#kurcda

@kurcda

The initial shock wore of quicker than she had anticipated -- but this had to happen one way or another. These men -- no matter how much they were hiding their identities with masks and clothes, Yuuto recognised them: by smell, by the way they carried themselves, their voices... these were colleagues, maybe even friends of the person she thought was long gone and unable to harm her any longer. But little did she know that all of these street rats were still holding a grudge on Kuroda for killing off the bastard. She wasn’t sure if something like brotherhood or friendship really existed among Yakuza, but either way, she was aware that she was in a very, very bad situation. 

The metallic taste in the mouth, she wasn’t sure if it was blood from getting beaten up, or the tape that covered her plush lips so she was unable to scream for help, scanning down at her wrists that were roped around a chair, she felt just how much her pale skin was aching from the impact, she could feel bruises already, even though she was hardly struggling out of fear that she’d get another punch to the face. 

While she tried her best to not listen to these men, she couldn’t help but notice how they kept mentioning Yukinari, she squinted her eyes shut each time one of the men approached her too close, not wanting to see what they would do to her, she simply didn’t want to have them this close. It was ironic, wasn’t it? As much as she was terrified and scared each and every time the Russian was coming home late, she never considered the aspect that she herself may be in danger. And even now, she did not feel half as frightened as she would pacing around the apartment, waiting for Kuroda’s return. 

Once she felt hands roaming up her thighs, her initial reaction was to headbutt the person hard enough to feel dizzy herself; if anything, they were lucky that they taped her mouth, she wouldn’t hesitate to use her teeth and -- if needed -- bite their fingers off one by one. Perhaps it was the fact that she had been around someone who tended to be as much of a sadistic misanthrope as she had become thanks to her negative encounters, but as much as she wanted to cooperate and be less of a hassle than usual hostages, she would also not back down to show them that she had fight left inside of her, patiently waiting for the moments when to lash out on them.

“The fuck you think you are, bitch?” And with that statement, one of the guys defended the other by slapping her hard enough so she’d hear a ringing in her ear, squinting while she shook her head to snap out of the state. As long as she remembered how she coped with her abusive ex, she wouldn’t falter and break down crying, that’s for sure.

This really confused him. There he was, standing in the door, trying to defend himself against that white-haired guy (whom he had seen before with the previous collector), who either seemed to be pulling his leg or had been sent here out of a miscommunication.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, b-but I had paid my rent to Imaizumi-san three days ago! I really don’t understand this…” 

Sugimoto was too terrified to even comprehend the point the other was making about getting cookie points from the taller male; truth be told, he hardly saw it himself. Surely, the man would (hesitatingly) mutter ‘I’ll come back in a week.’ whenever he was short on money, but he also thought that it was a thing the Yakuza did in general for their tenants – giving them deadlines that were… quite literally deadlines. You’ll end up dead if you don’t make the cut in time. Perhaps Terufumi was just too naive to even see the ulterior intentions of Shunsuke whenever he shrugged off the man’s inability to pay the rent.

However, this was a shocker to him – to be terrorised by a stranger when he had done everything he was expected to do. What kind of kafka-esque situation was that?!

“Yuki-chan!!! I got it!!! The thing you said 2 hours ago about stupid people ---- did you actually mean me?!”

@kurcda

Meetings like these were boring to the younger male; his older brother always took them very seriously, for a good reason though: he was the pride of la famiglia, really. Their father would always have bigger and better plans for Hayato, always making sure that he was getting the good revenues, all the while Yuuto had to stick up for his brother and do whatever there was left to do. All of which resulted in him not taking this as seriously as he should ---- he was flaunting with his position in the Mafia, surely. And he was using it in order to woo women and men alike in order to wrap them around his fingers. While money ruled the world, there were two things closer to the man’s heart than that: cibo e amore. Food and love.

The redhead kept on giving him instructions in Italian, between the two of them, Yuuto was more so taking after his mother, look-wise and language-wise. The pitch-black hair, the talent in Japanese language, it was all thanks to her. Perhaps even his effeminate looks at times, though he would more so deem himself androgynous ---- appealing to both sexes and thus having a great opportunity with anyone and everyone alike. Therefore, he was responsible for the proper translations of whatever his brother meant to communicate to the Yakuza men. As he only listened half-heartedly, he scanned through the row, thinking to himself:

‘That one really looks shabby, Asian hair is so easy to take care of and yet he manages to get split ends? Ugh... now that one... cheekbones were sexy and all... but what’s with that gloomy expression? Was he even part of that group or just tagging along as an intimidation-factor? Skeleton man... haha... mhmm... the one with the lashes on his low-lid... he’d totally be fratello’s type... but he is way too loud for me... nope... and that one...’ 

Finally, he ended up staring at Yukinari, tending his head a little as he blinked with ruby hues, a smirk visible on the corner of his lip. 

‘...not bad... pretty eyes... he doesn’t talk much and acts a little mysterious...’ 

That’s when his train of thoughts was interrupted by his older brother who nudged his arm in order to grab his attention back where it was supposed to be; the man already stopped talking, and it was his turn to translate all of which he just said. The difficult part being that the young Shinkai was not paying all too much attention to the older male, giggling a little before he gestured with his hands. “Whew... okay... so what fratello said was...” Leaning in a little closer towards the Japanese men, he looked through the round. Of course, there was no way in hell he could translate the information he was just given, considering he had his head in the clouds and was sizing up the round of suit-and-tie Yakuzas for his own desires. “...that it’s crucial for me to have that man’s phone number, so we can exchange all the information needed in order to proceed with the danegeld measurements, after all, we need to make sure that we target the right people, the ones who are easily convinced and the ones who are... rabbit-hearted enough to not say ‘no’, haha...” 

It was as if he was still in and out of consciousness when he heard that familiar voice call out to him, asking him questions -- one stuck out the most though -- ‘Do you know who I am’ ... well, did he?! Yuuto wasn’t sure where he was or what time it was. All he knew was that he lost balance, almost as if he was passing out, remembering that he was falling on the ground and how much it hurt him -- how much it hurt his head -- but other than that, he really didn’t remember much. 

The face before him... that’s what he remembered though. “Y... Yuki...” The boy mumbled, wanting to sit up, but refraining from doing so when he was in pain even more so. 

It surely was a mistake to not eat all day and barely drink. He had gotten worried since he was not fitting into some of his favourite lolita dresses anymore and he knew that he was eating just as much as his older brother -- if not more. They were known for being big eaters, really. Not going with food, let alone snacks here and there, it wasn’t something his body could handle that easily. And it was stupid, beyond stupid -- and he knew that!!! -- yet, here he was, exhausted, shaking all over his body and unable to get up. 

@kurcda

“Whew... it’s full-house...” The black-haired Hornet Poison leader whistled as he entered the bar; usually, he would not go into such establishments by himself, knowing that things could get heated between gang members of rivalling positions and such, but this was a different scenario: he was given a lead on someone who might give him more insight on said gangs, such as the notorious Fighting Dogs or the feared Lone Wolves ---- as a rookie among ‘experts’ he would take any help to get him by, really. He was not one of the cocky types who’d slap a helping hand away and carry his nose up high, all mighty and prideful. Shinkai knew his strengths, and he knew his weaknesses also. There was no shame in admitting that he wasn’t perfect -- there was a lot of pride in taking a few steps back and being taught, or so he thought at least. Whether or not his ‘colleagues’ agreed on his morale, that was none of his business. He was the leader after all, their boss, and they’d know to respect him.

Moving through the crowd, he finally managed to arrive at the bar, taking a seat on the stool as he looked around for the informant. It’s got to be a gang guy, right?! Some shady looking person, probably someone as mean looking as Arakita-san himself... or perhaps someone as clueless as Kiba?! Huh... either way, he was not given any information about the person’s physical appearance -- for all he knew, this could’ve been a woman, right?! That was a wild thought, but nonetheless, it was a thought. 

kuroda noticed the man get physically uncomfortable with his presence – which he damn well should have. there was nothing that he was more than possessive of those who he cared about. && the fact that someone had the audacity to approach yuuto while he left for a few short minutes irritated him to no end. men really had no limits when it came to harassing his friend; the very one he’d had his eyes on for the longest time. it must have been glaringly obvious too, simply by the way he treated the boy. while he had done nothing to make their relationship something official, he had no problem wrapping his arm around him in public.

giving the man a look that promised hell, he was interrupted by yuuto suggesting that they should go home. luckily for him, kuroda was still sober enough to swallow his own rage in order to avoid a scene. every bit of his body screamed at him to punch that man right there for even thinking he had a CHANCE with yuu-chan, but he knew it would be grotesque of his to act in such a way in front of him. if anything, he’d pray for a chance for his revenge in a less public place. taking a long look at the stranger’s face, he made a note to remember it – just in case.

“ mhm, i guess we should get going, shouldn’t we? “ the look in his eyes still said that he was pissed, but his tone gave no indication of such. after all, he was annoyed with the man, not with his innocent && sweet yuuto. rather than letting him lead the way, he felt the need to show his dominance one last time as they left – he did so by taking ahold of the boy’s hand, leading the way himself to the exit. even holding the door open for him as they exited; if the man hadn’t gotten the hint before, kuroda made sure to leave a strong impression.

Averting his gaze between Kuroda and the stranger, Yuuto eventually looked at the stranger and offered a smile, a rather cold and calculated one, though seemingly sweet. Of course, he was not trying to be nice to that guy ---- he was actually repulsed by the drunkard, but also, he wanted to give that person faux comfort by offering some kindness. Surely, he knew that Yukinari was ready to punch him, if not slit his throat. As much as the black-haired boy meant to add his two cents to this, the mere fact that the gang member wrapped his arm around him in such a territorial manner even though he did anything and everything in order to keep their liaison hidden away, it was a shocker. Moving his hand onto the other’s arm as it was placed over him protectively, Yuuto gave the man’s hand a small squeeze -- just for good measurement that they would leave instead of getting into trouble with the police.

Once the silver-haired male agreed, a small sigh emitted from the younger’s mouth, being helped down from his bar stool and gladly letting the other lead the way, though stopping in his tracks as they still remained in front of the trouble-maker. “Just for the record: if someone says ‘no’, it usually means ‘no’ unless they have some kind of consent kink where ‘no’ means ‘yes’. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t share that kind of thing and I am not willing to get to know you better to actually enact on these things. So, if you want to hit on a girl or a boy or whatever, and they decline, be a man and stop. Have a good evening.” Only then, he allowed Yuki to actually lead him out of the bar, even going out of his way to open the door like a well-mannered gentleman for him, it caused the lolita-dressed guy to flush all over his cheeks as he giggled sweetly, knowing that this was just part of intimidating that stranger, but nonetheless it was enough to woo the effeminate boy.

Interlacing their fingers as they were outside, Yuuto exhaled as he looked at the other’s still angered expression (no matter how hard he tried to actually hide these things, he was way too attentive to miss that firey spark in the other’s dark hues, reaching up with his free hand to caress his cheek tenderly. “There, there, Yuki-chan... you should know that I’m not getting involved with others. No need to be so angry.” As much as it made him feel happiness throughout his body, he also felt a painful pang in his chest; why was Kuroda so territorial and possessive of him if he did not bother to actually ask him to be his boyfriend? For all he knew, they were just... lovers... not a couple. And more so, for all he knew, Yukinari still had the freedom to see whoever he’d want to see as long as he was not tied down to Yuuto. Surely, that hurt... more than anything else, actually! Gulping hard, he attempted to keep on a sweet smile despite the trist change of mood inside of him, exhaling through the cold night air and watching his breath form a white cloud before pulling his hands into the pocket of his cutesy jacket, not wanting to have anyone of the Lone Wolves accidentally see how they were holding hands in front of a bar ---- he respected the man’s wishes and decisions, looking down onto the ground as he chuckled in order to make the silence less awkward.