Chapter Text
For a perceptive man such as Kurosaki, everyone who came to attend that soiree at Teiai was an open book. Young, wide-eyed, ready to shut off their brain as long as you appeared to be friendly enough and cracked a few jokes. Easily moldable, easily influenced, never questioning what was said between the lines even once.
Except for that one guy. That Ichijou.
Exactly the sort of person on the outside who’d make for a fine ornament of their new casino - delicate and attentive to his looks, that was about it: no university education and a history of dead-end part-time jobs had put him way below most desperate blacksuits as a prospective hire. Not lacking in courage and innate intelligence, however, confronting Kurosaki directly about his practices, not fooled by the flashy show that was being put on before him the whole evening.
That day Kurosaki had pushed him away, knowing it would only make Ichijou run back to him and work himself to the bone trying to prove his worth, prove to himself more than anybody else that he really was just as special as he wanted everyone to think. That, too, was a predictable manipulative move that had worked flawlessly, just as expected.
Beyond that however, Kurosaki wanted to see what else was there in this man that made him different from the rest. Get closer together, sometimes breaching the barrier of acceptable interactions between a benefactor and his protege, and keep digging deeper.
And, as much as Ichijou wanted to believe so, it wasn’t done to elevate his status as an executive candidate.
From Kurosaki’s point of view, everything was done purely for the lolz.
There was one thing in particular that interested him as of late.
“We’re grateful that you’ve made time to visit us during such a busy time of year, Kurosaki-sama”
There he was, red locks tastefully styled back, bowing down in unison with the other members of senior management - beneath their matching black smoking jackets and bowties, they were hardened bruisers, ready to do any dirty work as long as it meant their manager got to stay the way he was now, impeccable in his navy blue suit and softly smiling as Kurosaki stepped closer, raising the man’s face by his chin.
He’d noticed it inside the casino too - under the harsh lighting of manager’s office, the dark circles surrounding Ichijou’s eyes and jittery motions suggested that proper rest had been replaced with short naps in the breakroom, all to make sure that the numbers for the first quarter of the year that he’d held the mantle of the manager were worth it. Admirable perseverance, considering that for the time being Ichijou was the only one maintaining the newly unveiled to the public Bog - but to an experienced adult like Kurosaki, it was clear that the burnout loomed over the horizon, promising an eventual crash.
They couldn’t have that happen this soon. It was inevitable - but he’d like Ichijou to last just a bit longer.
At least until Tonegawa’s place was vacated.
“You’re wearing my present quite well, Ichijou… All eyes must be on you whenever you’re on the floor”
Ichijou’s lashes trembled a bit before he blinked in agreement - doe-eyed, unconsciously pulling on the ends of his jacket. It took some time and some meaningless bribery, but at last Kurosaki had gently broken him into just the kind of person he’d wanted to see all along - growing limp and submissive at the smile of his superior.
“You’re too kind, sir. I can only hope that my efforts bear enough fruit to repay you this wondrous favor”
It took all his strength to turn a burst of laughter into a fatherly chuckle. As always, this guy spoke funny whenever he wanted to impress someone.
In Ichijou’s head though, the situation was dangerous. He’d seen first-hand time and time that Kurosaki could mask very unsavory intentions behind this friendly exterior, especially in front of simpler people - all lined up behind Ichijou like a reliable wall, all sure to disperse in terror if the boss were to raise a hand at him, saying that under Ichijou’s management the profits weren’t growing fast enough or that the Bog was too obviously rigged to continue attracting customers.
What was it going to be this time? A carrot or a stick?
Maintaining eye contact with Ichijou, Kurosaki had pulled out a small box from his pocket, handing it to the man - much to the surprise of his secretary and the blacksuits, one of them about to interfere before being pulled back by others.
“One small thing. Now that you’re the manager, appearances are especially important”, Kurosaki’s palm wrapped around Ichijou’s left wrist, right on top of the sleeve, “and it goes beyond what the general public sees from the distance. By no means is Seiko a bad watch… but it’s something better kept to your days off. When you’re on the job, I expect you to do better, got it?”
Out of the corner of his eye the older man had noticed Ichijou tracing over the box with his thumb before his eyes widened and glistened in the dark - and he bowed once again to contain a crooked smile.
“Understood, Kurosaki-sama. I’ll make good use of it”
Despite a rather stressful past couple of weeks, Murakami hadn’t said a word about Ichijou neglecting household chores ever since his promotion - and he wasn’t going to say anything now, even though for the first time in a long time Ichijou was finally home, rolling around under the kotatsu as he held up a shiny wristwatch, looking at it from every direction and occasionally snickering to himself.
To a bystander this must’ve looked creepy - one moment Ichijou would smile hospitably, whispering something like “everyone who comes here is welcome” in a soft voice, the other he’d snap back to his usual indifferent expression, tuning the watch, then he’d just giggle, cradling it like the world’s greatest treasure. But Murakami was simply happy to see his roommate so pleased, and it’s not like either of them could afford an accessory quite like this - they just recently got their own place, moving out of a pathetic Teiai dorm, and this talking to himself and snickering certainly beat silence and irritated tongue clicks whenever Ichijou was hit with a realization that their place didn’t feel like home.
“Manager, would you like some tea, perhaps?”
“No tea”, the answer was immediate and curt, and Murakami almost dropped a plate he’d just finished washing into the sink, feeling Ichijou’s piercing eyes dart towards him. It was a mistake to interrupt this ritual after all. “My face will be puffy in the morning, I could tell today that Kurosaki-sama wasn’t pleased with my appearance”
“But he seemed pleased with your performance”
Disarming softness in Murakami’s voice, reserved for only one person in the whole world, could melt anyone’s heart. Even Ichijou’s as he moved over a bit, letting the man sit down beside him.
“Can I see it, please? I’ll be gentle with it, don’t worry. After all, I’m getting better at adjusting the pins - soon I’ll be able to help you out more. I’ll give it back right away”
As much as Ichijou didn’t want to let go of his present, Murakami was right - when it came to his belongings and himself this brute could be surprisingly careful.
Reluctantly, the golden watch was placed onto the large hand, and the brunette started inspecting it closer.
Not like it needed any inspection before the jig was up.
Murakami had noticed it before, of course - a long time ago. The fact that the only subject where Ichijou didn’t get all 100s was English language; the misspellings on greeting cards for the foreign regulars of the casino, sneakily corrected by the senior staff before being handed out; him being so fashionable and yet wearing shirts with absolutely unhinged slogans and expressions on it, like Ichijou’s favorite winter hoodie spelling out “Shcool of Lief” in broad cursive - whenever the two of them went out downtown, Murakami would make a point of having him button up the jacket, masking the embarrassment behind concern for Ichijou’s health.
After all, you can’t be a genius without being flawed in some deeply mundane way.
But still, what a mean joke this was… And he was almost certain it was an intentional prank. As a person who’d known Ichijou better than anyone in the whole world, Murakami had long caught on to the fact that their boss was teasing him relentlessly, knowing all of it went over Ichijou’s head - just like this little jab.
And Kurosaki must’ve known just as well that not a single person in his life would dare to point this out to Ichijou.
“Well, you’ve been staring at it long enough. What do you think?”
Slowly, Murakami turned to Ichijou - laying down on his side, head resting on his hand, smiling ever so dreamily and blushing slightly. It’s been a while since he’d seen him so happy.
Even if it was for the best, he could not bring himself to wipe away that smile.
“It’s… Nice. Is it a Rolex?”
Ichijou chuckled quietly, taking the watch back and dangling it in front of Murakami like a magician.
“So you can read that much, huh. Yes, a really expensive one I bet - since it’s all golden. Can you imagine the faces of that scum when they see it? Probably nobody in Tonegawa’s entourage has a watch half the worth of this one! Kurosaki-sama is too good to me… I will have to work even harder starting tomorrow”
It hurt so much.
Even behind the swaying motion, Murakami could still make out that the face of the watch clearly read “Lorex - Piececision”.
And knowing Ichijou as well as he did, he knew that soon enough, this will be shown to anybody willing to look - with easily foreseeable consequences. Didn’t they have enough of this back home in Okayama, being laughed at behind their backs?
Carefully and slowly, he leaned down, hugging surprised Ichijou by his shoulders and lightly tapping him on the back.
“Manager, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to be showing it to anyone willy-nilly. Just seeing the rim of the watch is all they’re worth, all of them. Alright? It’s a special present for your eyes only. Even I’m not worthy to be seeing it”
He could hear Ichijou snuffle against his chest, processing this reasoning - before a hug was returned with an awkward pat on the broad shoulder.
“...You’re right. I won’t even show it to the chairman. It’s mine, my own treasure. Just between me and Kurosaki-sama. And you”
“Dad, have you seen my watch?”
Kurosaki quickly put out his cigar, turning around to see his son peeking into the study from behind the door - as unfriendly as ever, clearly unhappy that there was anything he’d have to come to his father about.
“The watch… Ah, that”
As always, he’d come close to the boy and try to ruffle his hair - and as always, Mamoru had slapped his hand away, taking a step back and frowning. Still though, Kurosaki kept smiling, seemingly not noticing that it only added to the awkwardness of the situation.
“You won’t be needing that anymore, dear. Since you’ll be going to a proper private school, I got you a real one - Rolex Oyster Perpetual. I wanted it to wait until your birthday, but if you need one now…”
“Not “one now”, I need that one now. Wanted to show it to my buddies, it’s some hysterical stuff. Gosh, the way you don’t get these things - it’s like you never had friends of your own!”
Before Kurosaki could retort with anything, Mamoru’s feet stomped away - further into the mansion, leaving his father completely perplexed.
Despite understanding the chairman and Ichijou, Kurosaki had long forgotten just how much fun it was for a young boy to laugh at the obvious luxury knockoff with his buddies - and with that, the distance between him and his kin kept growing.
Despite his intelligence and a billion and some ideas on how to make money and get ahead in the world, Ichijou would remain in a tight grip of his dyslexia - up until his prized “Lorex” would be replaced with Teiai’s watch to track the underground denizens’ whereabouts on their one-day outings.
And despite all the higher management in the casino and eventually Tonegawa himself noticing the embarrassing truth, nobody had the heart of telling it like it is to the self-absorbed manager.