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Unbelievable. The sight in front of Kisaki was nothing else other than pathetic. He almost felt the slightest bit of remorse, as the sound of him reloading his pistol was drowned by Takemichi’s wails. Kisaki had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, as his long awaited silence was not going to come anytime soon.
The man bent down to be on head level with his tied up prisoner, more of an impulse than a deliberate action. “The fuck’s wrong with you? You gonna go out lookin’ like that?” Kisaki screamed out what was intended to be a snarky question. Blame it on his justified, pent up 12 years worth of frustration caused by the very man in front of him, who did nothing but pathetically cry until his very last moment. The cries that managed to earn him all of the adoration that Kisaki could only fantasize of like it was something that he was entitled to.
“Is that what you are?!! Huh?!!” The echo his sudden outburst generated almost scratched Kisaki’s own ears, making his own throat sting. Sitting back up straight, he was almost grateful that in the following seconds, everything was all quiet down again, leaving only the rough breathing disturbing the serenity.
Ah, there it was. The look of pure hatred that Kisaki was longing after. That was a more fitting way to go, yet the lack of the very last words was still not pleasing the man. Still, he couldn’t drag this for any longer.
“How disappointing…” Kisaki voiced out his inner thoughts, as he pressed the cold barrel of his gun tightly against Takemichi’s forehead, watching the river’s worth of tears run down his face. His own vision became blurry with tears. Was it joy? Frustration? Relief? Or more like a mix of everything, and yet nothing at the same time. Frankly, Kisaki couldn’t possibly pay his conflicting emotions any mind now.
“So long, my ‘hero’....” Kisaki’s voice was dripping with venom at the nickname, as one of his own tears reached down his cheek. He finally fired his gun once, blowing a hole inside Takemichi’s skull. His body fell back alongside his partner-in-crime, as the second pool of blood was forming. Without notice, one shot turned into two, and three. Blinking his tears away, Kisaki realized that there was nothing more pathetic than shooting at a corpse, so he lowered his hand, putting the safety lock back.
The room fell into silence once again, save for his own drumming heart. Kisaki stared at the sight in front of him for a while longer, taking in the final fruit of his labor. He didn’t bother turning around as he heard footsteps approaching behind him, and the distant scent of tobacco blending in with the blood’s copper filled up his nostrils.
After a few more moments, Kisaki’s attention was directed onto the whistle the other man let out. “No wonder, after all that screaming.” A deeper voice thought out loud, finally managing to peel Kisaki’s eyes away from the two bodies as he turned around to face him. Shuji Hanma, the only man worthy of staying by Kisaki’s side for the entire time, was taking one more drag of his current favorite cigarette.
“Prepare the cleanup.” Kisaki replied, setting the weapon back onto the table. The weapon that marked the first and last time Tetta was willing to sully his hands. From now on, things will go smoothly. His archenemy, the only one that was able to make his plans derail, was finally gone. He could now relax, for the first time in his life, as he could oversee everything without any disruptions.
“The Black Dragons will handle it.” The older man deadpanned, single-handedly ending Kisaki’s relief moment like it was nothing. Kisaki’s frown was returning back on his face, as he glared at a man that was looking as if he was bored out of his mind.
“I believe I told you to handle this personally.” Tetta told him through gritted teeth, as usual, displeased by any small inconvenience that happened to be thrown at him. It was not an issue of not trusting the Black Dragons side of Toman, as they agreed with this plan ever since Chifuyu decided to rat them out to the police. Despite the fact that sweeping the two top admin’s death under the rug won’t be a hassle regardless, Kisaki wasn’t pleased with taking even a minimal risk at the moment.
“I believe I told you that I’ll be busy.” Hanma returned the statement, and before Kisaki could ask his next question, he pointed at the hand he was holding the cigarette with. More specifically, at the slightly faded hand tattoo. Ah. Touchup appointment. Kisaki groaned in frustration, but he was going to allow this to slip. Even after all those years, he never understood why Hanma cared oh so very much about maintaining his two beloved tattoos in utmost shape, but he did. Kisaki used to follow him during some of the appointments whenever he happened to have time to kill - or more precisely whenever Hanma was successful in dragging him over to persuade him in getting a tattoo himself. Kisaki turned down his offers and pleas of getting a tattoo himself all the time, and Hanma used to complain that there was no such thing as a gang member without a tattoo, all while having the biggest, most idiotic grin that Kisaki ever had the pleasure - or displeasure - of seeing.
“Fine.” Kisaki sighed in defeat, sensing the familiar sensation of a migraine creeping in. He wasn’t going to allow his mood to be soured by such a trivial thing. Hanma returned a pleased little smile, a mare curl of his lips in comparison to the look he used to have 12 years ago. With a nod, he turned around, heavy steps inching closer to the exit door.
“At least obsess over something else for once, would you?” Tetta added, as his dearest pawn was mare inches away from the door. It was a joke amongst them whenever he announced one of his touchup appointments, that always got a chuckle out of Shuji, today being no exception, as his toned down giggle was still audible as he made his way down the hallway.
Shuji Hanma was obsessing over his only two tattoos, for one reason or another. When Kisaki was around 17 and Hanma was 20, he had asked the man if he ever considered getting another tattoo, as he let himself get worked up over Hanma’s constant pestering of getting himself tattooed. He expected to be met with some of his utterly moronic replies, as per usual, yet he was taken aback when instead of the shit eating grin he always sported, Hanma had a serious look on his face. Kisaki momentarily wondered if this was his right hand man of almost half a decade, as it was the first time he’d seen such a somber look on Shuji’s face. The answer was a simple, almost cryptic no. The tone didn’t leave any room for questions, and Kisaki wouldn’t bring them up ever since. Yet, in a few moments the usual demeanor was back, with what sounded more of an attempt to lighten up the mood again than anything else “If the day you get a tattoo comes, I’ll get another. And the other way around, ‘kay ‘kay, Kisa? ♡ ”
Some things never changed over all those years, like Kisaki’s stubbornness of not getting a tattoo and Hanma’s equal stubbornness of not getting another tattoo. Yet, the decade marked some significant changes that always seemed to hog up Kisaki’s thoughts whenever he wasn’t neck deep into fleshing out one of his plans. The most obvious change was Hanma’s shift in attitude, maturing into a different kind of intimidating man, only maintaining shadows of his old self at rare times. Another change, that he witnessed more in himself and that he couldn’t bring himself to admit, was finally viewing Hanma as his equal, rather than an easily disposable tool, or a simple physical outlet that was meant to act like his hands and legs. A live proof of this was allowing Hanma to stay by his side even when the financial side no longer opposed something troublesome for them.
As the highest ranking Toman members, they could afford anything their souls desired for and beyond. Proof was the impressive penthouse in the heart of Tokyo that they both lived in. To Kisaki, he chose to justify it as something out of convenience, in case of some surprise attacks they could have each other’s backs, keeping the valuable information stored at the two offices safe regardless. Well, Kisaki’s office, at least, as Hanma turned his study into a leisurely place, or simply chose to dump most of the official paperwork back into Kisaki’s space.
The acting leader of Toman decided to head back to the penthouse shortly after Hanma’s leave, as he needed time to flesh out the future course of action. It was as if his brain was on auto-pilot. The last time he was aware of his surroundings he was still in the blood stained room, and now he was seated at his desk, the entire Tokyo spread out in front of him from the large windows, as the very last rays of sun were bathing the city. The hours passed just like that, without his notice, but the man who hated any bit of wasted time didn’t seem to care. Kisaki intertwined his fingers, resting his elbows on top of the spread out paperworks, notes and maps he had laying on his desk, propping his chin up against his hands. Kisaki stared at the horizon spread out in front of him, his city. The city that he finally owned, his plan that he finally completed. And now, it was time for the next question, that he knew would arrive yet he hoped it wouldn’t.
Now what?
What was there to want, if he already had everything? What was there to need, if he already got everything his heart wished for at his fingertips? Did the flame that kept him going with such desperation die out just like that? Was this phantom of an emotion the feeling he craved for a lifetime now?
Why wasn’t he finally satisfied?
Kisaki lowered his head once again, with a sigh coming from the deepest part of his being. Every rush of emotion he felt upon that moment boiled down into an underwhelming nothing. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted an all too familiar black box by the edge of the desk. An object foreign to Kisaki’s secluded space, yet one that brute forced its way into finding a place here, much like its true owner. An already opened, half empty pack of Treasurer Luxury Black cigarettes.
Kisaki hated the scent of cigarettes. Kisaki absolutely despised the scent of cigarettes indoors. Yet he allowed Hanma to continue disregarding this rule Kisaki had in place every single time, for some reason yet unknown to himself.
What was he even doing , Kisaki questioned himself as he reached out for the sleek, black box, flipping the black cardboard and the golden fil back to expose around 5 black cigarettes with golden filters. By simple, sheer aesthetic, they screamed Shuji Hanma.
He despised cigarettes , his thoughts continued, as his other hand absentmindedly searched for an abandoned lighter around his desk. He took out one of the tobacco sticks, placing the gold filter between his lips.
They say nicotine clears your mind, doesn’t it? Kisaki tried to come up with an excuse for himself, as he lit up the tip of the stick. The taste was disgusting, it made his throat burn as he inhaled the smoke, and once he took out the cigarette from between his lips to exhale it, his eyes were watering once again like crazy. It was only a miracle that he didn’t choke. Kisaki didn’t understand how Hanma praised this brand, or his vice in general, but he took yet another drag nonetheless.
Kisaki's thoughts came to a halt, or seemingly all clicked in place as he took one more drag of the cigarette. Despite today being a day all about him and his plans, there was an entire different person polluting his mind now. It was a horrifying conclusion to down upon, yet luckily - or maybe not - his train of thoughts were stopped when he heard what sounded like a snort coming out from the doorway. It successfully managed to startle the blond man, his grey eyes meeting a golden pair staring right back at him in great amusement. Usually, he’d be able to hear Hanma’s footsteps from miles away, that man was never a silent walker. Yet right now he was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice.
“My, my. What happened to not being curious about cigs?” The 28 year old questioned as he welcomed himself inside Kisaki’s study. Kisaki was still silent by the time Hanma reached his desk. The taller man lifted his hand up, now having a thin transparent film over his 罪 (sin) tattoo, taking the thin cigarette from between his dare he say friend’s lips. Yet Tetta did nothing to stop him or to protest.
“I was just thinking.” The younger said rather dismissively, as he watched Hanma turn the cigarette around, putting the filter between his own lips as he took a breath in, much deeper than what Kisaki was previously doing. For some reason, that stirred up something deeper down in Tetta’s being. It definitely wasn’t the first time he felt something like this when it comes to the other, but he never managed to understand what it was or why it happened. But before he could properly dissect the confusing emotion up, Shuji handed the cigarette back to him, turning his head away so he wouldn’t blow the smoke right into his face.
“About how to celebrate finally reaching your goal, I hope. Congratulations, Tetta.” Hanma spoke, something so raw and honest, so uncharacteristic of him. But now, Kisaki couldn’t focus on what Hanma told him, not even the other using his first name, as his eyes were glued on his nape. More specifically on the edge of an identical film like the one on his hands sticking out like a sore thumb.
“What have you done, Hanma?” Kisaki asked, completely unrelated and almost sounding somehow panicked. The elder was oblivious to what Kisaki meant for a moment, or pretended to be, as he turned his head back to look him straight in the eye. And oh, how much Kisaki resented the mischievous glimmer in Hanma’s golden eyes right now. “Hanma.” He repeated, in hopes that the other would finally take the hint and cut the chase already.
And Kisaki got what he asked for, not in a way that he wanted. His eyes widened in shock as Hanma turned away, walking towards the exit of the study. “Make sure to rest plenty. It was a long day.” The amusement in Shuji’s voice was something that did not go unnoticed, but Kisaki’s brain simply refused to register his words, or be bothered by his tone, as he took in the complicated kanji that was now embellishing Hanma’s neck.
It took the sound of the door clicking shut for his mind to snap back to reality. As much as he prided himself for his academics, it took Kisaki a good moment to register what exactly the kanji meant. The moment he saw 愧, he had a vague guess, yet needed the reassurance of double checking it’s meaning in a dictionary to make sure his eyes weren’t fooling him. Shame.
Sin, Punishment and Shame, they fit Hanma so well, Kisaki thought. Yet instead of brushing the thought away as soon as he reached this conclusion, it continued to dwell upon him, completely forgetting about the cigarette that now needed to be relit in order to finish it.
And so, it continued to only sink in deeper and deeper as the days were passing. Having Hanma around was inevitable for the younger man, especially in these much more free days. These days, where he found himself unable to take his eyes away from Hanma’s neck, every time he happened to catch a glimpse of the new tattoo. Why was he suddenly caring so much about it?
“If you like it so much you should just compliment it. You’re burning a hole in my neck, you know?”
Hanma told him one night, as they returned home from another Toman meeting. They completed splitting the responsibilities that came with the loss of Chifiyu and Takemichi. Kisaki ran his hand through his styled hair, allowing the long strands to finally fall back down as he kicked off his shoes.
“Why did you get another one?”
Kisaki asked his very first question since Hanma got his tattoo, and the taller male was more than pleased to answer, as he removed the circle framed glasses away from his face. Did he answer Tetta’s question? Yes. In a way that Kisaki would expect and want? No.
“I actually got two.”
And Kisaki stared at his housemate as if he just grew a second head. Silently watching as Hanma’s neutral face gradually morphed into one he hadn’t seen in such a long time. A smile that only grew and grew, resembling one of his old, idiotic grins. The kind of grin that Kisaki never knew he missed, and one that he didn’t expect to have such an effect on him. Was his face getting warmer?
“Fucking hell… What are you waiting for?” Kisaki asked shortly after, and Hanma still had the sheer audacity to go on with his clueless act. “ What am I waiting for?” He wanted Tetta to spell it out for him. He was feeling awfully generous because of his good mood, so once again, Kisaki decided to humour him in this game of tug of war they decided to play. “What’s the other one?” Kisaki explicitly asked, only for Hanma to tilt onto a side. “What’s the fun in just telling you? Find out by yourself.”
Kisaki really, really hated Hanma sometimes. He really hated that he ended up playing along with this game of his. In his defense, he only agreed because his main plan was to simply not bring it up until Hanma’s usual bragging nature would shine through and show Kisaki the tattoo himself, like a dog bringing his owner his newest catch. But to his displeasure, that did not happen. Instead, pathetically enough, Kisaki was eyeing every single inch of exposed skin that Hanma had, in hopes to find where exactly the tattoo was on his body. Yet that did not bring any results, making Kisaki conclude that the tattoo was somewhere on Hamna’s torso, considering that was the only part left hidden away where the symmetry wouldn’t be a problem.
Hanma managed to really sink his teeth into Kisaki’s mind, like some annoying parasite he was. Every time he happened to zone out, he could see the smug expression on Hanma’s face haunt his thoughts, before looking away as the ‘shame’ tattoo stretched into his field of vision. Shame, indeed… Shame on Kisaki for thinking about this so intently. Shame on him for being so obsessed over finding out about the oh so mysterious tattoo. Shame on him for wanting to reach out and trace his finger, following the stroke order… Shame on him especially when his thoughts at night dawned a little bit too long on those inked up hands creeping against his body, holding him down as he couldn’t help but shudder against them...
Shame on him, for thinking all of these thoughts, which were far away from what he defined their relationship like in the past, and letting them consume his mind. Kisaki was convinced that he had truly, finally lost it since the day he shot that bullet.
The only person that appeared to be perfectly fine, dare he say be even better, was no other than Hanma himself.
Today, Hanma found himself in his usual stance, hip pressed against the right side of Kisaky’s desk, hand resting down on the corner of the hardwood as he lit up one of his cigarettes. The younger of the two, as usual, being invested in his paperwork, maybe a bit less than usual.
The way Kisaki continuously stole glances at the older man didn’t go unnoticed. Subtility really wasn’t his forte. Hanma took a long drag from his cigarette, this time purposefully blowing the smoke down on Kisaki’s head to earn his attention. Foolproof way of annoying his dearest leader.
Kisaki shot a glare up at Hanma, his grip tightening ever so slightly around his pen. Neither of them spoke, almost as if waiting after each other. Hanma’s lips parted to be the first to break the silence, but Kisaki beat him to it.
“Hand it over.” Kisaki told him, watching Hanma’s face give away his slight confusion, most likely assuming he wanted to put it away. “I want to take a hit. Come on.” He clarified, but that only made Hanma’s face go through another wave of emotions. Processing, shock, hesitance and finally something of experiencing a satisfactory accomplishment. Instead of just passing the cigarette, he held it by Kisaki’s lips, waiting without a word.
Why were they doing this? Why was Tetta doing this? Kisaki went along with it without any bit of hesitation, watching Hanma move the cigarette back to his own lips. Neither of them spoke again, and Kisaki had long forgotten about his workload, as his eyes focused solely on Hanma. At first, it was just silent eye contact, as if they were trying to puzzle out what the other was thinking. Hanma had such a blank expression on his face that made it impossible for Kisaki to figure out what exactly he was thinking. All that was certain is that he could crumble down into nothing if he continued to stare any longer, so he focused his attention on his face, and eventually it managed to go down to his lips, watching the smoke slip past through them.
Maybe he was staring too much, thinking about nothing, since he saw Hanma’s lips moving but only registered what he said later on. “Wanna see the tattoo?” Kisaki blinked once, twice, before looking back up at Hanma, who’s expression was still as unreadable as before. It only took a few more seconds to recollect his thoughts, before replying on a single exhale, almost tripping over his words. “Yeah, took you long enough.”
Hanma sat up straight, putting away the cigarette in the ashtray near him. Kisaki leaned back into his chair in order to get more comfortable, facing away from his desk as if that would let him see better. Without a second warning, Hanma turned his back to his friend and lifted up his shirt over his head, allowing Kisaki to finally see the tattoo that was clogging up his mind for the past week in all its glory. As expected, another complicated kanji, right in the middle of his back, but this time it was one that Kisaki was familiar with, 貪.
“You kanken nerd…” Kisaki said, in an attempt to still be his usual snappy self, but the way his words sounded almost breathless did him absolutely no justice. He was overthinking the meaning. As much as he hated to admit it, he was overthinking the meaning. ‘To covet’, ‘to devour’, Kisaki’s throat went dry as he tried to gulp down the knot in his throat when Hanma continued to be silent. The younger male stood up from his chair, bringing his index finger against the starting line of the tattoo, tracing along the very first stroke. He heard the fabric of his shirt fall down onto the floor as he continued to trace over Hanma’s tattoo, and hell, he was dizzy the more he stared at it. “What got into you?” Kisaki whispered, finishing up the very final stroke. Only then did the older male turn around to face him. Despite Kisaki’s growth spurt, Hanma still continued to tower over him after so many years. “What got into you, Tetta? ” The question was bounced back, still whispered because of the unbearably close proximity.
Kisaki didn’t have an answer, because hell, what even got into him? He felt like he was suffocated, and the culprit was none other than the man standing before him. Kisaki wanted, no, needed to admit defeat. He needed to tell Hanma he had no clue what got into him, or why it happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to articulate those words. He couldn’t outright say it. Not while the taller male was still staring down at him as if he could swallow his soul up at any moment.
Kisaki might’ve been a tactical genius, but he was worse than the worst moron on earth when it came to figuring out whatever emotions he felt over Hanma, or if they were reciprocated in any way.
“Shuji...” He started, but he didn’t know how to continue, or what to continue with, his eyes remaining fixated on the way Hanma’s breathing halted and his body tensed at the sound of his name being blurted out by Kisaki. It all became too much to bear.
Tetta reached out, gripping the older male by the nape as he bent him down to his level, pulling him into a kiss. Much to his surprise, and equally delight, Shuji didn’t waste a moment remaining shocked or pulling away, instead he kissed him back as if it was second nature, backing Kisaki against his desk.
There was nothing soft or shy about their kiss. Kisaki could taste the cigarette they had moments ago on Shuji’s lips, along with the faint taste of the mints he always has on his tongue, and Tetta knew he was the same.
Hanma’s hands find their way onto Kisaki’s hips, fingertips barely slipping under the hem of his shirt before steadying themselves, as if making sure that Tetta had no way of slipping away, and Kisaki could feel himself burning under his touch. After a few more moments, Hanma was the one breaking away from the kiss, letting Kisaki chase after his lips for a short while, soothing him with chaste, little pecks.
“Tetta” Hanma muttered against his lips, much to Kisaki’s annoyance, as he’d rather talk later. Regardless, the younger pulled away, letting the grip on his neck loosen. “Remember the deal we had?” Hanma continued, letting that familiar smile that caused Kisaki to be so worked up over bloom once more.
“I know what to get, pick a spot.” This time, Kisaki’s confident demeanor was back, to bring back a much needed once of normality in this less than normal situation they were in. Hanma already had something in mind, but pretended to hum in thought as he let his right hand slide underneath Kisaki’s shirt, sending a cold shiver down his spine. The elder grew silent as he stopped his hand right onto his spot of choice. “Here.” A place that hurts like a bitch, especially for a first tattoo and especially to Kisaki, a person who isn’t too fond of the pain. Yet Shuji pretended to act as innocent as possible despite knowing that Kisaki doesn’t fall for it for even a second. “Whatcha want? ” He continued to ask, not moving from the spot.
Kisaki rolled his eyes, reaching out to his desk to pick up his discarded pen. On the corner of a paper, which he only hoped wasn’t any important contract, he wrote down the kanji that he had in mind, certainly less impressive than Shuji’s latest additions - 欲
Hanma had the audacity to snort as he read over the paper. “What a kid’s kanji.” He teased the younger male, who took advantage of the height difference to sink his teeth into the base of his neck as a small revenge
‘Desire’, ‘Greed’. Kisaki thought it fit him quite well. And Hanma was more than excited by the idea. “Oh, Tetta, you’re really the best.” Hanma could never get tired of saying it, in this case almost moaning it, and frankly, Kisaki could never get tired of hearing it.