Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

The Prophet	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Kyo/Kaoru Views: 1201 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
February 4^th - 11:00 am
Kyo wasn’t sure he would make it though this session alive. He was strapped to a vertical rack, tiny wires attached to his skin all over his torso. For every bitter, blatant lie he told, a mild shock had been administered through one of the wires, chosen at random by Hideki. The large man was currently sitting at the table bolted to the floor in the center of the room, cigarette burning down in a ceramic ashtray while he packed down an almost comically large lunch. Kyo supposed it might have been funnier if his stomach wasn’t churning painfully with hunger, if want for smoke was making his head swim and his body tremble, if he weren’t still periodically twitching from the shocks he’d been receiving all morning.
Hideki, glancing up from a magazine, caught his stare and smirked. Holding out a piece of grilled, marinated beef held delicately between chopsticks, he tilted his head innocently. “Hungry?”
Kyo’s stomach wrenched with want and he had to stifle a groan. “Nah, thanks. I only eat scorpions and baby intestines. Chocolate-covered ants on special occasions.”
“Ah.” His captor ate the beef and instead held out the cigarette. “Smoke, then?”
A reckless grin hid the smaller blonde’s desperation. “Interferes with my photosynthetic processes.”
The man took a long, cruel drag off the stick and exhaled slowly in Kyo’s direction, just enough for a tiny wisp to reach his nose. He stalwartly refused to gasp it in, meeting Hideki’s gaze with his one good eye, burnt gold gone slightly wild but still defiant. Hideki put the cigarette out in a half-finished bowl of soup and stood, collecting the remote that controlled the wires.
“Let’s begin again. We’ll try shock level 2 now. Where does Shinya Terachi live?”
February 4^th - 7:00 pm
Upon returning to his cell, Kyo had greedily sucked down his nightly ration of water, as well as the one from the night before. He regretted it now; he was still desperately thirsty. At this rate, whether he died of starvation or dehydration was a bit of a tossup, but either way it would be a miserably slow death. He paced the tiny room restlessly. Insomnia and anxiety chewed at him despite the exhaustion seeping deep to the bone. He recognized it as another symptom of nicotine withdrawal.
“Fuck…” He growled, whirling around to kick his hard cot. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”
The door to his cell rattled loudly as someone pounded on it from outside. “Quiet down in there!”
One of his escorts – ‘Masanori’ if Kyo had heard right – was in a foul mood tonight. On the way back from interrogation, Kyo had managed to slip an arm free and bury an elbow in the large man’s side, getting in one shallow kick to his ribs as well before his other escort (Agio? Akio?) had wrestled him down to the floor. Evidently one or both of them also stood guard shifts outside his cell when he wasn’t being questioned. He sighed and sat, arms crossed, one leg bouncing nervously on the ball of its foot.
“I’m going to die here,” he whispered, finally acknowledging his inevitable fate aloud. Shaking his head, he lifted his eyes to the ceiling in supplication. “…I just hope it happens before they break me.”
February 5^th - 12:00 pm
“Shinya, I’m sorry, but Tooru is simply not a suitable second for you. We can find work for him elsewhere,” the older man said dismissively, most of his attention focused on a thick stack of paper.
Shinya crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. At ten years he was only a spindly shadow of the man he would become, though his notorious stubborn streak was well into its development. “What do you mean he’s not suitable?”
Kyo, twelve years old, sat in the plush chair set in front of Kunio Terachi’s desk, looking put out. He had told his friend much the same, but the boy had insisted. Slipping on his wire-frame glasses, he straightened just enough to peek around Shinya’s thin back at the papers on the desk. Personnel roster, but one of the pictures looked oddly familiar…
“He’s too emotional, son. He’s too sentimental to be willing to die for the cause, and you can’t trust someone so volatile with a gun. Hell, he’d probably shoot you himself if you two ever had a real argument. And he’s too small to be much use at close range.”
“Then I’ll find someone else to be my bodyguard, but I want Kyo at my side when I take over for you. You asked who I chose for my second, and he is my choice!”
“Mr. Terachi?” Kyo spoke up, voice soft in an attempt to hide the cracking it had been doing lately. His eyes were sharp, however.
“Yes, Tooru?” The older man sighed, expecting the beginning of a screaming tantrum. His adopted son was notoriously, loudly obstinate once he had his mind set on something.
“This man,” one small hand reached out to brush over a grayscale photograph of one of Kunio’s newer drivers, “I think he works for the Niikura family. I’ve seen him at the Bloody Lotus bothering the waitresses and talking about how he has it in with the owner. The bartenders sneak him little pieces of paper sometimes.”
“…Is that so…?”
A wide hand crashing against the side of his face brought Kyo swimming out of his delusion. He blinked, both eyes open today but neither focusing properly. He was on the same rack today as yesterday, but now he was shirtless and his arms were bound over his head. Hideki was wielding a sharp leather whip, and his sensitive sides and belly were burning with deep red welts, several bleeding sluggishly. Kyo wasn’t sure when he’d blacked out, or whether it was from pain or hunger.
“Oh good, you’re back with me. Thought I’d lost you there for a minute!” Hideki’s voice was sickeningly happy, a grin splitting his narrow face. His interrogator was in a good mood today.
“Mmph… msnr…” Kyo mumbled, lips moving but little sound coming out. His throat was raw from screaming.
Hideki’s grin dropped, suddenly very curious. “What did you say?”
“Nnf… pass…. mng…”
The large man leaned in, “The password?”
Kyo nodded, head bobbing weakly on his neck.
“What is the password?”
“Ffff…. unnn…”
Hideki leaned in closer, straining to catch the faint whisper. “What?”
“Fffiss… msssier…”
Kyo felt peroxide blonde hair wisp over his face as the man came in to stand right in front of him. A weak grin passed his lips and he jerked forward, sharp teeth clamping on Hideki’s left ear with all his remaining strength.
“AAGGGH! SON OF A BITCH!” Large fists beat into the prisoner’s torso once, twice, before the man fell away from him, clutching his bloody ear. His face was a twisted mess of shock, pain, and rage.
Kyo spit out the piece of flesh he’d managed to tear off, smirking tiredly.
“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Hideki roared, bloody hands shooting out to clamp around Kyo’s neck with crushing strength.
“NG!” the blonde thrashed against the rack holding him up, arms straining against their bonds.
The door crashed open, his escorts and two other identically-suited men rushing in to pull Hideki off of him. The interrogator was livid – eyes wild, teeth bared – and didn’t release him right away. By the time they got him to loosen his grip, Kyo’s face had gone deep red and his eyes were rolled back into his skull. He was released from the rack and went crashing to the ground, gasping thinly for air.
“LET ME GO, I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM!”
“Come on, Hideki, come on. Let’s get to the doctor.” Masanori was keeping the man back with a strong hand against his chest. “We can get it sewn back together if we go now, come on.”
Akio pressed the chunk of flesh into Masanori’s palm as he and another guard coaxed Hideki out of the room. He then went over and knelt next to Kyo, shaking his shoulder lightly. “Hey, you going to live?”
Kyo wheezed, eyes squeezed shut, and pushed at his escort’s giant hand weakly. It proved ineffective when, moments later, the powerful man hefted him up over one broad shoulder and carried him out of the room. The small blonde was disoriented and being swung around like a sack would probably have made him puke if there was anything left in his stomach. The elevator trip down to his cell was a blurry, swirling haze. When he was deposited on his plastic cot, he pressed into it shakily, trying to stabilize himself. His undershirt was tossed over his torso lightly, and then he was alone.
‘Damn,’ he thought miserably, ‘I almost…’
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Prophet