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The fresh tattoo on the back of Jounouchi's neck stung. A small box with two characters inside it, which overall meant nothing, not until the rest of the tattoo was done. If he'd ever let it be done. He'd made plenty of fuss with the artist earlier in the day as he laid down for it. Mainly because he didn't want the full back irezumi, even if it was tradition.
That's what his brothers told him; not that he needed to be told. It felt like common knowledge that yakuza members had large and intricate tattoos on their backs. Beautiful works of art, as delicate and symbolic as the old masters, like paintings hanging in the Louvre or the Met. Someone, somewhere, had probably thought to skin dead brothers and tan their tattoos for some grotesque, modern display. It would draw a crowd.
But not Jounouchi. He was fine with some lettering—no one could accuse him of anything with some kanji on his neck. Westerners got them all the time, though not through the old, arduous process of tebori, where they tapped it into the skin with a little metal needle. Hours and hours of laying, wincing, and hoping for the best, just to be an identifier? He wouldn't be labelled a criminal because of tradition. He couldn't. The stakes were too high.
Jounouchi chuckled to himself. "Who am I kiddin'?" He muttered. He was sitting in a yakuza fronted bar with a fresh tattoo, staring down between his empty glass and the glossy black screen of his phone, talking to his brothers as they passed by. He couldn't be more damned criminal unless he painted on his back.
Wearily, he sighed.
Mai, the blonde bartender, heard his frustration. She took his empty glass without asking. Gods, yes he needed more.
"Kaiba let you off the leash tonight, Jou?" Mai asked.
"Sorta."
"Sort of? What did he ask you to do now?"
"Same thing he always asks. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty.” Jounouchi rubbed the back of his neck and immediately regretted it. "I caved this time."
A drink was sat in front of him, and he reached out, touching Mai's hand briefly. She was cute; hell, she was sexy, a curvaceous vixen in stilettos and corset, wasting her time as a bar mama, but she was a damn good one. And she played cards when business was slow. He'd lost a large number of bets to her, but won the one that mattered:
She introduced him to the boss, the oyabun, Kaiba Seto.
He'd tried for months to crack into the Domino's yakuza family. A background of petty thuggery wasn't enough. He thought he didn't quite have the right face, the right attitude. Really, it was all connections.
"So you got your outline?"
"Fuck no. Barely got through some letters."
Mai clicked her tongue. "He's going to call you a chickenshit."
"Prolly. But I got a plan!"
"Beg?" Mai asked.
"No!" Jounouchi scoffed. He sat ramrod straight, palms to the ceiling. "Imma say I'm allergic. This one's gonna break out an' then I'll get it removed. An' then I'll be good. No more tattoo."
Mai's entire body sagged, and she slapped him with the drying towel on her shoulder. Beautiful and deadly. "You'll start losing pinkies instead."
"Nah."
"Mark my words..."
"Kaiba likes me too much," Jounouchi said. Mai rolled her eyes. "He does. Ya know he does. Last week he took me to Dōtonbori with 'im."
"For business or pleasure?"
The back of Jounouchi's neck warmed; probably the tattoo, but if it wasn't, he would say it was. "Both," he murmured.
Mai winked at him. "Sounds fun."
"Yeah, well..." Jounouchi trailed off. He was grateful to Mai. He owed her a lot more than a lost bet.
The look shared between was long enough that Jounouchi looked down to his drink, feeling like a teenager again. His brothers didn't know, and wouldn't know, what he did with Kaiba behind closed doors. It wasn't their business what he did, and his fists were sure to let them know. As far as they were concerned, Mai was the carrot he was chasing. Her, or some hostess in a club. Either way, they thought he was paying lip service to look but not touch.
It was almost better to let his brothers think he was being blue-balled. That way they wouldn't know about the tawdry love affair between the low-level lackey and the boss. They weren't some convenience store paper back; some internet novel teenage girls read.
His phone lit up and hummed on the shellac wood. He never recognised the number—it was different every time—but the little dragon icon remained. Kaiba.
Jounouchi pressed it to his ear. "Sup?"
"You get it done?"
"Kinda. Had some complications with the uh...the ink," Jounouchi said, chewing the inside of his cheek.
"Complications?" Kaiba asked, incredulous.
"Yeah. It was gettin' all...like, red an' stuff. Bumpy. Shakku was gettin' worried that it might be an allergic reaction or somethin' like that, so we stopped pretty early. The outline's still planned out, but we'll have t' see how it's going, ya know?"
Silence.
Jounouchi tried not to panic, but his heart hammered wildly in his chest. He glanced around the bar, at the sudden influx of bodies, the bell chime on the door still ringing. A loud man in a black suit staggered in and laughed so hard that he nearly knock over the men in white suits behind him. Jounouchi laughed to himself. Like a bowling ball and pins. That settled his nerves some.
"You're still afraid," Kaiba deduced.
"I mean, yes and no. It didn't hurt so much. Got the uh...the letters. So it's started at least."
Bowling Ball plopped directly beside Jounouchi and leaned far over the bar. Jounouchi shifted away, only to find a few of the Pins on the other side. Great.
"How afraid are you, Katsuya?"
Jounouchi thought on it for half a second, his heart hitching in his throat. He couldn't tell Kaiba the truth—that he was afraid of what it meant. What it branded him as, even after he'd spent so much time and energy getting into the yakuza in the first place. It was all semantics, though, because he was afraid no matter what.
"Not much. Just hurts. Like, I've taken fists an' shit but that freakin' needle," he laughed nervously.
An arm clapped over his shoulders. Bowling Ball had pulled him in close. "You can take a fist, eh!" Bowling Ball yelled, loud enough the whole bar heard. Jounouchi shoved him away, muttering curses under his breath but trying not to get into a fight. Not right now. He just wanted to talk to Kaiba.
"You're such a baby," Kaiba said.
Jounouchi's shoulders jounced. "Eh, well..."
"Do you need someone to hold your hand?"
"Wouldn't hurt," Jounouchi chuckled. Especially if it was Kaiba's. He wondered if he'd be more comfortable with marking himself so thoroughly if he had the pleasure of Kaiba clinging to him the whole time.
"I'm sure I could give you better incentive," Kaiba purred.
The back of Jounouchi's neck warmed again. "Better involve that robe from Dōtonbori."
Bowling Ball leaned into Jounouchi, pressing him into one of the Pins. He tried to shove them away. Unlike before, one of them latched around his elbow, dragging the phone away from his ear.
Jounouchi wriggled around, throwing his weight around. Adrenaline rushed through him, and he was quick to glance around the crowded room, counting the number of Pins. Six, seven, nine. Maybe twelve?
"Who ya talkin' to?" Bowling Ball asked.
Jounouchi tugged hard enough that he slipped off the barstool, dragging a Pin with him. "None of your fuckin' business."
"Is it Kaiba-oyabun?"
"The fuck you care?"
Kaiba was talking to him, but he could n't make out the muffled words as a Pin tried to pry the phone from Jounouchi's vice grip. He tried to end the call, but ended up getting socked in the face by Bowling Ball.
Dots sparkled in the corners of his eyes. He had stumbled into someone's chest. In rage, he tore away from the grip and sent the Pin sprawling into several other suits, all of whom kept him propped up.
Someone barrelled into Jounouchi, tackling him to floor and taking all the air from his lungs. His phone launched across the floor, lost amongst a sea of polished dress shoes that slowly encircled him. He clawed his way out from beneath whoever tried to pin him at the waist, smashing a cheek with the heel of his shoe. He jumped up and launched into a heavy right hook, punching one of the many Pins surrounding him.
So many leering faces. He recognised none of them, but they all wore little pins on their lapels that said they were from a rival family.
"Alright ya sonsabitches! Who wants at me first!"
Jounouchi put his fists up and minded his stance as he grounded himself. The second someone came towards him, he lashed out and grabbed them by the arm, tossing them into other men. It occupied them while he started wailing on someone else who tried to take him out by throwing a beer bottle at his head.
He wished this was some video game. There, it would have been easy to beat up ten or twelve guys because they always staggered. Not here. Here they came rushing in a flurry. Jounouchi sidestepped, threw guys, struck them in the neck, the back, the face, all while chasing his phone across the room as it was kicked from man to man like a football.
"Hey! Hey!" Mai shouted over the cacophany.
Poor Mai. This was his damned fault. He had a lot of making up to do whenever this was over.
The onslaught of fists and knees made him weary. Jounouchi wasn't as good at evading as he was just taking the punches, feeling them bear down and sting before launching back a counter strike. He licked blood from his lip and the corners of his mouth, refusing to spit on Mai's floor. His hands were a mess of bruises, and his knuckles were all cut up from someone's teeth.
"The hell ya want?" Jounouchi panted, staring at Bowling Ball. The asshole had to be some overzealous lieutenant. Some small family boss wanting to make a name for himself.
"Kaiba. Easiest way is through his whore."
Jounouchi swallowed hard. "Plenty more than me."
"You keep thinking that."
Bowling Ball charged at him, arms wide and open. Jounouchi swung out for a shot to the solar plexus, landing it hard enough to make Bowling Ball sputter. He went to strike Bowling Ball in the throat, but was grabbed at the elbow and torn back. He fought, wriggling, while Bowling Ball staggered over to the bar, reaching far over while Mai hurled shot glasses towards him. Dangerous, dangerous woman.
"I'll have every one of you arrested, you jerks!" She cried.
All the adrenaline was tiring Jounouchi, but seeing Mai dancing around the back, holding out a broken wine glass like a weapon, was enough to help him toss one man off him, then the other.
First save Mai, then the phone.
He bolted over to the bar, vaulting off one of the chairs and skidding to the other side, putting space between Mai and Bowling Ball. He stepped backwards, shielding her from the raging bull who, along the way, was dropping bottle after bottle off the shelves. The whole place was a nauseating mix of liquor and beer, enough to get drunk off as it lapped against his shoes.
He pushed Mai into her backroom storage. "Stay here, a'right."
"Hey, you ain't the boss of me, Jou."
"Jus' stay safe. Block the door, whatever. Jus'...don't call the cops."
Mai pouted and crossed her arms but nodded.
Relieved, Jounouchi slammed the door went for a sudden left hook, feeling the heat of Bowling Ball baring down on him. Before he could make contact, something (a half-full Suntory bottle, he thought) cracked just beneath his ear.
He crumpled to the floor.
—
Kaiba couldn't stop the rage boiling in his chest as he listened to the brawl happening over top of the phone's speaker. A solid five and half a minutes of back and forth, shouts, screams, and broken glass. He couldn't decipher Jounouchi out of of anyone specifically, but he was glued to the phone trying to figure out what was going on.
They wanted him; they were going through Jounouchi to get to him.
This wasn't the first time. Attempts were always made to crack through to him, to destroy the family he'd so arduously re-built. He'd brought it into the modern age; he'd changed it from a sloppy fiefdom that Gozaburo had designed to keep everyone down, on edge, ready to kill one another for a promotion or even a shred of respect. He made it into something where it was a family that actually based everything on trust and loyalty. Brotherhood. Just like it was supposed to be. It made strong bonds, strong allies, but even stronger opposition.
Kaiba supposed this was his fault. He'd gotten too comfortable in the modern age. Comfortable knowing he had eyes everywhere in Domino, confident in the alliances and peace talks he'd made. There were always snakes in the garden, slithering around, waiting for an opportunity to bite his ankles.
Before,his little brother Mokuba was always the subject of attack, especially in the early days. Now, Jounouchi.
Kaiba thought he'd been careful, but cursed his carelessness when he heard them proclaim Jounouchi his whore. "Not a whore," he heard himself say, as if trying to save Jounouchi's dignity. As if Jounouchi was so repugnant. He had been at first. Waffish, uncouth, unrestrained. But effective. Kaiba couldn't argue with the results Jounouchi produced. Which earned him a dinner, private talks, invitations to meetings.
For a brazen man who spoke with his fists, Jounouchi had a strange tepidness in his nature. He was innocent and honest in face, in voice. He incurred plenty of Kaiba's wrath, but fired it back in earnestness. The equivalent of 'the Loud American', sitting in a corporate office ready to tell the boss just how stupid his ideas were. He was welcomed for that, because he was shockingly sincere, and kept Kaiba on his toes as he wobbled between fiery and soft, quiet, unintrusive. Gentle touches, quiet murmurs, and ridiculous stories over drinks.
Kaiba didn't know where his annoyance had slid into attraction. Maybe when Jounouchi started to make him laugh behind the rim of a teacup.
Opening his eyes, Kaiba listened to the stillness on the phone, clutching it tight and hoping the line wouldn't die. He'd already sent word for subordinates near the bar to check it out, end the fight with whatever means necessary. He'd yet to hear back.
"You still there, Kaiba?" A voice hissed.
"I am."
"Good. Because we have your little whore."
Kaiba strode out of his office, thundering down the stairs and heading towards the door. It was a bad idea to even think of going, but he eyed the kodachi hanging in the foyer, anyways. It was quickly dismissed, and he reached into the drawer beside the front door, pulling out a snub-nosed revolver.
"And?" Kaiba asked. He flicked the chamber open, checking to if it was loaded.
"And he needs you. He's whimperin' for you," the voice said. In the background, he heard uneven, strained breathing on the other end followed by a 'don't...don't' so soft he thought it wasn't real. "He needs help. Badly. We figure you should come an' get him. Or...we could send him to you piece by piece."
The chamber was flicked shut. "What do you want?"
"You, Kaiba. Nothin' else."
From the corner of his eye, Kaiba's right-hand, Isono approached. Warily, Isono eyed the gun as Kaiba tucked it into his waistband.
This was a trap. They didn't have to tell him that he was walking to his death over something as insignificant as feelings. A cold voice told him not to go, to let Jounouchi die at their hand and show them that he had no weak spots—but he couldn't. Because that meant imagining them sending Jounouchi back to him mangled, eyes and cheeks and lips slashed, limbs twisted. If he was lucky. And he wasn't sure if he could bare that guilt when he'd built a family on loyalty.
"Where?" Kaiba asked.
A soft chuckle, and he heard a weak cough, a sputtered wheeze moaning no in a voice Kaiba had to convince himself wasn't Jounouchi's.
"You're smart. You'll figure it out."
—
Jounouchi was half conscious for the entire car ride. His ears were ringing, and bile rose in his throat. He smelled like whiskey and piss. Warm blood dripped down from wounds behind his ear and on his neck. In his haze, he thought that the tattoo was bleeding, and moaned, "No...wasted m'time..."
When he opened his eyes, he wasn't in the car anymore. He was instead tied to a folding chair inside of an old department store with barren, skewed shelves and mannequins places around randomly. It took Jounouchi shouting at one several times to realise it wasn't a person.
Soon, he was surrounded. Bowling Ball. Pins.
"Ya don't wanna do this," Jounouchi muttered. It took every bit of energy he had to keep his head upright while it throbbed and pulsed, hot and heavy. The rest of his body was weak, fingers and toes filled with static; his body felt like it hung from his neck like a decoration.
"Think we're scared of Kaiba Seto?" Bowling Ball asked.
"No. Not him." Jounouchi eyes blinked one at a time. "It'll be worse than him...so much worse. Ya don't even know the dogshit ya jus' stepped in."
A round of laughter. "You whorin' with someone else too, Jou-aniki?"
"I ain't your fuckin' aniki. Ain't no one's damned aniki," Jounouchi snarled. A floodlight shone on him, and a fresh pang of nausea hit him, forcing him to lean as far forward as the restraints would let him. "But ya don't wanna do this. It ain't gonna end pretty."
More laughter.
There was nothing Jounouchi could do or say that they would believe. These bruisers were in it for the long haul, thinking they had just caught a big fish. That depended on whether or not Kaiba came. He prayed (to whatever God would listen, he'd burned through so many favours) that Kaiba wouldn't come. He'd take any torture if Kaiba wouldn't come.
Seconds, maybe hours, passed while Jounouchi hovered in and out of consciousness. He vaguely heard the men talking, felt them slapping his cheeks and tugging on his hair. He paid them no mind, focusing on the sweat (blood) pooling on his back and wiggling his toes in his shoes.
Bowling Ball grabbed Jounouchi's chin. "Wake up, Whore-aniki. Loverboy's here for you."
Through the light, Kaiba's tall, lanky figure walked through the door. Pins flanked him, eyeing him like hungry dogs.
Jounouchi's heart sank to the floor. He fought Bowling Ball's grip, gnashing his teeth and writhing to get a word out. "Get out..." His voice broke, fighting a whimper as Bowling Ball's thumbnail dug deep into his cheek.
"I'm here," Kaiba said. "And judging by this hideous old place, Pegasus has put you up to this."
Bowling Ball snickered. "You are smart. He said you would be."
"Let the idiot go," Kaiba demanded. The Pins closed in, which prompted him to pull back his jacket to reveal the revolver. They stalled. "I'm not alone; you and Pegasus would be foolish to think I'd come to this unprepared."
"We thought you might."
"Tch. And Pegasus trusts you."
"And you trust this whore!" Bowling Ball roared in-between peels of laughter. He tightened his grip on Jounouchi's chin. "Go on, Whore-aniki, why don't you talk to your lover, hm? Tell him the truth. Tell him that you're—,"
Jounouchi thrashed, loosing Bowling Ball's grip and biting his hand. He was slapped hard enough that his ears rang.
"Get outta here, Kaib'! It's a trap!" Jounouchi begged.
"Of course it's a trap."
Frantically, Jounouchi looked around. Sirens were very faint in the distance, and panic throttled his chest. He knew this was going to happen. Knew it! And here they all were, sitting ducks, all because of him.
"I'm serious! Get the fuck outta here, ya bastard! Get out! Out, out, out! I don't need ya! I don't want ya!" Jounouchi couldn't stop sloppy tears from welling in his eyes. His feelings betrayed him. "So get the fuck outta here an'—," he hiccuped, "—an' go back t' countin' money. Fucker."
Kaiba didn't stop his approach. The Pins closed in, forcing him to keep his hand on the revolver, flicking off the safety.
There was no telling what was on Kaiba's mind. His face hadn't changed, still as indecipherable as ever, but there was stress in his brow, embers in his eyes. He would burn this place with them inside it. Poetic, Jounouchi thought, but he wouldn't let Kaiba be hurt, or worse, arrested because of him.
Furiously, Jounouchi forced both himself and the chair up, spinning around and using its thin legs as a weapon. His ankles rolled when he stood, and he stumbled about to find his footing, shoulder ramming into an nearby Pin.
Bodies buzzed in Jounouchi's peripheral, and he didn't give them that chance to put up any defence. He began to aimlessly spin in circles so the momentum of the flimsy chair legs would keep the Pins away from him while he wriggled the rope loose. Delirium hit almost instantly, filling his head with cotton. He hadn't realised that his feet had wrapped up in the cord of the floodlight until his cheek hit the floor. The light fell with him; the bulb sparked and exploded in a blast of light.
Before the store went dark, Jounouchi saw Kaiba dance around a Pin and grab his arm and twisted it at the elbow. The crack was louder than the scream. Jounouchi's focus was on the absolute calm on Kaiba's face. Clear, focused eyes and unmoved jaw. No emotion, no exertion. Just pure, raw power and lethal calculation.
Excitement and fear created a thunderstorm in Jounouchi's veins. He wriggled free of the restraints and picked himself up from the floor. He had to join the fray, had to prove he wasn't some useless toy to Kaiba—even if, really, he was.
He was careful at first, grabbing Pins and throwing them while his eyes adjusted to the light. Fractals of light beamed from outside, filling in the details just enough to know where Kaiba was so he could be avoided.
Jounouchi always knew he was out of his league. For Kaiba; for the yakuza. He didn't have any style, grace, or lethal instinct. He didn't inflict pain to make someone talk like an enforcer. He didn't know killshots like a hitman. His talent was taking a punch—he never stopped, never passed out. His body was just too damned stubborn. If the best ability he had was being a human shield, he would be.
Willingly, Jounouchi stepped in the way as one of the Pins charged Kaiba from behind. He absorbed the gut punch and grabbed the Pin's wrist, yanking him face-first into an awaiting knee before throwing him away.
Keeping upright was near impossible though. As soon as Jounouchi let go, he staggered forward. The bottling from earlier had scrambled what few brain cells he had left. He didn't know left from right, up from down. His fists didn't want to close.
But he kept himself upright. Had to. Had to make it through this fight; had to take every punch, every slap, every strike and protect Kaiba from his stupidity.
Up until gunfire cracked.
He prayed if came from Kaiba, but there was no telling who shot, or from where, or why. It could have hit Jounouchi and he was too numb to know. Either way, his knees gave out, and he stumbled backwards. An arm snaked around his waist.
"That you...?" Jounouchi asked. He didn't wait for an answer before lulling his head onto Kaiba's shoulder. It was the same warm and familiar arm the coiled around him in bed. "I told ya t' leave, ya prick."
"It wouldn't have mattered," Kaiba said. He lowered them onto the ground and sat on his heels, positioning Jounouchi's head in his lap.
"What ya mean?" Jounouchi asked.
Silence. Sweet, sweet silence, save for the approaching sirens.
Gently, his fingers carded through Jounouchi's blood-matted hair, breaking the knots and congealed strands with an almost unnerving tenderness. The other hand pressed down on Jounouchi's chest. It wasn't rough, just enough to tell him not to get up. And he was just fine with that. He couldn't have gotten up if he tried.
"You know what I mean, Katsuya." Kaiba stared forward. Watching, waiting. Calculating. His brow had loosened to something that reminded Jounouchi of annoyance. Maybe concern.
"Nah, I don't."
Kaiba pursed his lips. "You're a terrible liar, Katsuya," he said. His knuckles ghosted down Jounouchi's cheek. He picked at dried blood around Jounouchi's lip. "Here's what's about to happen: the police will come and arrest you. They're coming because they've tapped your phone, and they know you're in danger. They'll take you in on a bullshit excuse, probably racketeering, and they'll hold you for 48 hours until the prosecutor says you're free to go. In that time, you'll tell them everything that happened between me and you in Dōtonbori. Where we went, who we met, what we talked about. Depending on the investigator, you'll probably tell them how many times we fucked."
Jounouchi jolted up, but Kaiba pressed him back down. "Kaib', I—,"
"How close am I, Detective?" Kaiba asked. The anger was laced with something forlorn. Jounouchi's lips parted and closed.
"It ain't an investigator."
"Partner then," Kaiba said. "Who you report to doesn't matter."
Jounouchi sighed, resigned. "Ya gonna kill me?"
The gun was pulled from Kaiba's waist and briefly examined. Jounouchi squeezed his eyes closed, but felt Kaiba lean forward. The revolver was placed on the ground in front of them.
"I don't do that," Kaiba said. A momentary smile flickered on his face. "Even if I did, I couldn't. I'm too invested, now."
His hand slipped from Jounouchi's chest down to his hand, pinching Jounouchi's fingers. The blond threaded their fingers together. "So what are ya gonna do?"
"Nothing," Kaiba said. "When the police come in, you're going to go with them, and then you're going to lie to them like you lie to me."
Ice filled Jounouchi veins. He squeezed Kaiba's hand, expecting him to let go. But he never did. His fingers still brushed along Jounouchi's cheek. "What do ya want me t' say?"
"I don't care. Just make it convincing. They're probably going to keep you in a police hospital for as long as they can, so they'll have plenty of time to question you. I suggest you make up something fast."
"You're askin' me to pick sides," Jounouchi said. "It ain't that easy."
Kaiba chortled. "Of course it is. You've already done it."
Protest swept through Jounouchi, but was quickly squashed as Kaiba looked down at him. There was no anger, no sadness, no malice. Just a tiny, boyish smile and eyes glowing in the oncoming flicker of blue patrol car lights.
Yeah, Kaiba was right. He had picked a side. The side that made him tell Kaiba to run; that made him let a tattoo artist anywhere near his skin; that had him crawling into the most powerful yakuza patriarch's bed night after glorious night.
Jounouchi pulled Kaiba's hand up to his lips and kissed the bruised knuckles.