Chapter Text
The day was going excellent.
Until Yahaba’s work trip in Seoul was cancelled in the morning because nearly every board member fell ill on the third day of the two weeks they were supposed to be there.
In the afternoon, he had to wait four hours in the unbearable summer heat with no cash and no food at the airport because his taxi company had a mix-up between clients.
During those four hours, Yahaba’s parents had called him to break the news that they would be leaving on a holiday with his grandparents the same evening and that he’d be alone for a whole month.
Everything is going great.
Suppressing a groan, Yahaba presses the button to the 6th floor. The elevator ride feels longer than it usually does. Yahaba’s bags feel heavier with every step he takes towards his door.
Finally being able to let go of them in his hallway, he decides that he doesn’t care enough to unpack everything right away. He hums contently when the bags don’t fall over for once and makes his way to the living room door, only to stop and frown at the light that shines from underneath it.
Must’ve forgotten a light.
Shrugging it off, Yahaba opens the door, takes a few steps, and then and freezes when he notices that his PlayStation home screen is on. His eyes flicker over to the couch, where a man is sitting cross-legged while wearing a pair of headphones. What the hell?
As if sensing his stare, the man turns and quickly stands up when he sees Yahaba. With one hand, he takes off the headphones, and with the other, he reaches behind his back. Yahaba wonders what he’s trying to achieve by doing that, and he’s about to ask when the man pulls out a gun to point in Yahaba’s direction, his face changing completely from the peaceful look he had before.
“What the fuck?!” he shouts and takes a couple of steps back, only to hit the door to the hallway.
“Who’re you?” the man asks, though it sounds more like a demand. It pisses Yahaba off.
He huffs incredulously. “Who am I? More like who the fuck are you and why are you pointing a gun at me in my own home?”
The man’s hostile demeanor falters, but the gun isn’t lowered. Yahaba wonders if he should be freaking out more. He probably should be.
“What’s your name?” the man asks, taking a step forward with furrowed brows instead of a glare.
“What’s it to you?” Yahaba snaps, glancing at the gun. He just wants to go to sleep. Why is there a stranger threatening him at this ungodly hour?
“Your name might stop me from shooting a bullet through your skull.”
Yahaba groans and bangs his head against the door behind him. “Yahaba Shigeru. There. Happy? Now tell me why the fuck you’re in my apartment with a gun before I contact the police.”
“So you do live here.”
“Obviously. How else would I get in?” Yahaba says and then frowns. “How did you get in here?”
“I-”
“Wait, no, who even are you?”
The man stares at Yahaba for a few seconds before sighing and putting the gun away behind him. These few seconds give Yahaba a chance to look him over properly. The man is taller than himself, though not by much. He has expressive eyebrows, which are now furrowed while he fiddles with his hands.
“Right…” The man glances at Yahaba again, who raises his eyebrows expectantly.
He sighs and gives Yahaba a pointed look. “My boss might chop my arm off for this.”
When Yahaba offers nothing but a blank stare in return, he sighs again.
“I’m Matsukawa Issei. I’m a member of Seijoh, which is what you people might call an organized crime syndicate of the Yakuza.” Yahaba feels his heart skipping a beat.
As if noticing him tense up, Matsukawa continues: “We’re not the rotten kind. We don’t go looking for trouble. Controlling our territory is what we do, and cleaning up messes if necessary, which is why I’m here.”
“You’re here to kill me?” Yahaba blurts out, eyes widening. Why must this be his last day? Fate is such a cruel thing.
Matsukawa lets out a chuckle. “No, no.” He pauses for a few seconds. “Well, since you’re the owner of the place, and you’ve returned earlier than expected, I suppose I can tell you… I’m here because your apartment has a good line of vision over an area I’m supposed to investigate. We’re on the lookout for someone, and the boss asked me to take him out in an inconspicuous manner, y’know?”
Yahaba doesn’t leave his position against the door. How is he speaking so casually about killing someone?
Another sigh. “You’re not gonna say anything? I just risked my position by telling you, you know?”
Yahaba thinks. His brain is kind of foggy and tired, but he manages to say: “You should leave.”
“Leave? I’m not leaving ‘till the mission’s over. Sorry, kid,” Matsukawa grins, moving back towards the couch.
“What? It’s my place, if I tell you to leave you should leave,” says Yahaba, though he feels strangely relaxed by the cool manner of Matsukawa’s speech.
“You could have dragged me out before everything I just told you, and you didn’t. You didn’t freak out much, so I assumed you’d be cool with it.”
“Why would I be cool with you killing someone from my window?”
Matsukawa shrugs. “It doesn’t really affect you, does it?”
“It does! What if the police investigate it and trace the shot back to my apartment? And then arrest me for murder?”
“Nah, they won’t arrest you without enough evidence. And besides, even if something like that did happen, my boss would take care of it. He doesn’t let regular civilians get involved in these kinds of things.”
“Yet here I am,” Yahaba states, thinking about how having a conversation with a Yakuza member wasn’t on his bingo card for the year.
Matsukawa looks startled for a second before his expression slides back into an easygoing grin. “Well- this,” He moves a hand between them. “is an exception. Usually, everything goes according to the plan that was made for the mission. Our strategists never miss a single detail.”
“Well, they did this time,” says Yahaba, a yawn escaping his mouth, and he makes a decision he’ll probably regret later. “You can sleep on the couch, but only if you can promise that I won’t be held responsible for anything.”
The taller man let out a tiny ‘yes!’ and gave Yahaba a thumbs up. “I’ll give my boss a call tomorrow, and then we can discuss what happens next, sound good?”
Yahaba hums, and steps towards the bathroom. “Don’t kill me in my sleep.”
He hears Matsukawa bark a laugh behind him before he closes the door.
-
When Yahaba wakes up, he thinks that everything was just a dream. That thought is crushed the moment he enters the living room and sees Matsukawa sleeping on the couch. Well, with one half of his body. The other half was draped over the floor.
Yahaba grabs a pillow and chucks it at his face, causing a groan to erupt from the other’s throat.
"Makki, I swear if you- oh."
Yahaba looks through his cupboard in search of something suitable for breakfast, but his special crackers are gone. “Makki?” He looks back at Matsukawa from the kitchen to see him sitting up.
"B- uh. Colleague," he mumbles.
“Hmm.” A pause. “Did you eat my crackers?”
“Huh? Oh, the ones in the purple packaging? Yeah. Those are so good! I’m gonna buy them if I ever see them in a store.”
“Well, you better buy some for me as well. You raided my whole stash.” Yahaba throws a sour look in his direction. Matsukawa holds his hands up in defense. “Not my fault they’re so delicious!”
They decide on a trip to the bakery. Well, Yahaba needs to go to the bakery, since Matsukawa isn’t allowed to leave according to his boss’ rules. Yahaba considers calling bullshit, since he’s sure the man is just too lazy to go, but remembers that he isn’t the one with the gun there.
The walk gives Yahaba time to think. He still feels strangely calm with the whole situation. There’s a Yakuza member staying over in his apartment, and he appears to be a nice guy. Matsukawa could have easily killed Yahaba already, yet he hasn’t. Maybe because of his boss’ principles, or maybe just his own morals, who knows?
It’s a bizarre situation that he finds himself in. But Yahaba is curious to see what’ll happen next, so he’ll just go with the flow for now.
-
Maybe he went a little overboard. It was a struggle to open his door with three big bags full of groceries. Yahaba had passed a small market on the way back, and couldn’t help himself from buying some more things, even though he knew it was impulsive spending. Yahaba scolded himself for it on the way back home.
Matsukawa doesn’t complain though. Only lets out a pleased hum when he spots the steak Yahaba got from the market while he was unpacking.
“So, I have good news and bad news,” Matsukawa says, sliding on the floor and stopping next to Yahaba.
“Oh?”
“Good news is that this whole thing won’t have any consequences for you, bad news is you’re gonna have to meet with my boss so that he can check if you’re genuine about not spilling any secrets.”
Yahaba stills for a moment. “What do I gain from telling anyone? It would only be a risk to my comfortable, little life.”
“He asked for it. It’s a condition for the safety of your comfortable, little life,” Matsukawa shrugs.
“Well, I don’t have much of a choice then, do I?”
“Nope!” Matsukawa sings in a cheerful voice. “I agreed to go tomorrow, by the way.”
“Tomorrow?” Yahaba nearly shrieks. He’s surprised at himself for a second and clears his throat before continuing. “Ahem, I mean, so soon? Shouldn’t I, like, prepare myself or something?”
“What’s there to prepare? It’s just a conversation.”
“Get to know what your boss is like, or what… what was the name of your gang again?”
Matsukawa gasps offensively. “Gang? We’re not just some gang! We’re like a big family!”
Yahaba raises a questioning eyebrow. “A family who kills people together as a form of bonding?”
The other crosses his arms and leans against the kitchen next to Yahaba. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. Just don’t speak ill of Seijoh in anyone’s presence, especially the boss’. He isn’t afraid to hurt anyone who talks shit about us.”
“Right.” The conversation ends there.
-
The rest of the day is uneventful. Yahaba found himself still sitting on the couch around dinnertime, while Matsukawa decided to sit near the window with a pair of binoculars all day.
“You look ridiculous.”
Matsukawa looks back at Yahaba with a sigh. “It was so peaceful here yesterday.”
Yahaba ignores the comment and asks: “What are you even looking for?”
He gives Yahaba a pointed look. “Can’t tell you.”
Yahaba groans. “Come on, just tell me! I’ve been sitting here all day, just waiting for you to do something interesting, and all you do is stare out of the window with that thing.”
“Work’s not always interesting, Yahaba-kun.” Matsukawa shrugs.
“Can’t you at least give me some context? I mean, why here?”
Another sigh. “You’re really persistent, huh?” A pause. “Alright, I’ll give you some info, but you better not tell Oi- my boss about it.”
When Yahaba nods, Matsukawa continues: “There’s this guy who works in the bank a few blocks away who used to handle Seijoh’s finances under the previous boss. He kept the police from snooping around, but now he’s started to leak some information towards other syndicates. Can’t have that happening, naturally. And before you ask, yes, we have done thorough research to make sure we have the right guy.”
“Oh.” That’s not what Yahaba expected at all, though it isn’t uninteresting.
The following hours are filled with lighthearted conversations about themselves, Matsukawa being careful to not reveal much. They make themselves dinner, play a few games together, and then decide to go to sleep earlier than usual, by Matsukawa’s demand. “Big day for you tomorrow!” is what he’d said with a grin.
Yahaba stares at himself while he brushes his teeth in front of the mirror. Should he be worried about the meeting? Matsukawa’s demeanor didn’t seem to change when he spoke about his boss, so maybe he’s chill as well.
Yahaba’s anxiety decides to leave him alone for the next few hours.