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A rough and calloused hand grabbed a handful of Takemichi’s black hair and lifted his face up. The recent scrapes and bruises on his left cheek stung and throbbed above and under his skin.
“If you look for Sano again, we’ll kill you.”
And with that, the bouncer from the bar that Bonten owned walked out of the alleyway. Takemichi slumped against the brick wall and let out a shaky sigh. Shit. That was fucking scary. He wasn’t up against kids wanting to be something bigger, street gangs that fought with their fists, no—now he’s up against real criminal organizations and burly men with guns.
“You look like shit,” Takemichi jolted, backing himself up against the wall and breathing erratically. Was he going to be beaten up again? Shot even?
“Hey, it’s just me,” It took a moment to register but he finds Chifuyu’s voice finding its way to his ears. He’s still in his pet shop clothes, work apron, and everything.
“Chifuyu,” He mumbles. His lip feels a little swollen but thankfully it’s not split. A nearby car passes the front of the alleyway and yellow tail lights illuminate Takemichi’s face to show all his bruised glory.
“Christ, the hell happened to you?” Chifuyu sighs, reaching out his hand and helping Takemichi to his feet. A hand rests on his hip comfortably, helping the smaller regain his balance and ensure he doesn’t just fall over onto the road.
“I got mugged.”
“Yeah,” Chifuyu snickered, “-like I’d believe that. Well, I would. Because you’re stupid, but my pet shop is directly across from Bonten’s bar you know.”
Takemichi inwardly winced, “Oh.”
A hand squeezes his waist in jest, “Yeah, oh is right dumbass. What if you got killed?”
“I didn’t.”
“You barely didn’t.” Takemichi opened his mouth to refute but Chifuyu sent a very sharp glare at him. With reluctance, Takemichi elided his objection. Hobbling across the street Kazutora was greatly displeased to see a beat-up Takemichi being dragged into the pet store barely minutes before closing.
Kazutora also happened to want to say something but Chifuyu cut him off with a very strict glare as well. The taller man winced but went back to inventory before they would lock up for the day.
“Go sit there,” Chifuyu ordered, pointing at a red couch in the back room. Mad Chifuyu was not another person Takemichi wanted to add to the list of people that beat him up so unwillingly, he obliged.
Not long after Chifuyu came back with a first aid kit and kneeled in front of Takemichi.
“You could’ve asked me if you needed help, you know. Both you and Kazutora,” Chifuyu mumbles. It’s soft and sweet, understanding yet still upset. Chifuyu was always this patient when it came to Takemichi, it makes him feel special.
“I didn’t want to involve anyone. You all have good lives now, I don’t want to ruin that by dragging you into my messes,” Takemichi sighed, jolting away when a rag soaked in disinfectant touched one of his scrapes.
Chifuyu reached up to place a hand on Takemichi’s jaw and hold him in place. He was warm, so warm, so different from the cold alleyway that he couldn’t help himself but to lean against him and let his problems slip out the window and into the night.
“Then what? Let you get killed? Yeah, fuck that,” Chifuyu muttered, rubbing away at the scrapes and bruises with care despite a pissed-off yet sturdy tone.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” Chifuyu sighed, “-don’t apologize. You just want to help, I understand.”
Takemichi still felt like he should apologize again but for his partner’s own conscience he elides to do so. Looking down at his friend, he’s closer than the usual proximity they share. Verdant green eyes peer over his form to check the damage done to him. In Takemichi’s opinion, he thinks it’s tolerable and fine. Although, the way that Chifuyu is looking at his injuries is making him second guess himself.
“I know someone,” Chifuyu says with a sudden break to the silence. It’s whispered low and soft, like a secret so Takemichi leans in closer, dangerously closer, to catch his words before they run away, “-a place. I…I can get you the information you want. Well, probably.”
“Really?” Takemichi asks, a grin on his face at finally being able to get a lead, “You’ll help?”
With a sigh, Chifuyu angrily tightened the medical bandages around Takemichi’s arm, “Only because I don’t want to attend your funeral a week from now.”
Wincing at the tightness, Takemichi patted Chifuyu’s shoulder rapidly to surrender, “Right, right. I got it. You can let go now.”
With a curt huff, Chifuyu goes back to attending to his best friend’s wounds in content silence.
…
“This way,” Chifuyu calls, flicking the hood over his head and taking an abrupt turn into an alley. Takemichi hurries to follow as he hesitantly puts the hood over his head, tucking the front to hang over his bangs and hoping he looked as shady as Chifuyu did so they could…fit in? He doesn’t know.
Takemichi briefly wonders how Chifuyu knew his way around here. Here being Kabukicho, Shinjuku Tokyo itself. Backtracking from where they came from there were big, objectively large crossways with limited cars and a seemingly endless sea of people. Bright lights alike lit up all there is despite the starless night. The air smelt like fried food, a hint of cherry, and Chifuyu’s cologne. The lights were bright; mostly yellow from all the attraction signs, some white, some red, and a few blue.
Chifuyu takes a right and Takemichi follows close behind him. The people have slowly been sifted out and they must be somewhere more secluded than the main roads filled with endless entertainment of every possible kind.
There’s a woman leaning up against the door of a building and Takemichi, startled but trusting, follows Chifuyu who walks towards the woman. A big luminescent sign buzzes above the slide open door, white background with blue strokes of kanji that reads; Ocean .
Ocean?
Takemichi finally takes in the stranger’s appearance and immediately swings his head in a different way so fast that his head might’ve popped out of place. She’s in a skimpy blue top that cuts just past her ribs and the lower half of her tits are out for show in the slightly chilly night. A silk, satin, transparent white dress shirt is draped over her shoulders and pulled by the front corners to wrap around her arms as a blanket battled with a black pencil skirt.
“How much?” Chifuyu asks, popping open his wallet without wasting a god damn second.
“Chifuyu??” Takemichi calls with a whisper, tugging on his partner’s sleeve in disbelief. There was no way that he was- was just- doing that in the middle of their mission?!
Sharp eyes like a python peer at Takemichi and he shrinks in on himself, pulling the hood farther in front of his face hoping he was hiding the embarrassment he was indescribably feeling. She juts her jaw towards him then shifts her eyes back towards Chifuyu, “Him.”
From the vision that Takemichi was limiting himself to, one of Chifuyu’s arms raises in front of Takemichi’s stomach and his tone edges to that of a warning, “He is not up for sale.”
Sale?
SALE?
DID THIS LADY THINK HE WAS A PROSTITUTE? IN HIS SHIRT THAT SAYS WINNER? AND CARGO SHORTS?
The woman coos at Chifuyu like a playful older sister before reaching into her cleavage and pulling out a slip. There’s a kiss in the middle of it, marked by blue lipstick and a little ocean wave in the corner, “Yeah, if you want to get whatever it is you’re looking for,” She gestures towards Takemichi, “-pretty boy over there is definitely going to need a change of clothing.”
The arm before Takemichi lowers with hesitance and instead reaches up to take the slip from well-manicured but short nails. Chifuyu nods at the woman and she moves away to open the door for them.
The second the two of them step in and the lady closes the door behind them, Takemichi is instantly aware of where they are. Soft and elated giggles, lingering smells of cherry lube, sweet voices, and euphonious tones, all come to the same conclusion.
Takemichi was at a brothel.
“Chifuyu, what are we-” Before he can finish his sentence the man himself has grabbed his wrist and tugged him into a room off to the side, closing the door behind him.
“Put that on,” He says, pointing at a pile of clothes in the middle of a bed. Takemichi takes one good luck at it before flushing cherry pink and frantically shaking his head.
“No, no, no way.”
“Takemitchy,” Chifuyu calls, “-I won’t let anybody touch you, I swear. But you need to blend in, and…” he trails off to look Takemichi up and down, “the only attire you fit is a sad virgin trying to get some.”
Okay, ouch.
“I’m not putting on t-that! No, no way.” Takemichi declined, waving his hands in front of him sporadically with quick shakes of his distaste.
A pair of hands lock themselves onto Takemichi’s shoulders and he’s suddenly being forced to look his partner in the eye, “Do you want to save Mikey or not?”
Takemichi takes in a sharp breath, eyes darting to search for something in copper-green but finds nothing but care. With a lot (trust me, a lot) of reluctance, Takemichi lets out an embarrassed groan and slowly nods his head.
“Fine, okay. But I swear to god you send anybody flying if they try and… buy me.” Chifuyu nods his head fast because he would literally send someone through a wall if they attempted to pay for Takemichi’s services.
Takemichi was pretty, but definitely not up for sale.
Chifuyu, thankfully, opted to stare really hard at a wall while Takemichi got changed. It was, to say the least, absolutely, indescribably mortifying . White thigh highs that were horribly tight just above his knee with pretty blue lace woven through the fabric, a pretty white dress that would’ve looked like something a princess would wear to bed in a castle, and a white mask with a blue ribbon tied at the end.
“You look good.”
“Please,” Takemichi grumbled, face heated up so badly he could will away winter itself, “-never talk about this.”
Chifuyu pressed his index finger to his thumb and zipped it across his shut lips, throwing an imaginary key in the trash. Idiot, Takemichi thinks, his friend is a stupidly cute idiot.
“Come here,” He says, holding a hand out for Takemichi to take. With hesitance, he takes it. Caring hands sift through his hair, fluffing it up where it was needed, flattening it down when called for. Chifuyu was gentle and brushed any dust off Takemichi’s clothes before tapping the tip of his nose and smiling. “Let’s go help Mikey.”
With a nod, they open the door.
Takemichi doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to be doing or how he’s supposed to appear. He can judge that he needs to fit in (because apparently his shirt that said winner and his cargo pants were actually working too well for him) but just how does he fit in? He’s in unfamiliar territory, and racks of nervousness hit him like a truck and he’s grabbing onto the back of Chifuyu’s jacket for comfort.
With just one look Chifuyu reads his mind.
“Loosen up, look a bit more normal,” He replies offhandedly as if it was that easy. Because no, it was definitely not easy pretending you were a prostitute at a brothel.
Delighted giggles filter into his ear and he sees a small and delicate man with brunette hair flirting playfully in the lap of a taller and bigger man. Takemichi swallows a lump in his throat and rubs his sweat-coated palms over his silky white dress, “Yeah, and how do you suppose I do that?”
Chifuyu glances at him, looking him up and down before humming and shrugging, “Pretend you work here, I guess. With what you have it shouldn’t be all that hard for us to fit in.”
Takemichi’s brows furrow as he peers at the other curiously, “And um…what exactly do I have for us to fit in? Because all I’m in is a dress that’s showing half my ass and a thong.”
Chifuyu’s eyes narrow at him before his face splits into a grin and he stops abruptly to circle around Takemichi. When his hand sets itself on his hip and another tilts his chin up Takemichi is sure he’s so red that he’d battle an apple.
“You look good,” Chifuyu hums, eyes racking up and down Takemichi and immediately his hands fly to cover himself.
“You could get anyone you want in this building to tell you if they know anything about Bonten looking the way you do.”
For his own mental health Takemichi skips over most of that sentence so he doesn’t implode on himself, “Do people here really know anything about Bonten?”
He takes note of a man coming in through the front door where they come from all the way at the beginning of the hall. It would take a few moments for him to get to them.
Chifuyu backs him up against the wall, hips pressing against his and an arm stretched over Takemichi’s head. In a flustered panic, he’s pushing up against Chifuyu’s chest with his hands that hold no real strength and turning his head to face the front door and directed to the man walking towards them as his friend (?) leans in close to whisper like they were sharing a secret, “You’d be surprised who comes in and out of here.”
A delicate and caring finger traces along the curve of Takemichi’s body and his lungs begin to burn from holding in his breath. He feels like if he were to breathe Chifuyu will steal all the air from him. A hand sets on his jaw and tugs it to look at the man walking, “Look at his palm.” Chifuyu whispers.
Despite the god damn odds, low and behold is a bonten tattoo etched into pale skin.
Panic courses through his body as he grips at Chifuyu’s arm, turning his head back to stare at him worriedly despite the definitely not platonic limited space between them, “Chifuyu I- what, I don’t know what to-”
“Do you trust me?” He asks, both hands cupping Takemichi’s face with minty breath tickling his lips.
Without a doubt, Takemichi nods, “Yes.”
“Room for one more?” The man asks, approaching Chifuyu from behind and peering at Takemichi. It feels dirty the way people in here look at him as opposed to Chifuyu. Sweet, caring, tender Chifuyu.
With a glance in his direction, Chifuyu nods, “By all means” and Takemichi leads them to the nearest unoccupied room.
It only takes a hit over the head and a switchblade to the dick for the pig to squeal all he knew.