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Miwaku no Zakuro	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Kyo/Kaoru Views: 2861 -:- 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, X Japan, or KISAKI, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
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“Die… is a really terrible dancer,” Shinya observed with a smile.
“He’s not that bad,” Kyo protested, though it was lacking in both conviction and evidential support. “It’s just… it’s just because he’s dancing with Totchi. This is more Totchi’s thing; he makes everybody look bad.”
A few meters away, within an ever-shifting crowd of moving bodies, Toshiya and Die moved together. Their tall, lithe bodies writhed and twisted against one another to the beat of heavy electronic music, illuminated by strobes and flashing patterns of rainbow lights. They gained attention from throughout the room for their inherent beauty and the way they seemed to fit against one another almost flawlessly, but to those who watched for longer than the passing flare of a strobe light, it quickly became obvious that one of them was just this side of hopeless on a dance floor. Neither of them seemed to particularly mind Die’s lack of grace or skill in this regard though. And to be honest, Toshiya wasn’t really at the top of his game either; still somewhat stiff from his impalement a couple months back.
Really, both men just seemed to be reveling in eachother’s company, clearly too absorbed in one another to pay even the slightest attention to anyone else.
“I seem to remember you and Toshiya dancing together without any such difficulties,” Kaoru put in before taking a deep drink of his rum and coke, swallowing with a content sigh. “But Die’s also pretty drunk.”
“Exactly! And I danced for a living for years; it’s not a fair comparison,” Kyo insisted. “Besides, look how much fun they’re having. They’re happy, who cares if Die dances like-… oh, Jesus… like a… goddamn marionette on tangled strings… what is he doing?”
Shinya chuckled and shook his head, taking a delicate sip from his martini. Kaoru just rolled his eyes, smirking at his best friend’s antics and waving an arm at the waitress to try to order another drink. Kyo continued to watch the spectacle, empathy for Die’s ungainliness warring with thrill for his and Toshiya’s obvious happiness and the disjointed fascination that one experiences when witnessing a train wreck. He had seen Die spar once before; hand to hand free-style martial arts with some of the other security personnel, and then, the redhead had been the epitome of style, grace, and self-control. It boggled Kyo’s mind that that same man would be so hopeless at dancing.
“I’m glad to see Toshiya moving around so well again,” Shinya confessed. “I hated seeing him hobbling around like that… flinching every time he moved wrong…”
“Mm… Totchi’s always been stronger than he lets on,” Kaoru said fondly.
“He’s just happy the doctor is letting him drink again.” Kyo recognized the mild sentimentality in the older man’s voice as a herald of intoxication reaching excessive levels and turned away from the show. “…Ne, Master? I don’t think the waitress is coming… maybe I should get your drink for you?” ‘And some water…’ “I need to use the restroom anyways.”
Kaoru scowled at the waitress and looked down at his pet for a moment, contemplating. “…Alright. You know to get-”
“Over-proof rum and coke,” Kyo finished for him, sliding out of the booth. “Yes, Master, I know. Shinya, do you need anything?”
Shinya smiled. “No, thank you.”
Kaoru counted out a small wad of bills to hand to the blonde. “Here. Toshiya’s probably going to want another panty dropper when he gets back as well. Get yourself whatever you want.”
Kyo nodded and tucked the money safely into his pocket as he hurried off to the bathroom. Kaoru watched him go for a while, enjoying the gentle sway of the younger man’s ass in the tight leather pants he’d been poured into for the evening – not to mention the subtle lines of the ropes underneath – then turned his attention back to Toshiya and Die. He found them halfway between where they had been and the table, slowly making their way back. It was still a bit peculiar to see them so obviously together, so clearly and comfortably smitten with one another, but they were both happier than he could remember either of them ever being, so he couldn’t really be anything other than happy for them.
“No escort?” Shinya wondered mildly.
“For Kyo?” Kaoru shook his head, smirking faintly. “No, not today. I had him on the ropes last night so he’ll be glued to my side for the next day or so.”
“Ah, that’s what it is… I was wondering what got him so clingy. Actually, he’s been pretty sweet on you since Kyoto, now that I think about it.”
“He’s surprisingly easy to please.”
“Ugh!” Die grunted dramatically, flopping into the booth with an embarrassed grimace. “Dancing is hard. And I suck at it.”
Shinya’s lips quirked into a smile, but he said nothing.
Kaoru grinned wickedly. “You think? We hadn’t noticed…”
Toshiya shot his boss a dirty look, patting Die’s knee. “You do fine, sugar! There’s no one else I’d rather be dancing with.”
“Bullshit,” the redhead retorted immediately, but he couldn’t hold back the faintest blush and smile. “And go to hell, Niikura, you can’t do any better than I can.”
“That would be why I don’t try,” Kaoru affirmed sweetly.
Clearing his throat and taking a deep drink of his beer, Die looked around a bit, changing the subject. “Where’s the wee one?”
“Bathroom, and drinks. Fucking waitress wouldn’t-”
~BAM~
All four men jumped at the sudden sound, instantly on the alert. It wasn’t overloud, just audible over the rhythmic pulse of the club’s music, but it was distinct and familiar enough to catch their attention nonetheless.
~BAMBAM~
“Gunfire,” Die hissed, one hand already reaching for the pistol hidden at the small of his back, grasping but not drawing it.
He scanned each of his companions quickly for injuries and, finding none, expanded his search out to the rest of the club. The sound had been from within the building, but not anywhere close to them. For weeks following Kaoru’s return from Kyoto, there had been no further attempts on their lives, and they had almost allowed themselves to believe that whoever was behind the attacks had given up. Still, they hadn’t dropped their guard, so it was something of a surprise that none of them had spotted anyone drawing a weapon on them.
“Where?” Kaoru demanded.
Shinya pointed to where people were looking with mild interest and confusion. “There, by the bar.”
“The bathrooms!” Toshiya corrected, eyes wide. “Kyo-”
Kaoru was out of the booth before Toshiya could even finish what he was saying, Die hot on his heels. Toshiya and Shinya exchanged a look – knowing that such situations weren’t really their areas of expertise, but hating the idea of letting their brothers rush off into danger alone – before following suit. It was difficult; the rest of the club didn’t really recognize the sounds as anything other than curious interruptions to their music, and continued to stand around in a crowded crush. By the time they made it through the mob, Kaoru and Die were standing in the bathroom doorway, staring into the tiny room with confusion and, in Kaoru’s case, fury.
On the wall by the sink, fresh blood was splattered around a small hole in the plaster, about a meter and a half off the ground. The crimson stain spread from there, dripping its way across the floor to a narrow window on the far wall and smearing across the sill in grasping, wild handprints. Two more holes were punched in the plaster just under the frame. Kaoru crossed the room and snatched up a string of bloody beads from where they had snagged on the window’s latch. Kyo’s bracelet.
“Oh no,” Toshiya breathed, one hand over his mouth.
Shinya pulled out his phone to call their driver. They were going to need to be gone before the police showed up.
Die leaned out the window, searching the darkened streets outside anxiously, strain evident around his eyes. “Fuck… They’re gone, Kao.”
Kaoru closed his fist around the bracelet, eyes gone near-black with wrath.
~*~
Kyo ran blindly, as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. He had no idea where he was or where he was going, he didn’t know why he was being attacked, or who was attacking him, and he didn’t know what he was going to do to escape. All he knew through the dizzying blast of panic and pain swirling incoherently in his mind was that he’d just been shot, and that the man who had done it was hot on his heels. His right hand was clamped over his left arm as strove to stem the flow of blood. He had only some indeterminate instinct to thank for the urge to turn just before the shot had been fired, allowing the bullet to pass through his dragon’s chest rather than his own. Now, all he could do was duck around every corner he passed in the hopes that the man wouldn’t be able to line up a proper shot into his back.
‘Help!’
‘I need help!’
‘SOMEBODY HELP ME?!’
He was panting too hard to scream physically, but mentally he was a shrieking mess of hysterics. He heard the man chasing him shout something incomprehensible – anger evident in his voice – and forced himself to move faster, to run harder. Passing between buildings, jumping a low fence, squeezing past a dumpster; he changed direction as often as he could, keeping as many obstacles as possible between himself and his pursuer and desperately seeking another human being who might be able to help him. Wherever he was, it was devoid of life this time of night.
‘No, no, NO!’
‘I don’t want to die!’
‘I don’t want to die!’
Finally, ducking into a narrow alleyway, he ran into both a dead end and a miracle. There was a brick wall at the end of the passage, trapping him in the narrow space, but there were also three men in front of that wall, standing around something on the ground. Kyo stumbled to a halt, gasping for breath, and they all looked up as the man with the gun came to a stop at the mouth of the alley.
‘Thank the gods!’
“He-… help… ple-…” Kyo wheezed desperately, “Pol-… call the po-…”
“What the hell is this?” one of the men in the alley demanded. Under the gibbering wail of panic in his mind, Kyo thought he knew the voice. “You were supposed to kill the whore, not chase him halfway across the damn city!”
“Wh-… what?” Kyo breathed.
“What the fuck do you want me to do, Soejima? He ran!” The gunman protested in a heavy Eastern-European accent.
‘…So-… Soe-…’
Kyo’s heart froze, eyes slowly widening in recognition.
‘No… it can’t be him…’
‘There’s no way it’s him!’
‘Oh gods!’
“I don’t know why I bother hiring out for these jobs. All I get is hopelessly incompetent fools; honestly, how hard is it to kill one man? With Niikura’s lackeys it makes some sense; they’re professionals. But this one?” Takashi Soejima stepped away from the mound of flesh and cloth on the alley floor – a body, Kyo realized, and a massive one at that – and pulled out a gun, “Congratulations, you have failed to take out a single, untrained prostitute, and in the process proven yourself to be a complete waste of my time and money. Our business is concluded.”
“Wait-” the man who’d shot Kyo started, holding his hands up defensively.
Kyo stared, horrified, as Takashi shot the gunman three times in the chest, the dull ~thump-thump-thump~ of his silenced pistol echoing softly off the brick walls around them. Kyo turned to flee again, ignoring his body’s screaming protests, but made it only a few steps before another ~thump~ sounded and blinding pain exploded in his right leg, starting in his knee and spreading rapidly throughout his entire body. It was a deeper, more pervasive agony than anything he’d ever experienced and his mouth fell open in a scream too strained to make any sound. He hit the cement hard, immediately scrambling and erratically trying to drag himself away on his remaining arm and leg. He had to get away, had to get back to his master’s protection! Footsteps clicked softly on the ground behind him, drawing closer in spite of his frantic efforts.
“But I suppose I don’t mind doing a bit of dirty work myself, since we’ve got you out of your master’s sight.”
“No… no, no, no, gods, please no!”
Takashi caught up to him easily, pushing him onto his back with one foot and stepping on his chest to hold him there. His mind shut down, going into pure hysterical void as he stared in abject terror down the barrel of a gun for the third time in his life, this time with all-too intimate knowledge of what being shot actually felt like. Squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face away in the last vestige of escape he could make, Kyo braced himself for death, and in the process, missed the flicker of recognition passing through the man’s remaining eye.
“I don’t fucking believe it…” Takashi muttered, slowly lowering his gun and moving into a crouch next to the smaller man.
Kyo flinched and tried to pull away as a hand that smelled horribly of gunpowder grabbed his chin and jerked his face up roughly. His eyes came open again, but he had trouble focusing through the pain and exhaustion rapidly taking over him. He’d been shot – twice now – run nearly three kilometers at a dead sprint, and seen a man murdered right in front of him; he was so far past his limits anymore it was a wonder he was still conscious at all.
“Don’t, please don’t… please…” he whimpered shakily.
“…No way. He actually kept you this long?” Takashi seemed absolutely stunned. He hesitated a bit, thinking, then stood and addressed the other two men remaining in the alley. “Load him up with the Russian.”
One of the men looked unsure. “Eh, Boss… will Mr. Tanaka be okay with that?”
Takashi sneered. “He’s waited this long, another week or so won’t hurt him. All we agreed on was killing Niikura’s pet; no one ever said I couldn’t play with him first. Besides, Shige is not my keeper. Load him into the damn van.”
The man shrugged and, with the help of his companion, loaded the giant body they had been standing over into a van parked near the mouth of the alley. “The Russian” outweighed both of them – possibly combined – and it took a lot of grunting and swearing before they had him secured. Kyo struggled weakly as one of them came back to drag him into the vehicle as well, tossing him carelessly on top of the still figure of the massive man. Just before the door slammed shut, Kyo saw the body of the man that had chased him from the club being hauled into a nearby dumpster.
Takashi and one of the other men slid into the front of the van, the other settling on a box in the back, and the vehicle jerked roughly into motion. As Kyo’s vision began to grey out around the edges, he closed his eyes and shot off a prayer before oblivion could claim him.
‘Master… please…’
‘Help me…’
~*~
[Who am I now? Not who I used to be, that much is certain. Tooru Nishimura – student, son of Ruri and Shirou Nishimura, older brother of Ayame Nishimura – died a long time ago, I’ve known that much for years. But I suspect that Kyo Nishimura has died as well. I don’t know when, for certain… I think it has been a gradual death; a poisoning. But he is gone, and I am all that’s left here. So who am I? Well… that question was answered for me the moment His fangs sank into my soul, wasn’t it?
I am His. His property. Whatever He wants me to be, whenever He wants me to be it, to do with whatever He may please. His prize, His consort, His courtesan, His pet, His plaything. My life is defined solely by what I am to Him. All of these things, He told me in the very beginning, and they have become my value; the inescapable truth of my existence.
To a certain extent, though, I feel that He is mine as well. He is my master, my keeper, my spider, my god, my devil. What He is to me, He is to no one else. What I can do for Him, only I can do, and there’s a strange sort of pride to knowing that a man such as Him can need someone like me and no one else. I find that I am almost… addicted to this fate I have perceived for myself – the destiny He’s spun for me. I don’t love Kaoru, but nor do I hate Him. I do adore Him, and at times, I remember to abhor Him, but even that comes less and less frequently. In that regard, I suppose He is like life itself.
I’m not blind. I can see the madness that lies in the pages preceding this one for what it is. I know that this journal has been a eulogy for who I once was, and I know that though Kisaki put that person into this spider’s web, in the end, it was Kaoru who killed him. But I wonder… can the butterfly mourn the caterpillar’s death once the metamorphosis is complete? Can I resent the change He’s instigated in me, with my wings spreading into flight for the first time?
Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m broken. But somehow I know that this travesty of love between us… this poison in my veins, in my soul… this is my destiny, isn’t it? Late at night, when we’re sleeping together… I know that there is something pure in that bed, underneath all the corruption. And I mourn for my master in those moments, because I know that He’s been tarnished for so long that He doesn’t believe there’s anything good left in Himself. I think that Kaoru is my purpose, and maybe… even if He isn’t my salvation… maybe I am, in some small way, part of His.]
Kaoru stared blankly at the last page in the familiar, slightly-battered black notebook, the entry dated just a couple days ago. He’d almost forgotten he needed to buy his pet a new one. After tonight, it seemed it may no longer be necessary. It was not the first time he’d read his pet’s journal; maybe once a month or so, curiosity would overtake him and he would flip through the book at his leisure. Kyo knew, of course – Kaoru had made absolutely no effort to hide his actions – and had voiced no protests. They both knew that he could keep no secrets from his master.
And certainly, what had been scribbled in those pages could very easily be called madness; macabre poems and doodles, images of dreams and nightmares, bouncing wildly between desolation and ecstasy in a roller coaster of pure emotional outlet. Kaoru found the mess to be a valuable insight into his pet’s labyrinth mind. Once, months back, he had read through a description of a nightmare the blonde had had where Kyo dreamt he’d been sold into a brothel, Kaoru’s original threats of the consequences of his misbehavior echoing in his mind. Apparently, he had woken with his hands clamped over his mouth to muffle a scream as his dream-self was held down and raped, scant handfuls of coins the price for his defilement. For days following, he’d been unusually skittish, hiding in his room more often than not, speaking hardly more than a couple words at a time.
Upon reading that entry, Kaoru had taken Kyo back into his shibari room and tied him more intricately than he ever had before, or since, and had stayed with him there for hours. No words were spoken beyond the usual stories and murmured assurances, but an understanding was formed from the act. Kaoru may not keep Kyo forever – may not have any feelings stronger than fondness for him – but fondness was more than most people got, and Kaoru would not suffer anyone else to harm his precious pet, even once he was done with him. After being let down from the web, Kyo had been as spun sugar; beautiful, delicate, and impossibly sweet as he clung to his master for a solid week. He had suffered no such nightmares since.
Now, reading this final entry, Kaoru found himself seething. He knew he shouldn’t be so riled up over the loss of a simple companion, but he didn’t give a damn about propriety at this point – he was pissed. Kyo had been his special project; tarnished enough to be a gloriously sexual creature, while pure enough to be shaped to Kaoru’s personal wants and needs. Fragile enough to be bent and molded to his will, but strong enough to remain ultimately unbroken through the process; intelligent and honest and improbably compassionate in ways that no courtesan had ever been, lending him a unique aptitude for tending to even his master’s unvoiced needs. An unexpected treasure pulled from a refuse heap, and Kaoru had coveted his prize fiercely. Kyo was his pet, goddamn it! Everything strange and beautiful and complicated and brilliant within the blonde belonged to him, and someone had stolen the boy away, possibly even killed him.
Kaoru had no idea why anyone would pay for a hit on his companion. Strictly speaking, as a courtesan, Kyo should have been considered a non-combatant; he had no real significance to the organization as a whole as far as anyone else was concerned. Which meant that the assault on him was an assault on Kaoru himself, not on the family. Someone had intentionally damaged his personal property – stolen it – and it was a deliberate slap in the face, too brazen to be ignored or forgiven. Kaoru had been robbed, and as he finally brought himself to retire for the evening as dawn’s light began to grey the sky, he swore that whoever was responsible would regret this day with their final breath.
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Miwaku no Zakuro