Chapter Text
Month-ends are something that the employees of Kaijou Travel and Tours Agency have all been looking forward to.
At the last day of every month, right by the end of the work day, the proprietor, Takeuchi Genta himself puts on the ‘CLOSED’ sign by the glassed entrance to the small office and gathers everyone around-- the booking assistants, tour guides, marketing agents and drivers-- for a staff meeting; it's an exact half-hour that he makes use of to discuss how the agency had fared during the last thirty days, the quota expected for the next month and other announcements that they all need to be aware of.
Sure, the workers of Kaijou Travel and Tours are interested in facts and figures but it’s barely half of what they’re eager for during month-end. After the meeting, Takeuchi treats the employees to yakitori and drinks at a nearby shabu-shabu and right there, he also announces Kaijou’s Shining Stars of the Month (Takeuchi’s version of best employee award) to give recognition to the agency’s top performers and also to continuously motivate the workforce.
At 7:00 pm, the employees of Kaijou are gathered in several long wooden tables teeming with food, waiting to be gorged down to the skewers. The tangy aroma of charcoal-grilled chicken meat, seasoned with pepper and mustard, wafts across the enclosed eating space, spiking everyone’s craving, but Kaijou’s Big Boss makes the announcements first before they all splurge on the bounty before them. At the head of one of the tables, Takeuchi stands rim-rod straight, announcing the names of this month's Shining Stars written on the spring-bound notebook in his chubby hands.
“And this month’s Shining Driver award goes to… Hayakawa Mitsuhiro!” Takeuchi announces, giving Hayakawa a thumbs-up sign. "Congratulations!"
Hayakawa stands up abruptly, a blush visible on his cheeks as the rest of the Kaijou employees clapped their hands and whistled their cheers.
“Thank you, Tekeuchi-san, I’m grateful!” the brown-haired, bushy browed driver lets out a garbled yell with both fists clenched in front of his chest, though it came out a little inaudibly due to a weird speaking defect.
“No, Kaijou is thankful for your efforts, Hayakawa. Keep up the good job,” Takeuchi replies. A moment later, he peers down again into his notebook, eyes zeroing into the name of the next Kaijou Shining Star awardee. “Moving on, we come to the most coveted recognition, the Shining Tour Guide,” Takeuchi says with a huge grin as he scans the face of his employees.
Chatters quiet down as Takeuchi clears his throat. “So, the Shining Tour Guide award goes to…" he pauses dramatically before adding, "drumroll please…”
Some people begin pounding their palms on the table for added suspense.
In his seat, Kise Ryouta, the Shining Tour Guide for the past six months, crosses his fingers under the table, silently prays to all powers-that-be, and telepathically messages Takeuchi to call his name next.
Being named as Kaijou’s Shining Star had meant that the person was voted by clients and co-workers to be deserving of the accolade and it’s Kise’s primary source of motivation since he started working as a tour guide for this travel agency. And no, he isn’t into it for mere recognition-- he won’t go the extra mile if it was just about that. Kise is after the monetary incentive that his boss, in all his generosity, gives his star workers on top of their regular salary. The reward is nothing exorbitant at all but for people like Kise who makes sure that every penny amounts to something worthwhile, it can pay for a good deal of life’s basic necessities.
“This month’s Shining Tour Guide is… still, Kise Ryouta!”
A triumphant smile breaks into Kise’s lips as soon as he hears his name. Cheers erupt all over the room and he earns countless pats on his head, shoulders and back, along with jovial congratulatory remarks from his co-workers.
“Congrats, Kise,” Takeuchi says then he continues to read from his notes. “Feedback from clients say that you’re a lot of fun to be around during tours. You’re hospitable, energetic and have so many entertaining stories to tell, they'd love to have you again on their next tour. And your co-workers can’t agree more, several of them said you’re awesome to work with.”
“Thank you, Takeuchi-san. Thank you, team! I would never have done it without your support.” Kise looks into everyone's eyes and gives them all a genuinely happy smile. “I will always do my best!” Kise bows before his boss and colleagues, already making a mental computation of how he’ll budget the 22,000 yen he’d get from Takeuchi later.
So the night ended on a high note, thanks to the abundance of food and beer that Kise’s boss had generously allowed to indulge themselves in. Kise himself is in high spirits, a little inebriated even, after losing a drinking match against his colleagues, Kasamatsu Yukio and Moriyama Yoshitaka. He’s practically skipping as he heads for the train station, even humming to himself a happy tune while he strolls all the way to his humble abode.
Kise stands at the threshold of his apartment, the motion-sensor light source near the door flicking open, allowing him to easily dig into his bag for the key. It sure was exhausting but an enjoyable kind of day nonetheless, he just can’t wait to get a warm shower and crash into bed for a well-deserved sleep.
“Kise, you’re finally home.”
Startled, Kise whirls around and sees two strangers smirking at him. Kise is taller than the average Japanese men but these guys, well, they tower above him, especially the dark-skinned man with thick, muscular build who’s been carelessly making squeaking noises with his mouth while chewing his gum.
Strange men whom he has never met know his name and turn up at his doorstep at night. Kise fights the nervous sensation rising from the pit of his stomach and wills himself to keep calm.
“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you at all. Can I help you with anything?” Kise asks, carefully putting on a sugary smile. It usually works on strangers, he hopes his luck hasn’t run out yet tonight.
The men draw nearer. One of his visitors, a blond donning a crisp white suit, speaks up. Kise notices a tattoo print peeking on the left side of the guy’s neck and he wonders if it extends to the man’s arm and chest.
“We’ve finally met, Kise Ryouta. I’m Nash Gold Jr. and this is Jason. We’re actually here for your father but I’m pretty sure you can make up for his absence.”
If they’re actually looking for his father, then this is not good. Kise had last seen his old man some two weeks ago and he never mentioned anything about visitors. A bad feeling, cold and ominous, starts lurking somewhere in his gut.
“Dad hasn’t come home for like, three months.” Kise lies. “Maybe you can come visit him at another time? I’ll tell him you dropped by.”
“Your father is pretty elusive, I must say. So he hasn’t come home for months?” Nash inquires.
“Yes,” Kise confirms with a small nod. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell him to meet with you the soonest.” He turns his back on Nash and Jason, hoping that they’ll get the hint already.
“We’re not leaving empty-handed.” Nash announces. There was something in his tone that stopped Kise in his tracks, red flags coming up on top of his mind. When Kise spins around to face his visitors once again, he catches them with a grin so wicked, he flinches.
“Your father owes us money, Ryouta. Big money. And we’re here to collect.” Nash continues, his eyes glinting dangerously.
“Well, he isn’t here so I’m not sure why you still hang around,” Kise retorts, refusing to be intimidated by Nash and Jason.
“You’re his co-borrower.” Nash says as-a-matter-of-factly, the effect making Kise wince like he’s been punched in the gut.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re his co-borrower.” Nash repeats with a smirk, seemingly enjoying the bewildered expression that Kise now wears. He fishes out a piece of paper from inside his coat and shoves it into Kise’s hands. Kise scans the text, finds his and his father’s name at the bottom of the page with signatures.
“I didn’t sign this! I’ve no idea this transaction existed!” Kise argues, eyes blown wide after they flicker over the amount of money owed. Fucking one million yen, what the hell.
Nash crosses his arms over his broad chest, gaze never leaving Kise’s face. “It’s a written promise your good father gave me before he ran away with my money. I trusted him to pay back in time but he’s suddenly MIA. What should I do? Go to the co-borrower, of course.”
“But my signature is forged!” Kise claims, panic filling his voice. How could his father do this?
“Not my problem. Just pay up so we can all sleep soundly tonight.” Nash tells Kise.
“I don’t have the money!” Kise reasons out, the color draining from his face.
“You can always pay in installments. But you’ll be charged with interests, of course.” Nash explains. “Jason, do the honors, please.”
Before Kise realizes what’s happening, he feels Jason grabbing his right arm and twisting it behind his back, all the while pushing heavily on his left shoulder until he’s down on one knee. Despite the strain that the burly man is putting on him, Kise struggles to put up a fight but Jason breathes out into his ear, sending the tiny hairs over Kise’s nape to rise. “Try anything stupid and I’ll break your arm.”
Nash steps closer and unstraps Kise’s bag off his shoulder.
“No! Give that back!” Kise tries to wriggle away but his strength is no match against Jason. Kise watches in horror as Nash flips his bag upside down, all contents dropping to the ground, including the enveloped money that Takeuchi gave him earlier.
The money stash catches Nash’s eye, he kneels to pick it up. When he saw what’s inside the envelope, he shifts his gaze back to Kise and clucks his tongue. “What a liar you are, Ryouta. No money, huh? Not much but I’ll take what I can get. Make sure you give me triple of this next time.” He counts and pockets the bills. Jason finally releases his hold against Kise.
“You’re shitting me, right? How can I pay that huge amount?” Kise’s tone is now laced with dread.
“I shit you not, Ryouta,” Nash scoffs. “If you and your father don’t pay up, there will be ugly consequences. And we all don’t want it to end that way, do we? I heard you’re smart and resourceful… not to mention, very pretty.” Nash gives Kise a once-over before continuing, “I’m sure there’ll be enough people willing to burn big money just to ride that ass.”
“Fuck you, Nash,” Kise snaps back, face contorting in disgust, fists clenched at his sides.
Nash and Jason both laugh. “I’ll see you next month, pretty boy. And don’t be like your father. I’ll hunt you down if you disappear on me, I promise,” Nash says before he and his side-kick walked back to the black sedan parked across the street.
Kise hastily picks his things up, stuffs them back into his bag before he rushes inside the house and double bolts the door. Greatly shaken, he leans his back against the door, drawing in and exhaling sharp breaths as he tries to calm himself. Kise lets himself slide down to the floor, strength suddenly sapped out of his body. He draws his knees close to his chest and buries his face in his palms. What has his father gotten himself into?
He swallows the lump on his throat as Nash’s threatening words echo in his ears. He needs to warn his old man. Kise quickly reaches for his phone and with nervous fingers, dials his dad’s number. Unfortunately, his call has diverted to voice mail.
“Dad! Nash came, he wants his money back! And why do you owe him that much? You swore you’d never gamble again!” Kise hisses on the phone. The anger he feels slowly morphs into disappointment so strong, it actually hurts his chest, with the realization that his dad has never really left his vices, never really learned from his past mistakes. His dad keeps getting tangled into these kinds of situation over and over while Kise is left to clean after his mess every time.
Sighing, Kise pauses briefly, then his voice softens. “Anyway, don’t come home yet, ‘kay? Who knows what that jerkface might do to you… Be safe, Dad. Call me.”
Kise taps the end call button and clutches his phone tight. He hugs his knees in defeat, shutting his eyes, trying to sort out this train wreck of a situation. He counts from ten to one, breathing slowly, allowing his nerves to relax gradually. No, there’s definitely a way around this mess, Kise tells himself. There’s got to be a way, somewhere...
Nash said he’ll be back after a month. And a lot can happen within a month, Kise thinks, so he should be able to figure out something by then.
For the second time that night, Kise crosses his fingers, fervently hoping that he and his father will be able get through this just as they always do.
At the Mitsui Memorial Hospital in Akihabara, Aomine Daiki sits on one of the leather-upholstered visitor chairs adjacent to the massive mahogany desk used by Dr. Midorima Shintarou, top heart surgeon in all of Japan, who luckily have been one of his closest friends since middle school. Aomine leans back against the chair, trying his best to project a composed exterior, a stark contrast to the building turmoil he feels deep inside him. Never one to waste time, Aomine is sure Midorima will not summon him here at his office at this hour if nothing bad came up.
Midorima usually has a deadpan expression but today, his brows are furrowed. Aomine lets out the question and braces himself for the worst.
“How bad?”
When the doctor meets his gaze, Aomine quickly notes the sympathy in his friend’s emerald eyes.
Midorima explains, voice calm and steady. “His coronary arteries have greatly narrowed. He’s not responding well to medications. Another heart bypass is our best recourse, but the risks far outweigh the possibility of it being successful, due to the patient’s age, in fact.”
There is a pause as Aomine’s own heart drops to the floor at the physician’s words. His throat suddenly goes dry, his next question has taken him such effort to let out. “How long does he have, Midorima?”
The green-haired physician blinks before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Even after years of practice, he detests this part of breaking grim news to patient’s relatives. Midorima isn’t sure if it’s because he and Aomine have come a long way that he’s felt twice as awful, also that he’s fully aware of Aomine’s deep affection for his grandfather. Midorima knows for a fact that the older Aomine has been the paternal figure in his friend’s life since Daiki lost his biological father at a tender age of nine. Midorima can’t imagine how Aomine must be feeling right now, at the cusp of knowing that he can lose another father soon.
“Not long, Aomine.” Midorima admits. “Grandfather’s heart has severely weakened.”
Later, Aomine lets himself stare at the sleeping form of his beloved grandfather, a peaceful expression on the old man’s face as he lies in a large hospital bed. Aomine reaches and lays a gentle hand on his grandfather’s forearm, silently begging the heavens for more time, for another chance to do what he must accomplish. Please hold on, grandpa… please, please…
Perhaps sensing another person’s presence, Aomine Sato’s eyes flutter open. He slowly tilts his head to the side to get a good look at his visitor.
“Daiki…your cousin… have you found him?” his grandfather rasps, breathing entirely laborious.
Aomine shakes his head. Inside him, his heart shatters, as he watches the hopeful glimmer in his grandfather’s eyes die away, easily overtaken by despair.
“I will bring him to you soon, grandpa.” Aomine vows, lightly squeezing one of his grandfather’s clammy hands. I swear I will.