Trickery

Title: Oh Shiznats
Disclaimer: I don’t own Yami no Matsuei. Maybe if I ask Santa, he’ll give it to me for Christmas somehow...
Warnings: we’re getting there, people, soon enough...

Forgot to mention this last time – this is an AU fic. Oriya’s a police investigator, and Muraki’s the Chief. So yeah. Just thought you’d like to know.

Alrighty, the new and improved Chapter One! Here we go...

Enjoy!
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Oh Shiznats

What a day. What a bloody frustrating day. Were all days as bad as today? Oriya didn’t know, nor did he really care at the particular moment. All he knew was that today had been most horrible, and he still had a good hour or so left before he could go home.

The investigator sat in his office, recapping the day’s events. He’d spent most of his time walking the streets of Tokyo, following the few leads he had, interviewing random suspects. It’d been a month now. A month this gang had been terrorizing the city. Robbing, killing, brawling, it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that they were thrown in jail. ‘But this isn’t your every-day small street gang,’ Oriya thought to himself in a sour inner voice. ‘They’re... huge. Twenty leaders alone, at least. How the hell are we going to get them all?’ And so far, Oriya and his team of investigators hadn’t been able to find one of them. Not one. A month’s worth of hard work and determination, of pounding the streets and following even the slightest of leads, and not one member had been pinpointed. Sure, there was slight evidence pointing at a few people, but never enough to make an arrest. Not to mention– to make things worse, Kichibei Jewelers had been robbed the previous night. One of the few shops in Tokyo containing fine stones and metals that had managed to remain safe for all of its years in business, (due to it’s impeccable security system– state-of-the-art,) had finally been robbed. This fact only threw more weight onto Oriya’s shoulders, being Head Investigator. He was in charge of placing the members of the gang under arrest. After a month, he had yet to label even one true suspect.

‘Perhaps what’s even worse,’ he thought to himself as he started into the large stack of paperwork piled onto his desk, ‘is that I know Muraki is involved, somehow. No way a gang this size could go for this amount of time without slipping up just once. Not even a damn finger print!’ Oriya had always known his boss had a sweet tooth for certain illegal... activities. But, for crying out loud, he’d known the man since he was a child! And gods help him if Muraki had never put a move on him. Oriya knew the white-haired Head of Police wanted something more than a mere platonic relationship. True, they had dated for a while, sometime back in college... but that was a long time ago. Surely his boss would have gotten over that by now. But, recently, whenever Oriya just-so-happened to end up alone with the man– be it in an office or at the restroom– Muraki had seemed so much more... forward. Alright, so his boss had outright told him he wanted to throw him down on a bed and ravish him to within an inch of his life, (if not in those exact words). Truthfully, it had been no surprise to Oriya. In fact, it had actually quite angered him. Muraki often did that these days. Agitate Oriya. And the investigator wanted no part in his boss’ perverted games.

That was another battle he had been fighting for a month now. Warding Muraki away every time he dare lay a hand on him. Oriya saw Muraki as a friend, and nothing more. . . didn’t he? The investigator mentally slapped himself. Of course! Muraki was a criminal, a pervert, and– not to mention– his boss. The Head of Police, a criminal himself. Oriya had no doubts that Murkai had somehow assisted in the Kichibei robbery. Some way or another... the white haired man had assisted that gang. But why? What was in it for him? If Oriya knew one thing about his old friend, it was that Muraki never did anything for anyone unless there was something in it for himself. It wasn’t hard for the man to get what he wanted because, if his good looks and charm didn’t do it, his mind would certainly find a way. The white-haired man was smart– smarter than anyone would like to admit. And Oriya didn’t like that. One had to be smart to be Head of Police, no doubt, but the bossman used his incredible intelligence mainly to manipulate people. That was what Oriya disliked most about his old friend. Muraki never played fair. The investigator sighed heavily as he slid a completed form away from himself, and started on another. All he had to do was finish this paper work, then he could leave and go home...

A quiet tap-tap-taping reached Oriya’s ears, and he shot an irritated glance at the door before saying in a sharp, commanding tone: “Come in.”

The heavy wooden door to his office squeaked a bit as it was pushed open, and a man of small stature stepped in. It was Susumu, one of the men in Oriya’s charge. “I’ve got another possible suspect, sir,” Oriya had to refrain from snorting; there were so many of them already. “Hatoyama Hitoshi. I talked to her today, she was present at the crime scene last night. Seemed suspicious.” Susumu held up a manilla folder, which contained about three sheets of paper.

“Alright then. Just leave it on the desk. Good work,” Oriya returned to his paperwork. Susumu did as he was told, placing the folder on the right hand corner of the desk, before exiting the room with a polite bow. Oriya returned it with a nod, his fountain pen scribbling furiously on the form he was currently completing. Minutes passed silently, the clock with the maple wood frame ticking patiently on the office wall. When he’d finished, the Head Investigator neatly pushed the paper aside, placing it atop the previous, and turned his attention to the manilla folder resting on the corner of his desk.

Upon examining the papers inside, he saw it contained a picture of a young lady with brown eyes and onyx hair, looking no more than eighteen or nineteen years old. On the next page was an account of her relation to the Kichibei robbery, and the last was no more than mere personal information. Date of birth, place of residence, age, occupation... the works. Nothing of real aid or interest. Oriya’s brow furrowed, not so much in disappointment as it was spite. It was just as he had suspected. There wasn’t nearly enough information to classify her as a high suspect. Hell, with this little infromation, she could have been no more than a mere, harmless passerby who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He closed the folder, opening the bottom right drawer of his red oak desk, and filed it in with all the others. As he sandwiched the file between ‘Haruguchi Amane’ and ‘Ichiro Mutsohito,’ the man spotted another file. Pulling it out, he sat upright in his chair once again, laying the folder on his desk neatly and opening it carefully. ‘Yamura Haru.’ A picture of a young man sat before Oriya, nineteen years old, with short black hair and angry eyes. Yamura was the strongest suspect they had, and there still wasn’t enough evidence to arrest him. The teen had the look of a criminal about him, that much was certain. Flipping through the rest of the papers contained within the folder, Oriya skimmed, looking for any clues he might have missed.

It was then he heard the soft chuckle from across the room. The investigator jumped, taken aback. He already knew who it was. Dammit, the hinges on that door squeak! How the hell had he gotten in without being heard?! Oriya’s surprise changed quickly to anger, his eyes narrowing. “Yes?”

“Still working, Ori-chan?”

“Well, it would seem so.” Ori-chan. A name Muraki had called him since they were little.

“Speaking as Head of Police,” the white-haired man’s voice took on a slightly taunting tone, “I’m quite disappointed in my Investigation Department. A simple street gang, able to escape the reins of arrest. . .”

“Did you come in here to tell me something important, or to simply annoy me?” Oriya was in no mood to play Muraki’s mind games today. “I’ve had a hard day. Say what you need to say or get out.”

“You shouldn’t speak to your employer in such a disrespectful tone,” Muraki smirked, “but I do suppose it’s no use trying to play games with you today.”

“Good.”

“But I did have a reason for coming here, if you must know,” The Head of Police took a seat in the cushioned chair that sat in front of Oriya’s desk, and crossed his legs. “Concerning the gang.” The investigator’s eyes softened a little. Had Muraki actually come to him to talk about work?

“Oh?”

“Yes. I understand it’s been a month now?” the pale man questioned.

“No thanks to you, I’m sure,” Oriya said this in a cold voice, but decided to say nothing further. Perhaps Muraki would actually tell him something useful. The boss gave a coy smile.

“You know me too well, Ori-chan,” he purred.

“I know you well enough to see when you’re up to something,” ‘Ori-chan’ replied, “which you happened to be right now.” Oriya felt his eyes narrow once more. “Anything of actual importance you wanted to tell me, Muraki? Or did you just come her to taunt me?” The man’s voice could have made ice shiver.

“I’ve come here to offer you something, actually,” the coy smiled still played across the pale features of the Head of Police, “And, since it happens to be such a wonderful offer, I wouldn’t be surprised if you thought of me in a different light afterwards.”

“Is that so?”

“Quite. Ori-chan,” Muraki’s voice became smooth, more so than usual. “You know the games I play. Outside of work, that is.” Oriya sighed deeply before giving his reply.

“Of course I do,” the words were heavy.

“Well then,” the white-haired-man continued, “how would you like to know the name of every leader in that gang, hm? The information would be most useful, don’t you think? After all, if you could arrest all of the leaders, then the rest of the gang would merely fall apart. You know this.” Muraki paused. He had clearly gotten Oriya’s attention, as the man stared at him intently with suspicious brown eyes. The pale man continued, in a lowered voice. “I’ve got the list, you know. If you want,” his silver eyes narrowed, “you could have it.”

For several moments, Oriya was silent. His brown eyes were just a bit wider that usual, his mouth just the slightest bit slack. Had he really just heard what he though he’d heard? The names? Off the leaders? Off all the leaders?! It... it was too good to be true! It had to be. But... Muraki would really tell him? “Kazu...” Oriya hadn’t called him that in years. “You...” then he stopped. Wait. There was a catch. There had to be. Muraki never did anything for anyone, unless he got something out of the deal. And Oriya had a pretty good idea what it was that the man wanted. Immediately, his features hardened once again. “What’s in it for you?” he demanded quietly. The white-haired man tried to look innocent. To anyone who didn’t know the man half as well as the Head Investigator, it would have been all too convincing.

“Ori-chan, you really distrust me that much?”

“I’ve known you for a very long time now, Muraki,” there was warning in his voice, “You’d never just do something for someone out of the kindness of your heart. You always get something out of it. Now what is it this time?” Oriya already knew the answer.

“Well, truthfully, I was just going to ask you to join me for dinner,” the man replied honestly. For the second time in under two minutes, the investigator’s jaw went slack.

“Tha... that’s it?” he stuttered.

“Yes,” the smile never left Muraki’s face. “That’s it.”

The black-haired man eyed his old friend suspiciously. That... was it? His boss had to be kidding him! Dinner? As in eating food? “You’re serious?”

“Of course, Ori-chan.”

“I don’t believe you,” Oriya declared. “I can’t believe that’s all you want. But... all of the names?”

“Yes.”

“Every last one of them?”

“Yes, Ori-chan.” Muraki chuckled.

The Head Investigator still didn’t quite believe his boss. He was up to something, Oriya could tell. He was trying to manipulate him. ‘Well, I’m not going to be sucked into his perverted games,’ the less conniving of the two decided, ‘I’m not. But I need those names... ’ Oriya was launched into what could be considered a small personal dilemma. To go, or not to go– that was the question.

Muraki enjoyed watching the varying expressions as they crossed his employee’s face. Confusion, anger, frustration, a bit of annoyance and irritation now and then, and, of course, the ever infamous indecision. But the white-haired man didn’t worry too much. He knew his Ori-chan all too well. He knew what his Ori-chan’s answer would be. In the mean time, Kazutaka allowed himself to merely study the object of his desires. It was, after all, free eye candy.

“Al..” Oriya paused, as though he was thinking it over one last time before voicing his final decision. “Alright. I’ll go to dinner with you, Muraki. But only dinner. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll give me that list of names, correct?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Muraki chided. Oriya closed his eyes, sighing heavily, nodding.

“Yes, yes you did.”

Muraki smiled once again. “Good. Than I’ll see you in,” he checked his silver Rolex watch, “half an hour. Until then, Ori-chan.” Oriya merely nodded, before turning his attention back to the papers before him.


“Until then, Kazutaka.”
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Next chapter coming soon!

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