The Loss Of One To Gain Another

Makoto slid open the door to the room that served as his office and also doubled as his sleeping quarters. It was located on the first level of the establishment, which he found puzzling but didn’t bother to question it. Easy access out if anything should happen, he figured. He slammed the door shut loudly, which he hadn’t entirely meant to do, but every time he thought about what had happened he couldn’t help the anger that he felt.

He crossed the distance of the room and sunk into his chair, folding his hands under his chin, eyes falling to the window on the opposite side of the room. Evening had settled with a show of orange and red, though he secretly wished for it to rain. For it was a torrent of rain that had led him where he needed to be months ago to find…

A chill shot up his spine from between his legs, dragging him from his thoughts, and with a grudging sigh only a well known acquaintance of his would ever notice or hear, he relaxed his body. If even just a little.

Two months. It had already been two full months since he last saw him - the boy he’d found on that misty day. He reached across the table for the bottle of sake that he never kept too far; for fear that he would be lost without it.

He was in no way a drunkard, but was it even possible to find a drunkard who would not say the exact same thing?

He poured himself a small serving and sent it tumbling down his throat, relishing in the trail that it burned all the way down. He exhaled noisily and found his eyes drawn to the bed in which the boy had lain, his own, and remembered nights when his own lay in the same spot and felt his skin tingle with that knowledge. All the while shaking his head at the unbelievable audacity that Chou possessed.

Crafty son-of-a-bitch that one. From the very moment the true nature of their little organization had left his lips, the boy had fled with energy he could only assume he’d kept in reserve for times like that when men proposed the idea of him selling himself to other men.

Chou’s self-satisfied smirk was enough to make him do unthinkable things, or at least, entertain the ideas of them in his head. The risk of trying to carry them out would be too great.

It was exactly the kind of reaction the bastard had been hoping for, a cross between disgust and shock that sent the poor boy fleeing.

What would the bastard have done if he had accepted? He allowed the thought a wry smile. They both knew he wouldn’t though. Part of Makoto was glad that he’d had the sense enough to leave, that he wasn’t so desperate enough to make a rushed and may be regretted decision. But another part of him had wished that he’d accepted, if only to see more of him.

Chou knew, even Makoto himself knew by the looks of him, that he wasn’t some mere street rat. The look in his eyes had spoke volumes; His refusal for help even though he was dying of hunger. He hadn’t even eaten the food or accepted the tea, which most would devour without regard or second thought. He had obviously been hungry but he refused it!

It struck Makoto then- or to be honest, even before then – that there was something different about him. He would not be so easily conquered by the likes of them. The burning intensity in those prominent blue eyes all but made him shudder. Even in the disheveled state his meager lifestyle had left him in, he could see a faint radiance beneath.

Makoto wasn’t by any means a romantic man. He didn’t believe in any of that shit about love and the sort, or so he liked to believe. Look at the business he was in for shit’s sake. He didn’t have the time, the energy, nor the strength for it. And who could blame him?

So how would he describe his past decisions? The decisions that had led him to this point in his life? If not for the promise of something close enough to be called love, then what? And what would he call the feeling that flooded him when he saw the desolate looking figure, curled in on himself, glowing in the rain?

Realizing that he was being too lax in his sake consumption he tipped the bottle to his head, taking three big mouthfuls. A sharp pain made the liquid almost come rushing back out but he swallowed it quickly and squeezed his thighs ever so subtly, satisfied even when it prompted another jolt.

Leaning back into the comfort of his chair – for his own comfort entirely- he let his hand dangle, the sake bottle nearly grazing the ground while the other was thrown over his eyes. When he did indeed look down, it wasn’t hungry brown eyes that he saw, the ones he’d become to loathe, but that of molten sapphire, fierce and yet soft. His breath quickened almost to a pant with a soft, almost indiscernible moan. He would not allow anything else.

He could still see him in his mind’s eye, those exquisite eyes, that pale skin, how perfect he would be. How perfect it would be. Heat pooled at the base of his stomach and he shuddered, when he imagined drowning in a sea of sapphire.

When his body had came back down, with little more than a pant that might have suggested he was walking briskly, the sapphire became soiled and muddied and turned back to their shade of brown, and his agitated scowl returned. Another sip of sake for good measure as twilight had already crept in and work hour drew nearer.

“Well, mustn’t keep the guests waiting.” Licking his lips, Chou crawled out from under the table, dabbing at his mouth and the smudged if barely there lipstick with one of those damn sneers that he was so famous for. Makoto watched him saunter out with disinterest, and for, yet another good measure, took an extra gulp of the soothing drink.


~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~



During the wee hours of the morning, when Makoto and the others were resting, Chou considered this to be the perfect time to slip out un-noticed. It was shit hard to do anything sneaky in that place, what with inquisitive eyes always about, but he’d be dammed if he let that stop him. It was still misty out, the sun barely beginning its assent. Perfect.

He retraced the steps that he knew Makoto took on his usual ‘walks’.

The man often claimed that they were ‘soothing’ and that the shop ‘held a stench that had nothing to do with it being dirty, one he couldn’t stand at times’- his exact words.

Chou knew better, Makoto might think that he was fooling everyone but in reality he was only fooling himself. He walked around to submerge himself in nostalgia, which was likely to become another addiction- if it already hadn’t. Much like his feverently denied ‘alcohol addiction’. A few sips my ass. A few bottles is more like it. But Chou didn’t care what he was addicted to but his hero complex could prove problematic.

He was genuinely surprised when the usually indifferent Makoto actually dragged in another one. That wasn’t half as surprising as seeing him tend to him personally. Makoto always picked up something on one of his walks- which was probably half the reason why he went ‘walking’ in the first place – but he’d drop the person off to let the others handle it in favor of his favorite bottle and a view of his personal backyard garden.

All things aside, the boy had had a certain look to him. To be blunt, he had a face that could drag in customers, once he received the proper training. Makoto had the business sense of a doped pig. Chou, on the other hand, couldn’t let this one slip, and this one was indeed slippery.

Two months of searching had yielded nothing. They boy didn’t go back to where he was found, he kept moving around. This was why he hated dealing with sensible people. And so sensible he was that Chou knew it would take more than a feeble plight to secure him. So he did some digging and found some very interesting facts.

He had only notified one other person of his outing this morning and said person was currently trailing behind him looking worse-for-wear and kept making sniffing noises and heavy sighs. When he could no longer take it, Chou turned around sharply.

“Shut up, Hayato!”

“Sorrry,” he whined, “I had a rough night, I haven’t had a chance to ressst. Why tha fuck do we need to out so damn early anyway?”

Chou ground his teeth. Two things he hated dealing with, sensible people, and annoying people, and Hayato definitely fit the bill of the latter. Of all the people that it could have been, why him?

Hayato was one of the first workers there at the shop, and the last remaining one from the original set. He was, in a sense, the face of Ecstasy, the only problem was that he knew it and used it as an excuse to be annoying, demanding and downright vain.

Chou folded his arms and with all the patience he could muster- which sadly wasn’t much considering the hour in the morning- and tried to soothe him as much as he could.

“My apologies, Hayato. I also wish that this was avoidable but unfortunately, I need your help.”

Hayato’s only response was a wide, open mouthed yawn directly in front of Chou’s face. Barely restraining the urge to kill him viciously, Chou calmly tucked a lock of navy hair behind his ear.

“You can have the night off. If you succeed that is.”

A smile slowly made its way across Hayato’s thin face as he asked, “Are you sure you’re in a position to be making managerial decisions like that?”

“Look who learned a new word. What’s certain, is that you’re in no position to be questioning me,” Chou said, making sure to emphasize the underlying threat. The smile slipped of Hayato’s sleepy face at this, though he didn’t look the least bit intimidated.

He stared at him for a while, and Chou thought that he would attack him – or at least try to- and moved his hand into his sleeve just in case. But when Hayato moved, it wasn’t to attack him but to smother him in a tight hug.

“What the-” Chou tried to pry him away, not liking the scent that was wafting off him. He should have let him wash away the night at least but he didn’t have time.

“Chou-saannnn.”

“Get the hell off of me you imbecile!”

“Aww, Chou- san is such a bad sport,” he cooed into Chou’s hair, being at least a foot taller. Frustrated by now, Chou brought his knee up and caught him right in the crotch, sneering when he blinked back tears and doubled over in pain.

“Fuck. These are sought after items here. Be gentle!”

Chou only flicked his head carelessly and straightened out the wrinkles in his clothing. “If you want to keep them intact keep your stinking hands off me. Now remember what I told you to do. Keep an eye out for his weapon and by no means let him escape. This is important. It’d be nice if he came without us having to haul him.”

Hayato straightened, his brows knitted together as he listened intently.

Chou nodded, giving him the assent to get it done. “Is there something wrong?” he asked after several seconds and Hayato nor his serious expression moved.

“Well… ”he started.

“Well what?” Chou snapped impatiently.

“Nothing. It’s just that…”

Chou’s eyebrows disappeared up into his hair. Was he going to refuse or question his motives? He’d be surprised since Hayato never once disobeyed him but he was being vague. The less he knew about it the better. Hayato didn’t possess a brain suitable for the art of something as delicate as thinking.

“I just can’t help myself from hugging you!” Hayato blurted out and jumped.

He was not so surprised to find himself locked into another killer hug but he didn’t waste time in sending the idiot on his way this time with multiple kicks.

Chou hid himself out of sight, and kept track of the scene about to unfold. If all went well.

The boy had chosen a rather scant part of town, or maybe that was where he finally fell, unable to move. He was sitting, head bent, probably passed out from dehydration. Chou hoped not, but it would still be beneficial. They could drag him. If it were up to him, he would incapacitate him and then force him to work.

Nothing personal, just business.

But he remembered someone who he couldn’t bear to force him to work. They had negotiated and come to an understanding, but he wasn’t in the mood for bargaining.

He watched as Hayato approached the boy with a predatory look on his face, slipping into what he referred to as ‘his work face’, wiping away his silly expression. If there was anything he could be praised for, it would be his separation of work from play at the time that it was necessary.

He nudged his slumped form with his foot, and Chou suspected from that moment that maybe he had made a mistake.



~o~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O`o`~O~O~O~O~O~




Hayato looked down smugly on the form of the dirty- looking thing he was sent to get. He hated jobs like these. Enormous wastes of his talents, but Chou was Chou and so he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have a problem with it, but he wondered why the need for this particular one seemed so crucial. He’d seen better. Like whenever he looked in a mirror for instance.

Business was already good. Why the fuck did they need this little prick. He prodded him again but harsher when he didn’t respond. He felt the urge to turn around and shout ‘Chou I think he might be dead!’ but two things stopped him. The first was the sharp projectiles that would no doubt be launched at his head with deadly intent, and the second was the fact that Chou was keeping himself out of sight, which meant that he didn’t want his presence to be known.

He sighed loudly and with an evil smile, raised his foot to kick him in the skull for ignoring him. Just as it was about to make contact, the boy raised his hand to stop it and looked up at him from under the curtain of hair covering his face.

The action caught him off guard but he was quick to recover himself and wrenched his foot free. The boy’s hand fell limply at his side. He didn’t even have the strength to hold it up so Hayato chalked that little stunt up to reflexes.

“Good, you’re awake. Let’s get down to business, shall we.” He squatted in front of him, not missing how he narrowed his eyes, already suspicious, but his body was entirely limp. If he could feel pity in his already frozen blood he would have thought about letting a little slip through at seeing this sight. But that emotion was in very, very, short supply.

“My boss wants you to work for us, and before you ask the completely retarded question, yes, I do mean at Ecstasy.”

The boy made a face which could have been disgust, fury, desperate fear or a combination of all three. Hayato found either idea amusing.

“I…already stated that … I didn’t want any part of that.” His voice was soft and raspy, barely choked out.

“Oh? You stated? I thought you had run away with your tail between your ass.” He chuckled. “Come on, it’s not so bad, and once you get used to it,” he paused to smile lewdly, “you’ll enjoy it.”

“You’re a disgrace.”

“Maybe…” Hayato replied laughing, but then stopped suddenly. “But I really need you to come with me. Is your answer still gonna be no?” he asked seriously.

A hate filled glare was sent his way, which he translated into his language as ‘No fucking way’.

Sighing loudly, he stood up, crossing his arms. “You’re gonna come with me whether you like it or not, Kuchiki Byakuya.”

To his credit, the boy didn’t move an inch and there was no indication that he’d even acknowledged the statement. His expression remained the same, save for the slight widening of his eyes, but nothing more. Hayato was eyeing him carefully now, and continued. “But you couldn’t be Kuchiki Byakuya right? Because as far as I’ve heard, that family ain’t worth shit now and they’re all dead.”

Chou would probably scold him, but he decided to do things his own way.

“Well, what have you got to say, Kuchiki bitch.” He grabbed a fistful of hair forced his head up. He was getting sick of his emotionless face.

“I do n-not know of whom y-you speak.”

Hayato scoffed. “Man, you can still talk that fancy shit even though you’re like this? And you call me a disgrace. Then how would you describe yourself. A fallen noble who still clings to his over-rated ways.”

Hayato spat in his face and pushed his head away roughly. “What is your answer?!”

Out of his peripheral vision Hayato spotted his fingers moving along the dirt and the sword lying not far away. Keep an eye out for his weapon, Chou’s words rang in his head, and he hastily stepped on the fingers though he doubted the poor Kuchiki could do anything in his state. He was barely keeping his eyes open.

Why the hell couldn’t they just drag him off? Why all this crap? But Chou’s orders very clear.

“What’s your point?”

“I will never…” he started, but was cut off when the foot ground his fingers into the dirt. He winced but made no sound. And suddenly, Hayato wanted to make the bastard scream. Hmpf.

“You will. Because I think that you are indeed the rich brat with the worthless family, and I know you wouldn’t like it too much if shinigami came poking around. They don’t know you’re here do they? I bet if I put a bounty on your lovely little head that’d catch the attention of many. Bounty hunters, people who need money, want it, or just like it. And that would surely pique the interest of certain shinigami bastards.”

Hayato took him by surprise, delivering a swift kick to the ribs that sent him flying a few feet. Before he had time to recover Hayato was there, kicking him wildly, any part of his body that he could reach. “You are nothing. You have nothing. No food, no family, no one to return to. No home, no one that cares about you. No hope. You’re as good as shit here my friend. Realise it!” More blows were delivered, and when he shielded his head with his bleeding hands, Hayato just stomped on them, but just to be humane, he purposely avoided his face. Business purposes of course. He could relate to that.

“Well rich boy, fight me! Prove me wrong!” he yelled, magenta hair that was always frighteningly in place flying all over, his calm blue eyes wide and manic, raging like a fierce ocean. Something clicked in his head, he was getting carried away. He stopped mid-kick and smoothed back his hair with some normality.

He hoisted his battered body up, which was shockingly easy to do, by the front of his bloody yukata, and pinned him to the wall. He was about ready to end this, and plus he could feel Chou’s disapproving glare melting away his skin.

“Work for the boss and you’d have food, shelter and hell, we could even throw in a commission. You’ve got nothing to lose. Stay here, die, come with us, live. Of course those aren’t your options. It’s more like come with us or die really. You realize I’m not asking, but I will for the sake of it all. What is your answer?”

Byakuya refused to make eye contact. Blood was trailing down his face, clumping his hair together, and bruises marred his skin. Even with all the bruises and dirty hair hair covering his face, Hayato could still see the forming of water in his eyes and a nod so barely visible that he almost missed it. He smirked. It would be as close to ‘ok, I will’ as he was going get and he accepted it with a sense of misplaced pride. He had made him give in. He had moved an un-movable boulder.

He released him and let him slide down, unable to stand on his own. He held him by the elbow and dragged him, when his weak knees couldn’t keep up with the walking. Not bad for a morning’s work.
The sun’s rays were only now reaching them though it had nothing to do with the heat currently burning a hole in his back.



~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*




It was dark. Cold and dark. The feet of passing people. Ignoring him like the dirt itself. He was invisible to them. To everyone. But he wanted to be, and still didn’t want to be. He wanted to be left alone, but not completely.

He wanted to be seen.

And then he was, so suddenly.

She was the first woman to hold out a hand to him, and shower him with the kindness in her hazel eyes. He gladly took her hand and walked. But always in her shadow.

Forever.

Full moon. Fireflies. Paper lanterns strung up, casting warm hazy light.

On the small bridge over the pond a tall figure. Beautiful lilac and pink kimono, sliding over smooth skin, joined quickly by his lips, pressing kisses down the slender neck and collar bone. Tentative hands kneaded the skin on his hip, sending the heat rushing down adding fuel to the fire already there. Their eyes met. And then… there was…

Sunlight.

Bright and blinding and definitely not the dimness of night.

Makoto opened his eyes and sat up feebly, resting his elbow on his knee.

Dreams could be so strange sometimes. He shook his head but t he reaction it caused on his body still lingered, he noticed, when he looked down. He swallowed thickly and then heard, “Ahem” from the corner of his room.

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Only one person could enter his room at will.

“I hope that has something to do with me,” he gestured with his chin, smiling wickedly.

Makoto closed the nemaki to cover himself appropriately. “Why are you here?”

Chou, still smiling, with a quirked eyebrow, allowed the question to linger for a minute or so before saying, “Something was brought, for you, Ma-chan.”

Makoto was puzzled really, something wasn’t right; Chou looked more smug than normal.

“Something like what?”

Chou sighed. “Something like that,” he drawled. Another head gesture directed Makoto’s attention to his office desk and the kneeling bundle in front of it.

“What the-” he spluttered, eyes impossibly wide and inched back a little more onto his futon.

Being so close to the object of his thoughts and dreams so suddenly took his breath away but when his eyes finally came to terms with what they were seeing, his jaw dropped open.

Chou remained quiet. He knew Makoto was livid. He’d told that idiot Hayato to convince him not beat him half to death. Incompetent and brute as always. His pride wouldn’t allow him to feel guilty even though Makoto was currently searing off his face with a nasty glare, so he kept his expression bland.

“What happened to him?” Makoto was clearly restraining himself, tucking away his anger so his voice was only slightly nipped.

“Hayato,” Chou called, and the precisely placed Hayato entered. “Please take him to another room and see that he is cleaned up.”

Hayato nodded and helped him to his feet, escorting him out. Makoto caught the way he deliberately squeezed a bruise on his arm as he was leading him out.

No sooner than they were outside and the door was slid shut, Makoto bounded on Chou, fisting the front of his robes and looking murderous.

“What happened to him?”

Chou didn’t know how to respond to this. He’d never seen Makoto this way before and he’d never handled him this way. “I-I found him like that, Ma-ch-”

“Do not lie to me! Why did you bring him here?!” he demanded.

Chou had seen Makoto cross before. He had witness him deal with those who ill- treated the charges – something Makoto did not tolerate under any circumstances- but he never thought that he’d be on the receiving end of one of his brutal outbursts.

“I thought you’d be happy.”

“Fuck you! Do not lie to me, Chou!” His hand tightened, one the verge of doing something he may well regret but not caring.

“Watch your mouth, Ma-chan,” Chou warned, and looked pointedly at his hands gripping him. Makoto pushed him away and curled his fingers. He paced up and down, his index finger on his temple. Chou smoothed out the front of his red and black kimono where Makoto had ruffled it. The taller man stopped pacing and faced him, a harsh scowl disrupting his attractive features. Emerald eyes hardened, lips in a tight frown.

“Dammit Chou! Don’t do things without my permission. I am the one in charge here!”

Chou wrapped his fingers around a kettle on the table next to him and poured himself some tea. “Indeed. To the inquisitive ears and curious eyes, you are the one in charge here.”

He locked eyes with him, challenging him, and was satisfied when he wavered and swallowed. “You shouldn’t have,” he said softly, shoulders slumped.

Chou took a sip of his tea and closed his eyes. “Such is life, my dear Ma-chan. You know as well as I do the harshness of life. I’d like to think I did the poor thing a favor considering-”

SLAM!

The door slammed shut, cutting him off mid sentence. Makoto was gone.




*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^




Hands balled into fists and utterly furious, Makoto stomped his way down the narrow hallway.

If he’d known today would have been like this he would’ve just stayed in bed. And after such a nice dream too.

Why did things have to turn out like this?

He peeked in room after room on the second floor. Everyone was either asleep or resting; there was hardly any noise, which made it strange that Chou’s bitch Hayato was awake- not being an early riser. But maybe Makoto was trying to give his mind something to focus on instead of his anger, because the answer was obvious.

A door was slightly ajar and he took a quick glance inside. That was where he found him, sitting in the middle of the room with his back to the door. There was a pail of hot water but no one else was inside. He could just imagine Hayato’s face when he dropped him in here and with a wicked smile suggested he fend for himself.

Makoto bit on his lower lip and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. So close… he was so close to him again…

Makoto moved around to see his face. Shit. What have they done to him? Luckily, his face hadn’t sustained much damage, but his poor thing.

Makoto exhaled and with a trembling hand touched his shoulder to slide his clothes off. He hesitated just a little, expecting some form of resistance. There was none. Slowly he slid the material from his shoulders and then lifted him to let it slide off and pool at his feet.

Turning his head and trying not to appear flustered, he lowered him into the water slowly, watching his face change and soften with relief.

Taking a cloth, he wiped gingerly at his face, feeling his stomach wrench painfully when the young boy winced. How much pain is he in?

Makoto could only imagine and he really didn’t want to. He traced a finger down his face and let his gaze fall to his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that would not look at him and blazed with defiance, even now.




TBC