Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moon stood high in the newly darkened Miami sky. The recent decade brought about a bustling city skyline, lit up by neon lights from its buildings. The stars you used to be able to see so clearly from there were muddied by the growing light pollution from new developments. What used to be there was mostly swamplands near the ocean, a spot for retirees to wind down from the hustle of their accomplished American dreams. All that prosperity, from the hotels, to the ever-climbing high-rises, didn’t come about from very ethical means. The air was muggy, like it always was, but in the sketchier parts of town, it felt somehow muggier. Driving through the city at unholy hours with the windows down brought ease to two men of the night, belonging to warring cartels both alike in dignity, in the freedom land of the seventies.

A new model of a long, shiny white limousine rolled up at a brick building in the red-light district. The car’s crisp edges and new paint job were highlighted by the flashing neon lights that stood on a sign by the sidewalk of the establishment. Though not way too over the top flashy, it wasn’t hard to see that something was going on there. A line formed outside the building, two burly men clad in all black and sunglasses despite it being night blocked the door. Booming techno music could be heard, well outside. It was a club with fair popularity, though at first glance, you wouldn’t expect the owner was as loaded as he was.

A young, tall, handsome man stepped out of the very back of the limo. His hair was brown and long, and greased back into place. If he left it alone, it would probably have been flowy, but he wasn’t on some hippie crap. He meant business. The man headed straight to the front doors, to the piercing stares of the patrons he bypassed who waited on in the queue.

He gave one look at the two bouncers, and they quickly let him in.

The one on the left greeted the man as he was let in. “Welcome back, Tooru.”

The sleek man brushed him off. “That’s ‘sir’ to you.”

The large man shrunk a little. “Sorry.”

The sleek man smirked as he strutted in. He wore an all mint suit, from quality silk and velvet. It was cleanly pressed, and brand-new. Each and every one of the club’s attendees stopped to either greet or stare at the man as he walked by to the back of the building. He could have definitely passed off as a pretty boy if he perhaps led a different life, but something about his demeanour made him look simply devious. His eyes could pierce the hearts of anyone he so desired. His smile, ravished the purest with filthy thoughts, a smile that could be worn by the Devil himself. Truly, he fit in, the air of pure sex he brought in matched the sketchy air of all the patrons grinding on each other and partaking in various illicit activities in the dark. Maybe the smell in the air wasn’t sex. It was probably drugs. The crowd of people were high as a kite.

With his swagger, he could definitely have been mistaken for a big-name actor, or model. He certainly was able to turn all the heads for it. But he wasn’t. He was far from it. His name was Oikawa Tooru, young head of Miami’s biggest drug smuggling ring. Despite being only a few years into his adulthood, he amassed a great fortune. From estates, to fancy cars, to boats alike his lavish lifestyle was an evident marker that he was young money. His lifestyle was flashy, and lavish, far from the business he took a part in to collect his riches. Smuggling, distribution, managing all kinds of unholy services and payments, his group did it all. Evidently, though he was the owner of the club he walked in, the money wasn’t made from the disco parties.

Nonetheless, there was one commodity that made Oikawa the filthy rich mogul he was more than anything else on that list. It was cocaine; a true money maker. The great, beautiful, free America simply couldn’t get enough of the stuff. Shipped in from South and Central America, smuggled in various ways by hustling, hard-working Americans, there was a lot of it coming in. Oikawa dropped out of high school to hop aboard the cocaine train, and took advantage of his residence in one of the central trade destinations for the illicit drug trade, Miami.

He walked with immense confidence into his back office. His head was held high, despite the smoke and smell of alcohol that clung heavily in the air. He’d gotten used to it. He opened the door to his office, surprisingly cramped for a man with his kind of money. It was small, but Oikawa was always close to the center of his operations this way. Plus, if anyone ever raided them, the humble office would confuse them. On paper, he was a simple club owner.

Two young men awaited Oikawa in the office. The first man, two years younger than him sat behind his desk, fumbling around with the various papers and pens. His hair was jet black, and long, draping over his face. It made him somewhat scruffy looking, but accentuated his baby face, and simple clothes. He looked pretty out of place.

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Kageyama, get out of my chair.”

Kageyama returned the paper and pens to their original spots while getting up. “Sorry, sir.”

The other man, who was about the same age as Oikawa, seemed less aloof, and more sophisticated. His hair was pale, and though shorter than the other two men, was still floppy. He stood noticeable shorter in stature than the other two men, and leaned against the desk. He shifted, and started, “Sir, I have some news.”

He barely waited for the okay from his boss to continue. “You know, the rival company that’s been up and coming on our territory? They’ve just stolen one of our warehouses, the Jones Convenience.”

Oikawa paced around. He grumbled, “They come out of no where, and think they can steal our thunder? Suga, why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” He shook his head at the light-haired man.

“Sorry. Everyone’s been busy lately.” Sugawara rubbed his forearm. By busy, most of the people in the operation had been busy partying, among other things, but he didn’t feel the need to mention that. Only he and Kageyama had been actually working lately. “But this happened yesterday. I happened to catch wind that one of the top guys of their operation hangs out at one of the motels nearby. The Flamingo. Heard he’s the guy that orchestrated the territory steal yesterday.”

Oikawa perked up. “Sounds like a scary dude.”

Sugawara frowned at Kageyama, who was picking at the wallpaper in the background, but quickly hopped back onto topic. “I know their operation is pretty secretive, but I heard this guy in question is the real deal. Heard he’s pretty good in a fight, and got some muscle on him.”

Oikawa scowled. “They’re so secretive, they don’t even have a name for their little gang. Who even works for them? That bastard, Ushiwaka. I’ll kick his little underling’s ass. He thinks his little circle can push us outta town. We gotta crush them.”

The boss sat at the armchair, and the two subordinates circled around him. Oikawa decided it would be best to secretly ask for a meeting between himself and the mystery man from the other side at the aforementioned motel.

The quiet Kageyama mumbled, “Sir, why you? You’re the boss. Why would you go at the front lines and meet this guy?”

Oikawa stared icily. “This guy supposedly stole my territory. He’s gotta get paid a visit by yours truly. I’m the scariest and strongest out of all of you anyway. I’ve been bored lately anyway.”

Sugawara slid his boss a slip of paper. “I heard he goes by this nickname.”

Oikawa unfolded the paper. He snorted. It read, “Tiger.” He put the slip in his pants pocket. “What, is this guy from an old folks’ home?”

Sugawara patted Oikawa on the shoulder. “He’s a serious guy from what I heard, okay? Head to room fourteen and knock four times tomorrow night. I’ll get the word out.”

Oikawa nodded, and sent Kageyama for some liquor. His rival’s nickname resonated a childish snicker from the young man. He sat easy in his armchair as his two workers shuffled out the room to carry out his bidding. He smiled.

“I won’t go easy on you, Tiger.”

Oikawa awoke at the desk he sat at the previous night. His face felt numb from lying on the table. His back and arms were sore from being hunched over the whole night. His breath tasted of stale alcohol. According to the expensive watch on his wrist that he squinted his eyes at, it was half past noon.

A note lay opposite to him, neatly folded at the front of his desk. In neat handwriting he recognized as Sugawara’s, it read: “The meet up is a go. Get there at 10.”

He eyed the three-quarters-empty bottle of liquor on his desk and took a swig. His throat burned. He walked out the door to the now empty club. There were no windows to the outside and the regular fluorescent lights showed an uglier, mundane side to the normally sexy atmosphere. During the day workers usually cleaned the grime that settled over the club after the parties died out, but left the mind longing for the past night’s disco lights.

The hall, however, was empty except for one young man. Kageyama swept the floor that was addled with various garbage and leftover glasses. Oikawa pulled Kageyama over to the back where a lone pool table lay. He suggested they play a round so he could take a break.

Oikawa leaned over the table and took the first shot as Kageyama watched. “Ah, new guy. What’s up? They have you on cleaning duty?”

Kageyama walked over to the other side of the table and took his first shot. “The regular cleaners you hire didn’t show up. No one else was around, so…”

His boss seemed somehow proud. “I like you, what was it, Tobio?” Kageyama nodded. “You’re a hard worker.”

Kageyama watched his boss sink the balls one by one. He secretly wished his boss would offer some help in cleaning up, but knew better. He was too high up for menial work like cleaning up his own nightclub. Kageyama called the second highest up, Sugawara to pick his boss up as Oikawa took the final winning shot.

The game ended and Oikawa patted his subordinate on the head before walking outside. “You’ll go far with that work ethic, kid.”

It took a second for Oikawa’s eyes to adjust to the natural sunlight. The sun was sweltering and he missed the air conditioning in the empty club. It was normally as sweaty as this inside the club when it was packed with people, but Oikawa was never keen of the burning Florida sun anyway. He waited a few minutes before Sugawara pulled up in an off-white Cadillac.

He hopped in and eyed the multiple grocery bags in the back. Oikawa asked to be brought to a bar that was also controlled by the cartel he ran. Suga, his old friend from the same high school he went to dropped out a few weeks after he did. When Oikawa was starting out on his trade, Suga was stuck with a kid to take care of. He’d originally took care of the accounting on the side while working as a cashier to make ends meet, but went all in to the drug trade when it proved the better source of income. He didn’t want to be dependent on anyone money-wise.

Sugawara broke the silence at a stop light. “Sorry for the wait, I had to go to the groceries first. I saw that they had bananas on sale on the way.”

Oikawa looked at the bags in the back and shook off the wonderment that those bags were probably full of just bananas. How did he pick up that many in such little time? He looked back at the front, to the two hands his friend and business partner had clenched on the steering wheel. “That’s fine. Don’t worry about it. A man’s gotta eat. Who’s watching over the kid?”

Sugawara sighed as he accelerated again at the newly green light. “You know, my little cousin, the bright haired one. He’s almost done high school now.”

Oikawa racked his brain as to who the little cousin in question was. “The loud one?”

Suga reaffirmed him. “Yeah, Shouyou.”

“Huh.” Oikawa barely remembered who he was even talking about. “Do you even pay him?”

“He likes playing with the little one anyway. It’s like a reward to him just to hang out with the kid all the time.” Sugawara sounds satisfied with his reasoning. “That’s better than payment.”

“Please pay your cousin.” Oikawa was hardly surprised that his right-hand-man didn’t properly compensate his little cousin for babysitting duties. That’s why he was so good at getting the best possible profits for their business. “You’re loaded anyway.”

His second in command seemed disheveled. Sugawara felt the need to mention that he was the reason they’d gotten their new, hard-working assistant, Kageyama. Oikawa shot back, saying the only reason Suga had found Kageyama was through his little cousin, who he happened to refuse to pay. It was all the more reason to pay him, Oikawa reasoned. The two sat in petty silence as Oikawa was dropped off.

The bright day turned to muggy night, and Oikawa stepped outside of the last of the collection of shady bars he frequented that day. He was greeted by a different off-white Cadillac than earlier while being dropped off to the first bar of the day. Seemed like Sugawara didn’t feel like driving him around after that. In the driver’s seat sat Kageyama, the fresh meat of the operation.

As his boss entered and sat, the young errand boy couldn’t help but wonder why Oikawa, a man of his stature and glamour insisted on patronizing such dingy joints on the regular. Rather than making appearances at the beach, or high-end establishments that only the elite could dare to grace, Kageyama couldn’t wrap his head around why Oikawa stuck around these dumps.

Despite his boss’ ownership of mansions, boats, and other luxurious articles, Oikawa never seemed to actually hang around in the end results of his riches. The extent of his lavish life seemed to be the Cadillac and limo rides he took, and he’d never even seen him drive a luxury car by himself.

Kageyama followed the directions that Sugawara gave him to the motel, not before taking a few wrong turns.

Oikawa looked hard at the faded brass numbers on the green painted door on the exterior of the motel. Just outside the city, there weren’t any tall buildings near by. His feet felt a little shaky on the questionable metal flooring that made up the second floor he stood upon. The window that led into the room was curtained off. He eyed the consecutive one and four on the door as his fist wavered in front of it. He knocked four times.