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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
- 38
- 39
- 40
Kaoru stared at Kyo, his features kept forcibly neutral, lips pressed into a thin line as his teeth sank into his tongue to keep it still, but his sharp eyes were blazing. He felt for his pet, truly he did. The blonde had just spent several days being tortured – punishment for nothing so much as ill-fortune and the regrettable circumstances of simply standing at Kaoru’s side – and come out of it only to find that he would suffer the consequences of those days for the rest of his life. It would take a heart far colder than his own not to feel at least some small pang of sympathy for the younger man.
But Kaoru had a short temper on the best of days, and he had a lot to be frustrated with at the moment. Soejima, for causing this damage, seemingly irreparable even after his death; Kyo, for his rebellion and accusations, wrapped in veracity and pain though they were; himself, for failing to protect his pet, when the boy so thoroughly depended on him; this whole situation, for being so completely out of his control. Worst of all, the one person capable of settling him from this fit into a more rational state was at the center of it, and the knowledge that he was helpless to find peace on his own only served to incite him further. Ire seethed under his skin, chewing away at his sympathy until all he had left was aggravation without hope for reprieve, and all he knew to do was harden himself against the pressure.
And while Kaoru’s expression held a barely-restrained pyre, Kyo’s had gone near-dead with cold acquiescence; unable to reconcile so many conflicting emotions in himself. Between the pain, the lingering trauma from his time with Soejima, and the revelation that he was permanently broken, he couldn’t know what to feel anymore. He was angry, at everyone and everything that contributed to his suffering in any way. Despondency chewed at him, helplessness and hopelessness and loss weighing so heavily on him that it was difficult to breathe. He was terrified of his own chaotic defiance against his master, his stomach quivering nervously under Kaoru’s stare, but still he craved comfort and reassurance from the man even as resentment for all he had been forced to sacrifice burned through his veins. Too much; it was all too much, hitting him all too fast, and he couldn’t seem to find anything to grasp onto to stabilize himself as misery swallowed him, consumed him, with the merciless inevitability of a tar pit.
The others could only stand and watch on, afraid to move, speak, or even breathe audibly for fear of cracking the painful silence. The fragile glass house they’d built for themselves had fallen under siege, and all they could do was stare on in apprehension as cracks spread all around them, threatening to shatter any second – and Kyo and Kaoru were both holding stones. It was a conflict that begged for resolution, but neither party seemed calm or stable enough to back down, and it seemed inevitable that the next word spoken would result in bloodshed. After a long moment of this silence, just before the tension could burst under the strain, it was Medved who broke the stand-off.
“Come now! This was supposed to be happy day of triumph and victory, now we are all upset. Here, I will fix this, and we will all feel well again,” he announced confidently, moving to stand between master and pet.
Everyone looked startled, heads swiveling to regard the near-forgotten stranger. The unspoken question as to why the man was still there in the first place was buried under apprehension for what he might have in mind for this tense moment. But at least Kyo’s desolation and Kaoru temper flagged a bit, momentarily stymied by confusion, and it became a touch easier to breathe.
“Have trust in me, I am good at this… how do you say… ‘conflict managing.’ Here, first, Petuh, you must stand over here.” Medved put his hands on Die’s shoulders and guided him to stand next to Kaoru while the others watched on uncertainly. “Now, this is very important; you must be sure that when you wake up, you remember that I apologized to you, okay?”
Die frowned at him, baffled. “What are you talking ab-”
“I am sorry.”
Before anyone could react – or even figure out what was happening – Die was flying across the room to crash into the wall, leaving a shallow dent and sliding down to the floor limp as a ragdoll. Toshiya cried out in alarm, rushing to his lover’s side and dropping to his knees next to him, followed closely by the doctor. Shinya and Kyo stared on in shock; looking back and forth anxiously between Die and the Russian. Kaoru would very likely have moved against Medved in defense of his friend, had he not found himself trapped against the side wall by a massive hand around his throat and a gun – Die’s, stolen from its holster – cocked and pressed tight against his head.
“Son of a bitch,” Kaoru hissed, snarling.
“What… what are you doing?!” Kyo breathed, horrified.
“Petuh is fine. We are in hospital; is the best place to be punched in the head. Olen! You are very experienced with your knives, yes?” Medved asked, never breaking his gaze on Kaoru’s furious eyes.
“Yes,” Shinya replied warily, one hand already resting on the hilt of a blade.
“Ah, good! Then I do not need to tell you, that there are very few places you can hit me with one which will stop me before I can kill your boss.”
Shinya glared defiantly, and he kept his grip on the weapon, but he knew the man was right.
“What the fuck is this about?” Kaoru seethed, voice thick from the firm constriction on his throat.
“Soroka,” the Russian called, pressing down on his captive’s throat a little harder to keep him silent and ignoring his demand for the moment, “When we were in the prison, you told me of your life in this place, and I asked you if you wished death on your ‘master.’ Do you remember this?”
Kaoru’s eyes narrowed to obsidian slits of fury, fighting to maintain his composure under slight oxygen deprivation and a thoroughly maddening sense of helplessness. Toshiya let out an anxious little sound, and Shinya grit his teeth and growled lowly in impotent frustration.
“Wha-… I-… y-yes?” Kyo stammered, withering entirely from his fit. The gun, his master’s anger, the sight of Die sprawled unconscious on the floor; fear and disbelief flooded his already-taxed psyche into a panicked sort of shut-down. “S-Sort of?”
“You told me that you did not,” Medved reminded him, “That he did not deserve death for what he has done to you, because he treated you kindly and kept you only for need, not cruely. But you are crippled now, and you know that he is to blame, so I will ask; do you still believe this?”
Kyo’s mouth fell open to reply, eyes impossibly wide, but he couldn’t seem to voice an answer. Part of him – fueled by his lingering resentment and anger – was screaming ‘NO,’ demanding reprisal for so much pain, suffering, and violation when it was so easily at hand. Another part of him cringed away from the feel of Toshiya and Shinya’s fearful gazes weighing on him, knowing what Kaoru meant to them and what his loss would do. So many conflicting memories tore at him; a gun against his head, gentle hands bandaging his wounds, the shame of exchanging sex for reprieve from starvation, thin lips smiling fondly before pressing a kiss into his hair, the unbearable constraint of a bark collar, the full and absolute reliance of shibari. The horrible, mind-shattering emptiness of Time Out, and sakura petals dancing in sunlit Kyoto skies. What Kaoru had done to him – the world the man had dragged him into – was wrong and he knew that, but that wasn’t the question. The question was whether or not what Kyo saw as selfishness and a staggering inability to have normal relationships meant the man deserved to have his brains blown out across the wall.
“Little brother…” Toshiya whispered helplessly, terrified. “Little brother, please…”
Abruptly, Kyo remembered the man that had shot him in the arm and chased him from the club, into Soejima’s grasp. He remembered the look on his face as Soejima shot him, remembered the sound he made when he hit the ground, remembered his lifeless form being thrown in a dumpster. Death was a permanent condition with irreparable consequences; stripping a body of all of its meaning and worth, leaving nothing but useless flesh behind, and somehow… somehow he just couldn’t bring himself relegate his master to garbage.
He deflated at the loss of what could have been an easy solution – a pure, unadulterated retribution – and nodded. “Y-… yes, I do.”
“Why are you doing this?” Shinya demanded of Medved.
The Russian shrugged. “Niikura owes Soroka debt of life. For what he has taken, and what Soroka has been through to make sure Niikura knows who is trying to overthrow this family. I have to make sure this debt is paid.”
Shinya pressed on, unconvinced. “But why? You’re a mercenary; your kind doesn’t do anything for free out of the goodness of your heart, especially something as risky as holding the head of a massive criminal organization at gunpoint in the middle of his own territory. What could possibly be in it for you?”
“I also owe Soroka debts,” Medved answered simply. “And friendship is not possible until debt is settled. Now!” He turned his attention back to Kaoru, loosening his grip again so that the man could speak. “Niikura, Soroka does not wish your death, so it would not be very good payment. This means you must pay him with other kind of ‘life.’”
“And what, exactly, would that be?” Kaoru seethed, his voice a venomous rasp.
“The kind you took. Home, job, independence. I will let you do this on your terms, because it is your debt, but you will let Soroka go, you will replace these things, and you will make sure that he can be successful when he is free.”
Kaoru’s eyes went wide, incensed, and his gaze shifted to his pet. Kyo just stared, everything draining out of him until all he could feel was… blank. Sick, shivery static and a twisting coil of lightning in his chest at the word “free,” and he had no way of knowing what it meant. Was this was hope felt like? It seemed appropriate, but… He realized with a start that – with the exception of Medved, who knew better than to take his eyes off of Kaoru for even a second – everyone in the room was staring at him. Toshiya, shocked, clutching Die’s unresponsive hand between his own; Shinya, entirely uncertain, eyes flicking back and forth between the hostage situation and the bed; even the doctor, stunned with his fingers on Die’s other wrist, frozen in the act of taking his pulse. Kaoru’s eyes caught Kyo’s, forcibly stoic, but obviously livid at his own helplessness, and Kyo withered uneasily.
“And if I refuse?” Kaoru gritted out.
Medved leaned in closer, so that no one else could hear him, and murmured, “Then we will do this on my terms. I will take Soroka out of this place, and I will kill everyone who tries to get into my way. This will start with you of course, and next will be your friends over there, and then every dog and guard between this room and the garage. This will not make me happy; Soroka will be sad, so is not so good payment, and I do not believe Pavlin, Olen, or Petuh deserve death today. But I will do it, because I cannot let debt stay on my head.”
Kaoru snarled, and Medved straightened again to meet his gaze. Dark chocolate irises burned with frustration and hatred, clashing against electric blue gone hard with resolution, and it was understood that the debts the Russian perceived were owed to Kyo would be paid on pain of death. Kaoru could only lose in this situation – that much was out of his control – and the only choice he had was exactly how much he was going to lose. Tacit, begrudging acceptance passed between them.
“…Fine,” Kaoru spat bitterly.
“Is good choice you are making,” Medved assured him with a shark’s menacing grin, releasing the grip on his throat. “You are smart man. Do not worry; you have lots of time to think of how you will pay your debt. Soroka and I will stay here until doctor says he can take care of himself again.”
“Awfully bold of you, to stay in my home after this,” Kaoru growled, rubbing his neck. “I’ve killed more important men than you for lesser slights than this.”
“I know. Soroka tells me you are good at keeping your word, and I will trust this, but I will still tell you that killing me is very bad idea.” Medved patted his own chest absently. “Just think of my body as… hmm… fail-deadly, yes? Is not my only back-up in this foolishness, but is my favorite.”
Kaoru’s fists clenched at his sides, and everyone in the room could feel his burning desire to test that claim with messy, hot-blooded murder. But as thoroughly livid as he was, he knew – was unable to ignore – that he couldn’t risk his brothers’ lives for his own pride, and the chance that the Russian was crazy enough to actually be a walking dead-man’s switch was too high. And he had to add to that the knowledge that Medved had had ample time to plan this move out, and that his profession meant he had contacts with innumerable unsavory people throughout the city who could, at will, make Kaoru’s life decidedly problematic. The situation was fully out of his control, so he did the only thing he could think of that didn’t involve getting a lot of people he cared about killed. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.
Medved watched him go, then disarmed Die’s gun again and beamed at the horrified gazes currently resting on him, letting the menace slide off of him like water off a duck. “There, see? No one is dead, and we have all reached agreement for solution! Is good conflict managing, yes?”
~*~
Kyo eased himself down, with painstaking care, onto a bench overlooking one of the mansion’s koi ponds, closing his eyes with a long sigh of pleasure as he soaked up the warmth of the midday sun and the beauty of the garden in full summer bloom. He’d spent a full week bound to the hospital bed, and three more confined to a wheelchair before his ribs and arm had finally – finally – mended to the point where the doctor had taken him off of the debilitating pain-killers and graduated him to crutches. They were exhausting, unwieldy things, and he felt horribly feeble as he hobbled about on them, but to actually be moving about under his own power again was nothing short of glorious. It meant, among other things, that he could finally escape the sterile confines of the recovery room he’d been living in and simply breathe.
Though to be fair, the prescription cocktail he’d been on had kept him asleep for most of the past month. Besides antibiotics to fight off his infection and painkillers, they’d had to sedate him for a while to keep him from succumbing to night terrors and post-traumatic fits. At one point, he’d woken in the middle of the night, sick and panicked, unable to escape the feeling of Soejima’s hands on him, and the darkness of the room had tipped him into madness. By the time the orderlies heard his screaming, sobbing fit and run to investigate, he’d managed to reopen every last wound the man had given him. Hours later, Toshiya had visited him and asked him, horrified, why he’d done it. Kyo had simply smiled, hazily through his sedation, and responded that now the wounds – and the scars that they would become – were his own, not something he’d been forced to accept from another man.
Still, he had some idea of how much time had passed and what had gone on while he was out of it. He knew that Toshiya had visited him almost every day, returning the favor he’d been so grateful for when he’d been bedridden. He knew that Shinya and Die dropped in every now and then as well, the former always bringing fresh flowers for the vase at his bedside, the latter simply watching over him as he slept with the same jumble of guilt, relief, and regret bleeding from his gaze. He knew that Medved was always lurking around at night, being a nocturnal sort when he had the choice, and that his presence in one of the spare guardsman’s quarters was cause for great resentment in the household. He knew that Kaoru hadn’t come to visit him since the first time.
That last bit of knowledge unsettled him, more than a little. He had faith in Kaoru’s word; still, he did, truly, he did, because it had been all he had for too long to let go of now. But he also had faith in Kaoru’s vanity, his pride, the lengths he would go to to get what he wanted and keep it. His mas-… the man had risked starting a war with a rival organization for the chance to mutilate the last person to take Kyo away from him. It was hard to believe he was really going to just… let him go, after everything.
Then again, maybe Kaoru hadn’t been angry because he was losing his pet. Glancing down at his reflection in the pond, meeting his own asymmetrical gaze, it occurred to Kyo – not for the first time – that he couldn’t imagine why the man would want to keep him around anymore anyways. Kaoru was a notorious perfectionist; why would he suffer to keep damaged goods when he had the choice of the finest courtesans in the country for his companion? Maybe in the beginning, Kyo had been a worthwhile amusement, but now – hobbled and disfigured – he couldn’t see how he could possibly be what his former master needed anymore. So maybe Kaoru had been so angry before just because it hadn’t been his own choice to get rid of Kyo, not because he thought the blonde was actually worth fighting for.
This should have been the most reassuring answer, because it meant that he was really going to be set free. He wasn’t going to be followed, wasn’t going to be snatched back up the moment Medved’s enforcement of this “payment” was gone, wasn’t going to be leaving a gap in anyone’s life. And wasn’t that what he had wanted for so long?
‘But if that were true… why would it make me feel so-’
A hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to find Die standing over him. “Hey, little brother. You ready to go?”
Kyo blinked, head tilting a bit. “Go where?”
“Doc says you’re mobile enough to take care of yourself, so I’m going to take you to your new home. That was the deal, right?”
Kyo flinched a bit at the ill-restrained bitterness in the redhead’s voice, but couldn’t help a hopeful little smile as he climbed back onto his crutches. “You’re going to take me?”
Die’s smile was lopsided, and entirely sad. “Of course. I’m Hermes, remember? The Messenger, conductor of souls to and from the Underworld? Come on. Your stuff has already been loaded up.”
Kyo was shaking as he followed the taller man through the gardens to the driveway, his eyes a little wider than usual and his heart tight in his throat.
‘It’s… it’s really happening? It’s really… over?’
‘I’m going to leave?’
‘Going… going to be… free…?’
It didn’t feel real. He was so sure he was going to wake up any moment and find out this was all just a hallucination or a dream or a cruel trick. Any minute now, this fantasy was going to crumble around him, and he was going to find out he was still in his cell, caught by the demons that lived in the pitch black; or in Soejima’s dungeon, finally broken and cast to madness; or it was really happening, but someone was going to rush him at the last second and drag him back into all of it. But he didn’t wake up, and no one attacked him, and when his hand came to rest on the glossy black frame of the SUV waiting for them, he felt something in his chest constrict. Die was climbing into the driver’s seat, and Medved was in the back, vigilant though half-asleep. The redhead glared at the Russian in the rearview mirror, and the older man spared him a grin.
Everything became a blur. Toshiya came out to bid him farewell, valiantly fighting back tears, hugging him and pulling back to pet his face and hair only to hug him again, apologizing for gods-knew-what and telling him to take care of himself. Kyo felt his mouth moving into something reassuring, but for the life of him, he couldn’t seem to register his own words even as he spoke them. Once Toshiya managed to compose himself enough to let go, Shinya took his place, moving into the same embrace they’d shared once before; foreheads pressed together, arms loose around the smaller man’s shoulders. The auburn-haired man murmured something like wishing him luck before releasing him.
A hand fell to his shoulder for the second time that day, and this time he didn’t need to look even at tattooed fingers to know who it was. Maybe the man’s scent came to him on the wind, maybe he’d felt that touch too many times to ever mistake it for anyone else, or maybe he simply felt the presence at his back and recognized the way it washed over him. Either way, the simple bit of contact brought everything back into sharp relief for a brief moment, and he turned to look up at Kaoru with a terrifying sort of focus. The older man’s free hand extended between them, closed, palm down, and Kyo automatically opened his own to accept its contents. He stared down at the familiar chain, flawlessly intact once more, and the undecorated padlock clasp at the end. No spider. No claim. No ownership.
“I did promise you a new one,” Kaoru pointed out, his voice as inscrutable as his stare. “You fought so hard for it, after all.”
Kyo didn’t know how to think or feel about the gift, and before he could find a response, the man was helping him into the vehicle and the blur resumed. Time warped and shifted around him, coming at him in slow motion then passing him rapidly, until an hour turned into both a minute and a day. The world seemed to move around him, disconnected, and though he distantly registered things – the scenery passing around them, Die and Medved’s snippy exchanges over stupid things like windows and the radio station – none of it really touched him. Surreality overtook him and if he cared to look back on this day, he would only recall sitting in the garden, then being handed his chain, then stepping out of an elevator to the top floor of a complex into his new home.
Kyo stared about himself then, stunned. The place was incredible; a huge layout that flowed gracefully from one room to the next, clean and well-lit, with an austere sense of dignity and pristine newness that Kyo had never experienced in any of his previous homes. Everything felt very modern, but held an underlying emphasis on comfort and elegance. Crossing to a massive window, he looked out over the city in awed wonder.
“It’s all in your name,” Die explained, moving to a small box that had been left on the dining table and pulling out a thick file folder. “Here are your keys and a copy of the lease agreement. You don’t need to worry about rent or utilities or any of that. We set up a bank account for you with a stipend to tide you over until you’ve healed up enough to find a job. Toshiya put together a list of places you can go to for work if you have trouble.
“This is your ID, your bank card, your checkbook. If you decide to take a job outside the family, we made up a work history for you for the time you lived with us, and someone will be on hand to give referrals if you need them. Totchi insisted we get you a cellphone, so here’s that – it has his, mine, and Shinya’s numbers already in it if you need us for anything. Doc’s number is in here too, but he’ll be visiting you here for physical therapy until you’re healed up.”
Kyo just stared at him for a long time, dumbstruck. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was soft, unsteady. “Die, I… I wasn’t expecting… I-I mean, this… this is so much more than I had, I…”
“I told you we’d take care of you no matter how things ended, didn’t I?” Die shrugged, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. “We all want you to be happy and… well, Kao refused to pay for the place you used to live in. Said it wasn’t good enough. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to, but it’s yours as long as you need it. I hope this is enough to settle Kaoru’s ‘debt’?”
The last was directed at Medved, who had been exploring the space as the younger two spoke, and he nodded appreciatively. “Oh yes. I should try to get life debt from Niikura, if this is how he will pay them!”
Die snorted derisively. “If this was for you, it’d be a motel room in the slums and there’d be scorpions in the bed just for good measure. We like Kyo, you’re a bastard.”
Medved only grinned in response, amused by the thought.
Die shook his head and turned back to Kyo, giving a half-smile. “I guess I’ll… leave you to it? I know you probably want to enjoy… ‘being outside’ without me hovering so just… you know… call us if you need anything, okay?” He got a hesitant nod in return and moved to the doorway, never comfortable with goodbyes. He paused though, hand over the knob, and glanced back just long enough to add, “I hope… I hope you can remember us at least a little fondly. We never meant-… It wasn’t supposed to-… We’ll miss you, little brother.”
And then Die was gone.
Medved came over to him then, ruffling his hair and beaming down at him. “I will go also. Will be nice to be in my own home again. I will come back to check on you and make sure Niikura is staying good to his word.” He picked up the phone Die had left on the table and dialed in his own number, saving it to the device. “I still owe you debt, so you will call me if you need something, and I will come. I hope you will be happy, Soroka.”
The door clicked shut once more, and Kyo was alone – completely and utterly alone – for the first time since all of this had begun. Unsure of what to do with himself, feeling out of place, he moved slowly through the apartment, running his eyes and his hands over every surface, every appliance, every piece of furniture, trying to reconcile himself to the idea of all of it being his. He looked over the pile of paperwork, the cellphone, and the keys that Die had left him; simple, unassuming artifacts that described his new life. When he reached the bedroom, he found a second cardboard box sitting innocuously in the center of the bed and opened it with unsteady hands.
A handheld video game system. An electronic book reader. A portable music player. A mask of the top half of a devil’s face. A bracelet of ornate spheres and loops with a long, trailing tail. A pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses. A battered notebook, some pages missing, all the rest covered in scrawling handwriting and scribbled drawings. A long band of black silk.
‘Today is… June 10^th…’
‘It’s been 245 days… eight months …’
‘And I am… free?’
Looking down at the chain still clutched in his left hand, all the emotional upheaval he should have been feeling all day finally caught up to him. His stomach dropped as if in free fall and he found himself staggering dizzily to the bathroom, all but falling off his crutches once inside. Dropping painfully to one knee, the other held gracelessly out to one side in its cast, he grabbed onto the toilet bowl with both hands and panted once, then vomited. Distantly, he was aware of the tears streaking over his cheeks.
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Miwaku no Zakuro