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They agree to meet in one of the bars they own; it is the one of the only times that they got together during the ten years they have been merged to form Bonten, underneath one, glorious and charismatic leader. Though said leader did not attend their formal gathering this Christmas Eve (but he always does in every meeting that is not formal or something that he arranged himself, so what is the difference?), the senior members and executives of the gang make the night more colorful, with the glasses of tequila and the snapshots of women dancing making a sight.
Ran, one of the oldest members of the gang, taps his fingers on the counter, waiting patiently for the final member to arrive. He puts a cigarette to his mouth, puffing out smoke as his purple eyes watch the women he is interested in coalesce out of his view, irrelevant from the get-go. Rindou was being pestered by another one of their acquaintances — they have never felt particularly close to one another, aside from the occasional missions side-by-side — Haruchiyo, who was definitely flirting with his brother. He chooses to ignore it, as he is currently trying to spot the young man who has promised to join their Christmas feast this year, after years of avoiding their events.
( “I just fear that you’d grow up into a socially awkward man,” Ran remarks one time, patting him on the shoulder. “Just like our first brother.”
He had scowled, his lips curling unto a thin line. “Ran, I am not your brother.” )
“Do you think he’d join us?” Mochi asks, muffled from the loud, vibrant music reverberating around them. “I doubt he would; he always goes to his grave at these times of the year, as you all know.”
Ran knows that, obviously; Izana Kurokawa was a man with a mission, a man with a job, that was ruined by both intense jealousy and a certain bespectacled boy shooting him when he was aiming for Kakucho. Ran felt neutral at the prospect of Kisaki and Hanma joining their little friend group, but he and the others who witnessed the Kanto incident with their very eyes have despised Kisaki ever since. They even placed bets on who will and should capture and kill Hanma, once he re-enters society again.
He gives Mochi a pointed look, placing the butt of his cigarette on an existing ash tray. “I am aware.”
“Do you really think he’d leave our leader’s side to stay with us?” Terano and Sano may have been their leaders both past and present, but they can never compare to Izana Kurokawa. They only had their loyalty, but not their hearts. Never their hearts.
“I don’t see why not.” He replies, shrugging, as he asks the bartender for more wine.
To Ran’s delight, overcasting all of his doubts, Kakucho shows up wearing winter-wear, looking snowed in from the weather. “Sorry I’m late.” He replies as he untangles himself from that gnarly scarf he had been sighted wearing ever since he had been a child. It looked like it kept getting stitched and stitched, to compensate for the fact that the boy wearing it is not a boy anymore. “I had been paying respects to… someone we all know.”
Ran smiles at Kakucho, whose face remains unphased, unchanged during the exchange. “I’m glad that you can join us for dinner.”
The taller man snorts, “Dinner? This looks more like a stag night for me.”
“Don’t act all high and mighty, Kakucho,” one of their most senior executives, a man by the name of Koko, says with a malevolent smirk. “I paid a huge sum for this night to be the best night you’ve ever experienced.”
“That’s what you said last year,” Rindou replies nonchalantly, placing his glass of whiskey back on the counter. “Turns out to be less exciting than what you can offer.”
“I was expecting more codeine and less bitches,” Haruchiyo replies, downing all of his tequila in one sitting. He smiles at a seething Koko, “You also promised us an extravagant Christmas evening a year before that.”
“You guys are ungrateful,” the young man sighs, rolling his eyes as he goes back to moping in the corner. “I give you the best night of your lives but in the end, you all want more.”
“Isn’t that what our lives in Bonten entails? Wanting more, receiving more?” Takeomi speaks up for the first time since they came here— out of everyone in the executive circle of Bonten, they know of Takeomi the least. He is the eldest, and he rather keeps in touch with much older members of the gang, which are zero to none. Some members quite pity him, but others, such as Haruchiyo and Mikey, did not. The others always wonder why Takeomi is here, when his remaining friends have more dignified, open lives.
(They placed their bets over it during the times Takeomi had not been around to give his juniors an earful; Ran believes it was because he had dishonored Shinichiro’s legacy and decided to continue it in the worst possible way, Rindou feels like he was blackmailed into joining the gang by Mikey — the others say his theory is ridiculous as Mikey has expressed his dislike of the man — and Haruchiyo provides no comment despite the fact he is willing to gossip secrets he had been entrusted to keep.
One could even say that the pink-haired man looks… disgruntled and vengeful whenever Takeomi approaches them.)
Haruchiyo, always the one to address Takeomi first, glares at him before popping another pill. “No one asked you, Akashi.”
The older man rolls his eyes, but says no more words. Ran takes this opportunity to initiate conversation with Kakucho. “Boss didn’t want to come again?”
“Will he ever?” Kakucho asks back. “He’d never do that.”
Mikey has always been alone, preferring the company of ghosts rather than actual living people. Ran has occasionally wondered if they are only serving a spirit, a shell of a young boy that ceased existing after everyone he loved dropped dead like flies. It’s not like he was displeased at their boss’ subsequent absences; he believes it is best for all of them, for Mikey to have at least space from his suffocating executives, and for his executives to actually take a breath of fresh air and move like human beings rather than machines.
Ran lights another cigarette up, and Koko claps his hands. “Well, let’s get this party started, shall we?”
“Please tell me it’s going to be less boring than last year.” Takeomi says with a grimace.
“The only person who found it boring was you, oldie.” The white-haired man replies with a scoff, fully taking offense at his statement.
Kakucho glances at Haruchiyo, Takeomi, Rindou and Mochi interchangeably. “Uh, what are we doing?”
“For the night? We’re going to pass the time here until ten.” Rindou replies, pointing at the clock conveniently placed high up the counter. “Then we go for a late night drive, try setting off some fireworks and give out envelopes to notify everyone that work under us that they have been given another month to gather the money for their debts, then we enjoy a good view in our place while Haruchiyo makes us hot cocoa as we wait for Christmas.”
“Huh, Haruchiyo is the one making the beverages for you all?!” The young man asks with a bewildered look, and Ran finds it quite amusing.
“No worries, I don’t put drugs in cocoa,” Haruchiyo tries to reassure the young man, but it has the opposite effect. For being one of Mikey’s most trusted and loyal servants, his presence and his volatile activities cause nothing but doubt and suspicion falling over the others. He is so loud, but he is a lot more recondite than they expected. Now that they think about it, he has never been shown as the calm and rational individual that Mikey usually dispels to everyone. He gives Kakucho a smile, the scars on the corners of his mouth curving upwards as well. “I behave well during Christmas.”
“Because I’m here to supervise your sorry ass.” Rindou replies with an almost fond tone, and Ran’s eye twitches.
The pink-haired man chuckles, tracing his dainty fingers all over Rindou’s collarbones and neck, but the other man doesn’t seem to be fazed. “I’d be dead ten times over if you had not come to my rescue, my charming prince.”
Rindou and Haruchiyo’s relationship was a recent development— Ran is aware that Rindou has had certain affections for the pink-haired man ever since they entered an arrangement where they fuck Haruchiyo and play with him as if he is but a prostitute they have bought from the streets. Admittedly, Ran had a lot of meet-ups with him, always happening frequently whenever they managed to have the same assignment together. Additionally, he is not ashamed to say that Haruchiyo is more valuable than some prostitute they have taken from the streets. Ran, being the older brother he was, ceased all of his physical meetings for the sake of his brother, who really, really needs a stress-reliever.
Haruchiyo worked too well as a distraction, and now Ran has to entertain the nightmarish, thought provoking fact that he may become his brother-in-law one day.
(He always has the time to think about it, and it gets him into perilous situations whenever he is distracted.)
“It is also where we set up the Secret Santa exchange.” Ran states as he asks a waitress to fill his glass with another intoxicating beverage. As he takes a sip, he keeps an eye out for Kakucho’s rather confused face. “I’m the one in charge of your Christmas present, Kakucho. We do draw-lots to determine who will buy your present, since I don’t believe our boss is into something menial as gift-giving.”
The blind man’s brows furrow. “Is that why I always find a present in my apartment every Christmas morning?”
“Yes, that’s the point. Haruchiyo was the one in charge of buying your Christmas present last year.”
Kakucho blinks, before a frown settles on his face. “Ah, is that why I got a pair of sunglasses that I accidentally stepped on last year’s Christmas morning?”
“Hey, I got the most exclusive pair for you!” Haruchiyo admonishes, “But you decided it’s better to trample all over it than using it to your advantage!”
“What am I supposed to do with those sunglasses?”
“I dunno, to help you see better!”
Rindou snorts; the wrong thing to do, as he starts to cough around his cigarette. “Those are– are eyeglasses, Haru.”
Kakucho rolls his eyes before he takes a seat between Ran and Rindou, before snapping his fingers to alert a bartender. “I need a drink, please.”
After exchanging drinks, refilling them, and offering each other a cigarette to smoke with, they pass the night by exchanging a few of their embarrassing – Rindou – horrifying – Haruchiyo – humorous – Mochi – and heartfelt – Ran – tales. They always have a good, hearty laugh after those stories have wrapped up, followed by a few backhanded comments from the other executives. Kakucho feels suddenly warm, even though he had been feeling frigid, shivering all over even when the bar is such a crowded place; he can feel himself smile, or even chuckle at their tales, but he could not bring himself to smile. It was something he could not seem to accomplish after his death.
The neon lights around them did not seem to fare well towards Kakucho, and Ran immediately senses it— he tells the others that it is an hour before Christmas, and the others, particularly Mochi, swore at how late they are going to be. Rindou complains that their time here has been long overdue, and books it while groping at Haruchiyo, which is something that Kakucho had detested in accidentally seeing.
(“Thanks for the save,” he tells Ran as he strains to maintain eye contact with him; damn the fog and strobe lights getting in his way. He bumps into a few people, but he never loses sight of his colleagues making their way out of the building. “I didn’t want to blind my other eye.”
The older man laughs. Ever since Izana’s death, Ran has assumed the place of an older brother, taking care of him and Rindou full-time. Kakucho appreciates the man for his generosity and civility, but he has always believed him unworthy of his care and brotherly love, while he is still yearning for the person he cared about the most to be brought back. He feels someone pat him on the back, and he looks at Ran smiling. He has changed over the course of a decade, but he knows that sleepy, detached smile anywhere.
“You just look like you’re being overwhelmed, so I helped.” He says warmly, a little like a certain white-haired man back then.
He’s always been so overwhelmed with life, it is something that he could never avoid.)
They get into their respective cars, although Kakucho did not bring one as the bar is near the place where he occasionally stays (unlike his other colleagues, he did not uphold the same satisfaction as them at the prospect of settling down in one house, and he would rather have to travel in every motel, hotel, rent an apartment temporarily all to get the job done. He is still homeless to this day, but it’s more like a sense of nostalgia than a negative thing). So he carpools with Ran, who is happy to take him for a ride.
(“You do know we could have just pooled in one car?” Kakucho asks with a raised brow, “Or I could’ve just returned to the temporary estate I’m living in to get my car?”
“We do not trust you with a car,” Ran replies testily, and Kakucho sighs, since he is being inherently reminded of an error in judgement an eternity ago.
“That was five years ago, can we please move on?” Kakucho asks with a slight pleading tone.
“No, you almost crashed into Boss because you couldn’t see your right side clearly. You’re lucky that our Boss has such a soft spot for you that he decided to turn the other eye over it.”
He raises a brow, “You think he has a soft spot towards me?” He has never heard anything like it— Sano Manjiro, a man whose heart has frozen over from the Dazai-esque tragedies that plagued his entire life, actually having a soft spot towards one of his fledglings. He could not see it.
Ran looks at him with an obvious look. “Everyone but you knows that Mikey favors you above the rest of us, and hell, Haruchiyo accepted it.”
“That is so not possible.” And it can’t be possible— he shares a great loss with Sano, something that can be blamed on him.
Ran nods, and says nothing as they drive throughout the snowy night.)
When they’re in Haruchiyo’s place, the pink-haired man and his boyfriend made their way to the kitchen — publicly fondling each other, much to Ran and Kakucho’s dismay and the others’ aggravation — to get ready everyone’s dinner and hot cocoa to celebrate today’s Christmas. As the couple disappear to prepare for festivities, the others make themselves comfortable, and for the first time, Kakucho sees everyone not being on edge in the presence of Haruchiyo.
For a man whose favorite pastime is either getting high out of his mind or killing people in the name of his own king, the place looks swell and innocent enough, as if this is not the place of Bonten’s Number 2, the Loyal Mad Dog. There was a large glass window overlooking the city of Tokyo and the hills around it, as if it were a curvy beauty. Snow falls through the night, as the lights of the buildings illuminate the night sky, rivaling the naturality of the stars. There was a Christmas tree at the center of the living room, on a carpet filled with patterns that reminds him of a gang that is long gone by now, and underneath said tree, were presents.
The ice around his heart melts when he is reminded that they take turns giving gifts for him, and he wonders which one of the presents being stacked there is his.
“How come you all celebrate Christmas Eve in Haruchiyo’s place?” He asks them.
“Oh, he won in the draw-lots,” Koko replies, looking at his nails.
“Draw-lots?” He repeats, confused.
“We pick which estate or any of our favorite hideouts we should celebrate our holidays,” Koko answers brusquely. “I get to organize New Year’s after this.”
Kakucho blinks, before letting out an ‘Oh’. In response.
In all his ten years of serving Bonten and being civil with the other higher-ups of the gang, he has never been involved with them outside of business. Because of that, all of their inside jokes go over his head, he’d grow confused whenever some of them looked closer than they had ever been before (like Rindou and Haru before he was made aware that they assumed a relationship), and he is unaware of their traditions and customs they had been festering for the past few years.
He feels like an outsider, but he does not hate it; he just feels sad that he has only decided to hang out with them now, years of ignoring them outside of work piling up.
Haruchiyo and Rindou come back with mugs filled to the brim with his allegedly best hot cocoa; they serve it towards the others, who were courteous enough to thank them or show gratitude. Kakucho receives his from Haru, who winks at him, and the blind young man, very suspicious of his cup, takes a careful sip so that he would not spit crushed drugs all over the carpet (he is no psycho), but as he gulps it down, all he could taste is the sweet, rich and warm taste of the hot chocolate.
“This tastes… really good.” That is an understatement; this was the best hot chocolate he has ever tasted since the end of his era with Izana. After that, all the foods he had tried out had been bland and boring, tasteless as if the death of his king made him get rid of his five senses altogether. He gives Haru a suspicious stare. “Did you put something in here I can’t even detect?”
The scarred man shrugs, “Cocoa powder?”
“Don’t worry, Kakucho, he never drugs beverages.” Rindou replies, and that comforts him a bit, “Before he has consent.” He adds as an afterthought, and Kakucho is no longer comforted.
The others chat, and Kakucho tensely enters their world as he continues to use the warm, hot chocolate he is currently cradling in his sweaty palms as he listens to Koko’s ramblings about the downfall of their economy, Haru’s large brewing of drugs and more illegal substances, Rindou’s love-laced comments about his boyfriend (which he did not need to know about), Mochi’s temporary outburst, Ran’s beloved comments and explicit implications of Madarame’s whereabouts, and Takeomi’s smoking.
He realizes that he has never truly known them, and that he had been stuck in a world where Izana was still alive, free in the living world, able to make independent choices even if he sounds so painfully out of character, and that he looks so young in his mind.
(Kakucho had just turned twenty-seven this year, and Izana stayed eighteen after twelve years.)
“Ah look,” Ran points at the clock chiming, and Kakucho finds himself returning to the present, the clock in Haru’s room is ringing since it is midnight, meaning it is finally Christmas. “It is finally Christmas.”
Koko claps his hands, giving everyone a meticulous grin. “Right, let’s get this party started, shall we?”
Everyone seems to agree with him, as they start to talk to one another, gathering towards the Christmas Tree filled with presents underneath. He is more prone to watching everything they do from afar, so that is what he does, whilst he battles memories that he could not resist.
(He sees himself in the top of an abandoned building, snow falling around them creating heaps of snow that leaves marks underneath his shoes, snowflakes blocking his line of sight from his king, so close to the edge, staring at the sights below them as if he is able to stomp all over them like they are ants.)
Everyone exchanges their presents for one another, and Kakucho gets to see that. The few times he has ever seen a natural exchange gift had been in the orphanage he and Izana ran away from, where they had to sell a few of their priceless objects or their own clothing just so they could give the others what they wanted for Christmas. (Kakucho never wanted anything for Christmas that he considered rather materialistic, as he was content with staying with Izana forever.)
Rindou’s gift for Ran was a brand new model of a car that he has always wanted to drive; Ran’s gift for Mochi was a new furcoat allegedly from Russia; Mochi’s gift for Koko was a book about cryptocurrency (“I don’t fuckin’ know what you want that you couldn’t buy, so I bought a book that could enhance your skills for money-making or some shit.” Mochi states, and Koko took full offense in what he had said). Koko’s gift for Haruchiyo were some imported drugs from out of the country, and Haruchiyo’s gift for Takeomi was an unflattering Sanrio pillow.
(“What made you think I’d like this?” The older man asks with an outrageous look on his face.
The younger man raises a brow, before giving him the grin everyone recognizes. “I can still remember the way you used to cuddle your stuffed animals back when we used to live together.”
Takeomi stops in his tracks, as he stares at Haru with a look of utter disbelief, whilst Haru walks back to his lover with a triumphant smirk.)
As Takeomi recovers from what Haruchiyo just said, he approaches Kakucho with a small smile on his face as he produces a gift from his pockets. “We always have an odd number, so the person who’s left out from this whole gift exchange gets to pick yours. Since Mikey doesn’t really care about presents himself.”
Kakucho stares at Takeomi, and at the present in his hand, before finally letting his lips curve into a smile. He has never smiled at any of his presents, holiday or birthday, just because he could remember his last gift from Izana.
“Thank you, Akashi-san,” Kakucho says, but all he could remember is Izana’s expectant purple eyes, waiting for him to say something flattering for his gift.
(Izana’s eyes were a perfect purple, glowing underneath the heaps of snow and dust lying around this place. His lips curve upwards as Kakucho holds his newly-opened gift for the entire world to see— the world being Izana, since he is the king and the kingdom, until they have settled in a place they call their own. He gasps at the gift he had just been given, something that he had been yearning, yet not having enough money for.
“A parol!” Kakucho says, handling the string of the parol carefully, as if it might break due to his brute strength. His eyes were shining, as he saw the light of the moon and stars reflecting upon its surface. He looks at Izana with gratitude, “I’ve always wanted these! To hang these up and let the light fill the surroundings!”
Izana nods, a peaceful and serene smile on his face; a rarity for him, as he has always been filled with instability and insanity. “Well, you wanted it, so… here you go.”
“Where did you even get this?”
He puts a finger to his lips, “It’s a secret.”
“You stole it?! That’s bad, Izana!”
He frowns, before letting out an indignant huff. “I didn’t steal it, Kakucho; I made it myself!”
Izana has always taken offense at the concept of him stealing luxurious-looking items. Well, he can’t blame him now since he was such an artist.)
Kakucho still has that parol, all in one piece; he hides it in the deepest recesses of the closet or boxes whenever he moves, not getting sick of having to pack up and look at it. It wasn’t that every time he looks at the last gift Izana gave him he is immediately grief-stricken by it, but it was because he always feels a sense of numbness down his spine and could not find any happy thought whenever he looks at that lilac-colored parol, all he could remember are those hands that created them covered with blood.
In spite of the drinks he has been offered with this Christmas night he was sober so that he would have no trouble in going home. He stumbles home and takes out the parol and hangs it outside of his home; he admires the lights as he turns it on, the warm light replicating the purple colors that were so reminiscent of Izana’s eyes. They were the only remnant that he had ever existed.
He cries himself to sleep that night.
(That New Year, he gets told by everyone whom he invited in his house that the parol he hung outside his home was familiar, in a way. Like a vague humming as they are cradled by someone in the fireplace.)