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Kevin Day was never going to get used to being alone at night practices. It wasn't particularly often, but whenever Neil and Andrew took the night off for some alone time, Kevin found himself a little jumpy alone in the darkened, silent court. He was still getting used to existing without a partner by his side 24/7. He knows their time alone is rare, but he'd give them the dorm if they just asked. He didn't mind hanging out with Matt and the cousins for awhile. He missed them. It was a little silly, since they still included him in their lives so often. Andrew's protective instinct was strong as ever, and Neil's hero worship had morphed into such unwavering belief in him that between the two of them Kevin was slowly starting to piece himself back together.
He huffs a petulant little sigh as he finishes changing, stopping right before pulling his shirt on as he catches a look at himself in the mirror. The Foxes were all used to the criss-crossing silver scars across his back. Most of them had stopped even noticing them, now that none were fresh and angry like they had been when Kevin first joined the Foxes. Even Andrew didn't comment on them, not even now with all the new context he had gotten over the last year. But maybe that's just Andrew. He never gave any indication that there was anything wrong with anyone. Kevin imagines that must be more comforting to Neil than it was to him.
Neil would notice, if he didn't change away from the rest of the team. Neil would know the jagged tears of Tetsuji's cane, the precise gashes of Riko's skilled knife work, the clean patches of removed skin from Riko experimenting like Kevin was a frog in a lab. Maybe that's all he had been to him. A thousand other cuts and scrapes from all kinds of punishments and practices and cruelties for cruelty's sake. None where anyone could see if he didn't let them. Neil would know. And Kevin hated that.
He flinches away from the mirror, pulling his shirt the rest of the way down with a sharp tug. He shoulders his bag, twirling his racquet anxiously as he headed for the door. He's typing up a quick text to Aaron and Nicky, hoping one of them is awake to drive him back to Fox Tower so he didn't have to walk, but stops the second he's outside. He's familiar with the car by now, but it never scares him any less. It's only been a couple visits, but he knows the drill. He makes his way numbly to the sleek black car, no armed bodyguard to open the door now that he knows he's expected to get in. He slides into the bench seat, one of two positioned to face each other.
Opposite of him was Ichirou Moriyama. He was just as sleek and sharply dressed as ever, a light stone gray suit with delicate silver embroidery, a deep plum tie, raven dark hair slicked perfectly neat to the side, and a simple but elegant dark wood cane. Whether it was practical or for show, Kevin didn't know, but he tried not to look at it. Tetsuji's hadn't been for a limp, but it hadn't been an accessory either.
Kevin only ever saw Riko for a few moments when he came face to face with Ichirou. They had the same eyes, the same knowing smirk. But Ichirou's features were more delicate, his jaw sharper and more slanted, his skin fairer. He was handsome in a refined way that was the complete opposite of Riko's more rugged good looks. Kevin supposed he must look like his mother, since Riko looked so much like Kengo, in a frankly mean twist of irony. Not that Kevin knew what their mother looked like. He wondered if Ichirou knew her name. Riko certainly hadn't.
"Not even a hello, Day?" Ichirou broke the silence. His voice was softer than Riko's too. Riko was always wild rage, but Ichirou had so much control it almost scared Kevin more. Pure, panicked instinct took over, trapped in a meeting like he'd had with the master uncountable times, meetings that always ended in violence or worse, and his body made itself small before he could think about it. His hands folded themselves in his lap, his head bowed itself, his mouth spoke for him.
"Hello, Lord Moriyama. My apologies for my rudeness." Kevin's voice sounded thin even to him, like he was hearing it come from a tinny speaker and not his mouth. Ichirou huffed, a sound that was so unlike the way he presented himself that it made Kevin glance up, startled.
"None of that," Ichirou insisted with a wave of his hand. Kevin found himself sitting back up, shoulders relaxing just a bit. "A certain amount of respect is required, but I don't need groveling. I'm quite secure in my position, thank you, I don't need to imitate my uncle's idiotic bravado to prove it."
"I… I understand." He didn't. The master's- Tetsuji's rules had always been specific and absolute. Kevin had just always assumed that his family would have the same. Maybe they did. Maybe Ichirou didn't.
"Besides, we'll have these meetings quite often for awhile, all the formality is going to get boring very quickly. Don't you think, Kevin?" Kevin flinched at hearing his name from Ichirou's mouth, so unlike the sound of it from Riko's, but from a place of authority higher than his master, something wrong and too familiar and intimate from him. It made him fight a full body shudder. He pushed down all his pre-programmed responses, yes, Lord Moriyama. Of course, Lord Moriyama. As you say, Lord Moriyama.
"Sure," is what came out of his mouth instead. He slumped down in his seat just a bit as he tried to project casualness, a detachment from the response to authority that was screaming through his blood at the moment. It was very Andrew, and very on purpose. He was still figuring out who Kevin Day was, so he borrowed pieces of people to fill in some gaps from time to time.
And he was going to need those pieces. Ichirou had inherited the Raven problem after Riko died and the Nest fell apart, and unlike his father he decided that actually understanding what had been happening there, and thus understanding the fall out, would actually be useful. Kevin was the obvious choice for answering questions, seeing as Tetsuji was a non-option, and Jean would be uncooperative at best and unresponsive at worst. Kevin wasn't tougher than Jean, but he was a better trained dog.
"What are you looking for today, my Lord?" Kevin asked, trying to very quickly put a mocking spin on my lord as it slipped out without permission.
"Ichirou," he corrected.
"Ichirou," Kevin acquiesced slowly.
"Tonight, well," Ichirou thought for a second, and then he laughed. Just a chuckle, quick and light, but it was so human that Kevin couldn't help but watch the way his eyebrows turned up, how the curve of his smile was just as delicate as the rest of his features. It was an expression he'd never seen on a Moriyama before.
"Look at that," Ichirou continued, his face settling back into something akin to good-natured, but still carefully neutral. "I'm actually a little embarassed to admit to the legendary Kevin Day that I don't know a thing about exy."
"'Legendary' is a little generous," Kevin tried to protest.
"Is it?" Ichirou cut him off sharply. "Come now, Kevin. False modesty isn't a very good look for you." Kevin repressed a little bit of a smirk. Fair enough. He had no illusions about how good he was, had the proof of it etched into his left hand, but it was only polite to try and argue a little bit. Plus, he had been, perhaps, just a bit flustered at the praise.
"Sure," he said again. "So, you don't know anything about exy."
"At all."
"Your family owns a college and pro team, at least tell me you've been to a game."
"Never in my life." His smile was pleasant and practiced, and in complete contrast with Kevin's almost open mouthed look of shock and horror. He knew the only Moriyama the Ravens were important to was Tetsuji, but it was still a gut punch to hear. Tetsuji had done all of it to prove his worth. All the torment and pain was so Tetsuji could present the perfect product of his life's work to his brother. Everything Tetsuji had put Kevin through for the main branch, for Kengo, for Ichirou, and it had been for absolutely fucking nothing. Ichirou had never even seen an exy game.
"So you want the rules, then," Kevin pushed out, his voice cracking and dry like he hadn't had water in a week and like he was about to cry all at once.
"At minimum, yes," Ichirou continued. If he noticed Kevin's distress, he didn't show it. "I'm also interested in league and playoff structures, at the very least for the collegiate league. What's it called? The NCAA?"
"That's the one." Now he was being insulting on purpose, Kevin was sure of it. Ichirou shrugged.
"I was always more of a humanities man myself."
"So am I, and yet," Kevin lets the statement trail off with an exasperated gesture. Ichirou tilts his head, studying him. Kevin worries he's over stepped how 'casual' Ichirou is going for, but he hasn't been corrected yet. He sighs. "Fine. Can we at least find somewhere I can get something to eat while we talk? I just practiced for hours, I'm famished."
"Its almost two in the morning, where do you suggest we find food that late?" Ichirou asks like its a foregone conclusion there would be nothing available. Kevin lets himself smile this time, unabashedly impishly. Unfortunately for Ichirou, they were in South Carolina.
"You're gonna hate it."
Kevin, much to his own dismay, loved Waffle House. It was low quality and unhealthy and a safety hazard to even be near one half the time, but it was the only real junk food Kevin ever actually enjoyed. Maybe it was Pavlovian, from when Neil and Andrew clocked how neurotic Kevin's eating habits were. Every now and then they would stretch night practice a little longer than usual, knowing Kevin wouldn't put up any kind of fight, and then whine and whine about needing to eat and not wanting to cook. Kevin would end up wedged into a Waffle House booth, and, knowing that eating crap was better than not eating at all after a strenuous practice, breaking the dietary plan he'd been following since he was eight with terrible waffles. Eventually chocolate chip waffles. Which was a baffling development, since he still fought panic attacks when he didn't have nutritional information at any other restaurant, or even when the math just didn't work.
So, you could say they were on his side of the court, Kevin's usual order of chocolate chip waffles, hashbrowns (smothered, covered, chunked), and a couple of eggs spread around the table while he sketched out the basics of standard exy rules on a napkin. Ichirou was noticeably less comfortable, giving Kevin the upperhand. He caught Ichirou glancing over his shoulder from time to time at the rowdy group of drunks on the other side of the diner, noticeably uncomfortable without his bodyguards even though he was the one who told them to stay in the car.
Kevin was glad he at least convinced him to leave the tie and suit jacket in the car. If he's nervous about getting jumped, the less visibly expensive clothes he wore in the better. He did, at least, determine that Ichirou's cane was practical. The limp was almost inperceptible, but it was probably worse without that cane. Kevin didn't ask, it seemed too presumptuous, but he wondered whether it was genetic or from some kind of incident.
All Ichirou had ordered was a black coffee, glancing at Kevin's array in distaste. Even that didn't look like Riko somehow, when it had almost been Riko's resting expression. Even their mouths twisted the same. Kevin had just shrugged, and started with the basics. The longer he explained, the more he forgot that Ichirou was, well, Ichirou. Talking about exy in the first place made it easy for Kevin to lose track of all the stressors around him, and having Ichirou's undivided attention helped too. He was used to people tuning him out or cutting him off, but Ichirou was really listening, nodding and asking questions and folding up and tucking away little diagrams on napkins. The longer they went the more Ichirou relaxed too. His hair started falling into his face (it was longer than it looked), rolled up his sleeves (Kevin could swear he saw the edges of tattoos above his elbow), tugged open the top two buttons of his shirt (Kevin's eyes kept catching on his collarbone-)
And just as Kevin was finishing a detailed explanation on the difference between the major and pro leagues, Ichirou, so casually Kevin doesn't even know if he knows he's doing it, finds a fork and reaches over to take a bite of Kevin's hasbrowns. It's so… normal, that Kevin peters out midsentence. Ichirou Moriyama, first born son and head of an extremely powerful Yakuza family, and here he was listening to Kevin talk about exy at three in the morning and stealing shitty Waffle House hashbrowns.
He had felt so menacing the first couple of visits, but Kevin watched Ichirou notice Kevin staring, watched his eyebrows go up in a question and another piece of dark hair fall in front of darker eyes, fork still halfway in his mouth, and he looked like just another post-grad. Like he was staying up late to work on a dissertation or grabbing something to eat between bars. Not a cold-blooded killer. Certainly not one capable of fratricide. Kevin had never found it in him to resent Ichirou for that. He felt his gut heat up, his face starts to go red. The look on Ichirou's face was- no, there was simply no way Kevin could call something a Moriyama did cute.
"What?" Ichirou finally asked. Shit, how long had Kevin been staring? He let himself smile, cocky and teasing. If Ichirou wanted casual, he could do that. Ichirou blinks at him.
"Nothing. So much for being too good for peasant food, I guess." And then Ichirou Moriyama pouts. His eyebrows coming together and nose crunching in indignation, mouth twisting and bottom lip slightly stuck out. This had to be some kind of joke. He dragged his eyes up from Ichirou's mouth (why was he looking there in the first place?) when Ichirou started talking again.
"It's not my fault your stupid stickball game is so complicated I have no choice but to eat these terrible, cheesy, greasy hashbrowns or starve." He didn't say cheesy or greasy in a way that indicated those were bad things.
"Hey, that's my mom's stickball game, be nice," Kevin teased, pointing a fork at him accusatorially. Ichirou threw his hands up in surrender, smiling just a little. And it made Kevin laugh.
Kevin was doing a little bit better all the time, but laughs were still a hot commodity. They were so scarce, how was it that Ichirou Moriyama was able to coax one out of him, when half the Foxes still couldn't? God, there was something wrong with him. Especially if he took into account the simmering feeling in his gut when he caught the odd way Ichirou was looking at him. Which he very much did not want to do.
He felt his left hand twinge a little bit. Psychosomatic, Abby said. Probably something triggered by some trauma related discomfort. He found it happened most often when he broke the rules. He shook it out quickly before trying to redirect back to exy. Exy was safe.
"Is that it?" Ichirou asked before he could launch his plan, having watched the movement of Kevin's hand carefully. Kevin hesitated. For all that he was warming to Ichirou (when the fuck did that happen?), a Moriyama paying his hand that much attention sent goosebumps up his arm, and not the fun kind.
"Yes," Kevin answered quietly. Ichirou leans on his elbow, opening his hand.
"May I?"
Kevin blinked dumbly at him, waiting for him to explain. Because he couldn't be asking to- oh, God, he was. Kevin looked at Ichirou's outstretched hand, then down at his own, tucked out of sight on instinct when it wasn't in use, then up at Ichirou's face. He knew what a Moriyama looked like when they expected to be obeyed. On Riko, Tetsuji, even Kengo, the couple of times he met him. Ichirou wasn't wearing that look. He was asking. Kevin even thinks he'd take no for an answer. Who the fuck was this guy? He was so different from the Ichirou who greeted him in the car earlier, much less the one he'd met at Riko's funeral. He hoped this one was real. Maybe that's what made him say yes.
He silently reached his hand out, stopping half way between the two of them, scared to fully cross that line. Ichirou reached out, and Kevin expected his hand to get jerked around, treated like a part in a machine rather than a limb on a body like it had been in the Nest's infirmary. But Ichirou takes it gently, pulling it closer to examine it. Ichirou's hands are smaller than his, so he uses two hands to hold Kevin's steady, eyes tracing the silver scars from when it shattered. Kevin repressed a shiver when one of Ichirou's thumbs ghosted over one of the raised scars.
"Was my brother's handiwork always so sloppy?" Ichirou's voice was quiet but sharp when he asked, eyes resolutely fixed on Kevin's hand. His face was blank, but in the way that only someone well practiced in hiding their feelings can make it.
"Only when he was angry," Kevin supplied, voice just as soft as he tried to fight the panic and revulsion the recounting always brought with it. As he tried to fight the tremble at being handled so gently. "His knifework was always much more precise."
"You seem familiar with both."
"More than most."
Ichirou hummed in acknowledgement. He lowered Kevin's hand down to the table, rather than dropping it. Like he knew it was starting to ache.
"I didn't know." Ichirou admitted. There was no discernible emotion behind it, just a statement of fact. It would've stunned Kevin if he weren't already in a state of Ichirou-induced shock. "I was raised to consider the second branch as little as possible. Even if I did, I was raised not to care. And even if I wasn't, I wasn't allowed to interact with them." He huffed half a laugh. "That sounds petulant, doesn't it?"
"No," Kevin protested. "I'm the last person who's going to argue for disobeying a Moriyama." Ichirou studied his face, reading between the lines.
"He was a monster, wasn't he?" Ichirou sounded wistful. Maybe even sad.
"Which one?"
"Does it matter?"
Kevin's jaw clenched shut. Even after everything, he had a hard time admitting what Tetsuji and Riko were. That was his godfather. That was his brother. More than Ichirou had ever been Riko's. But every day away from them made it easier. Wymack was kind even if he wasn't gentle, Andrew and Neil were unrelenting in their mission to make him feel like a person again. That was his father. Those were his brothers.
"No," Kevin confirmed with finality. "No it doesn't." He ground his teeth together with the effort of it. It was silent for what felt like an eternity.
"You were explaining the major league," Ichirou interrupted his thoughts. Kevin came back to the present to see Ichirou watching him, head resting in his hand and watching Kevin with that pleasant neutrality from earlier. He was being offered an out, he realized, his body relaxing and insides going gooey against his will at the gesture.
"Yeah. Yeah, right."
They talk for another hour.
When Ichirou drops him off at Fox Tower, he follows Kevin out of the car. Kevin tries not to let any of the nervousness Ichirou invokes in him anytime he does something distinctly outside of Kevin's experience with Moriyama's show as he turns to face him. Ichirou reaches out a hand to shake. His left one, sneaky bastard. Kevin looks at Ichirou's hand, then back up at the man attached to it, an eyebrow raised so Ichirou knows Kevin knows what he's doing. Ichirou shrugs, and smiles with perfect faux innocence. Kevin finds himself fondly rolling his eyes and taking the handshake.
Ichirou turns Kevin's hand over as soon as it's in his, inspecting the scars one more time. Kevin wonders if he's doing it for the same reason Kevin stares at it sometimes. Its the last thing he has of Riko. For better or for worse.
"I look forward to our… informative partnership," Ichirou finally said, shaking his hand. That strange look was back on his face.
"Informative's certainly a word for it," Kevin teased. Their hands lingered for maybe a second too long before Kevin slipped quickly away, headed for the dorm.
Something made him look back over his shoulder when he reached the door, and there Ichirou was. Leaning against the car with his arms crossed. Watching Kevin go. When Kevin met his eye, he smiled slowly and raised a hand in a motionless wave. He was really unfairly pretty in the high moonlight. That slow burning feeling in Kevin erupted, turning his guts molten and restless. He felt his face turn bright red, and hurried to slide inside the dorm and into safety.
He found the nearest wall, pressing his back against it and trying to steady his breathing as the night played on repeat in his head. Ichirou's sleeves rolled up and stealing his food, the sound of his laugh and Kevin's name rolling off his tongue. What was wrong with him? He distantly hears Ichirou's car rumble away.
Partnership. As gutwrenching as ever. And just like Ichirou Moriyama, a concept ever-changing. All he could do was hope this one wouldn't ruin him again.