes away, rolling over and on to his side and tucking his knees up protectively against his body. Daisuke wiped his hands along the bed before haphazardly realigning his clothes and feeling his way as best he could back toward the room’s door. He slid the door open, pausing only momentarily to study the huddled figure on the bed, trapped, or so it seemed by the rectangular shaft of light from the passageway that rushed in to fill the inky darkness of the room, almost gleeful in its tortured clarity.
And clarity was the one thing Daisuke did not want. It confused him. It confused him in a way that made it nearly impossible to ignore the still softly audible cries ringing in his head. It confused him in the way that only wanting to protect the one you hate can.
Daisuke quickly stepped out of the room, shutting the door firmly. He pretended he never heard the pained whimper, “Onii-sama.”
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Ken had yet to answer his question and Takeru was determined to wait him out, even if more and more this seemed to be becoming a battle of the wills, the sole purpose of which was to slowly, and remorselessly drive Takeru insane.
But, really, Ken had long since forgotten the question, more interested in watching the small birds vying for the seed someone had left in the stone lantern just outside the window. He understood what it was that Takeru wanted. He just did not know what it was that Takeru thought that he could do about it. If Ken had been given any choice in the matter, did Takeru think…
A smile worked its way to Ken’s lips at the thought. Takeru think, indeed. What were the odds?
Takeru growled at the way Ken kept laughing under his breath, an odd smirk reflecting back at Takeru through the glass. It was obvious that he was trying to reason with someone who was both fucking insane and also clearly intent on making sure that he became so. What other possible explanation could there be?
Suddenly the door slid open and Ichijouji Osamu stepped inside, slamming the door shut again even as he surveyed the room’s occupants. “What the hell’s going on in here?”
Takeru found himself strangely stymied by such a direction question from his oyabun. He had seen Ichijouji-sama upset or even angry any number of times but could honestly say that had never felt as threatened as he did at just this moment. A soft sigh from over by the window drew Takeru’s attention, and thankfully Osamu’s as well. Ken still had not turned to face either Takeru or his brother, but, rather, continued to stare out the window at the garden. Still, Takeru would have sworn that the normally pale boy had lost yet another layer of color.
“We were just talking, Onii-sama,” Ken had pulled his knees up close to his body, the gray school uniform that probably should have been retired months ago in favor of something lighter riding up to reveal white socks. The elder Ichijouji easily closed the distance between the door and the window with a few long strides, gripping Ken’s chin and bodily turning the younger boy so that he was looking up at him. They both held their pose, neither moving until Osamu had satisfied himself of whatever he either did or did not see in Ken’s vacant gaze.
“Get up,” Osamu’s voice was calmer, but somehow it only frightened Takeru more. Takeru watched as Ken carefully unfolded his body, turning to face his brother before standing up from the alcove bench. Ken failed to hide the shiver that ran up his spine when Osamu ran his finger just under the collar at Ken’s neck, making Osamu smile. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like you wearing your uniform at the compound,” Osamu chided Ken, his tone one of a father whose patience was growing thin, “In fact, I’m not really sure I even want you at that school. It’s so far away, and I worry I won’t be there when you need me. Surely there is some alternative that both of us might find a bit more satisfactory, no?” Osamu reached up to tuck a few errant strands of hair behind one of Ken’s ears.
“Onii-sama,” Ken voice broke with the effort of keeping his voice calm even as his brother’s hand next reached forward to undo the first couple of buttons hidden behind the pressed flap on the front of Ken’s uniform jacket. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know, I know,” Osamu teased, his hand gently kneading at Ken’s shoulder from under the jacket, “I don’t know why I worry so, baby brother. I just do.” Osamu smiled softly, cupping Ken’s chin with his free hand, this time gently raising the younger boy’s face to ask, “Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”
Ken tried to nod, but his brother’s grip was too firm. Besides they both knew his answer, both knew that he would eventually give in, as he had with everything else. It was only a matter of time, and time, by Osamu’s reckoning, was something of which he had plenty. He could afford to be magnanimous.
Osamu dropped his brother’s chin, his point made, “Go change,” he ordered, nodding over his shoulder towards the door. Ken did not need to be told twice. He quickly stepped around his brother, unable to keep from tugging first at one shirtsleeve than the other as he made his way across the room, intent, it seemed, on shaking off his brother’s lingering touch even before he made it to the door. Ken stopped only long enough to quickly rebutton his top two jacket buttons and give each sleeve one more quick pull before sliding the door open and disappearing down the hall.
Takeru looked at the still open door with ill-disguised longing. He wanted to take his leave too, only he had not been dismissed and he wasn’t so foolish as to think that Ichijouji-sama had forgotten about him. As if he was that lucky.
“Takeru!” No, definitely not that lucky. Takeru called on every last ounce of his willpower in the hope that he would manage to resist the urge to walk over and punch the red headed boy in the jaw.
Ichijouji, too, turned looking at the younger man that was standing in the doorway with a kind of vague perplexity. He could see the sleeve of someone’s, probably Takenouchi’s, kimono as the fought to pull the boy back into the hall. But it did not look to Ichijouji like the young man had any intention of being so persuaded.
“Takeru, let’s go,” the red headed man held out a hand to Takeru, motioning for him to come.
“Damn it, Daisuke,” Takeru could feel the frustration welling up inside of him, threatening to overcome all good senses. There were now two sets of hands tugging at Daisuke’s jacket but still, he showed no inclination of giving in.
Osamu shook his head. As amusing as it was watching Takeru try to maintain his composure, enough really was enough. There was really only so much an oyabun could allow without risking utter chaos. Ichijouji cleared his throat, waiting until he had the red-headed boy’s attention before ordering, “Shut the door.” Daisuke nodded once, easily slipping free of his jacket before stepping inside the room and pulling the door shut.
It took Ichijouji Osamu a second to come to terms with the fact that, while the door was indeed shut, somehow, the red-headed boy still stood in the room. In fact, he probably would have studied the red-head longer had Takeru not started toward the boy in question, clearly intending him some harm.
“Takeru-kun.” Takeru stopped short when he heard the oyabun call his name. Not that he took his eyes off of Daisuke for even a second. No, he fully intended to let his kohai know just what he thought of his behavior, starting a good kick in the ass.
“I saw you in the hall earlier,” Osamu stated, studying Daisuke, “You reminded me of someone then.” Osamu admitted, his eyes narrowing, “Even more so now. Your name?”
Daisuke went so far as to actually point at his own chest in hopes of confirming that the oyabun was actually speaking to him before realizing that he was the only person to which he could be referring, “Motomiya,” Daisuke answered, “Motomiya Daisuke.”
“Hmmm, Motomiya, I don’t know that name.” Osamu admitted.
“Kido sent him over.” Takeru volunteered, “He’s only been here a couple of months.” Something about the way Takeru ground out the words “a couple of months” made Daisuke worry they might just end up being his last. But, strangely, Ichijouji Osamu seemed to find it amusing.
“Is that so?” he asked, “Well Motomiya, you are either very brave, or very stupid.”
“Or very both,” Takeru growled under his breath.
“Or very both,” Osamu concurred good-naturedly, “But you see, as much as I’d like to let you take Takeru-kun and go, I can’t.” He offered Daisuke a thin smile. “Please understand,” Osamu continued, “I, too, have a soft spot in my heart for our Takeru-kun, but I’ve told him to leave Ken-chan alone and as oyabun I simply cannot allow him to get away with such blatant disobedience. He must be punished.” Takeru had known it was coming since the oyabun had walked into the room. Still the words chilled him to his core.
“I don’t see why,” Daisuke shrugged, “Your brother seemed okay to me.”
“Did he?” Osamu asked, smiling again, though Daisuke was coming to distrust that smile more and more, “Well, unfortunately, looks can be deceiving. My brother has had a rough year, what with our father dying and then the death of one of his close friends.” Osamu shook his head sadly though his eyes reflected only some far off anger, “That was my fault,” he admitted, “I should have nipped that little relationship in the bud sooner,” Osamu’s voice had taken a hard edge, “I won’t make that same mistake again.”
“Oh!” Daisuke seemed to have finally put two and two together, fist pounding open palm has he explained, “Then there’s nothing to worry about.” At Osamu’s questioning look he continued, “Takeru hates your brother.” Daisuke even went so far as to roll his eyes, “Everyone knows that,” he assured the oyabun, “So…there’s nothing to worry about,” he repeated.
“Oh?” Osamu found himself questioning, oddly bemused by the boys subjective logic.
“Sure,” Daisuke promised, “And I can even make it so that you won’t have to worry about him bothering your brother ever again.”
“Is that so?” Osamu decided that it was the younger man’s confidence that was so entrancing.
“Sure,” Daisuke agreed easily.
“And if he does?”Osamu pressed.
Daisuke did not even hesitate, “Then I’ll kill him,” he promised the oyabun with a smile, an eerily emotionless smile. One that provided no warmth in his oddly blank face, “I’ll give you my word.”
And, strangely, Ichijouji Osamu was certain that he could believe that.