Unlimited
Wake me up before you go-go
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Disclaimer:
Initial D and the following characters belong to Shigeno Shuichi and many
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to get flustered over such a small thing?
demand to know just what it was that he had done to get the younger driver so
damn pissed off last night. And why he was getting the ‘glare of death’
whenever he tried to so much as look in Takumi’s direction? Even Keisuke seemed
to be agreeing that Ryosuke had somehow offended Takumi…when Ryosuke didn’t
know what else he had done beside have a good night on the town, minus Takumi
being sick on the front lawn, and had some damn good sex to follow it up. If
only Keisuke hadn’t walked in, everything had been going great.
Takumi exploded in his face when Ryosuke had only been trying to calm the man
down. Of course, he hadn’t listened and had defined rage for Ryosuke within the
hour. His usually tidy and Spartan room looked like a hurricane had passed
through and was followed by one of Keisuke’s infamous keg parties. Of course,
Ryosuke hadn’t been about to mention that everything that was being thrown was
his. He had decided to wait it out and was going to stick with his original
plan, even now. It had been a good idea to hide Takumi’s keys, because as the
morning went on the other driver had only gotten angrier and angrier. He
couldn’t imagine the havoc Takumi would cause on the road, even with his own
bedroom as a little display.
Takumi nice and close until he could get a moment with the younger man to
straight things out. Definitely somewhere that wasn’t in front of some of the
social morons on the team. Ryosuke swore that over half of them would be nowhere
if they couldn’t drive; so incompetent and tactless at the worst of times.
hadn’t thought that they would be so bad, but eventually decided that breakfast
had been a horrible idea once Reiji and Sora had sat down on either side of
Takumi like a pair of vultures.
finally just get up and walk away from the table, without a word or even
another look. He didn’t have to, to make his disgust clear. Ryosuke had been
considering that it might have been his chance to catch up and settle the
matter with Takumi; calculating the man’s mood, the reaction among the other
members of the team if he was to chase after one individual driver- until
Keisuke had jumped up and followed after Takumi, effectively stealing Ryosuke’s
chance for now. So, he had lit up another cigarette and silently dared anyone
to mention the fact that his little brother was following the man he’d fucked
last night.
right?” Sora asked, quite unexpected and obviously equipped with a set of brass
balls for bring Fujiwara up again. Ryosuke hadn’t even been concentrating on
glaring at the driver before Sora swallowed and choked on the end of his
sentence at the look on his face. Ryosuke wasn’t in any mood to entertain these
people’s crudeness a moment longer. He didn’t want to think about Fujiwara for
a while either, at least not until he could sit down with some graph paper and
try to map out exactly what had happened. Ryosuke couldn’t come up with a
scenario to fix his relationship with Takumi, not yet. But, he didn’t have to
put nearly that much effort into his other drivers, who were there only as runner-ups
to the top three drivers of the Initial D team.
about?” Ryosuke snapped, far too irritated to even try and take some of the
sting out of it. Hirofumi laughed on the other side of him, amused by this
little battle of wills as Ryosuke frowned at Sora until the other man slumped
down in his seat with a guilty look on his face. Feeling that the man had been
properly reprimanded, Ryosuke crossed his arms and sucked on his cigarette with
a little more gusto. Just when had his personal life become a part of dining
conversation?
right now, right?” Reiji offered up an explanation for his friend, causing
Ryosuke to snap his eyes open and glare at the other man. He was having a hard
time remembering exactly why the two were on the team again. It had been a
while since Ryosuke had gone scouting for any new driving talent, but he was
starting to get very motivated.
Idiots, the whole lot of them.
back with Fujiwara yet? This was taking far longer than it should merely to
retrieve the brunette before he could run off headfirst into any trouble. Could
it be that Keisuke was having some sort of talk with Takumi? Could he be
telling the Hachi-Roku driver about all the other one-night stands and ‘I’ll
call you’s Ryosuke had spat out in his jaunt around
team. Legends weren’t built on races alone…but, Ryosuke was through with easy
fans and groupies that wanted to ride along with the White Comet. So, why was
it that everything was falling apart when Ryosuke was actually
relationship? He should have known better than to try with an idiot like
Fujiwara.
end of the table, too far away to choke. Ryosuke felt about ready to burst down
the middle with rage. He was the goddamn leader of this team, and they were
talking about the prodigy Ryosuke had dug out from Akina like they were the
cast of the latest television drama! He wouldn’t stand for it a second longer.
Fujiwara,” Ryosuke ordered coldly; didn’t even have to yell to have everyone
cowed and quiet for a moment. The three biggest offenders: Sora, Reiji, and
Tanaka, all shared nervous glances as they looked back and forth between
themselves and Ryosuke’s stern expression. Ryosuke waited calmly, wondering just
where the fuck the waitress was. He wanted to order breakfast, eat, and get the
hell out of here.
sentence not filled with sarcasm Ryosuke had heard all day. Unfortunately, in
the hush that had taken over the whole table, Hirofumi might have just yelled
the question out loud. Ryosuke groaned; his mind racing as he tried to figure
out the answer to that particularly
loaded question. The answer would get back to Takumi long before he could, and
would likely only make things worse. If only he could just stay silent; but
that was probably the worst choice of all.
Ryosuke asked, buying himself a little time as the rest of the drivers chewed
on that for a moment. Then, there were a few nods that went around the table,
some more enthusiastic than others. For some reason, it made Ryosuke sick to
his stomach. Why hadn’t he noticed this before? Before it could have become one
huge mess? Now he had not only screwed things up with the Hachi-Roku driver,
but now he had competition as well. He couldn’t see how things could get any
worse.
suggested. Ryosuke’s mouth dropped open before he could stop it, the
half-finished cigarette falling down out of his mouth and hitting the table. It
smoldered, unnoticed as Ryosuke shot death at Tanaka with his eyes. They
younger man was definitely off the
team now, his few mistakes and blunders becoming one too many in Ryosuke’s
eyes.
would never agree to it,” Ryosuke ground out, surprising himself with his
calmness as he reached down to retrieve the cigarette. I would never agree to it, Ryosuke thought silently to himself. The
mere suggestion was ridiculous. Ryosuke stabbed the butt out into the ashtray
in front of him, figuring that was the end of that, just like the cigarette.
gets the chance to try dating Takumi. We can’t all be going for him at once,”
Sora asked. Nobody was learning their lessons or watching the examples Ryosuke
had so amply giving this morning. All the bruises and yelling he did just
wouldn’t solve this problem. It galled him that his power as the leader of the Red
suns didn’t mean a damn thing in this situation. Not when the majority was
determined to get a fighting chance at Takumi.
more than confident that he would be able to beat all of these idiots with just
one hand on the wheel. It was a good opportunity to properly discipline
everyone and remind them just why he was the leader. It seemed like they hadn’t
been talking about the ‘White Comet’ as much now that Takumi had surfaced along
with other drivers in different prefectures. Only one had managed to challenge
him on the road with his driving so smooth and flawless it was like watching
fine art be created. And off the streets, Takumi frustrated him beyond all
belief with the mix of good looks, lack of personal grooming, and a wallflower
personality that was growing all too old. Just why would anyone else see any
sort of charm or almost childlike innocence in the driver’s slow and dull
attitude astounded Ryosuke. He wasn’t even sure why he was getting worked up
himself in the first place.
making Ryosuke think just how much thought had been put into this before they had
actually said something? Akina, of all places to duel for dating rights to
Takumi. Ryosuke would have shaken his head in amused detestation if he wasn’t
to so damn hard to look pissed in from of the rest of them.
be there?” Ryosuke growled, far too late to start fighting circumstance now. At
least it would keep these lechers at bay for now. Again, those damn idiotic
smiles and nods that made Ryosuke want to snap every single one of their necks.
Wasn’t the leader supposed to be kept in-the-know about these sorts of things
going on with his drivers? Everyone was cruising around half-cocked and Ryosuke
knew there had been a few relationships with benefits already among the crew;
but Takumi was so stupid he’d been kept safe from such activity.
Or so
Ryosuke thought. Last night had been a little too enlightening as Takumi did
things and acted in a way that showed he was no stranger to sex. Ryosuke wasn’t
expecting to get jealous over thought that someone had been there before him,
nor so heated over this race. Not that he wasn’t going to win, but just the suggestion that the Hachi-Roku driver was so
easily up for grabs made Ryosuke furious. He had spent weeks just trying to get Takumi to realize he was up to more than
just overfriendly advice on his car engine. Ryosuke didn’t do nice unless there
was a damn good reason. Even Hirofumi had a thoughtful look on his face; a man whom
Ryosuke had once considered the most
sensible of the whole group.
“If you’ll
excuse me,” Ryosuke asked, polite as ever, even though it set his teeth on edge
right now to go through the manners. Nobody was even paying attention by that
point, talking amongst themselves about tune-ups and mock races to be held
before Friday. Like they could even stand a chance
in hell against him. Ryosuke left the table without another word, pulling
out his cell phone and barely managing to keep from crushing the electronic
device in his hand. When he had gotten far enough away from the group to have a
‘private’ conversation, Ryosuke lit up another cigarette while he still felt a
little light-headed from the last one and dialed Keisuke’s cell.
*
Keisuke
looked down at the screen of his cell phone, Ryosuke’s number lighting up. He
stole a quick look over at Takumi, who was staring straight ahead like he was
looking into the depth of hell with a death-grip on the sides of the passenger
seat. Shrugging at Takumi’s current preoccupation with mumbling out what
sounded like a prayer, Keisuke pressed the ‘talk’ button and tucked the cell
between his ear and shoulder so he could have one hand free to shift.
“’ello?
What would you like to order? Today’s specials are-…” Keisuke started in a bad
accent that even he wasn’t sure of the origins. Takumi glanced over in slight
amusement before Keisuke suddenly downshifted and slammed on the brakes to stop
behind the backed-up traffic waiting for a light to turn. Immediately all the
color left Takumi’s face and he looked like he might really be ill for a
moment.
“Cut the
shit,” Ryosuke snapped on the other end, sounding even more pissed than before,
if such was possible. He couldn’t be that angry just because Takumi had walked
off! Keisuke wasn’t about to let their friend and best driver
parts of town.
“Yes,
brother-dear,” Keisuke begrudged, the irritated sigh on the other line
entertaining enough to make Keisuke forget he was stuck in traffic. Takumi was
trying to regain his breath with hands twitching on the upholstery. He better
not rip up the seats with his nails, but the guy looked so tense it wasn’t
doubtful.
“The team
is racing Friday night down Akina at
Ryosuke listed it all off irritably, explaining why he was so disturbed after
only a few minutes of them leaving. Keisuke raised his eyebrow up at that
announcement, staring forward at the light that was refusing the change. They were
stuck in the beginning of the
rush hour in a high powered racing vehicle. Keisuke couldn’t think of a worse
hell.
“Cool, but
why?” Keisuke asked, figuring that Ryosuke had snapped and decided to start a
race to show everyone just who was boss. Ryosuke got off on little vindictive
trips like that, so cold that anyone would have a hard time trying to
could just imagine how much the guys would bitch once Ryosuke was out of
earshot. The Initial D team was probably talking about Ryosuke right now while
he made this call.
“They want
Fujiwara too.”
…
In
retrospect, Keisuke should have really seen that one coming. He had spotted a
few of the others checking Takumi out from time to time, and there had been
plenty of speculation on if Takumi had ever been involved with another person
in a meaningful relationship long before this morning. Keisuke knew much better
now, even though he wasn’t about to share that knowledge with anyone else any
time soon. If Ryosuke had thought he was the only one trying to put the moves
on the Hachi-Roku driver, he was dead wrong. Ryosuke had just been the first to
get Takumi to realize he was coming
on to him. The guy was almost too dense at times, making Keisuke wonder just
how much Takumi was letting on to. Nobody could be that stupid.
“What, like
a prize?” No fucking way would Takumi ever agree with that. The younger man
would probably murder someone first.
“No, to
pick out who gets exclusive rights for now. Winner gets to date Fujiwara,
losers have to back off,” Ryosuke spat out. Keisuke felt his eyes bulge out of
his head, wondering just who the fuck had come up with this idea. It certainly
wasn’t Ryosuke, because he wasn’t about to gamble on a race. It had probably
been Reiji or Sora. Didn’t those two ever learn when to just let something
drop?!
“Friday at
ten, right?” Keisuke asked again, unable to keep a little bit of ice from
keeping into his voice. This just simple couldn’t be allowed. It was
ridiculous. Nobody got full rights to another person with some stupid race.
But, since the rest of the assholes on the team seemed to think they could,
Keisuke wasn’t above teaching them all a lesson. At least if
about what the winner was going to do Fujiwara.
“Are
hit a note that Keisuke had never heard it take before. Something was up. Seriou
Ry
Ryosuke wouldn’t be literally flipping his lid over his usual one night jaunts.
Keisuke stole another glance over at the younger driver, wondering if it just could
be that Ryosuke was serious this time. Surprisingly enough, Takumi was staring
right back at him with big brown doe eyes that had been finally taken off the
road.
“Keisuke.
It’s green,” Takumi pointed at the light at the clear road ahead of them.
Keisuke cursed, checking his rearview mirror to see a pissed-off driver behind
him. No sooner than had he realized he was backing up traffic did the man start
hitting the horn of the silver Honda. A four door, nonetheless. Honking at him!
Takumi twisted around in his seat to gape at the flustered driver behind them
“Keisuke!”
Ryosuke was yelling at him on the other line as well, the commotion suddenly overwhelming
him. He cut the line and turned the cell off before his older brother could say
one more word. Keisuke wasn’t in the mood to deal with Ryosuke, not now. Just
what the fuck were the other guys
thinking, trying to get with Takumi just because their so-called leader had
finally managed to toss the Hachi-Roku driver down into a bed? Keisuke didn’t
doubt that Takumi had been drunk and regretted it all now.
He put his
good old FD into first, then second and third in such rapid succession that he
might as well have done it in one motion. The engine roared to life after being
dormant for those few harsh seconds and the tires squealed before they flew
forward; Takumi’s scream drowning out everything else. Keisuke grinned as the
car went forward like the speed demon it was supposed to be…
….and had
to stop in front of the same stoplight right at the limit line, the red light
staring down at him as if God himself had changed it just to fuck with him.
Keisuke stuck his tongue out at the offending traffic light, sighed heavily,
and leaned back in the leather seat. Today wasn’t his lucky day. Still, it
wasn’t as bad as Takumi’s was, Keisuke reminded himself as he looked over at
his passenger yet again. Fujiwara was still pale and visibly shaking in his
seat despite the fact that they were at a full and complete stop.
“Takumi,
what do you think of Ryosuke?” Keisuke asked, figuring now would be as good of
time as ever as the opposite traffic starting going ahead of them. Takumi
pulled his eyes away from the street ahead and back at Keisuke with that same
familiar, dull expression on.
“What do
you mean?”
Anyone
would have agreed that it would be justifiable homicide. Just how could someone
get away with being so fucking dense?! How had Ryosuke managed to get Takumi to
realize just what was going on around him long enough to get in bed with the
guy? Along with Nakazato, that Iketani guy from the gas station, and above all
that annoying Itsuki? And just who knew what else Takumi wasn’t telling him.
For being a brilliant driver, Fujiwara was a complete fucking retard in other
areas of life.
“My
brother. Do-you-like-him?” Keisuke asked slowly, mimicking sign-language for
each syllable now that his hands were free from driving. Takumi shot him a look
that would have made the frozen tundra seem inviting. Keisuke smacking his lips
together before turning back to the road; trying to pretend that driving needed
his full attention. Pretty much just doing his best to not piss Takumi off any
further. The guy had already had a rough enough day without Keisuke getting
angry that he hadn’t had a clue to all of Hachi-Roku driver’s past
relationships.
It wasn’t
like they were friends or anything, after all the time they had hung out
together. Utterly amazing how you thought you could know a person…and find out
that he had had more sex than you when one had still been under the impression
the other was a stark raving virgin in the original sense of the word. It
wasn’t like Keisuke and Takumi had stayed in the garage long after everyone
else had gone just so he could be sure the younger driver understood a certain
part of the engine he’d been introduced to. Keisuke didn’t do that for just any
dipshit on the team.
“It doesn’t
even matter, because Ryosuke hates me now,” Takumi growled out such a flip-flop
answer that Keisuke wasn’t sure if the brunette was angry out of spite or love.
Damn Ryosuke for screwing things up. Everyone had already trampled through the
eggshells around the two, and from the sound of Takumi’s voice it didn’t sound
like forgiveness was anywhere around the corner. Keisuke certainly wasn’t going
to be the idiot and break the news about the race. Being the messenger of bad
news didn’t usually mean one got rewarded generously. Especially with Takumi’s
hidden temper.
“Well, fuck
him! What do you think, Takumi? I don’t care if you’re gay or whatever, if
Ryosuke hates you or not. What do you fucking think about this all?” Keisuke didn’t even realize he was yelling
until Takumi backed up so far against the passenger door that he accidentally
hit the button to roll down the window. Immediately the roar of urban life
flooded into the Mazda’s interior, the heat and rank pollution along with cars
honking yet again. Keisuke wished he had a rocket launcher to send at the damn
light for changing on him yet again, green now that he had looked away for one
second.
Keisuke
started the car slowly, suddenly not in the mood to smoke the Honda sedan
behind him. Takumi pressed the window button again; the mechanics agonizingly
loud as the glass rolled up and sealed them up in sound-proof silence yet
again. Keisuke regretted not turning on the radio when they first got in,
because to do so now would just be too damn obvious. So much for ‘talking
things out’ like Mom had always preached. The irresponsible bitch was already
divorced three times more after Dad and living overseas, at least that was what
he’d figured out from the occasional postcard she sent her sons. Who knew how
many half-siblings he had running around in the world?
“I just
want things to go back to normal. I don’t want Ryosuke mad at me,” Takumi
answered slowly after a long pause, the loneliness in his voice hitting Keisuke
hard. He suddenly recalled that Takumi lived alone with his dad and had never
heard a word about his mother. Dead, alive and had left in some horrible manner
that made him scarred for life? Takumi might as well over been a test-tube baby
for how much he spoke of his mother. They were in the same boat when it came to
family life, except good old Takahashi senior had left to start up another
hospital in a different prefecture, being the ambitious bastard that he was.
Keisuke
didn’t really have any questions after that. Getting at Takumi’s emotions would
be just as easy as panning for gold in the city river. Friggin’ A, and Friday
night was only a couple days away. That was plenty of time for things to get
worse. Keisuke should probably just get Takumi home and not even look for the
keys; maybe that could keep him out of harm’s way until Keisuke could settle
this mess for the weekend. Things had gotten way out of hand, all thanks to
Ryosuke.
He drove
through the town like a grandma, so slow and passive that Takumi even loosened
his grip on the chair and leaned back. Keisuke didn’t think he had ever seen
Takumi so relaxed in a car that he wasn’t driving. So, he just continued at
that pace all the way back the ten miles or so that Takumi had wanted to talk
to the Fujiwara Tofu shop. It wouldn’t even be worth it to speed in this
bumper-to bumper traffic anyway, cars coming to a halt just as soon as they
could get going. This was why Keisuke hated driving during the day.
Takumi
didn’t seem too inclined to talk either, his forehead pressed up against the
window as stared out at the sidewalk. If Keisuke didn’t know Takumi any better,
he’d say the bastard was actually thinking about something. But, that just
couldn’t be the case for someone as thick as Takumi. Dull and slow, except when
it came to driving and that temper of his. Then, he was a completely different
person that either excited Keisuke or scared the shit out of him. Sometimes a
mix of both…
And Keisuke
was an idiot for thinking about it this deeply! This was Takumi, not some hot babe he had met at the bar. Takumi was his
friend that needed a little more attention than others; because if left to his
own devices Takumi would probably forget to even eat and bathe. So, he
certainly wasn’t going to let a bunch of unthinking assholes and their king,
his older brother make Takumi feel so miserable. They guy didn’t deserve it…especially
with his horrible social skills. The guy didn’t even know what was going on.
Hopefully
it would stay that way, too. Keisuke didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity
when Takumi learned of what was happening Friday night. The Hachi-Roku driver
might kill Keisuke for not telling him the moment he had found out. So, Keisuke
stayed silent all the way up until he pulled into the alley beside the Fujiwara
Tofu Shop. Takumi was unbuckling his seatbelt and already out the door without
a word, without even saying ‘thank you.’ Keisuke had to stop, put the FD in
park, and fumble around with the seatbelt that refused to open whenever he was
in a hurry. Thankfully, he got out before Takumi to stroll the length of the
empty parking spot to the back door.
“Takumi,
wait!” Keisuke yelled out, grabbing the brunette’s attention long enough to
turn around and face him. The questioning look was all Keisuke needed to wonder
why the fuck he had stopped Takumi in the first place. Some things needed to be
straightened out, like the thoughts had been running around in his head since
last night after seeing Takumi naked in Ryosuke’s bathroom. Gritting his teeth,
Keisuke knew he had to tell Takumi
just was going on. He was his friend, and he did have a right to know.
Keisuke
probably should have left the engine running, but he didnsualsually plan on
being an idiot. Honest always seemed to kick him in the ass when he least
needed it.
“Takumi,
there’s gonna be a race on Friday night,” Keisuke made his voice sound calm. He
wasn’t freaked out be this. Takumi wouldn’t flip, right? Hadn’t he already
gotten out most of that rage this morning? Takumi gave him a deadpan look that
didn’t tell him anything. The idiot could be planning mass murder for all
Keisuke knew by that emotionless, bored expression, but he could see the questions
clear in Takumi’s eyes. Why? When am I
going to get my car back?
“It’s to
see who gets to date you,” Keisuke spat it out before the words could stick in
his throat. There was crystal silence after that, not even the wind daring to
blow as Takumi’s eyebrow twitched. Twice. It seemed like even the traffic that
should be going by the front of the small driveway had disappeared. Keisuke
begun to doubt if he had done the right thing or just invited his own death
down on himself. He could hear Takumi grinding his teeth together, the fury
just waiting to explode.
And it did,
a split-second later when Takumi was flying at him, fists first. Keisuke
managed to dodge the first punch and got a wicked right hook in his side for
the trouble. The blow almost took the wind out of him, and Keisuke knew that
Takumi wasn’t kidding around. The intent to hurt him was clear, but Keisuke understood
why. He could sympathize with a bad night followed up by an even worse morning
that had just been impossibly fucked up further. So, he didn’t try to hit back;
just grabbed one wrist as it presented itself and swung Takumi off balance. The
other driver stumbled and Keisuke shoved Takumi back against the wall of his
house, slamming the younger driver’s wrist up above his head before he could
cause any more damage.
“Get
Keisuke’s chest with one free hand. He barely avoided and knee to the groin and
stepped closer to keep Takumi from actually managing to really hurt him. Takumi twisted, slamming his elbow back hard
against the wall in attempt to punch Keisuke but not finding the range. Keisuke
didn’t deserve this. All he had done was try to do the right thing and now the
person, for whose sake had said anything in the first damn place, was seemingly
intent on kicking his ass. What a great fucking day. Keisuke hadn’t even been
able to stay for the free meal.
“Hey, I’m
not about to lie to about this, so just calm down. I’ll run in the race so you
don’t have to worry about Sora or Reiji if that’s what you’re pissed about,”
Keisuke spurt out between Takumi struggling to get away or trying to shove him
off. Just as he had suspected, Takumi went still bit by bit as the words
finally hit home. Keisuke wasn’t about to let his best friend be tossed around
that easily to a bunch of selfish jerks.
“You want
me, too?” Takumi asked in that small, quiet voice that told Keisuke that the Hachi-Roku
driver was nervous. He suddenly realized just how the situation looked, taking
out the aspect that Takumi had been trying to kick his ass only a couple of
moments before. That Takumi was blushing faintly, only noticeable because
Keisuke was so close to him. Plain brown eyes were glistening with some sort of
emotion, a little bit obscured by the average-cut bangs falling down across
Takumi’s brow. There wasn’t really anything remarkable about his features,
except they were all smooth and perfect, no scars or wrinkles to mess anything
up. He was average in an incredibly perfect way. He was above average in
others. Keisuke didn’t really know much about Takumi at all, not that he had
had sex, and not that he had several different partners, if he had any hobbies
or likes beyond driving.
Keisuke
suddenly didn’t have any words at all, left there pinning Takumi to the wall as
he suddenly had to think real hard. This should be a question that he had an
immediate answer to, one like ‘no fucking way,’ because he wasn’t gay! It had
been a while since his last girlfriend, but that was because both Ryosuke and he
had decided to swear off the girls that hung all over them during the races
after that one time…Maybe he was just getting desperate? No, that’s not the case. He could call up any of his ex-s and have
a very good chance of getting laid by each and every one of them if he was just
horny.
“I-…”
“
barked out a deep, authoritative voice that made Keisuke jump away from Takumi
like he had been burned. Keisuke turned slowly to see Bunta Fujiwara standing
in the back doorway, the same usual bored face as his son twisted down in
anger. Keisuke knew he should run, just get in the car without explaining
himself; but such a question left unanswered? He couldn’t very well say
anything in front of Takumi’s dad right here and now. Keisuke stood there,
frozen up like an idiot, while Takumi’s dad slipped his bare feet into a pair
of outdoor sandals and walked over to them slowly.
“Takumi, go
inside the house,” his dad snapped coldly, not taking his slitted eyes off of
Keisuke. Bunta’s voice was enough to jerk Takumi out of his stunned position on
the wall, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he always did whenever he
was nervous. But, he didn’t go toward the door. Instead, Takumi chanced one
last curious glance at Keisuke before he looked back down to the ground.
“Dad, I,”
Takumi started, shuffling his feet and swallowing nervously. Bunta’s old,
tanned face scrunched up even more, his teeth visibly grinding together.
“Get back
in the house,” Takumi’s dad didn’t even have to yell to make it feel like it.
Keisuke could feel the man’s anger at
being disobeyed go up a few notches. He wasn’t so sure if he should let Takumi
go, wondering just how inclined the older Fujiwara was to beating his own son.
Takumi had seemed scared enough this morning that his dad was going to kill
him. Maybe he had actually been literal. Keisuke didn’t want to be alone with
Takumi’s dad either right now, sure he was about to get grilled for being in
such a compromising position with his son.
Takumi didn’t
say anything more after that, didn’t even dare to look up from the pavement as
he dragged his feet toward the door. Bunta watched his son go, keeping an eye
on hntilntil the door finally clicked shut before turning on Keisuke. And
started glaring, measuring him up with those damn squinty eyes that didn’t
offer anything back. Keisuke realized why Takumi was so goddamn nervous all the
time with a father like this, shuffling his own feet nervously and suddenly
became aware of his useless hands just hanging at his side. He had been using
them to restrain the man’s in front of him son just a few second ago. Ryosuke
was right. He was a fucking idiot.
“Well, you
want to tell me just what’s going on?”
Bunta asked slowly, violence very obviously barely checked. He was
waiting for a damn good excuse, giving Keisuke a chance to explain himself.
Except he couldn’t. He wasn’t even really sure of what was going on himself
yet. Keisuke was going to kill whoever’s
bright idea it was to race, for making him start to question his relationship
with Takumi. They were just friends. So, why had he been pinning Takumi to the
side of the house only a few moments ago? It was more than just trying to keep
Takumi from hitting him. Keisuke was certain of that now.
“I-…”
Keisuke started, swallowed, and went to try again.
“Are going
to stay the hell away from my son. You’re sick, it’s a fucking disease. If I
your ass so hard your own mother won’t recognize you,” Bunta didn’t make it a
suggestion. Keisuke couldn’t do anything but nod jerkily, not about to mouth
off and correct the man by saying his mother probably wouldn’t recognize him
anyway. Definitely not about to argue sexual prejudice with an angry old man
that had about fifty pounds and several inches on him. Keisuke wasn’t
gay…really…but, he wasn’t about to let that preference be trashed. Ryosuke
certainly didn’t have a ‘disease.’ Takumi wasn’t either. He left the Fujiwara
residence with a sick taste in his mouth, not sure what was going to happen to Takumi
when he dad was so pissed off, but pretty damn certain of what would happen if
he went back Takumi’s dad would probably kill him.
Keisuke
backed down the alley way to the side of the FD and eased in slowly; pretty
damn sure that any sudden movements would have Bunta on him like an animal. He
turned the engine on and put in reverse while having a staring contest with Takumi’s
dad through the windshield. It wasn’t a damn ‘disease,’ it had been love, or at
least something like that. Things wouldn’t be so messed up if it was just a
simple sickness. There could be a cure and everything would be all nice and
normal like Bunta Fujiwara and the rest of the closed-minded people who thought
like him wanted. Except there wasn’t… but, when life gave you lemons, you make
lemonade. He wasn’t about to let him, his brother, and Takumi’s friendship go
down the drain like this.
Friday
night would have to clear the air up once and for all.
*
Takumi
heard Keisuke’s car rumble to life and pull away from the house in a muted
manner that made him wonder just what his old man had said to Keisuke. He was
kind of relieved that the other driver was making it away safely even though
Dad was in a mood. At least he wasn’t drinking and raging. Takumi hadn’t
the small living room waiting for his old man to come back in. And probably
give him the beating of his life for that little scuffle in the alley.
He wasn’t
even sure of what that had been. His vision had just gone red at the mention of
the rest of the guys deciding to race over him, without his permission, for
something a little more fucking personal than the usual stakes. Takumi probably
wasn’t even going to be allowed to race on his own behalf. Assholes. Amazing how one little mistake like actually agreeing to
Ryosuke’s dinner date last night had turned his whole life upside . Th. That
shitty old many also knew about it too, because Keisuke had refused to let him
go long past the point when Takumi stopped freaking out about the race and
realized that Keisuke was suddenly intimidating and looming over him.
The back
door opened and shut. Takumi heard the old man kick off his sandals and light
up a cigarette before heavy footsteps made the length into the living room. Dad
knew he’d be waiting there, ready for punishment like usual. If only he wasn’t
so dumb or slow, maybe Takumi could have stopped this mess from ever starting,
but he hadn’t been able to make Keisuke get off him. Just like Ryosuke. They
were probably never going to talk to him again after this mess. Keisuke
couldn’t have possibly been meaning to say anything like what Takumi had secretly
wanted to hear. Just the knowledge that someone gave a shit after Ryosuke had
used him for one night and made it clear that that would be it. Depressing
really, how gullible he was.
His old man
stood at the living room doorway, taking a long drag of his cigarette before he
looked Takumi up and down with those squinty eyes. He blew out a smoke ring,
patient and cold in his examination of the oversized clothes Ryosuke had still
been gentleman enough to let Takumi borrow. Takumi couldn’t tell if he was in
trouble or not for coming home in someone else’s clothes. Maybe Keisuke had
just gotten the brunt of the shitty old man’s anger…and maybe he could rewind
life back to yesterday and have never gone over to the Takahashi’s in the first
place. Real fucking wishful thinking.
“Where’s
the car?” Bunta asked coldly, not really surprising Takumi in the least. Hasn’asn’t always his father’s first concern, despite being the only live blood
relation left. At least as far as Takumi knew.
“It’s at
Keisuke’s house,” Takumi admitted quietly, making sure to not put any sort of
tone in his voice at all. He had learned that the smallest thing could provoke
the old man when he got angry, so it was best not to do anything at all. Though
even that sometimes mad Bunta angry as well. Takumi didn’t really understand
his Dad; because he was fine except for the few times a month he drank too much
or got irritated over the shop, the car, the bills, and anything else that was
Takumi’s fault.
“Is that
the name of that kid?” Dad asked,
jerking a thumb toward the back door. Takumi nodded, looking away from the
leathery, tanned face and to the floor. The tatami mats were a better place to
star at, not about to get pissed at him for looking too long or ‘getting
smart-assed,’ as Bunta had said many times before.
“Why?”
fuck me last night and then- Takumi doubted his father would ever listen to
the ref thf that explanation. He bit his lip, trying to think of a good lie
that wouldn’t be immediately seen through. His father seemed to have a talent
for knowing when Takumi was trying to fib his way out of things.
“They took
my keys away,” Takumi decide on honest, albeit a censored version.
“Did you
drink last night?” There was doubt in the old man’s voice, but he had provided
a better excuse than anything that Takumi would have been able to think of. He
nodded along to his father’s questioning. It was followed by a deep sigh and
Bunta taking yet another long drag of his cigarette while looking Takumi up and
down again.
“Did he do
something to you last night?” Takumi glanced up at thunbeunbelieving that his
father had really just asked that. The shitty old man wasn’t so much as
blinking, waiting for an answer. Was this a parent’s intuition? Bunta had
suddenly becoming quite insightful for not being a father the past nineteen
years.
“He
didn’t,” Takumi assured his father quickly, not wanting to cause anymore
trouble for Keisuke. He had already done enough today by driving him home, and
his dad had gone and probably scared Keisuke away for good. How were things
supposed to get back to normal when even his own father was against him?
“‘He?’”
Bunta echoed back, spying through that truth just as easily as if Takumi had
been trying to lie and said nothing had happened last night. Takumi bit his
lower lip, gnawing away at the meaty flesh in severe nervousness. He felt heat
rush to his cheeks despite everything, knowing he was blush at the worst
possible time. There was another long bout of silence as his father digested
those words.
“Takumi,
are you gay?” Well, his father had never been known for beating around the
bush. There was a tension that filled the room, choking Takumi before he even
had a chance to answer. He had never really thought about himself before. He
had done it with Mogi, but that had felt mechanical and even Natsuki said she
hadn’t really felt anything. ‘It’s like
doing my brother,’ Natsuki’s words still echoed in his head, and they
hadn’t really been able to talk after that. And, she’d been the only girl he
had ever really felt anything for…nobody else had seemed to show an interest
but the guys around him.
“Maybe,”
Takumi guessed at it, not very sure of the answer. He had just gone with the
flow of things, letting everything get messed up without really putting up much
of a fight. He couldn’t think of anything else to do. Bunta’s shoes were suddenly
in his vision, Takumi’s eyes rolling to meet his father’s face helplessly for a
split second before he got an open-palm slap to the face. It almost sent him to
the floor, Takumi staggering with the force of it before regaining his balance.
sideside of his cheek was a mix between numbness and a thousand bees stinging
in the outline of the old man’s hand.
Takumi
gingerly touched it with the tips of his fingers, wincing away at the raw throb
that sure meant it was going to bruise. His cheek already felt like it was
swelling up. He looked up in a bit of disbf atf at his father, unable to
understand why that answer had deserved that sort of punishment. It
for a reason why. That would only get him another hit, probably not as gentle
as a slap. He waited there in his old man’s disapproving silence as Bunta
blocked the doorway and looked down on him. Eventually,
the shitty old man just shook his head in pure disgust and turned aside from
the door.
“Go up to
your room. I’ll tell you when you can come out,” he ordered in a low voice that
brooked no argument. Takumi choked on the breath he didn’t even realize he’d
beoldiolding. He just suddenly felt so bad,
just nothing but a disappointment since day one for his father. He bit his lip,
slowly walking past his father and up the stairs. All the way to his room at
the end of the hall and closed the door behind him. Stood there for a moment,
not really sure what to do with himself and the emotion building up in his
chest.
Eventually
Takumi just slid down against the door, burying his face in between his knees
and wrapping his arms around his legs. He didn’t cry, couldn’t find it in
himself to cry. He was to numb to do anything but sit there in the darkened
corner of his room while the sun slowly passed outside his window while the
ache on his cheek faded into a rhythmic throbbing that went in time to his
heartbeat.
*
“Hey,
Ryosuke. Do me a favor?” Was the first thing that Keisuke said to him after a
whole day of relative silence. After sitting through the rest of that
abomination called breakf Ryo Ryosuke had went straight home and turned his
cell phone off for the rest of the day, not about to talk to another human
being for a while. He had picked up the shambles of his usually tidy room
before finally going his computer, planning out simulations and processing the
calculations through the machine for the rest of the day. He was
double-checking all the numbers and research that he had done on
make some foolish mistake like not refresh the data. He had to get a better
time, better speed, better everything before
Friday night. Anything less would not be tolerated.
He turned
in the revolving chair at his desk to face Keisuke as his younger brother
swaggered into his room and plopped down on his bed. Ryosuke had already been
sure to change the sheets from last night, unable to stand the thought of dirty
bedding. Or of Takumi. He was going to race to his best on Friday night just to
put everyone in their rightful place. He was the leader after all, and nobody
should be forgetting that just because there had been a lull in real races.
Nobody had been able to challenge him after Fujiwara, the last real battler in
the country…
“Ryosuke?
Hello?” Keisuke sung, catching Ryosuke’s attention and dragging it afromfrom
Fujiwara. Who he was not thinking
about obsessively. A Takahashi did not obsess. Nor did they get rejected quite
harshly after a good bout of sex.
“What?”
Ryosuke snapped out, bitterness tingeing his voice no matter how calm and
collected he tried to stay. It wasn’t even because he was still mad at Keisuke;
quite the opposite. He had gotten over that a long time ago, used to his
brother being an ass. It was because despite having a near-perfect simulation,
Fujiwara had still managed to resist and even insult him at the end of it before Takumi had made a grand exit in
front of everyone.
“Take
Takumi’s keys back to him at home,” Keisuke asked, reminded Ryosuke that the Hachi-Roku
was still parked out front of the keys were in his desk. He guiltily thought of
the tofu shop advertisement on the side of the vehicle, knowing that Takumi and
his father’s business depended on the deliveries they made with it. Now he was
being nothing more than a selfish asshole; should have given the damn keys back
before Takumi had stormed off. He had just thought it would force Takumi to
talk to him, but the younger driver seemed intent on ignoring and avoiding him.
Well, it
wasn’t like Keisuke could just drive the Hachi-Rhomehome himself and Ryosuke
follow behind as a taxi for the trip back. Everyone knew better than to drive
another man’s personal racing vehicle. Mistakes and accidents always happened
when you were least expecting it, especially if one was driving a car that
wasn’t registered in their name without insurance. Ryosuke may not believe in
aartiarticular faith, but he could depend on the predictably of the world and its
tendency to go wrong just when everything seemed to be fine.
Like this
morning, for example.
“Are you
kidding?” Ryosuke asked, sure that Keisuke knew just how much Takumi didn’t
want to see him right now. They had probably talked the whole drive back to Takumi’s
plalauglaughed it up real good at his expense. He just hoped that Takumi hadn’t
said anything embarrassing about his performance last night to his brother.
Ryosuke couldn’t stand the thought of Keisuke knowing those little details
about his sex life.
“Trust me.
I think he’ll want you to bring them,” Keisuke said with a mysterious smile on
his face, making Ryosuke wonder just how innocent this request really was. He
sighed heavily and decided to go with it anyway, not really having anything
better to do. Simulations could be damned when he was distracted with thoughts
of a messed-up friendship and even worse off love. He had to settle things
before he went crazy. Well, whatever ulterior motives Keisuke had, it still
wasn’t half bad of an idea.
Ryosuke
grabbed both his own kids and Takumi’s whilisukisuke waved him off with that
jackal’s grin on his face. Keisuke knew that he was no match for Takumi’s dad,
didn’t have the willpower to square off with an adult. No matter how much of a
bigoted old asshole Bunta Fujiwara was, Keisuke couldn’t bring himself to yell
back at the man. Ryosuke was another matter all together, cold and vicious in
his own way. And, Keisuke coule the that Takumi was obviously brother his
brother even when he wasn’t there. Besides, it would give him a little peace of
mind if someone went back there and checked up on Takumi.
Keisuke
wasn’t about to go near that house any time soon.
*
“We’re
closed,” Bunta grunted when he heard someone walk in through the front door. He
didn’t bother to look up from restocking the tofu in the store; not about to
serve some idiot that couldn’t see the ‘closed’ sign hanging in the window.
Someone cleared throthroat, not in a polite way, but in a demand for attention.
Bunta sighed, standing up straight and wiping his hands on the front of his
apron; not pleased at all with being interrupted from his work. He turned to
face the customer and found himself looking at a man wearing a soft-grey jacket
and slacks in the middle of summer. The tie was knotted almost severely,
everything about this guy pressed and neat all the way down to hioes.oes. Black
hair and black eyes, classic Jape fee features, and somehow familiar.
“Sir,” the
man bowed his head ever so slightly, just enough to be polite. Not enough
considering the difference in their ages. Bunta could tell that he was being
looked down upon; some superior bastard probably armed with papers legal
documents. The asshole likely never worked a hard day in his life.
“Look, I
don’t know what agency you’re from, but I paid all the bills this month,” Bunta
started argued, damn sure that he had sent a check on time to each and one of
those vulture corporations. It was bad enough trying to make living and support
his good-for-nothing son along the way. Bunta tried not to get angry again,
especially in front of this bill collector, so he pinched the bridge of his
nose to stop the irritation from overwhelming him.
“I’m not
from any agency,” the man returned coolly, but Bunta could tell that there was
a hint of amusement in the voice. As if the thought of him in such a profession
was absolutely ridiculous. He didn’t like this arrogant, cocky manner the other
man had, frowning at the answer. The man sighed like he was dealing with a slow
child and dug into his pocket. The man produced a set of keys, which he sat down
on top of the protective glass over the tofu. Bunta stared at it for a moment
before recognizing the key to the Hachi-Roku and realizing that they must be
his idiot son’s.
“My brother
asked me to bring these to Takumi.” Bunta gaped at the other man, realizing
that must be the reason why the man had looked slightly familiar. This man was
the brother of that Keisuke kid? Bunta wasn’t sure if this was some nerve and
utter gall on these brother’s behalves, or if the perverted little shit was too
scared to bring the keys back himself. He looked the man up and down again,
judging him to be in his late thirties. Most definitely the older brother,
perhaps even come here to apologize for his younger sibling molesting his son.
“The car’s
outside?” Bunta assumed it out loud. There was a slight twitch at the corner of
this stoic asshole’s mouth, more than making up for the irritation of the car
not being there. Bunta could tell that this wasn’t a man easily flustered, so
he took what little joy he could out of seeing the bastard squirm.
“No, sir,”
the other man admitted after a second’s pause with all that cocky attitude back
in full throttle. Bunta sighed and tisked like he hadn’t been able to come up
with that conclusion on his own before anything was said; smiling inside when
the somewhat younger man winced a bit.
“Well, a
whole fucking lot of good this does me,” Bunta grumbled finally, reaching
around his back to untie the apron.
“Is Takumi
here? I can drive him back to the car,” the man suggested in a monotone voice.
Too casual. Bunta’s eyes narrowed as he sized the tall, well-built man and
actually noticed the pretty face; not used too studying the facial features of
another man. He was already shaking his head in disgust, figuring the man
probably had the same problem as his
brother. He took off the apron and threw it aside, wondering just when it had
become ‘okay’ to prance around openly flaunting such a deviant behavior. It was
just plain sick.
“No, he’s
not. I needed that car for deliveries this morning, and I’m sure as hell not
going to miss tomorrow. You’ll take me back,” Bunta snapped; grabbing the keys
before the man had a chance to protest. He wasn’t about to let Takumi be alone
with another boy, no longer able to trust his son. The next girl that liked
tofu to walk in the shop would be finding herself landed with a date with his
son. If only he could remember the name of that Nogi-something girl Takumi had
been so interested in a while ago. No way was he about to let his son out of
the room until he was sure he had some way to fix the mess Takumi was trying to
make of his life. He was most definitely not ‘maybe’ gay. Unacceptable answer.
“All right,
then,” the man returned calmly, making Bunta feel like he was overreacting. Not
that the man could have any clue as to what had happened this morning, sure his
brother had a completely different story. It was hard to not get fuming mad
just remembering his son being pressed up against the wall in what was
definitely wasn’t friendship or even a fight between temperamental teenagers.
Why couldn’t the roles at least have been reversed, instead of Takumi looking
like the smaller and frailer one of the pair? His son couldn’t even be
masculine in his ‘gayness.’ Sick, sick, sick. Where had he screwed up in raising
the boy? He was going to fix Takumi real quick, starting from right now as
Bunta regulated on these two brothers. His son was not gay.
Neither of
them said anything after that as Bunta put on his usual sandals and followed
the man out to the front of the shop. There was another Mazda, a silver FC this
time. Bunta would have guess that the car was this man’s even before he started
walking in the direction of it. He had already admitted to being brothers to
that punk from this morning. Bunta found himself pursing his lips and wondering
if maybe he really should send Takumi. He didn’t really want to ride in the
same car as one of ‘those’ people, sourly hoping that the man wouldn’t try to
talk to him on the way.
The man had
a button on his keys, unlocking the doors by remote for him. Trying to look
reluctant after being the one to suggest anything in the first place, Bunta
opened the door and stepped inside the car. The man followed suit, starting up
the engine before slowly pulling on his seatbelt and waiting for Bunta to do
the same. He did so after he realized that they weren’t going to go anywhere
until he did. And he had thought kids today were reckless drivers.
“So, where
is Takumi, then?” the man asked as he pulled out easily into the streets.
Traffic wasn’t so bad this late at night, and it seemed like the man he was
riding with was a relatively safe driver. At least on public streets. Bunta
could tell from the sound of the engine, the feel of the suspension, and by
judging the reactions of the car that this was a vehicle meant for racing. But,
he shouldn’t be thinking about the car, but a good excuse.
…Bullshit
on the excuse! He didn’t have to give a reason, Takumi was his son! He could choose
whom his son associated with, and it certainly wouldn’t be some fag brothers
trying to hang all over him. Takumi would not ever be involved in
liked football when he was younger, and wasn’t some weak girly type. Bunta was
going to see to it. He wouldn’t stand for his son being pinned to the wall by
another man, one that Takumi should be able to lick any day of the week
“Why are
you two brothers so damn interested in my son? I’ll sw-…” Bunta started his
threat, avoiding the answer completely, but it was impeded by the man starting
to laugh out loud again, barely able to keep his eyes on the road as they drove
back to wherever the Hachi-Roku was. It was too long of a trip, certainly more
than fifteen minutes by now. It felt like he had been in the car forever
already, his skin itching from the filth of this man’s lifestyle.
“Keisuke?
He’s just friends with Takumi, and he’s certainly
not gay either,” the man made him sound like a paranoid old man. Bunta
would just love to see this brother try to explain what had happened in the
alley early this morning with such ease and humor. He just crossed his arms
over the seatbelt, knowing what he had seen and not about to let Takumi get
swept up in some sick, perverted fad with the rest of his ‘friends.’
“
Bunta was
kind of surprised when his eyes actually stayed in their sockets. The shock had
been so bad that he had thought they would fall right out. He had definitely
been suspecting, but he hadn’t actually thought the man would just come on out
and admit to actually doing something. And with his son! Bunta couldn’t imagine it, repressed the thought cold and hard
before he could even picture anything. Just stared straight forward down the
road and tried to concentrate on the bumper of the vehicle in front of him.
“What’s
your name again?” Bunta asked slowly, wanting to know in case he decided to
file some legal papers later to get this guy the hell away from his son. Takumi
wasn’t gay, would stop being ‘involved’ with this as soon as this ride was over
and Bunta could get back to the house. He’d cure that boy of this thing real
quick, either with a girl or until he got the sense be bac back into him.
“Takahashi
Ryosuke.” Bunta digested the name for a moment before memory connected. God,
the recollection hit him like a blow to the stomach, hadn’t thought about that
name in a long time because it was connected with her. The one person he tried to forget with a vengeance, not about
to remember the original face that Takumi had inherited. It was bad enough with
her eyes lazily staring at him, the same accusation in those depths. Bunta
hated it.
“Your
father isn’t-…?” Maybe it was coincidence. Perhaps it was a common last name,
but the face was suddenly starting to get more and more familiar. If he had
been older with a trim goatee, it would have matched that man’s face exactly.
It had been years, but someone didn’t forget a person in that sort of
situation.
“Doctor
Takahashi. He runs a hospital out in Akagi,” this Ryosuke explained. Wouldn’t
it just happen to be the doctor that had given birth to Takumi? God, he had
been such an idiot back then; in love with Takumi’s mother without another
thought. They hadn’t married once Bunta found out she was pregnant after a few
weeks of fooling around; her citing desire to not looke ake a prized heifer for
the most important day of her life. So, Bunta had waited on her hand and foot
for eight months, assuming that they were happily content with each other.
Imagine his
surprise with the doctor came back with a baby boy and no mother many hours
later. Bunta had immediately assumed she’d died in childbirth, his heart
breaking and all of the blame going on the seven-pound and something odd bundle
in the man’s arms…but, instead found out that once they had taken the baby away
to wash before presenting it to its mother, she had stolen all the medical drugs
in the room and had already escaped the hospital. Gone. Tatsuko hadn’t even
been her real name, no medical records matching anything he tried to describe
to them. The police, however, had had quite a few records on the love of the
life, apparently not he first in a long trail of motherless babies and fathers
out several thousand dollars.
So, he
ended up stuck with raising a child at the height of his racing career. He had
to give it all up, a damn shame that he hadn’t the heart to toss the kid into
some orphanage. He had tried at first, juggling his true calling while trying
to make some actual money and keep a baby healthy, clean, and fed. Things got
so bad he dropped the kid off with his own
parents for a while until he managed to make a living for himself.
Delivering
tofu.
Some grand
fucking life for someone who had once been the undisputed king of all
street-racing in
But, his legend had already passed and been forgotten. He honestly hoped that
Takumi was as big as Yuichi kept telling him. It had seemed like so long since
he had seen his son excited or looking forward to a race, the months seeming
like years. It had really warmed his heart to see Takumi finally get interested
in cars, but his son had still remained the dull, unextraordinary self. It was
pbly bly because he kept fooling around with the boys, no girl to keep him
thinking straight; both literally and figuratively. To think that the son of
the man who had given birth to Takumi and drop the little bastard in his arms.
It was
Takumi’s fault he life was like this, so he was going to make damn certain that
his son’s didn’t get screwed up as well. Though it seemed like Takumi was
determined to fuck it up himself, along with this Ryosuke Takahashi. Bunta
didn’t like the man who was driving right now, didn’t like the easy way he
admitted to fooling around with his son. Even though they were both male. Bunta
wasn’t about to demand any specifics, because he didn’t even want to think
about how far the two had gone. They wouldn’t be doing anything more of the
same, ever again.
“Sir, I
would like you to know that I have no intention of hurting your son,” the man
started, staring straight ahead at the stoplight they had come to. Bunta saw
right through the opening line, sure that the little asshole was going to try
to get his permission, blessing, whatever the hell it was that would allow him
to molest his son. There was certainly more than one wire crossed in this kid’s
head.
“Oh, don’t
even fucking start with me, you little shit. You won’t ever talk, touch, or see
my son again. He’s not like that,” Bunta snapped back, his nerves already
frayed to their loosest point. How much longer wouldbe ube until they reached
the man’s house? The perfect driving pissed him off, the polite but arrogant
attitude rubbing him exactly the wrong way. This wasn’t the kind of person he
wanted his son to be interested in; Ryosuke wasn’t even the right sex for them
to be romantically involved.
And Bunta
could never recall wanting to kill anyone more than at the moment the little
snot broke out into loud, healthy laughter. It went on for much too long,
making Bunta wonder how long this had been going on; just how
even missed the light change to green, so caught up in his mirth. Bunta found
it hard not to step out of the vehicle right then and there.
“I beg to
differ. Takumi’s very much like ‘that,’ and I fully intend to speak to
his words right back at him on he was back in control of his capacity, wiping
at his eyes that were reddened from the laughter. Bunta’s hands twitched with
the desire to reach out and strangle the shit as he finally pulled out and
started forward again. Bunta regretted not sending Takumi, realizing that just
one last time wouldn’t be so bad- since there seemed to have been times before
this- to have spared him from this.
Bunta eye’s
narrowed on the road ahead of them, hating the man’s careful and courteous
driving. It was all an act, some kind of scam to get close to his son. Well,
Bunta wasn’t about to allow Ryosuke to talk to Takumi about anything ever
again. He wasn’t a man who made empty promises, and he hoped that the Keisuke
that had been there earlier today had told his brother just what Bunta had
threatened him with. The same would apply to Ryosuke, and Bunta figured that
one warning would be more than enough.
“Mr.
Fujiwara, you can’t stop me,” the man announced in a voice of steel. Bunta
looked at him, really looked at him
after that statement. Cold, black, and emotionless eyes were set straight
forward with no time to look at distractions. Business and efficiency were
hammered into every inch of this kid; Bunta realizing that underneath the
maturity was a person not very much older than Takumi. And this composed, obviously
well-to-do near stranger was interested in his son. Was so enamored that he
actually had the gall to say something like that to a father.
“Try me,”
Bunta shot back, not about to second guess himself. Even if the man
son, it still was a love that could never be accepted. If it was love at all.
Maybe Takumi had just gotten confused, taking friendship for something more
because Bunta had been ignoring him. There were certainly better ways to get
back at a father. He already provided a roof over Takumi’s head, clothes, and
food and gotten repaid with his son being gay.
Ryosuke promised in that same ice-cold voice that made Bunta really believe the
snot-nosed asshole that was still wet behind the ears. Made him start to think
this man’s intention ran a little bit deeper than what he had first assumed. He
couldn’t start to imagine the guts this kid had for barking back at him, fully
set on having his son even if it meant going up against a guy who was prob
tw
twenty years his senior. They both looked forward at the road again, that
contest of wills having no clear winner.
The drive
home was a quiet affair after that, Bunta unable to think of anything to say as
he had to start thinking about just why he was so damn set against it.
*
“And then?”
Yuichi asked, taking another drag off his cigarette and finishing it off with
another shot. Bunta stared down at his own small glass, dark amber liquid
sloshing around the edge. It was just like the paper cups he filled up for
Takumi everyday before he left on delivery. Just when had his son grown up so
much to make choices like these? Choices that he was just too old to easily
accepted. He had hoped Takumi would get married and have kids, legal, happy
kids like he could never have. He hadn’t
even been able to tell Takumi the truth about his mother, just didn’t speak
about it about hoped the kid wouldn’t ask. Thankfully, he hadn’t. Perhaps
wa
was what had started the silence between them, words unable to serve any
purpose. Maybe that’s why he had missed the signs that Takumi had been going
out with another person…a man, in fact.
“I’m parked
outside, aren’t I?” Bunta snapped back, swallowing his own drink and relishing
the burn of alcohol and it went down his throat. The last few minutes of the
rides had been hell, pure and simple. He couldn’t remember a single time he had
hadn mon more ready to jump out of a car. Thankfully, Ryosuke Takahashi had
pulled up to his house not long after that sun had set behind the tall
skyscrapers of the main downtown area, the Hachi-Roku reflecting the last bit
of light off the white paint. Bunta had taken off without saying anything, ‘no
thanks,’ no threats. Just got inside the car, locked the doors, and took off
without another word.
Of course,
he couldn’t have just gone straight home. He wouldn’t be able to think there.
He had stayed in the Hachi-Roku for a long time, driving around aimlessly as he
recounted Takumi growing up; always in trouble for bad grades, sick more often
than not, and slow to boot. Figuring that despite everything, Takumi was still
his son; so he put the kid behind the wheel and forced him to drive everyday no
matter how much he whined. The car was the best place for a man, a little bit
of peace inside the two-door hutch back that couldn’t be found anywhere else in
the city. Bunta had thought and thought, unable to believe that there was anything
he had done particularly wrong beyond having sex with Takumi’s mother.
So, he
ended up at Yuichi’s gas station, dazed and confused. Thank God for old
friends. He had thrown up the closed sign and sent two unfamiliar boys home
early, busted out a bottle of hard liquor and a fresh packet of ‘emergency’
cigarettes. Yuichi had sat him down on the couches he had set up for employees
and customers in front of a dead TV; the blank screen reflecting a washed up
man way past his prime. Bunta couldn’t find himself thinking of anything else
but Takumi and that Keisuke outside the shop. And the newer Ryosuke. He ended
up talking out loud about what had happened, regardless of if Yuichi wanted to
hear it or not. He had to get it out to another human being, had to confirm
tha was wasn’t crazy.
“Have you
talked to Takumi yet?” Yuichi asked cautiously, just trying to get the full
scope of things. The questioning didn’t piss him off as much as trying to speak
to Ryosuke and Takumi was. Bunta
shook his head negatively, reaching out to pour them both new shots. Yuichi
took a contemplative breath from his half-finished cigarette, exhaling loudly
in the silence of the station. He wasn’t about to say that he had slapped the
kid good for acting in such a way- and even worse, had given a vague yes-no
answer. That was far to close to a ‘yes’ than Bunta could stand.
“Times are
changing, my friend. It’s okay to be that way now. Some girls even get all
excited over two boys being good friends,” Yuichi stated, and Bunta knew that
he couldn’t argue with the man. He saw much more of the modern world in this
gas-station, dealing with young folks everyday when Bunta only saw old geezers
that loved their tofu or business representatives come into his shop. Still, he
had been brought up to believe a man and a woman fell in love, got married, and
that was that. Bunta didn’t want Takumi to mess it all up for himself just like
he had.
“Well, what
if it was your boy?” Bunta shot back, dismal and insulted in his complete
failure as a father. If he had just found another woman or something replace
the gap she had left; perhaps the
lack of a mother made Takumi distant from women?
“It
and married some American named Jim. I hated
it more than anything else in my whole life,” Yuichi snapped, a fierce look
on his face. Bunta gritted his teeth, realizing that it had been a while since
he had last asked his friend about his family.
Bunta had no idea that things had gotten so bad for his friend…was almost
ashamed for overreacting with his own son.
“But, he
was happy with the guy. So, I gritted my teeth and lied, saying it was ‘okay.’
Because he’s still my son,” Yuichi explained slowly, leaning forward to tap out
the ash collecting at the end of his cigarette in the glass tray on the coffee
table. He picked up his shot glass and swallowed it quickly after divulging
that little secret. Bunta just stared, unable to even comprehend what he friend
had said. Just how did he pretend that everything was fine and dandy when his
son was actually fucking another man? There would be no grandchildren in a
relationship like that; there was no well in hell you could tell your friends
just who was romantically involved; because they were the same
match up for that sort of thing between two people of the same gender.
“You gotta
ask yourself just what you want for Takumi; because if he’s really gay, you’ll
have to accept that as a father.” Honesty had never hurt so much before. Bunta
stared down at the one square foot tiles between his shoes, his arms on his
knees as the cigarette burned down into the filter. He wanted Takumi to be
happy, to have a good life like his shitty old man never had; but certainly not
withtherther man. It was beyond his ability to cope, but he had thought the
same thing the first time he’d seen Takumi. Just because everything seemed like
it was going to hell in a handbag didn’t mean it wasn’t survivable. Bunta hadn’t
been able to refuse that pair of big, innocent brown eyes that were barely a
day old, and thought himself to be a damn good father; considering the
circumstances.stilstill remembered when Takumi had done his first drift,
smiling like an idiot and talking so fast that the boy could barely finish the
sentence before he was off again. Bunta had been so damn proud when Takumi kept
coming home with a winning streak for Akina and anywhere else the kids tried to
beat him; still remembered his stomach shoving up past his throat and into his
mouth when Takumi called and said he had been in an accident, and the relief
when he found out it had just been the car. It was then that Bunta had realized
that his beloved Hachi-Roku didn’t matter as much as his son being safe and
unhurt.
He slumped
forward even further, so far that his head almost touched the table. Yuichi
shouldn’t have made such a damn good point. Bunta would have been much happier
g to to the police station tomorrow morning and getting a restraining order on
those Takahashi brothers…but, when he stopped to think about it, he
were the people that Takumi had started to hang out with everyday, the ones
that had taught his son the difference between a radiator and transmission,
showed the idiot how to change the oil when Bunta hadn’t even get Takumi to pop
the hood. He hated to admit it, but Bunta knew those perverted brothers meant
something to his son. Definitely more than what they should as men, but what if it was just likechi chi said? What if
Takumi was actually content with this choice?
His
ughtughts were interrupted by someone starting to pound on the glass doors of
the gas station. Bunta didn’t so much as twitch while Yuichi cursed and sat up,
eventually walking over to see just what the problem was. Bunta only listened
with half an ear as his grumbled and eventually walked to the door to unlock
it. The glass slid open and immediately several different voices started
talking at once.
“What do
you guys want this late?” Yuichi demanded loudly of whoever was gathered at the
door, obviously familiar and not pleased with these people. Bunta figured that
it was probably the usual group of kids Yuichi had working for him, but he
couldn’t summon the energy to lift his head and turn around to see who it was,
too damn tired all of a sudden. Since when had he become old, too old to easily accept his son’s lifestyle like Yuichi had?
No, that wasn’t it. Age had nothing to do with it, accept for that age-old fear
and hate that his father had trained into him from when Bunta himself had been
a boy.
“We saw the
car out front. Is Takumi here? Is it true?!”
yelled out Itsuki’s voice. God, it had seemed like years since he had heard
that annoying screech of the kid who had once been inseparable from Takumi.
Bunta hadn’t been sorry to see that friend go, able to tell in a second that
Takumi could have done much better than that noisy loser…As a
thoughts become so scattered? A few minutes ago he had been sure of everything.
Takumi wasn’t gay, or Bunta was going fix him if he was. And Yuichi hadn’t even
tried anything of the sort, just accepted what his son had wanted to do with
his life. Wasn’t that what Bunta had always said he would do as well?
“No, he’s
not. Is what true?” Yuichi demanded
behind him. Bunta sighed heavily, decided he couldn’t hold of the inevitable
conversation he would have with his son. He didn’t touch his own full glass on
the table, just finally flicked the burning stub of his forgotten cigarette
into the ash tray.
“Than who
is here?” asked another voice as Bunta finally sat up, composed himself, and
stood up.
“Are the
Redsuns really racing for a date with Takumi?” Itsuki demanded again in uncontrollable
excitement. Bunta turned around in shock at that, finally drawing everyone’s
attention. He heard a mumbled ‘oh shit’ from one of the several other boys
gathered outside the gas-station, recognizing the Iketani kid that had come to
his shop once before and begged him to race. He looked a little old now, but
not much different from the first time Bunta had seen him.
speaking with Takumi fleeing his mind; replaced by a cold, icy determination
that he hadn’t felt in years.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Booya, I just jammed on this one, I don’t know
how but I started it at the beginning of the month and here it is. So, there’s
probably an equal amount of errors. Feeling up to beta-reading, anyone?
And don’t worry kids, this isn’t going to get much worse, I
still consider this a comedic piece in the end, so… yeah. Writing a bigot gets repetitive.
I tried watching Jerry to get some insight, but that didn’t last long. I must
recommend the area 88 soundtrack to EVERYONE.