Chapter Text
Ramuda's about halfway to Gentarou's apartment when he gets another voicemail from Dice. "Dude, where the hell have you been?" says Dice's panicked voice. "Dammit, man, I dunno what's going on, but someone just broke into Gentarou's apartment and turned the place upside down. He's really shaken up. Get your ass over here and help me calm him down."
Sorry, Gentarou. Any other day, Ramuda would, but his heart sinks because he knows who broke in. It's the Party, and they're looking for him. He immediately switches direction.
If he can make it to Ikebukuro, maybe he and Ichirou can secure a safehouse. Shinjuku Station’s the closest railway station, so he immediately sets off to catch a train on the Yamanote Line.
As much as Ramuda wants to hide, he knows better than to go down an alleyway. Instead, he sticks to the public streets where there's far less chance of getting jumped. With his hoodie pulled up over his head, he's less immediately recognizable, and no one stops him to chat.
He's only a few blocks away when he realizes that he's being followed.
She's wearing a huge sunhat - to hide her face from security cameras, Ramuda knows - and is all dolled up in a big grey coat that hides her shape and every other detail about her. She's not looking at him and is holding a phone to her ear, but Ramuda can tell that she's a plain clothes Party officer on the job. And she's gaining on him.
Ramuda speeds up, but he knows he can't start running. The instant he bolts, he'll appear guilty, and he knows the Party isn't above libeling him as a shoplifter or worse.
His mind races. Should he duck into a nearby department store and try to lose her among the clothing racks? Should he try grabbing one of the random girls passing by and ask her out on a date? No, no, no. She's power walking towards him, and unfortunately, her legs are a hell of a lot longer than his are. He's never going to make it to the train. He'll-
Then he notices a familiar figure exiting the station with his coat over his arm. Of all the people Ramuda knows, this is probably the last person Ramuda wants to see, but this may be Ramuda's only chance. The woman is no more than ten meters behind him now, so Ramuda breaks into a sprint and yells, “Jakurai!”
Jakurai jerks out of a reverie as a very familiar voice yells his name, but this is not remotely enough forewarning for the next instant when a tiny pink cannonball barrels into him and yanks him down for a hug.
Jakurai's mind races to process this turn of events (what in god's name is Ramuda doing?) before Ramuda suddenly whispers in Jakurai's ear with a deeper voice than Jakurai has ever heard from him, "I'm in danger. Play along with me, PLEASE."
It's matched with a look of all-out terror, and this, at least, Jakurai has seen on Ramuda before. He wants to think that it is genuine, but just as he opens his mouth to ask what he's playing along with, Ramuda pulls away and yells, "Jakurai! I can't hide it anymore!"
This is not so much directed at Jakurai as it is a performance. Heads are turning, people are murmuring, and a crowd is starting to form. Oh no. Jakurai just knows that Ramuda is going to cause a scene in public. Yet he is entirely unprepared for Ramuda dropping to one knee, pulling something out of his pocket to cup in his hands, and announcing to the world at large, "I can't bear to live in a world where we must hide our love any longer! Jakurai Jinguuji, will you marry me?"
The world stops for a heart-shattering moment before three different women shriek - and Jakurai thinks he might join them - and two dozen smartphones are whipped out and jabbed in their direction. It's all happening in less than a second, but the metaphorical rug has just been yanked out from under Jakurai's feet, and he does not know what to do. He wants to be absolutely anywhere other than where he is right now, completely rooted to the spot, and suddenly too aware of how nervous Ramuda looks and the way his eyes keep darting to a woman in a housecoat standing near the edge of the circle of onlookers.
He's not sure why he says it. Perhaps it's the sweat on Ramuda's forehead or the fear Jakurai saw just moments ago that reminded him of an accidental glimpse of Ramuda many years before. Perhaps it's the fact that he's always been very aware of impropriety and knows that rejecting a public proposal is the height of awkward. But deep down he knows it's because he's always had a soft spot for chaos, and this is shaping up to be truly, deeply fascinating.
Nevertheless, Jakurai Jinguuji says, "Yes."
The onlookers immediately go nuts, and Jakurai is momentarily aware of several people jumping up and down and cheering before Ramuda leaps up and flings himself into Jakurai's arms. Jakurai isn't fully aware of his arms coming up to hug Ramuda back, but they do, and even as Ramuda presses the candy wrapper from his hands into Jakurai's palm, Jakurai's mind is whirring in confusion, frustration, and an overwhelming sense of "My god, what have I done?"
People surround them, offering congratulations and shooting videos from their phones, as if Jakurai's embarrassment isn't enough that he needs it broadcast to the entire Internet. Ramuda accepts the public applause with great enthusiasm, and Jakurai goes on autopilot long enough to follow suit.
He can barely get his bearings before he feels Ramuda's hand in his, and then Ramuda is gently dragging him away from the crowd. "Where'd you park?" Ramuda asks. Jakurai gives directions, and Ramuda leads him there until he recognizes the car (after all these years!) and runs over to the passenger side.
The instant they're inside, they both speak at once.
"Do you care to explain yourself?" Jakurai hisses at the same instant as Ramuda says, "Drive, and get me the hell out of here."
"I'm not going anywhere," says Jakurai, "until you explain to me exactly what just happened."
Ramuda groans. "For fuck's sake! Now's not the time for this."
"Amemura," Jakurai insists.
Ramuda relents. "Fine, okay, okay. The government's trying to kill me, and unless you help me and get us out of this parking lot in the next five seconds, I'm booking it out of here and taking my chances on foot."
Jakurai knows Ramuda well enough to tell when Ramuda is truly desperate, and this is the same desperation he remembers.
Jakurai wastes no time throwing the car into reverse and peeling out of the parking garage with more speed than is necessarily legal. He's played getaway driver enough times too many to recognize that they're being tailed by a car with tinted windows.
Grimly, he cuts off a lane of honking traffic and spins the car down a side street. Over the roar of the accelerator, Jakurai says, "Where am I taking you?"
"I don't know," Ramuda admits. "I was thinking Ichirou's, but they'll probably look for me there-”
Jakurai interrupts him. "You have two options. Either you lose your pursuers and hide where they will not expect you, or else you stay in plain sight in a defensible location. Now, where am I taking you?"
This is much easier. Jakurai can take action in emergencies like this, but handling interpersonal relations with the one person guaranteed to throw his entire life off kilter in every interaction is much more difficult. He turns his tumbling brain off for now and focuses on the road. His knuckles turn white as they grip the steering wheel.
"I don't have either," Ramuda babbles. "I was going to get Ichirou to find me a place, but they broke into Gentarou's - oh god, what if they hurt Ichirou or his siblings again?"
That's not happening on Jakurai's watch. He makes the decision for Ramuda and whips the car around in a U-turn. "For now," he says, "you will stay at my house until we can determine your next course of action."
Ramuda gapes. "What? No!"
"Do you distrust my ability to keep you safe?"
Ramuda shakes his head. "No, of course not. I know what you can do. But why-"
"Then trust me," Jakurai says, "and be quiet."
Ramuda, mercifully, complies.
The moment Ramuda stands on the threshold, uncertain of what to do with his shoes, Jakurai feels the awkwardness so acutely that it threatens to overwhelm him. He ignores it by instead demanding, "Explain yourself."
Ramuda clams up. "Look," he says. “I just needed a distraction. Some way that there'd be enough eyes on me that this lady couldn't come up and grab me. That's all. Okay, so I panicked a little-"
"'A little?'" Jakurai repeats. "Goodness, I'd hate to see what you might do when you're actually upset."
"Shut up!" Ramuda yells. "Just - just get off your high horse for one goddamned minute, okay? I did the first thing that came to mind because SOME people aren't used to having one foot in the grave already!"
"And some people," Jakurai points out, "say 'thank you' when someone saves their life." He knows he's rising to the bait, but no one can manage to get under Jakurai's skin quite like Ramuda can. "I won't help you any further until you explain to me exactly what's going on and why you're in this situation."
"Well, la-di-freaking-da, because this lip-" Ramuda mimes the action "-is zipped."
"Quit behaving like a child. What is going on, Amemura?"
Yet Ramuda, for once, keeps his word and doesn't say a thing. Jakurai throws his hands up in the air in frustration.
"If that's the way you want to behave," says Jakurai, "then I refuse to play along. I expect you out of my house by tomorrow morning, and you will deal with the consequences of your actions. I wash my hands of this."
"Fine!" says Ramuda.
"Fine!" Jakurai snaps back.
He does not quite stomp away, but he feels like it. The whole time he makes dinner for himself, he mutters and huffs. Just who does Ramuda think he is to waltz up to Jakurai and- and! The nerve of some people! To propose marriage - god, propose marriage? Him? And Ramuda? What absolute nonsense. The thought of it! And thanks to the publicity of the whole thing, Jakurai's sure that he'll have to deal with fallout of the entire ordeal. He'll be denying that Ramuda is his secret lover for the rest of his life. Never mind the fact that Jakurai accepted (and he feels more than a little foolish for THAT), but it was the heat of the moment, and he has a good defense. Jakurai is all about the saving of lives, whatever that takes, and...
Jakurai peeks out of the kitchen and sees a forlorn little ball curled up on the sofa crying into its knees. Some secret part of Jakurai crumbles at the sight, and with a sigh, he doubles the recipe. He leaves a plate covered in plastic wrap in the fridge before he goes to bed.
When Jakurai wakes up the next morning, it, along with the couch's previous occupant, is gone.