Chapter Text
There were certain skills that came with poker. Or gambling as a whole. You must have a ‘Poker face’; be unreadable and skilful in bets and folds. Most people believed Chuuya to be unskilled at any game that requires a blank face, he was known for wearing his heart on his sleeve and being overly expressive. But that didn't stop him from being a powerful gambler.
He sat at a rounded table, somewhere in Yokohama, with a prize of $10,000 flirting with him. He needed the money. The World Series of Poker was coming up and he only had 2 more days to enter. Apprehension filled his veins as the cards were dealt. It was between him and one other. A guy. He had copper hair and a small plaster around the bridge of his nose, his eyes were downcast from the cards, a small tug at his lips as he inspected the cards.
Chuuya looked at his cards, allowing a small grin to pull at the corner of his mouth. He was small blind and couldn't afford to lose this game. He had a total of $4,500 in front of him and the other had around $5,500. His cards weren't good: a six of hearts and a four of spades. But they were good enough to take the gamble. This would likely be the last match and he would not leave this table without the 10,000. The other called and raised, adding in an extra 100 chips. The pot is now $600. Chuuya was down 250 already but called the extra 100. The first three cards were dealt, a six, an ace and a four.
It wasn't a particularly bad start, two pairs, but the ace on the table was bothersome. However, not overly so. He settled down to add another 150 into the mix, Tachihara- he believed that to be the name of the other- checked. The next card was drawn another six. He had a full house. His money sat comfortably at $4000 but he needed to draw Tachihara into going all in. He took a risky moment, betting 50. His hopes paid off when Tachihara grinned, clearly an amateur, and pushed in 500. Pretending to be flustered, Chuuya stumbled to get his chips, pushing in a couple too many. Then nodding to the dealer to show he was raising. Chuuya hated it when he had to play the helpless young person who had only just been allowed to gamble legally. But no matter how much he hated it; it was always something he resorted to get his way. People love to win and tend to underestimate someone who is just trying to get some more money. Clearly, Tachihara was not the smartest. His plan was by no means perfect.
Tachihara put in the 100 more, self-confident. From the looks of it, Chuuya assumed that Tachihara thought he was expecting a three or five. It's a fair assumption, people bet high on straights. This is where people always underestimate Chuuya, he isn't good at hiding his emotions, he's aware of his tells and often must stiffen the urge to rub his neck or bite his cheek but he excels at knowing what people are feeling. It's always been a good quality of his, and since he was fourteen, he has been honing that skill in gambling. It's been five years, and he has masterfully perfected his skill into a weapon. People around Suribachi City have become wary of him, often he gets older people challenge him due to his young age.
Chuuya watched the final card be drawn, a King. He let his face fall before panicking slightly and looking sheepishly at the dealer while rubbing his neck. He put in a small 50 again, he knew Tachihara couldn't let the opportunity slip away. Most people when playing like to scare their opponent into folding, and when who you are up against has less money it's easy. Tachihara seems to know this too as he pushed in $2000. It's the highest play yet, an intimidating one at that, especially when someone holds a prideful and confident face. It's simple to throw the bait out. Chuuya easily puts the money in the middle, matching the bet before pushing another 500.
Tachihara's face falters from the prideful smirk. He tries to keep up the illusion, scrambling to push the rest of his money in. His actions were predictable, he's trying to save face. He believes that Chuuya has bad cards and that he will win, and he is chasing it, following the trail of bait left as he slowly draws closer to the hook. He speaks the words Chuuya has been anticipating the entire time. It had been quiet, oddly so, and the silence shattered, falling and slashing down the one unlucky enough to fall victim to him. He really did ruin all around him. A true Arahabaki. “All in.” The words were spoken with false confidence and wilting thoughts. Someone who is trying, chasing what they thought was theirs and only just falling short.
Everyone looked at him, adrenaline rushed through his veins, “All in’s, all in.” His voice was drawn out, common for people of his class, people raised in shitty homes and on the streets. He watched the moment that Tachihara realised this was a mistake. That he should have folded or taken the safe route. The dealer gestures for them to place their cards. Little blind goes first. He sets his cards down carefully. “Full house.” He smirks momentarily. “How ‘bout you, Tachihara?”
It was really easy to fool some people, wasn’t it?
The other boy places his cards down. They were not bad per se. A six and a Jack. He should have folded. “Three of a kind.” His voice was reserved, but there was a tint. Annoyance and anger were pushed deep within the words, masked by clenched teeth and self-pity. Chuuya couldn't care less. A grin took over his features as he jumped up. He had won, he was going to the World Series of Poker! He held out his hand to the other man, a carefree smile still adorned on his face, it could be seen as a touch disrespectful, but he didn't give a shit. Tachihara took his hand and his face consorted with mock annoyance. “Awe man, I thought I was surely going to win.”
Chuuya laughed easily. He loved this game, but more so he also loved the people he got to meet. His closest friends were formed through games and gambling, and he has no doubts more will too. “Hey, no hard feelings, I just really wanna go to Las Vegas.” The other man's face took one by surprise.
“You're going to Las Vegas too. That's so cool! We should definitely hang out. What y’a competing in?” It wasn't an uncommon question Las Vegas had so many different competitions it was hard to keep it straight. On top of that, it's highly uncommon for some no-name player to enter something like WSOP. “I’m going to just some easy competition between some buddies of mine, if you want and have the time, you're welcome to join.”
Chuuya really liked Tachihara, he was a nice, normal guy, it would be nice to have a friendly face in Las Vegas and save him from trying to navigate an unfamiliar state. “Yeah, that’d be fuckin’ awesome. But I’ll be pretty busy. I’m competin’ in WSOP. If I have the time, I'll make it.” At this he could see Tachihara’s mouth drop, he knew it was a bombshell, but did he doubt his skills that much?
“Oh, geez dude. That's rough, I heard a gambling prodigy was gonna be there this year. I mean good luck, but honestly, don’t be surprised if you don't get through.” Tachihara paused as if he was thinking over his sentence and information. “I even heard some guy travelled from Russia to get to the competition.” Chuuya had heard that too. It was odd to think about, he was going to be competing in something so prestigious that people travelled thousands of miles to get there. The thought made him giddy: he was excited to beat all those pompous assholes at poker.
He loved that feeling; the anticipation lacing his blood, drawing him in. It was something he’s loved since he knew how to play, all those years ago. Chuuya wasn’t stupid he knew that living through a game like poker was never something to be glorified, but he couldn’t help but rely on it. His life was a tough one and playing the game, tricking others and ultimately winning brought a joy like no other. The money also helped.
Chuuya knew it was risky, partaking in something as public as WSOP. It was well-known to other poker players and not much else but that was still a risk. Suribachi City had several well-known and influential poker rings, all of which were familiar with Chuuya. If anywhere to see and expose him, he was risking jail time. But the reward far outweighed the punishment.
He and Tachihara bid farewell to each other. Chuuya took a bit longer as he had to accept the cash being given to him from the people who run this competition. He bowed politely to them before walking home. WSOP was starting late May this year, so he would have only just had his birthday. However, most people partaking in the competition would be going early May as a way to maybe get some money beforehand and scout out the competition. However, as he and Tachihara had discussed, as a rookie people would not only underestimate him but he would probably get a bit of attention, everyone else who was playing had experience in poker, self-assured in their abilities. Chuuya was too but he had a different poker journey then the majority and would surely get fans but also people who didn't think he was good enough to partake.
His animosity would be a double-edged sword; people would surely underestimate the rookie of the competition, but he would be filled more for the publicity and that's where the risk lay. He felt a certain apprehension in the people who would watch him. He was never someone who would shy away from the spotlight or be embarrassed in public, but the problem lies much deeper than that. He would surely be the youngest to ever partake. And that was the problem.
Chuuya neared his apartment, well apartment was a loose term, it was more like a shitty room. As much time as Chuuya spent gambling he was still poor. The tournament he went against Tachihara in was the one that has ever paid the most and that money was needed to enter WSOP. When he got there, he'd also have to stay in one of the many hotels nearby, so he was saving as much as possible for the weekly rent, right now in savings he had $20,500, including the cash he just won. WSOP started in just over two months he could make around $4,000 but with some more poker games maybe a bit more. He could also do some hired work during his free time. That all would probably bring him to $25,500 roughly. He would have to stay at a really shitty hotel if he wanted to survive on fifteen hundred dollars for three months.
As Chuuya entered his room, it occurred to him that to get anything close to a fair price he would have to book in advance, and even then, it would have been better to do so in January. But the deals still would have been way above budget. He had briefly looked over the prices and all of them were about ten thousand plus. He wouldn't be able to afford it even if he worked while there. On top of that he has to pay for a plane ticket, which being roughly $500 would set him back quite a bit, and even if he can't find somewhere to stay it's not like he could sleep in a car he doesn't own. He knew no one in Las Vegas, so he couldn't even room with someone. Actually, that was a lie. He knew Tachihara would be in Las Vegas during that time. He just didn't know when.
He and Tachihara had exchanged numbers before he left, so he could always call him and ask him about it. However, he only met Tachihara that same day. He could always spend more time with the guy over the next couple months. But he felt bad taking advantage of him like that. He already wanted to contact him but it felt weird to just get to know him so he could save money when travelling. Chuuya’s eyelids grew heavy, and he felt himself relax into his duvet as the day overtook him.
---A Grave in Your Name---
Chuuya woke, he was relatively well rested and could feel his back click as he stretched. His bed was lumpy and uncomfortable, always managing to give him a backache but it was deal-able and cheap. As much as he hated his apartment it was exactly what he was paying for. He could never be too unhappy with it. He left immediately, after getting changed, and made his way to work, he worked at a shitty mechanic that paid alright. It wasn’t great but it was fine. Honestly, Chuuya was grateful to even be working at all, he knew plenty of people who couldn’t find work due to how they acted and dressed. But the mechanic wasn't like that, as long as he kept up a good standard and respected the customers the owners left him alone.
Work was easy as it usually was, some foster homes ago, when he was around 16, his dad had taught him all about cars in preparation for when he got a driving licence, he had even promised him the car he had practised on. He never got that car. Chuuya hated reminiscing on them, it brought a clogged feeling to his throat and his chest constricted. He continued to fix the bumper on his current customer's car, some guy with black mid-length hair, he had ruby eyes, and a white coat. The guy looked a bit odd, as if perfectly out of place in the grimy back alleys and corrupted undercity. But he held an air about him, one that told of crime and wickedness. He was the type of person who would be watched but never challenged in neighbourhoods like this. He was a complete misfit who was the same as everyone there. What a strange man.
The guy's car was mostly fine, it looked expensive, it had dark tinted windows, and a matte black finish. The guy had come in first several months ago, but they had to special order the paint from Lamborghini, it took a while to get there but, in the meantime, Chuuya had been fixing the dent at the back. It didn’t take much work; the Terzo Millennio had special nanotechnology that practically self-heals. All he had to do was buff the bumper and it looked almost new. He had then continued to polish and repair the beige leather on the inside of the car. It was clearly well-kept and Chuuya often found himself wondering why the guy had chosen their shitty mechanic.
Not to say he wasn't grateful for the money, but it was odd. The guy could clearly afford a better place, somewhere he wasn't in constant risk of being robbed. Chuuya knew no one would rob this man, the air about him spoke of crime and threats, he was not someone to be crossed.
Chuuya had always found that a lot can be said about someone based on the car they drive. A good example of this is Chuuya. He didn’t own any car. On his seventeenth birthday he brought himself a motorbike, as a sort of birthday gift. It was his prized possession. He loved the motorbike with everything he had but sometimes he regretted not buying a car. When he first was on his own, he could have done with something to live in. He had started to save for a car a while back, his boss had even offered to refer him to a good dealer. However, he never took him up on the offer. He soon decided to partake in WSOP and saved every last penny.
Contrarily, this guy’s car oozed of money, it was a custom model of a 2.5-million-dollar car. That itself would have made it roughly three million probably more. The custom paint job was nothing to sneeze at, but the real kicker was the custom seats. The base model of the car had black leather seats; however, this one was beige, in fact the entire inside was beige. Which again brought up the issue of why this guy chose them to do business with. The place was run down, don't get him wrong, Chuuya was incredibly skilled at his job, but this man could surely afford the best mechanics in the world.
Chuuya felt himself drifting, he was thinking too much. The man was still staring as he carefully sprayed the matte finish onto the back left of the car. It looked perfect, and it should too. Chuuya had spent hours on it. “Okay. Sir, if you could follow me to proceed with the rest of your payment.” In this side of town, it wasn’t uncommon to ask for a prepayment, but with a car of this worth and the custom paint they had to buy in order to fix it, it was basically mandatory.
The guy followed him to the front desk, he rummaged over a selection of documents before coming across the ones to do with the Lamborghini. His total was ridiculous, something that almost brought tears to Chuuya’s eyes as he thought about all the things, he could do with such a sum. He told the man his total and then the final portion he would have to pay. The guy smiled an uneasy smile. Not to say the man was uneasy with the money he was spending but rather it sent flips into Chuuya’s stomach. “Ah, of course Chuuya, do you take cash?” Chuuya gulped, cash was actually the preferred method of payment, but who had that much cash on them. The guy brought out a large wad of bills. Each was $100.
“Of course, let me just count this, Sir” Chuuya started to carefully count the bills, placing them into piles of 10 at a time. “So, what brings you here, sir, surely you could afford somewhere much better.” Screw it. Chuuya was always a curious individual.
Luckily for him the guy just laughed easily. “Well, I’m going to surprise my kids, they don't know I'm back yet.” The guy chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m actually quite nervous, it’s been several years” Chuuya nodded slightly distracted as he placed some money to the side.
“Oh really, how long has it been?
“I last saw them maybe.. two years ago.” Chuuya stalled in his counting. He felt bad for the kids, he understood what it was like for a parent to leave suddenly and he would never wish that on another. Chuuya pushed the remaining bills at the man.
The guy took them and counted out some more. In synchronisation Chuuya recounted the money he had. “I bet they’ll be excited to see you again.” Chuuya knew there was no reason to console a man he didn’t know, but it was more for him than the other. He knew it was selfish, but he was no stranger to isolation. But then again, you can never truly be isolated if you have a sibling. “How old are they?”
Chuuya started to put the money into the safe straight away, he wasn’t risking being robbed with that much money, he would surely lose his job. He was ducked just under the desk, still in sight of the man but away enough that the man didn’t know the code. “Ah, well, my eldest would be nineteen, turning twenty in just a few months. While my daughter would be nine.”
The man smiled fondly at the thought of his daughter. It warmed Chuuya’s heart that somewhere a kid and someone the same age as him had someone who loved them as much as this man. “They’re lucky to have someone as devoted as you.” He smiled. The man opposite him handed five or so more bills over to him.
Chuuya sputtered. “No. No way can I accept this!” He pushed the money back into the other hand. Chuuya wasn’t one to refuce help from others, he didn’t like it, but he really did need help most of the time, so he had condoned himself to just be grateful when people offered him gifts. However, with more expensive things, really anything more than a meal, he still had trouble accepting. He suspected it was something reminiscent of his upbringing. But, really anyone would, or rather should, struggle with accepting such a large gift.
“Nonsense! You did such a good job, and you clearly need it more than I do.” The words almost felt condescending, but he couldn’t bring it in himself to care. He bowed deeply at the man. He had been taught the sign of respect as an early child but had never seemed to shake the habit. The man stretched, cracking his back easily. “I’ve got a long journey ahead of me.” He commented offhandedly, heading back towards his car.
Chuuya felt himself nodding, as he too walked with the man back to his car. “Oh yeah? If you don't mind me asking, where you off too?” Chuuya gave the man his keys back when they both stood beside the vehicle. Chuuya went off to the side getting his drink while he went.
The man climbed into the car, quickly putting it on and connecting his phone to the speaker. No music played though. “Me and my kids are going to Las Vegas for a couple months.” A holiday to Las Vegas for several months for one is expensive, Chuuya would know, but for three? This man was loaded. The conversation dwindled to an end. Chuuya bid farewell, thanking the man again, the guy just nodding and laughing. As he winded up his windows, Chuuya waving as he did so, he heard the unmistakable ring of a phone, followed by the click of a connection. “What do you want M-” His window cut off the young voice swiftly.
The rest of Chuuya’s day was relatively uneventful. He had spent most the night doing some poker games before crashing in his room. The next day he had work off, so he began to go around to his usuals to see if anyone needed help or knew someone who did. However, it was a slow day, all things considered.
He called Tachihara that night, he felt himself smiling as he heard the familiar voice ranging out across the speakers in his shitty phone. “Hey man, wanna go out tonight?” Chuuya knew he couldn’t afford to go out, but he wanted to get to know the guy and screw it, he wanted to enjoy the last of his teen years. Tachihara had accepted breezily they agreed on the place and time, meeting only about 20 minutes later.
He and Tachihara met outside a run-down bar, it was a place he had heard a lot about, it was called Le Saloon, Chuuya had always had a preference for all things French. Something about the culture, the language, everything was just so.. romantic. Even when imagining all big events in his life, marriage, big birthdays and the likes had been imagined in places like France or somewhere to do with the country. Chuuya has always romanticised the place and has no intention to stop. However, that wasn't the main reason Chuuya picked this place, it was known to rarely ask for ID, something Chuuya always had to think about. The bar inside was beautiful, the walls were lined in art, it was a bit hard to see; the lights were dimmed to help the nightly atmosphere.
Chuuya dragged Tachihara over to the bar, each respectively ordering their drinks. As much as he hated it, Chuuya went for a cheap cider, wine was his beverage of choice but was never really suited to a night out. He followed as the other ginger led them into a remote table in the corner. “Hey dude!” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the dance music. It was still early in the evening, ten O’clock, the place was already pretty crowded though. “How’d you get int’a poker then?”
It was a question Chuuya felt himself asking often, most people he met were through the game and it was always a quick way into a good conversation. “My dad, he was obsessed with the game, I wanted to know why he loved it so much.” Tachihara shrugged the answer. It made sense. A lot of people had similar stories that led them to the game. Tachihara looked at him questioningly. He supposed it was only polite to answer his unspoken question.
“When I was fifteen, I needed some cash, and one of my siblings told me about his friend. I met with the guy, and he taught me.” He recounted the story easily, and that of course wasn’t the whole truth, in reality his foster dad had threatened to kick him out if he didn't start making money and his foster brother had told him what he did at Chuuya’s age.
Tachihara smiled, that was a common reaction to the story, people liked it when the thought of being introduced by a family member was introduced. Chuuya had never seen the charm, but he guessed he never would. It wasn’t something you could force on yourself but more something you learned over the span of years. “You have siblings?”
Tachihara’s face softened as he asked the question, people who had grown up with siblings tended to do that- or to what he had noticed. “Nah. I mean not technically. I’m a foster kid, so I've lived in loads of homes with other kids.” He shrugged; he was never really embarrassed about his upbringing, but it was never something he liked to bring up. He could see Tachihara’s gaze sour as he realised that Chuuya could never relate to his childhood. People often felt somewhat uncomfortable when he said he grew up in foster care, so Tachihara becoming angry on his behalf was a nice change.
That night was easy. It was easier than it usually was for Chuuya to let loose. He had a great night, Tachihara was a great guy, he was kind and funny, and he put him at ease. Their friendship was quickly forming. One where it felt like they’d known each other for years but in reality, it was only a month. April was an interesting month. He and Tachihara had never been closer, they started calling and seeing each other weekly. He had to go out of his way to see the other, but he enjoyed the time they spent together. Often, they found themselves out drinking however, it was more common to see the duo in basements gambling. Chuuya always managed to win but there was never any ill will.
Chuuya had already broached the subject of staying together in Las Vegas, however, Tachihara had said that he was already staying with a friend. He had immediately offered to tell his friend that he couldn't anymore or ask if Chuuya could also stay over. But Chuuya had been quick to deny it, he didn’t want to oppose Tachihara’s other friendships, so he had said he would figure something out.
In the month they had known each other they had never argued, they had disagreements, but they always ended with them laughing. Chuuya wouldn't pretend he was someone especially experienced in friendships, he had few in his lifetime, always the strange and abrasive new kid. People had never clicked with him. And even then, the ones who did were never on the same level as Tachihara. They friendship was instantaneous. One from the movies.
It’s what made this April so special to him. This year though? Chuuya knew it was gonna be special. He didn’t exactly know how but it was a deep-rooted feeling. And he allowed, if just for this once, the excitement of his birthday to fill him. Tachihara had made it clear that he was going to do things for his birthday. He had been secretive and sneaky, something he was never successful with. Chuuya had always found it funny; how bad the other was at bluffing. But Chuuya supposed he was similar, he used other methods to win in the game and Tachihara was the same.
Tachihara had invited him to this bar on the other side of town. It was in the sketchy neighbourhood, the one Chuuya grew up in. It was a twenty-minute walk, so when he got off work, he drove his motorbike to the curb by his apartment. He knew people wouldn’t take it. He was somewhat well known in the area. No one had tried to steal his shit in years. He started the walk to the bar; he knew he was going to have to walk even if it was miles away. He was definitely going to get drunk, and he was definitely not leaving his bike out in front of the place.
The walk itself was pleasant. Chuuya knew he had always been more active than the average person, he didn’t know why but something about being in the outdoors was so freeing to him. He wouldn’t give up the feeling for anything. When he arrived Tachihara was stood outside, looking around somewhat nervously, he was smoking a fag and looked entirely too uncomfortable.
As he walked up, the other saw him and offered him a cigarette as well. He gladly accepted. Smoking was something he had picked up younger than anyone should. He had grown up in so many houses where a caregiver was smoking that one day, he tried it. The sensation was amazing, the feeling of the smoke entering his lungs. Another positive was that he was one of those people who could just quit. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go without one for months at a time, especially if money was tight that month.
“There you are dude! So, how’s it feel to be old.” Tachihara laughed. And Chuuya laughed along with him, taking drags of his fag in-between.
He turned to the other when their laughs died off, looking him up and down with a cocky look on his face. “Who’re you calling old? I’m younger than you.” He watched Tachihara’s face consort to one of confusion. It wasn’t an unexpected result. Most people did assume he was older. He never knew why though; he was always told he had more youthful features. But whenever he met someone, they assumed he was a fresh twenty-one. Actually, he did know why; anytime he met someone he was doing something semi-illegal. Smoking, drinking, gambling; all things he did on a daily basis. Most just assumed he was old enough with a baby-face.
“How though? I’m twenty-one and you must’ve just turned twenty-two or something...?” Tachihara’s face was knitted together as he puzzled out the conversation. That itself made Chuuya double over again. He laughed, loud, outside some random bar on his twentieth birthday.
“Nah dude, I’m twenty.” He tried to be quieter about it, he didn’t want to be denied service later in the night, though places like this didn’t normally care, he preferred not to risk it. Tachihara’s eyebrows shot up. His eye’s where wide as he looked at Chuuya again. He was looking at him as if he was a different person.
“But- you- the poker- what?” He spoke in garbled crashes of sentences. It was one of the funniest things Chuuya had seen, but he didn’t laugh. A type of fear was clawing at him, what if Tachihara didn’t want to talk to him anymore? He didn’t think about that, he doesn’t think he could survive Las Vegas without him. Just as Chuuya was about to interrupt apologising, Tachihara put a hand on his shoulder, “Jeez man, you’re like, super impressive.”
Chuuya felt himself go red, beginning to sputter in a way similar to Tachihara only moments ago. “What?” He didn’t expect that, he expected about every other outcome: yelling, hitting, leaving, disappointment, but not laughing. He felt a smile stretch over his face as the elder laughed more.
“What do you mean ‘what’?” Tachihara smacked his shoulder. “You mean you seriously didn’t think it impressive that you, at nineteen, could beat people double even triple your age?” The other looked at him like it was obvious. And when he put it like that it seemed obvious. Not everyone could do what he does, in fact Chuuya had yet to meet anyone his age with a similar hobby as him. Even in places like Suribachi city, it was uncommon for kids to be involved in gambling, it was one of the few things the youth didn’t do. Of course, he had that foster-brother who had a similar situation, but he never took to the game as much as Chuuya had.
Chuuya knew he was blushing; praise was a rare thing for him. “I mean, now you say it makes sense, but I never really thought about it that much.”
Tachihara was practically buzzing. Their cigarettes had finished, so they walked inside together, it was a quieter bar, few people with nice mellow music. Chuuya had always been more of a rock person himself but could appreciate most music. “You’re even partaking in the main event at WSOP! I bet you’ll be the youngest there! Man, you’d better win.” He could tell Tachihara was absolutely pumped at the idea. It was kind of naïve, if he won it would surely bring him a lot of attraction and it was likely someone would expose his age. He was happy to go along with the illusion of safety though.
“Yeah, I guess I would be.” He spoke softly.
His twentieth birthday would surely be one for the books, he didn’t know how he could ever top it. They had eaten and chatted at the first bar; it was easy. They talked about everything and nothing. At first it was the normal small talk but once they started talking about WSOP, it rolled quickly. As it turns out, Tachihara had booked them some cheap concert tickets to this random rock band. Despite knowing none of the songs, it was a blast. They sang and drank all night.
By morning, Chuuya had woken in Tachihara’s apartment. He had a killing headache but made it through with some water and paracetamol. After he had left, going to work quickly. He had an awful day, but even then, with the headache, he would repeat it all over again if he got the option. However, the day had quickly soured when he was preparing to leave. It hit him. It was his last shift at the shitty mechanic. He loved that place, and it was more his home that his apartment.
He had said bye to his elderly boss, parting ways had always been something Chuuya was good at. But he had tears pricking the corner of his eyes, as he waved goodbye. His boss was a kind but stern soul, even offering him a leaving bonus, of which he gladly accepted. He wasn’t leaving Suribachi, and subsequently Yokohama, until the following day. His plane was at seven in the morning. That day he had also called Tachihara briefly, having said their goodbye’s the day before.
He had already booked a room in the bed-and-breakfast type place months prior. All he had to do was show up and pay the rent starting the next month. The owner had demanded the first month's rent upfront in booking, which Chuuya had been reluctant to agree with, but he had been desperate. His place had already been packed up; he had sold most of his furniture as the place he was staying came furnished. All he had was an old bag that he could take with him in for overhead.
That night he slept well. The reminiscent of a hangover and the tiredness of an emotional day had worn him out. The bed, duvet and pillows had come with the apartment and was expected to stay with it when he left, so he slept on the bed bare, with the clothes he would be wearing to the airport already on.
That morning, he had left early, around four-thirty am. It was an half-hour-long commute to the airport in Yokohama from Suribachi city. He had left his bike in the trusting hands of his old boss. He knew the man would take care of it well and he was excited for their reunion once he won WSOP. Chuuya was confident in his ability to win, as he always had been, he knew what he was doing, and he would try his hardest. He took a multitude of buses to the airport arriving a little after he expected. However, that time evened out by his quick check-in.
Once he passed security, he walked around the airport a bit, his plane was in an hour, and he was going to get something to eat and maybe a pack of cheap fags while he was here. Chuuya knew he must look a bit odd. He wore his leather jacket with a red jumper underneath, as well as some black loose trousers. He had his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and a phone in his other hand.
The wait was boring, but he was dreading being in Las Vegas more, he didn’t know anyone there and Tachihara wouldn’t be going for another couple of weeks. It made him nervous; he knew that he was a skilled gambler and had never doubted his skills, and he wasn’t going to start now. But the apprehension lacing his veins was no illusion, he was scared. The morning sun had risen by the time he was glancing over the other passengers to the window to his left. He was sat between a random girl with red hair and a pin pulling it into a bun, and the other side a middle-aged man sat, he had a bear belly and was scowling at Chuuya anytime he looked towards the window at his side.
Chuuya, careful not to jostle the pretty lady, removed his phone from his pocket pulling his headphones along with it. He plugged them in, letting one of the earbuds dangle loosely against his chest. He loaded one of those free poker apps and started to play. Chuuya had found playing online to always be more a pastime than actual practice, it just wasn’t close enough to the real thing; you couldn’t read the people around you, couldn’t bluff or use tricks. It was about stone hard strategy. Raise here, fold there. Something Chuuya did need more experience in but never something that limited him enough to warrant continuous practice.
He held pocket eights, one a heart the other a spade, and was watching the computers put in the big and little blinds. He raised only a couple chips, roughly 30 in-game-money. As the cards were drawn out, a third eight was placed in the middle. He started moving the dial to bet more however a cool voice over his shoulder stopped him.
“Don’t raise too much.” Her voice was sweet, like honey tea. He looked to the woman, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes focused solely on his phone. “If you bet that much, the others will fold. You surely have the best hand with the cards provided. It would be foolish to make the others fold.”
Chuuya understood her reasoning and the more he looked the more sense it made. Normal in situations like this, even if he did bet high, people would continue playing thinking he was being a naïve child. “Oh- uh. Yeah, thanks, miss- “He paused allowing her to introduce herself.
“Ozaki, Kouyou Ozaki.” She smiled at him, it was kind thing, she held an elegance, even sitting in on an old, crowded plane.
“Thanks Miss Ozaki. I’m Chuuya Nakahara, by the way.” He took Miss Ozaki’s advice and lowered his bet, the game went on for a few minutes longer, Chuuya could feel her gaze over his shoulder even with his back to her. When the game ended- him drawing in the pot of course- he turned back to the woman. “Wow, thanks again, I wouldn’t have got half that amount if I did what I was gonna do. So why are you going to Las Vegas?’
The woman smiled at the praise, taking it without a word. “Ah, well I was invited to partake in a poker tournament this month. The man who invited me insisted that I get there a couple weeks early so I could go to some of his formal events and parties before-hand.” Chuuya felt a smile grow over his face as he continued to listen. There was only a limited amount of poker events hosted in Las Vegas in late May. He felt giddy with his suspicions.
The woman had now turned her gaze off his phone. He lit it darken and shut off, instead giving Miss Ozaki all his attention. “Are you going to be playing at the World Series of Poker, Miss Ozaki?” He felt his smile grow further as she perked up at the competition.
“Why, yes. I am. And don’t be so formal, you can call me Kouyou.” She shook her head shallowly, a fond smile etched onto her face. “I take it you’re also partaking?”
Chuuya was nodding along before he even registered. “Yea. I’ve never gone to anything like this before! I don’t even know what I’m doing.” He whined before straightening his back from where he had let it arch as he had slowly slumped in his chair. He rubbed his neck sheepishly “Though I don’t think it’ll be anything as prestigious as your stay.”
Kouyou let out a small chuckle. “I suppose not. I’m going to be at the feature table, and I’ve never heard of a rookie being there before. Normally they put returning or famous players there- though I dare say that may change this year.” She spoke softly, letting the words flow off her lips.
Chuuya let the words roll in his brain. Another rookie, it wasn’t. especially uncommon for rookies but normally people had partaken in a few other tournaments. Not only this but apparently this other rookie was on the feature table. That’s what really stumped him. It was basically impossible for that to happen, either this guy had large influence or was some sort of insane player. “What makes you say that? Surely a rookie couldn’t be on the featured table?”
His statement was posed more as a question then anything else. “Well normally they have some lesser-known players on the table, just to keep the games even and create some tension. Plus, everyone loves an underdog. However, this man is meant to be a prodigy. The reason he has never done another tournament is due to his age. However, those are all rumours. The community is buzzing in anticipation at the prospect of someone like him- it’s been years since someone has become so renowned. Its drawing in quite a few celebrities.”
Chuuya understood, the chance to see something like that must be alluring, he had listened to Tachihara’s almost awe-inspired tangents about this prodigy. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t also intrigued. “Is that why you’re going to WSOP this year?” He let the curiosity spread over his face.
With a smile, Kouyou shook her head, he brushed back her strawberry hair as she started speaking. “Oh no. I’ve met the boy before, some years ago. I go every year, normally as a benefactor or to play a few games. I haven’t taken part in the main event in a few years. Ougai asked especially for me to do it though, so I follow his word.” Chuuya understood, he wasn’t going because of the boy but he still wondered about him.
“Ougai?” He recognised the name; it held some familiarity but not enough for him to place a face.
“Mori Ougai. He is a WSOP veterinarian. However I would recommend, if you can, keep away from that man.” Kouyou took on a serious look, one she hadn’t worn since their meeting. He didn’t understand her hesitance towards the man, he recognised the name, presumably from some poker article or the other. Surely it would be helpful to speak to another of his skill level. However, Chuuya wasn’t going to argue. Despite their brief meeting so far everything Kouyou had said was true and she seemed trustworthy enough.
Chuuya hummed in a noncommittedly manor. He sat in his seat continuing to play meaningless games on his phone. Kouyou pointed out where he could improve and different strategies he could try. All of which he took under careful consideration and tried his hardest. He hated to admit it but by the end of the plane he had grown exponentially since the start.
He and Kouyou were quick to exchange contact information; she was nice, and she made him promise to keep in contact and ask for help if he ever needed it.
Now that Chuuya was in Las Vegas it was unlike anywhere he had ever lived before, Suribachi City and subsequently Yokohama, weren’t particularly empty at this time but Las Vegas took it to a whole new level. The streets where crowded people overpouring onto the roads, where rows of traffic sat impatiently. He made his way over to his hotel, careful to avoid bumping into other people. The place was an hour walk however looking at the roads he was convinced he would get there quicker if he walked.
The walk was pleasant, the air was humid reminiscent of a down pour hung there, making the atmosphere damp. But it acted as a sort of cooler. His skin felt hot as he walked down the empty streets. The block he was on was barren, rubbish littered the floor, and he could see some fags on the floor accompanied by some glass syringes. He could tell it was a rougher area, despite this he was confident in his strides; it was bad but nowhere near as bad as Suribachi City.
There was an air to people like him. People who grew up in the tougher neighbourhoods. Kids so unlike the prissy rich kids who wandered the streets only blocks away. He could always tell by the air people held how they grew up; it was one of Chuuya’s skills. He was confident in his ability to read others and in turn others could read him in the same manor. It was only the idiots of the area who challenged people like him when they came to visit. As a result, he was left alone.
The peace was nice. He had checked into his hotel room, using an ID he had procured in Yokohama. It was small; holding a small kitchenette and an even small bathroom in a weird, rounded room that lead out into the bedroom. It was a studio, the only separated room being the bathroom that housed a tiny shower with the other bathroom essentials.
The bed was lumpy but overall, not that uncomfortable, the sheets adoring it looked as if they had been snatched right out the 1920’s however Chuuya had no other bedding, so he was going to make-do.
---A Grave in Your Name---
Chuuya’s first night in Las Vegas was spent in the comfort of his crappy room. There was a TV on the wall adjacent to his bed, it had basic channels on it, so he made himself some noodles and charged his phone while watching shitty TV. It was one of the most comfortable nights he has had recently. It was nice. However, he could not hold the luxury for long; money was tight as is and he needed to make some more now, or he would be behind on rent by the months end.
WSOP’s events started on the 30th of that month. So that was useless. He was going to have to get himself a job, he’d searched for some online and saw a café needed assistance a couple of blocks over, it was still on the rougher side but was close to where WSOP was going to be hosted. He wandered over, enjoy the bustling city as he did so. He liked being in quiet areas however something about city life was so alluring to him. It was so different from the street fights and scattered children he was used to.
The café smelled like rich coffee the man behind the counter wore a kind smile, while his interview was conducted by a lady, Belladonna, who had a black slicked back bun with her fringe hanging just below her eyebrows. Calling it an interview was generous, they asked some basic questions: his name, age, availability and such. They were fairly easy answers, only having to lie on one.
He was honest about his working hours; he would be able to work whenever for the next month but after that he would be limited and may have to quit. The woman nodded along, seeming unbothered and started to fill in the paperwork of his employment. He was honestly excited to start working here, it was a nice, comfortable place and the people seemed lovely. But that wasn’t what drew him in. It was the normality. He had never worked any job like customer service before. He had worked at the mechanic but that was more manual labour.
Chuuya had always been good with people, and this would only help him, both in poker and out of. He could practise reading people, even if it was something as insignificant as what drink they would get. The owner, the man from behind the till, asked him if he wanted start just after the paperwork was filled out and he eagerly agreed.
The work was simple, he practised the art of watching within the month. Chuuya took great pride in his predictions when it comes to the customers. He had become somewhat famous for being able to predict peoples order, more often than not typing in the orders when customers entered, regulars or not.
However, for the first time in the past month he had got it wrong. A boy had walked in, he was young but nothing special to look at; handsome? Yes, but in the sort of mysterious bland way, he looked like the type to have girls swoon over him. He wore a smug smile like a mask, the kind that grated on Chuuya’s nerves; prissy rich boys who think they own the world. The likes who have never had a hard day in their life, basking in mummy and daddy’s money. Not only that but his clothes screamed wealth, a smart waist coat with a logo Chuuya had no hope at identifying, and a large black coat draped over his shoulders, the insides seemed to be laced with silks and the outside made of a fine velvet.
Chuuya had assumed he would get some equally pretentious drink something with extra shots to add an extra buck, however he was pleasantly surprised when the boy came up to till, the ghost of a smile cast on his lips as he ordered a simple black coffee. He pulled a card out of his back pocket, it was matte black, Chuuya knew that different cards showed different amounts of wealth, but he didn’t know what this particular one meant. It was clearly expensive, and held a regale, posh, delicate finish to it.
He allowed the man to swipe his card through, it didn’t cost much only a couple dollars but despite that it was still out of Chuuya’s range of expense, especially for a coffee. The boy them pulled out some cash and took out a ten passing it silently to him. “You’ve already paid. Do you want me to split this or something?” Chuuya muttered his words, confusion etched on his face.
The boy laughed- actually laughed- at him. He had a smooth voice, and Chuuya currently felt very aware of his more scratchy, rasped way of speaking, it held no elegance unlike the boy before him. It was clear he grew up a street rat. “No, no. Call it a tip.”
Chuuya pushed the money back into the boy’s hand. He looked down when he brushed something coarse, a thick layer of bandages slithered tightly up his hand and under his sleeve. “Uh- oh shit- yeah,” Chuuya stumbled over his speech, distracted. He took a deep embarrassing breath. “I can’t accept this, it’s too much.”
A smirk played on the boy’s lips. “I clearly don’t need it. You on the other hand..” the boy looked him up and down, judging him.
Chuuya knew he was in no position to deny the money, as meagre as they seemed to this boy, those couple extra bills would significantly help him. “No. I don’t accept charity, especially not from snobby rich scum like you.”
“Aww, little ol’ me? Snobby and rich? Pish posh!” The boy laughed like he was the funniest person in the world- it was infections and despite his hardest attempts a smile lingered on his lips. “Yes! You’re laughing.” He pumped his fist in a childish manner. “Take it, I want extra sugar cubes and I know those cost a couple dollars. Besides I already paid. This is just one friend helping out another just this once.”
Chuuya pocketed the money with more force then necessary, bringing over a small pot of 5 or so sugar cubes. Personally, Chuuya hated the things, too sweet and sickly, he much rather a spoonful of sugar or nothing. So, it was understandable when he had to hold back a gag as he watched the boy before him plunk all 6 into his coffee, zero hesitation.
When he noticed the boys, eyes lingering on him for a moment longer he pointed his finger at his mouth, “You make me sick. Do you want a side of coffee with you sugar?” Chuuya maintained eye contact, refusing to crack a smile. He even managed to wrestle one down when the boy before hims’ mouth twitched down, in a cute upside-down smile.
“Bye-bye Chuuya.” He uttered and Chuuya just rolled his eyes at the use of his first name. Most customers who choice to use his name stuck to the last name, he didn’t know if they recognised the culture difference or if it was just how it was written on his nametag, but he rarely hears his first name anymore.
With one last glance the boy walked away, his coat dragging behind him in the air. He turned a corner to the booths just out of his eye line and he heard the clatter of a couple bags and what he assumes to be a laptop, followed by the clicking of keys.
A soothing presence behind him- one that smelt of coffee, and if the month he’d spent with the man had taught him anything, the guy eats lived and breathed coffee; he couldn’t even wash the smell of coffee off his hands anymore. It was the boss, he spoke like smooth chocolate, and earthy coffee, reminds him of how he imagined how his grandfather would sound, a calm comforting image. “Ah, I see you’ve met little Osamu. Such a quiet boy, him.”
Chuuya knew it was impolite, but he whipped his head around and gawked at the other. “Quiet!?” He screeched in an ironically loud way. Several heads turned and he swears he heard the chuckle of this supposed Osamu. Which might he add was not so ‘little’ he was basically towering over Chuuya when they spoke and he had no doubts he would too with his new boss.
“Yes, maybe you could learn a thing or two from him.” Despite the good-natured delivery of the suggestion, he feels himself scoff before he can catch it. “I’m surprised he spoke more than his order to you. I have only heard him speak a number of times, and normally through accidently catching the words he speaks to his father. But they haven’t come in for some years now.” The man adds, pondering.
Chuuya felt his mouth fall open, before quickly fixing his mistake and speaking in a hushed tone, “Wha- So he never spoke to anyone for the Caf’. Not even small talk?”
The man shook his head sympathetically. “From what I’ve heard his father is a harsh man.” Chuuya knew he was scowling. A bit of strictness is nothing if they get to have a bloody black card- or whatever hell it was. The same scowl followed him even as he began to dry the cups sat haphazardly on the drying rack.