#kurofaiyuui

[clamp-box]

Inspired by Man of Many Faces (and also my Ace Attorney replay XD) I present you: Phantom thief AU! Just imagine Fai and Yuui as a smooth phantom thief and Kurogane as a reckless detective.  One of the twins carries on the heists and the other hangs out somewhere in public so they have airtight alibi.  The twins also take turns on dating Kurogane who first has no idea that A) they are the phantom thieves B) that there is two of them XD

[crystalrequiem]

Collateral [Part 2] [TRC Crime AU]

Hey ya’ll! Lookin for some con crit on this section in particular.  also; as Win mentioned, Shuuichirou is awesome, and more people should appreciate Wish. Just sayin

Summary: Kurogane, a competent hitman for Yuuko’s organization has been tasked to eliminate Ashura of the gambling hall Celes. Unfortunately, some blond dealer from the gambling floor keeps getting in his way. He’ll have to find a way around, one way or another.

Tags: Kuro/Fai/Yuui, Non-magic AU, Crime/Mafia AU,

Warnings:  moderate, slightly graphic injury, swearing, hitmen, gambling, eventual voyeurism, murder, questionable morality [ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] [ Part 3 ]

“Fancy meeting you here," the man teases, motioning for him to sit at a table just a little too short for either of them. The furrow in Kurogane’s brow digs deeper. He could play along, but that’s never been his style.

He takes the offered seat, tilts his “instrument case” forward for easy access.

“You’re the one who invited me, aren’t you?” he deadpans, watching the way pale hands twitch briefly with surprise. 

“Ha! I suppose so.” The blond leans back in his chair, bringing his cup to his lips for a long sip. His single, piercing eye never drifts from Kurogane’s unmoving form. “Not going to order anything, then? It’s really no trouble. I could have them bring something over for you.” He sees what his opponent intends and reaches out to halt one pale wrist before the blond can wave to the counter. It’s a signal if he’s ever seen one, and he knows without a doubt now that he’s walked into some kind of trap. 

Thank God, he thinks with only the slightest hint of guilt. 

“I’m not thirsty.” The glare he earns for himself is brief, but vicious. Kurogane’s heart speeds in his chest, mouth threatening to quirk upwards. He pulls his opponent’s hand forward and down to the table’s surface with gloved fingers. “But I wouldn’t say no to a fight, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

The blond tears his arm back and away, shoulders shaking with something like a laugh.

“You are absolutely terrible at this,” he announces, and Kurogane shrugs. He’s not wrong. Kurogane doesn’t do this kind of subtle dance—it’s not his forte. He’s a weapon. Yuuko points him in the right direction, and he cuts. Asking him to play spy is just begging for trouble. “Alright then, Mr. Honest, why are you following me?”  He punctuates the question with a snap before Kurogane can stop him, and the store’s employees jump into motion. They finish the only order on the bar, start silently lowering the blinds and flicking the store sign to closed. The last customer bustles out with a nervous glance in their direction.

Kurogane figured the Celes had more going on than Yuuko knew, but this kind of coordinated scramble confirms it. He starts to say something glib, body tense and ready to spring into motion at the first hint of a fight. For all he knows, every employee in the room might have a gun at the ready, just waiting for him to make a move.

“You mean you don’t already know?” Kurogane muses, studying his opponent’s face for something—any kind of hint. The blond’s expression remains as cool and placid as a lake, though his fingers twitch once in irritation.

“Well, I know a few things. I know you work for the witch, for one,” hardly a difficult deduction. The butterfly pin on his lapel gives as much away to anyone who’s ever heard of Yuuko. Troublesome if it shows when he wants to go unnoticed, but useful enough to be worth it. Half the people in this town owe Yuuko one way or another. “You’re armed, terrible at information gathering. You’ve been showing up where you shouldn’t, fought me in the offices the other day, and then tried to follow me.”

Kurogane takes a moment to glance warily around the shop, wondering suddenly whether his opponent intends to use this exposition, make a scene and get him arrested. Unlikely. The last of the workers leaves with a tiny, nervous bow in the blond’s direction, shutting the door behind them. With the shutters down, the tiny shop is transformed to a perfect meeting place, hidden away from prying eyes.

“It’s obvious you want me dead. I just can’t figure out what I’ve done to offend the witch herself.” That’s… odd.

“You think I want to kill you?” Kurogane presses, already feeling like he somehow has the upper hand. Blondie might be a prodigy at knife fighting and he might have more allies than anyone had thought, but he doesn’t understand a damn thing. “You figured we wanted you dead, so you isolated yourself here with me; no witnesses, no backup, and no way to call for help,” blondie simply tilts his head in answer, that blue eye bright with challenge. “You are absolutely terrible at this,” he echoes, deeply satisfied by the annoyance he sees flicker briefly over his enemy’s delicate features.  

“So, I’m not your target then?” Can’t hurt to tell him that. He’ll know soon enough if he leaves here alive, anyway.

“No,” Kurogane admits, increasingly amused. He watches the blond frown, slouching down to hazard another sip of coffee.

For a man convinced an assassin intended to kill him, he really shows very little concern. Is he suicidal, or just arrogant? Kurogane wonders.

“Thievery then. You wanted our business records? Maybe you’re following me now because you think I can be bribed? Or could it be that you intended to get to…” The blond trails away, his expression closing off in time with his voice. Ah. Perhaps he realizes.

“Who can say?” Kurogane barely has the time to tease. Finally, finally, the asshole makes a move.

Hot coffee flies toward his face in a wave as those pale fingers dart for a slim waist. He hadn’t been fast enough to react last time, but he knows better now. He’s been waiting for this. His blood thunders in his ears as he dodges back and away. He’s moving before he makes the conscious decision to do so, slamming his chair sideways and sending it skidding across the floor. His blade slides free from its hidden compartment with a satisfying, familiar sound, catching the first knife just before it can find a home in his chest.

“I owe you for the other night,” he crows. The healing wound in his arm protests every swing as he deflects blade after blade, but it only spurs him on. Twenty stitches and a new damn shirt. He intends to make the bastard pay.

The blond is good, but not good enough without the benefit of surprise. He runs out of thrown weapons soon enough and eventually resorts to fighting up close with a wicked looking knife. An intimidating weapon, but he won’t stand a chance against Kurogane’s blade.

“Who is it,” his opponent hisses, entirely transformed from the laughing, controlled man who’d been seated languidly before him just moments earlier. “Who does the witch want?”

Kurogane knows better than to answer. Honestly though, he doesn’t know if he could. Shorter blade or no, the dealer fights like a man possessed. He’s entirely different from the joking, carefree thing facing him down in the moonlight of Celes’s offices. Kurogane shouldn’t have any trouble sweeping in and landing a decisive blow, but the blond makes it impossible. He moves like water, flows around Kurogane and his swings, slips under his arms and pulls him in closer so that Kurogane has to keep spinning away. Even if he tries to take advantage of what he knows must be a significant blind spot on the man’s left, he can’t land a hit. It’s frustrating. Fascinating.

But… it can’t last forever. When it comes down to the wire, Kurogane just has more experience.

He moves for an overhead strike, anticipating the easy way the enemy fighter catches his blade on the downswing and steps away from it. When the blond pivots to take advantage of the opening Kurogane leaves, he sweeps out with his ankle and kicks the café table hard, landing a solid hit and knocking his opponent to the ground.

“Cheat!” the man wheezes, sounding for just a second like the playful creature Kurogane had met once before. It doesn’t last. His features harden, and he rolls away from the axe kick Kurogane intends to meet with his chest. Even downed, the dealer is a ferocious thing. He rolls like a fool and strikes out at whatever part of Kurogane he can reach, always searching for an opening to stand. He manages to nick the fronts of Kurogane’s shins and tear his pants to ribbons at the ankles. Goddamnit that’s a whole suit the bastard owes him now.

“Lay the fuck still!”  He finds himself growling as he finally, finally manages to press the edge of his steel to his enemy’s gasping throat. He knows better than to let his guard down, even with his opponent seemingly bested, and a good thing too. That eye stares defiantly up, unflinching as he keeps moving, uncaring of the sword biting into his neck. His wrist darts forward, ready to plunge his knife up and into the back of Kurogane’s knee.

A death wish. This asshole has a fucking death wish, Kurogane decides. Acting as quickly as he can, he somehow avoids slicing into the dumbass’s carotid as he shifts all his weight to one leg. Swiveling uncomfortably, he slams his heel down on the man’s wrist with enough force to break it. The blade clatters behind them across the floor as its owner gasps with pain.

Great. He’s finally got the guy at his mercy, but it doesn’t feel like much of a victory. He’d had to fight too hard for it, his shins remind him, smarting and wet with his own blood. Besides, he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to do now. He’s not supposed to kill the guy.

He bends down, considering. He keeps his left knee firmly on that troublesome right arm, doesn’t let his blade drift too far from his enemy’s sluggishly bleeding neck.

“No way I’m just gonna threaten a guy like you off work, huh?” He thinks out loud to himself, and the dealer laughs. No, probably not. A guy like this, who’d cut his own neck to land a good knife hit? If he wasn’t waiting for death, he was certainly stubborn in the face of it. Well, there’s really only one good way to go from here. He’ll have to try to put the guy out of commission. He can’t threaten him away, but at least he can make the asshole less of a threat in the future. It just… feels kind of cheap.

Well…. The guy’s a card dealer, right? Broke one of his wrists already. Ruining the other hand shouldn’t be too difficult. No reason to make it more painful than it has to be though.

“Next time,” he finds himself chiding, pulling his weapon away and twisting it up towards the ceiling. His quarry starts to struggle as soon as the steel moves more than a few inches from his neck, but Kurogane has all the control here. “don’t underestimate me.” He brings the hilt of his blade down on the man’s temple, hard. However surprising his fighting skills, the blond passes out just like any other person.

Kurogane sighs deeply as he sheathes his sword and pushes himself up and away with a sense of loss. He’d had a lot of fun with that fight, up until the end. How much more interesting could it have been if blondie had seen fit to call for backup, or play it cautious?

He rifles through the enemy’s pockets, all too aware that any of the shop’s workers could very well have called the police by now. He keeps the small wallet he finds, collects the thrown daggers and the impressive knife from around the room, rights as many tables and chairs as he can, and then turns back to his fallen foe. He hates this, but…. Business is business.

The man keeps his daggers sharp, Kurogane muses as he drives one all the way through the muscle and bone of the dealer’s left hand, straight into the floor. He wakes briefly to scream, before the pain pulls him back under. Damn. He’d been hoping the concussion would keep him asleep. (Kurogane is an assassin, not a sadist.) He pulls himself back up, collects his coat… and starts toward the back entrance.

He can do this. He can leave the guy here. It’s not his problem.

Except… wasn’t the whole point of not killing anyone supposed to be to limit police presence? When those shopkeepers come back and find the place like this, they’ll call the authorities for certain. Besides, what if he’d fucked up and given the man brain damage or something? He might die anyway and then all of this would be for nothing.

God damn it, he repeats on a loop in his head like a mantra, hurrying back to pick up his enemy’s broken form. He reaches over and pulls the dagger back out of that hand, wincing as he listens to another pained moan. Nothing he can do for it now—what’s done is done. He makes certain no hidden weapons remain at the man’s waist and tosses him over one shoulder. He steps out the back entrance and into an ally to the tune of police sirens, cursing all the way.

Of course, it’s far too much to hope that any ID in the blond’s wallet might be real. He finds no less than four drivers’ licenses and five credit cards, all under four different names and all registered to various addresses. He could try to set an informant out at each one just in case, but he doesn’t see much of a point.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Kudou grouches for the third time. “You beat the man badly enough he won’t be able to work, and then you brought him to me because…?”

“Well, I didn’t want him dead.” He tries to protest. He thumbs through the wallet again, annoyed by the lack of consistency. The only element his mysterious opponent keeps among identities is the middle initial “D.” Hardly a name he can investigate. He memorizes all four names though, just in case. “I wound up hitting him pretty hard there at the end, and it’s not like I’m used to trying to keep people alive when I bash them in the skull, so I wasn’t sure. Besides, now that I think of it, I might have broken or at least bruised a rib or two when I threw that table in his chest…”

“Right. Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to drop him off at the hospital?” The doctor protests, but he moves to unbutton the blond’s shirt nonetheless.

You should just cut the thing off, Kurogane thinks vindictively. Bastard owes him a shirt. Unfortunately, Kudou has no trouble removing the button-down, and he catches sight of the swiftly purpling skin painted across the stranger's side. Ouch. Kurogane might feel a little sorrier for it if he didn’t think he might need to come back for stitches in his shins to match his arm later tonight.

"You're kidding, right? Someone like me can't just go to the hospital. The minute I dropped him off, there'd be police looking for me."

"Hasn't stopped you before," Kudou mumbles below his breath. He presses gently at the exposed line of Blondie’s ribs, probably looking for a break. Kurogane watches him move, unwilling to admit to the apprehension he feels when the doctor presses a stethoscope worriedly to the blond’s chest. He shakes his head and carefully maneuvers the unconscious body into a forward-leaning position.

Kurogane loses his breath, just for a moment, when he catches sight of the tattoo patterned down the length of the man’s back. Well if he ever had any doubts that this man worked for Ashura, they evaporate. The bird twists, burning up his spine, spilling forward to wrap around his upper arms. It’s a shame something so beautiful should represent such an ugly tie.

He’s lucky Yuuko just asks them to wear the pin.

"I need another roll of bandages," Kudou asks once they’ve both recovered enough to get their wits back.  Kurogane shakes his head and turns away from the sprawling ink, trying to put it out of his mind.

“I’m not your damn nurse,” he grumps, but Kudou's brief glance of annoyed disappointment sends him trudging for the room’s cabinets anyway. "Fine, here." He tosses one roll toward the doctor and keeps a second for himself. Determined to get his mind off Ashura’s man, he sets to rolling up his ragged pant legs, wiping the blood away from his shoes and wrapping white fabric clumsily over the knife wounds there. He’s not sure it does him any good.

Truthfully, he should ask for help, but Kudou doesn’t owe him. He's in Yuuko's debt only. Besides, the doctor would make him sit still long enough to properly treat the thing, and neither of them can afford that. He needs to be out of here before blondie wakes up, or he risks putting Kudou in danger.

In fact… now that he thinks of it, he's already putting Kudou in danger. If anyone from Celes finds out Kudou and Yuuko have a deal....

"Look," Kudou starts, only to pause as he catches sight of Kurogane's poor bandaging attempts. He opens his mouth to comment, thinks better of it, and shakes his head. "I owe Yuuko, so I haven't got much choice, but you can't just drop your mistakes off at my doorstep--"

"I didn't," Kurogane protests blankly, tying his attempted bandages off with a knot just this side of too tight. He pockets the bandage roll without asking.

"Kurogane, you most certainly did--"

"I didn't drop him off. A good Samaritan found him and took him over. You have no idea what happened to him." Kurogane coaches. Kudou takes a deep breath, sighs out through his nose, and rubs at the space between his eyes. "You’ve never met Yuuko. You don't know a thing about him. Here's his wallet, but no, he wasn't found with anything else." He tosses the unhelpful thing on the counter behind himself and stands to leave.

Kudou manages to catch him before he gets the door open,

“I’m not holding him here for you. Whatever you intend, it’s no concern of mine.”

“I’m not asking you to involve yourself!” He’s almost offended at the suggestion. Sure, if the asshole was strapped down to a hospital bed on doctors’ orders, it’d make his job easier, but if he’d wanted that he really would have found a way to get the guy to the hospital. No sense making people think Kudou was acting on his behalf. “Just—make sure he won’t die, and send him off, or whatever.”

Send him off… send him home… Kurogane’s mind lets the thought sit, cycles through it.

Actually… this diversion might prove more useful than he thought. If he can figure out where the guy lives...

“Anyway, I’m out of here before the asshole wakes up. You never saw me, got it?” He doesn’t wait for Kudou’s acknowledgement before he tears out the door and back towards the backdoor of the clinic. He has to duck into the bathroom to avoid being spotted by a nurse, but he’s not completely terrible at his job. He makes it out. Doesn’t even track any blood on the floor, thanks to his admittedly poor bandaging attempt.

Obviously, Kurogane can't wait around outside and follow the mystery man. The guy’s too keyed into Kurogane's presence by now. But maybe if he's nursing those injuries and limping home, he might let his guard down enough for someone else to keep an eye out. And without his knives, anyone he assigns shouldn’t face too much danger...

By the time he turns the corner and makes his way down the block, his phone is already at his ear.

“Hey kid,” he mumbles, “got a task for you. There’s someone I need you to tail…”

[invisible-as-i-run]

I may have been craving recently something public/semi public can't keep their hands off each other type of deal (or Fai just likes being watched). Or Yui likes to watch Fai get fcked without him knowing then gets the hots for Kuro type of deal.

8D someone write this!!!!

@brokenboss can I tempt you?

[shiiko529]

knowing how CLAMP ships are - in horitsuba, is it:

only kuroFai

only kuroYuui

both kuroFai and kuroYuui

kuroFaiYuui

Voting ended onOct 15, 2023

[crystalrequiem]

Collateral [Part 4] [TRC Crime AU]

Any good? Y/N?

Summary: Kurogane, a usually competent hitman for Yuuko’s organization finds himself blocked from his next target by a mysterious blond rival. He tries to come up with a way around the guy, but he’s drawing blanks.

Tags: Kuro/Fai/Yuui, Non-magic AU, Crime/Mafia AU,

Warnings:  slight torture attempt, graphic injury, swearing, hitmen, gambling, eventual voyeurism, murder, questionable morality [ Part 1 ]...[ Part 3 ] [ Part 4 ]

The place looks just about exactly like its satellite photo. Even in the dark, he can see the cluttered mass of greenery and decor strewn across the balcony of 3A. He spares a thought to wonder whether the guy had simply led Syaoran to a friend's place, or even broken into a stranger's apartment, but he doesn't have the time to worry about possibilities right now.

He investigates the front entryway briefly with a glance, noting the multiple locks and sturdy materials. He might be able to kick it in, but he wouldn't put it past the owners to have a home security system. There's an easier way.

Trying to keep a low profile, he stands at the street corner in the best approximation of "trendy college kid wear" that he could scrounge together. Watanuki had laughed at him on his way out of Yuuko's complex, but he thinks he did well enough. He'd certainly never choose the slim pants for himself on a normal day--made to look like dark denim, but able to stretch if he needs to move in a fight. The loose sweater almost suits him though. Luckily, his usual method of using a fake instrument case as a scabbard works out with this outfit just as easily as his usual suits; he looks like any other busking hopeful.

Kurogane tugs at the sleeves, pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pretends to fight with a lighter as a wave of passersby move along. The moment traffic dies down and no one is watching, he strides for the balconies.

Kurogane's height and upper body strength afford him a lot of luxuries when it comes to breaking and entering. He has very little trouble hoisting himself upwards, balcony to balcony, with the barest crevice of a foothold and the strength of his fingers to anchor him. He narrowly avoids knocking a flower pot or two spiraling down towards the pavement as he eases himself up and onto the third floor. The moment finds stable ground, he crouches, pressing himeslf against the apartment and peering sideways through the backdoor. He doesn't start examining the door and windows for entry points until he makes certain that no one stirs within.

Looks like the coast is clear. He tests the door and finds it locked. Unsurprising. One of the windows, however, sits open wide. That, he wonders about. The night air isn't unbearably cold, but enough chill lingers this time of year to keep most windows shut tight. He wonders, not for the first time, whether he might have led himself straight into another trap.

He doesn't think so. He just knows he has the upper hand this time. He can feel it.

The screen pops off with a gentle sound and no trouble. He loops his "instrument" over his hand and slides it in to the room first. Angling his shoulders through the narrow frame takes effort, but he manages well enough. His torso and hips follow easily, letting him rest against the sill as he rotates around and swings both of his feet inside.

He finds himself amidst a quaint apartment. The place looks tidy enough, if a little shabby. It's also small; either a one bedroom or a studio. From where he stands, he can see the front door, a couch and small television, neatly folded bedding, and a full, if cramped, kitchenette. Bright colors fill the living area with every cushion and poster, a few plants unable to weather the early spring air settled by the door. He even spots a line of animated character figurines dotted across one shelf.

The reason for the open window becomes apparent as his senses acclimate to the indoors. Hot, humid air spirals out from what must be the bathroom nearby, whole apartment ringing dully with the sound of a running shower.

Kurogane keeps his weapon within easy reach and tries to determine the way to proceed. Either he’d been right from the beginning and the guy doesn't live alone, Syaoran had made a mistake about Blondie leaving for work, or his opponent never actually lived here in the first place. In any case, he needs to see for himself.

He holds his breath and stalks toward the cracked door. A very traditional Japanese bathroom lays behind it. He has no direct line of sight to the shower, but he can peer in and catch a glimpse using the reflection from the sink mirror.

At first, he assumes the worst. The man in the shower is tall, slender, and blond. He starts to panic, trying to think through the best move he might make going forward when he realizes something's missing... a few things, actually.

Kurogane steps closer, tightly controlling every sound he makes. He risks being seen to ease the door open just an inch wider, emboldened by curiosity and the knowledge that his prey is turned away at the moment. The person in the shower looks very much like his dance partner from this morning, except that no tattoo mars his bare back.

Blondie's tattoo had stuck vividly in his mind. He remembers the way it looked, real and textured in the too-white light of the clinic. There was no way that mark was fake. Besides, he'd gawked long enough to have seen any truly horrific scars; the guy had sported a few dings, but nothing gruesome. Whoever this person is, jagged lines of bright red scar tissue cross his spine from right shoulder to left hip. The marks look uneven—must have been painful when he’d first earned them to remain so prominent long after healing.

Once Kurogane accepts that the guy in the shower must be a second person entirely, more and more differences become clear. Those limbs, while lithe and graceful, lack the more defined muscle tone he’d spotted on his knife-throwing acquaintance. Besides, He knows he broke Blondie’s wrist, and this person has no such injury. No bruises creeping around his rib cage from the left either.

The stranger’s form shifts and pulls sinuously as he works shampoo out of his hair, too short, now that he thinks to notice it. Kurogane’s eyes trace the path the soap takes, dripping from the nape of his neck over the texture of scars and down, down to trace his rather nice—

He shakes his head, banishing such ridiculous thoughts from his mind. As attractive as this guy might look, Kurogane’s interest must remain strictly professional. His thoughts tick away as he tries to determine who he’s stumbled upon and what to do about it. Even from behind, the man looks far too much like Celes’s dealer to be anything other than a relative. He’d come determined to take a hostage if needed, hadn’t he? Maybe it was time to put that plan in motion.

He’s just preparing to step into the room and move in when he hears the muffled sound of someone talking. It’s his soon-to-be hostage, of course, muttering inaudibly to himself beneath the sound of water. He pauses, straining to hear what the man might say when—

“—have every damn right to be worried!” the water shuts off. Kurogane scrambles to duck aside and out of sight. “Oh, nothing strange happening at all! Don’t mind me coming home looking like I lost a fight with a truck, it’s fine.” He catches a glimpse of the stranger’s face in the mirror as he turns around, long arms reaching out for a towel. Breath stutters to a stop as Kurogane realizes; this person isn’t just Blondie’s sibling, he’s a twin. The image in the mirror shows the exact same face he saw staring at him across a coffee earlier today, except this person still possesses two ridiculously blue eyes.

“Alright well, see how you like it when your dark chocolate goes missing tonight, you self-sacrificing asshole,” the guy hisses under his breath, drying his hair rather more vigorously than necessary. Without the adrenaline roaring in his ears, Kurogane might even find the scene funny.

He forces his eyes away, turns aside and draws his blade. With his back pressed flat against the wall, he’s ready to spring forward as soon as his hapless target treads over the threshold.

Before long, pale, bare feet cross the boundary between carpet and linoleum in the corner of his vision and Kurogane springs into motion. He lunges to the side and looms over his quarry from behind, sword's edge coming to rest against the column of an elegant, thin neck. The sight strikes him as oddly reminiscent of his fight this morning.

"Don't move," He growls into the man's ear, holding one hand free just in case he needs to stifle a hysterical scream. This isn't his first hostage rodeo.

He needn't have bothered. Not only does the guy fail to panic, he completely disregards the sharp object pressed to his neck and turns in place. Kurogane has to angle the blade away to avoid drawing blood. What the fuck is wrong with these crazy blond people.

“Hunh.” Still dripping on the carpet and naked save for a towel at his waist, the twin blinks up at Kurogane’s furious expression. “Well this is new.” He brings the sword to a new position to threaten his target with, free hand wrapping around the bare skin of a still-damp upper arm.

“I said don’t move!” he grits, drawing a bead of blood for emphasis. The man has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure you’re very intimidating, but I’m not in the mood to play along.” Those delicate features pull into an annoyed pout, his fingers prying at Kurogane’s grip. “I imagine you have some reason for being so rude, so you might as well explain it. Burglary? Hopefully not. I haven’t got much lying around. Hmm…. You’re not one of my brother’s acquaintances, are you?”

Kurogane just… doesn’t really know how to deal with him.

“You aren’t in a position to ask questions,” he bites, trying to instill any semblance of fear. Instead, he watches decisive calculation flicker across the blond’s face for just an instant before the idiot lunges toward his blade. Kurogane swings it away, eyes wide.

“Figured.” The madman in his grasp chirrups, head tilting. “You need me alive for something, huh?”

“Don’t need you with all your fingers though,” Kurogane bristles, satisfied when the pronouncement finally elicits a wince.

“Charming. Do you talk to all the boys that way, or just me?" The man sighs, impossibly. Kurogane only allows himself a second or two of sputtering before he shifts his hold down to circle his enemy's wrist, forcing one elegant hand closer and closer to the sword's edge. "Oh, alright already. You can give me your demands and let me see whether they're worth a finger or two, but at least let me find some pants first!"

Kurogane stares blankly at his target, unable to believe his luck. He's got an enemy bodyguard who just won’t quit and a twin who simply refuses to cower. Figures he'd find two opponents with the absolute worst survival instincts in all Tokyo right when Yuuko asks him not to kill anyone unnecessarily...

He growls, grappling he blond and spinning him around to hold him still as the sword slides back into its resting place.

"Sorry, I'm not a first date kind of guy," the silly thing chides, back arching away from Kurogane’s chest. He feels his face color without his permission.

"Just... shut up and tell me where your clothes are." He murmurs, utterly exasperated and refusing to admit to the way his hostage's teasing has begun to affect him.

This is going to be a disaster.

"Name," Kurogane demands, considerably less frazzled now that the... creature he's captured wears clothing once again. They’re staring each other down in the dim light of the apartment, hostage draped across the couch, Kurogane standing above. He holds tight to his target’s right wrist as he presses the stolen, lacquer-handled knife against the first knuckle of the man’s index finger. He’s glad he kept the thing and even happier he’d thought to bring it along. The contingent of ties he found tucked to one side of the wardrobe serve nicely to bind the blond’s left arm and ankles. Presumably, they belong to the one-eyed twin.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to ask someone's name before you give your own?" Kurogane’s eyes narrow and he presses down on the knife a little harder. “Ow, jeeze, it’s Fluorite. Fai Fluorite, you huge dipwad. It’s written above the damn doorbell.” He eases back, feeling a little foolish for not thinking to look. How was he supposed to know whether the name on the door had been real? He still doesn’t really know, he supposes. He can have someone from the house check it out later.

A drop of blood rolls from the line beneath the knife to pool on the end table, but he hasn’t cut near deep enough to matter. (Yet.)

“And your brother?” Familiar, fleeting calculation dances over the blond—Fai’s expression. His spine straightens, blue gaze sliding from the knife up to Kurogane’s face.

“is an asshole,” he intones dryly, barely even wincing when the knife presses back down again.

“I won’t hesitate,” Kurogane reminds him, forcing the blade further until he feels the metal touch cartilage. The muscles beneath Fai’s eyes twitch with pain, but he keeps himself from making a sound.

“What is it you want from him?” He’s bound and bleeding at Kurogane’s mercy, but somehow, he still has the gall to demand—sharp and unyielding. Kurogane wants to respect that kind of stubbornness, but it’s also careless. Foolhardy.

“Is just his name worth this?” He shoots back, twisting Fai’s hand to let the knife slice a spiral, knuckle deep, towards his palm. All the action earns him is a more obvious wince and a grunt of pain. He finds no surrender in those eyes.

“I don’t know yet, but I can’t risk it. Cut all of them off if you want, I will not risk him.” Kurogane glares, unrelenting with the knife. He lets it gnaw just slightly into the gristle of Fai’s knuckle. The man bites his cheek visibly to keep from crying out, but he has no intention of yielding. Even as the blood begins to puddle on the end table, he keeps his pained-calm.

What. The fuck.

“I don’t plan to harm him,” Kurogane declares truthfully. “Not if it can be avoided.”

“And yet, you have his knife.” His hand jerks in surprise at the words, further away from skin and injury. Fai raises an eyebrow in Kurogane’s direction but doesn’t bother to snatch his fingers away given the opportunity. “You’re the one who broke his wrist, aren’t you?”

He started it, Kurogane wants to whine, petulant as a child. He looks to the sky for guidance and sweeps the knife away instead, wiping it down on the inside of his oversized sweater before he slides it into its sheath. Shame. He’d kind of liked the sweater.

“Your brother made a lot of trouble for me at the Celes.” He admits, nearing his wit’s end. This guy won’t break except under more serious torture, and such methods are messy to try anything like that here and now. Maybe he just needs to play along. He can always make Fai disappear if he needs to as a plan B. “I thought a broken bone might keep him home for a night or two. Sadly, he’s too dedicated for his own good.”

Kurogane waits, opens his mouth to make another demand, looks to his opponent and—

And finds him staring right back with narrowed eyes.

“You. Want him. To leave the Celes,” Fai surmises. “To do what?”

This… isn’t the reaction he expected. Every second that ticks by, his hostage actually looks… Happier? Kurogane opens his mouth to say—he doesn’t know what because Fai immediately interrupts him.

“You know what, screw it. I really don’t care what you intend for the Celes, you want him to leave, right? That’s all you want from him?” Utterly bewildered, Kurogane nods, unnerved by the wicked smile twisting across Fai’s face.

“Thank you, whichever disparate gods for this lovely opportunity,” he murmurs to the ceiling inexplicably before turning back to Kurogane. His hand still drips blood, pulse still high beneath Kurogane’s grasping fingers, but his whole body exudes pleased excitement.

“My brother’s name is Yuui, and he’s an idiot. Please, please, please make him quit his damn job.” Kurogane feels suddenly like he doesn’t understand anything at all.

[crystalrequiem]

Collateral [Part 3] [TRC Crime AU]

Does anyone read this? XD Thinking about moving over to AO3 soon. 

Summary: Kurogane, a competent hitman for Yuuko’s organization has been tasked to eliminate Ashura of the gambling hall Celes. Unfortunately, some blond dealer from the gambling floor keeps getting in his way. He’ll have to find a way around, one way or another.

Tags: Kuro/Fai/Yuui, Non-magic AU, Crime/Mafia AU,

Warnings:  moderate, slightly graphic injury, swearing, hitmen, gambling, eventual voyeurism, murder, questionable morality [ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] [ Part 3 ] [ Part 4 ]

Of course, it’s far too much to hope that a single ID in the blond’s wallet might be valid. He finds no less than four drivers’ licenses and five credit cards, all under four different names and all registered to various addresses. He could try to set an informant out at each one just in case, but he doesn’t see much of a point.

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Kudou grouches for the third time. “You beat the man badly enough he won’t be able to work, and then you brought him to me because…?”

“Well, I didn’t want him dead.” He tries to protest. He thumbs through the wallet again, annoyed by his opponent’s lack of consistency. The only element this guy keeps constant among identities is the middle initial “D.” Hardly a name he can investigate. He memorizes all four names though, just in case. “I wound up hitting him pretty hard there at the end, and it’s not like I’m used to trying to keep people alive when I bash them in the skull, so I wasn’t sure. Besides, now that I think of it, I might have broken or at least bruised a rib or two when I threw that table in his chest…”

“Right. Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to drop him off at the hospital?” The doctor protests, but he moves to unbutton the blond’s shirt nonetheless.

You should just cut the thing off, Kurogane thinks vindictively. Bastard owes him a shirt. Unfortunately, Kudou has no trouble removing the button-down, and he glimpses the swiftly purpling skin painted across the stranger's side. Ouch. Kurogane might feel a little sorrier for it if he didn’t think he might need to come back for stitches in his shins to match his arm later tonight.

"You're kidding, right? Someone like me can't just go to the hospital. The minute I dropped him off, there'd be police looking for me."

"Hasn't stopped you before," Kudou mumbles below his breath. He presses gently at the exposed line of Blondie’s ribs, probably looking for a break. Kurogane watches him move, unwilling to admit to the apprehension he feels when the doctor presses a stethoscope worriedly to the blond’s chest. Kudou shakes his head and carefully maneuvers the unconscious body into a forward-leaning position.

Kurogane loses his breath, just for a moment, when he catches sight of the phoenix tattoo patterned down the length of the man’s back. Well, if he ever had any doubts that this guy worked for Ashura, they evaporate. The bird twists, burning up his spine, spilling forward to wrap around his upper arms. It’s a shame something so beautiful should represent such an ugly tie.

He’s lucky Yuuko just asks them to wear the pin.

"I need another roll of bandages," Kudou asks once they’ve both recovered enough to get their wits back.  Kurogane shakes his head and turns away from the sprawling ink, trying to put it out of his mind.

“I’m not your damn nurse,” he grumps, but Kudou's brief glance of annoyed disappointment sends him trudging for the room’s cabinets anyway. "Fine, here." He tosses one roll toward the doctor and keeps a second for himself. Determined to get his mind off Ashura’s man, he sets to rolling up his ragged pant legs, wiping the blood from his shoes and wrapping white fabric clumsily over the knife wounds there. He’s not sure it does him any good.

Truthfully, he should ask for help, but Kudou doesn’t owe him. He's in Yuuko's debt only. Besides, the doctor would make him sit still long enough to properly treat the thing, and neither of them can afford that. He needs to be out of here before blondie wakes up, or he risks putting Kudou in danger.

In fact… now that he thinks of it, he's already putting Kudou in danger. If anyone from Celes finds out Kudou and Yuuko have a deal....

"Look," Kudou starts, only to pause as he catches sight of Kurogane's poor bandaging attempts. He opens his mouth to comment, thinks better of it, and shakes his head. "I owe Yuuko, so I haven't got much choice, but you can't just drop your mistakes off at my doorstep--"

"I didn't," Kurogane protests blankly, tying his attempted bandages off with a knot just this side of too tight. He pockets the bandage roll without asking.

"Kurogane, you most certainly did--"

"I didn't drop him off. A good Samaritan found him, walked him over, and ran off before you could ask too many questions. You have no idea what happened to him." Kurogane coaches. Kudou takes a deep breath, sighs out through his nose, and rubs at the space between his eyes. "You’ve never met Yuuko. You don't know a thing about him. Here's his wallet, but no, he wasn't found with anything else." He tosses the unhelpful thing on the counter behind himself and stands to leave.

Kudou manages to catch him before he gets the door open,

“I’m not holding him here for you. Whatever you intend, it’s no concern of mine.”

“I’m not asking you to involve yourself!” He’s almost offended at the suggestion. Sure, if the asshole was strapped down to a hospital bed on doctors’ orders, it’d make his job easier, but if he’d wanted that he really would have found a way to get the guy to the hospital. No sense making people think Kudou was acting on his behalf. “Just—make sure he won’t die, and send him off, or whatever.”

Send him off… send him home… Kurogane’s mind lets the thought sit, cycles through it.

Actually… this diversion might prove more useful than he thought. If he can figure out where the guy lives...

“Anyway, I’m out of here before the asshole wakes up. You never saw me, got it?” He doesn’t wait for Kudou’s acknowledgement before he tears away from the examination room and towards the backdoor of the clinic. He has to duck into the bathroom to avoid being spotted by a nurse, but he’s not completely terrible at his job. He makes it out. Doesn’t even track any blood on the floor, thanks to his admittedly poor bandaging attempt.

Obviously, Kurogane can't wait around outside and follow the mystery man. The guy’s too keyed into Kurogane's presence by now. But maybe if he's nursing those injuries and limping home, he might let his guard down enough for someone else to keep an eye out. And without his knives, anyone he assigns shouldn’t face too much danger...

By the time he turns the corner and makes his way down the block, his phone is already at his ear.

“Hey kid,” he mumbles, “got a task for you. There’s someone I need you to tail…”

He keeps the knife.

The smaller daggers he sets aside for someone else. Throwing blades have never appealed to Kurogane personally, but he knows eventually one of Yuuko's other employees will find a use for them. It's just the long knife he wants, slender and sharp with a detailed, laquer handle and a matching painted sheath. It's oddly pretty and well cared for—seems obvious that Blondie must have really liked it.

Kurogane doesn't usually consider himself a petty person, but that guy has ruined an entire suit at this point. He’s allowed a trophy or two.

Between that and the text he just got from the kid, he feels better about the whole thing than he has for days.

“Polyphemus dwells in the northern fen.

5-6-3, 3A”

His eyes had rolled straight up into his skull when he’d first read it. Syaoran means well, but the nerdy literary analogies only make him look more suspicious.

“The Northern Fen” can only mean Shimokitazawa: a neighborhood better known for its hip, young residents. Fifth ward, block six, building three…. He looks up the address and finds a satellite picture of the place. It’s oddly quaint—not anywhere near as upscale as Kurogane would expect for a guy who spends his nights running a gambling floor. Apartment 3A even sports a tiny balcony, covered in kitschy décor and overgrown houseplants. Doesn’t seem like Blondie’s style at all… maybe he has a girlfriend?

It doesn’t matter. He’s not supposed to be interested in that guy or his life; the knife-user served as nothing more than an obstacle in his path to Ashura. Kurogane has to keep his head on straight. The address is insurance, nothing more.

He shakes his head, sets his phone down and starts stepping into his role for the night. Isolated in his old room at Yuuko’s place, he pulls jacket after jacket from the dusty closet, trying to find one left that can fit his frame. With the blond out of commission he should have no trouble finishing the job (finally.) None of the others working at Celes have ever caught a glimpse of his face. With sunglasses and maybe a hat, he’ll be as good as anonymous. He can sneak in, prowl the floor as a gambler, make sure security rotations haven’t changed overmuch, and simply make his way to the offices.

He’s debating the best way to deal with Yuuko’s pin when he gets the second text.

“Though Injured, Polyphemus still went out in the morning to tend to his flock.

Oodakyu, 18:18”

Really.

Really. Guy has a broken wrist, at least bruised ribs and whatever you call it when you drive a knife through your hand, and he still goes to work? Ashura has to be one scary-ass employer to inspire such dedication.

“Got it. Thanks for the homework help. You home yet?” he texts Syaoran back, suddenly less certain that tailing this guy won’t put the kid in danger. Apparently, Blondie can weather that beating, get home, change clothes, and march right back out again to ride the subway during the evening rush. He wants Syaoran far, far away.

Shit. What is he going to do now? He can’t head into the Celes. Blondie will spot him in an instant.

He could try to consult Yuuko on the matter again, but he knows what she’ll say. She may not want the blond dead, but she does things she doesn’t want often enough. Two deaths might alert the police unnecessarily, but a disappearance should coast through unnoticed if he times things right.

He just… doesn’t really want to have to do that. That guy is kind of fun to mess with—he hasn’t had anyone who could meet him toe to toe in years. Besides, there’s a reason he got the guy’s address, right? He has his insurance. He should go cash it out.

Alright. Alright, so the blond heads into work and leaves his cute little apartment alone. Doesn’t look like he lives there by himself, unless Kurogane simply has the wrong idea about this guy’s aesthetic. Either way, the place should be unguarded for now. Assuming Blondie’s theoretical apartment-mate is even marginally less competent, Kurogane should have no trouble stepping inside.

If someone else does live there , he’s not above taking a hostage. If not, at least he might find some good blackmail material. And failing that… well if he winds up needing to disappear the guy anyway, he might as well know where to hide and wait.

He pulls the last suit jacket back off again, fumbling for its hanger, before he turns back and digs even deeper into the closet. To stroll through Kitazawa after dark unnoticed, he’ll need a wardrobe change.

[crystalrequiem]

Collateral [Part 1] [TRC Crime AU]

Summary: Kurogane, a competent hitman for Yuuko’s organization has been tasked to eliminate Ashura of the gambling hall Celes. Unfortunately, some blond dealer from the gambling floor keeps getting in his way. He’ll have to find a way around, one way or another. 

Tags: Kuro/Fai/Yuui, Non-magic AU, Crime/Mafia AU, 

Warnings:  minor injury, swearing, hitmen, gambling, eventual voyeurism, murder, questionable morality

Note: Bits of a crime AU inspired by LokaporTRC on the Tsubasa discord server. <3 If I can make substantial progress with this thing, I’ll probably move it to AO3 eventually, but for now, Figured I’d just toss things on here. 

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]

Goddamnit.

Three times.

That absolute asshole of a guard at the Celes has stopped him in his tracks three fucking times now.

It’s a simple enough job, or it should be anyway: infiltrate gambling hall Celes and get rid of its murderous owner. That blasted Ashura made himself a thorn in everyone’s side long ago, killing who he pleases and making the police unnecessarily nervous. Behavior like that hurts everyone in the underworld, costs Yuuko money and harms plenty of innocent people besides. Yuuko waited to see whether anything good at all might be salvaged, but he guesses she didn’t find much.

“Can’t be helped,” she’d told him, sighing as she passed the job and its intel along just last week. “Ashura owes me a few lives. I know I can trust you to collect.” So he’d agreed, bowed, and left.

It should have been simple. Ashura knew well enough just how many enemies he had, so he kept himself holed up in Celes. Aside from the occasional appearance in the gambling hall and the seemingly random murders, rumor was, he stayed in his office. Getting to him meant infiltrating the gambling hall, which Kurogane could do easily enough. Yuuko had gotten him the layout after all, through one spy or another. He could either come in as a patron or sneak in unnoticed.

Except, Ashura’s asshole bodyguard has caught him in all three attempts so far.

Kurogane hasn’t been outplayed like this since he first started out. Certainly, no one has ever gotten in his way more than once, let alone three times. He hasn’t faced anyone this capable in…. well, a long-ass time. Blondie’d even scored a few hits!

He doesn’t know what the hell is going on. Maybe he’s losing his edge. If this job didn’t need done so badly, he might even respect a guy like that. But as it was…

“Welcome back, Kuroga-ah-ah! You’re bleeding!” Watanuki’s deadpan greeting shifts seamlessly into anxious panic mid-sentence. Kurogane just shifts his hold on the wet fabric wrapped tight around his right arm and levels the kid with a narrow-eyed glare.

Yes, he thinks, bleeding is what happens when someone catches you with a knife.

…fuckin asshole blond bodyguard with good aim. How was he supposed to know the man could throw so well? Guy only had one eye. Shouldn’t he have depth perception issues?

“I hadn’t noticed,” he deadpans. Watanuki simply scowls in response. Kid’s going to frown himself right into an early grave. “Is Yuuko decent?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.” The high schooler grouches. Watanuki’s cat-like irritation usually amuses Kurogane when it doesn’t annoy him, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it now. His arm hurts and his pride smarts and he’d just like to get this night over with, thanks. Maybe he lets the feeling show a little too easily on his face, because Watanuki pales. “She’s not with a client, at least. If that helps.”

“Good enough.” Kurogane twists the homemade tourniquet tighter and resolutely does not stumble his way through Yuuko’s sprawling halls.

Yuuko is decent by the time he steps into her drawing room, or at least as decent as someone like her can be. She’s sprawled inappropriately in her sharp suit and chaise lounge, braiding Maru’s hair while Moro watches. The woman takes one look at him leaning heavily against the doorway and tuts,

“Maru, darling, I’m afraid we’ll have to finish later. Could you two go and call Shuuichirou here for me?” The twins bow out with nary a sound, creepy as usual. He’ll never really understand Yuuko’s urge to take in as many awkward stray children as she can, but he supposes he owes his life to that particular bad habit.

Kurogane shuffles in behind the twins and doesn’t wait for Yuuko’s recognition to slump into the nearest chair. He’s done a decent job keeping himself from bleeding out, he thinks, but that doesn’t mean he’s not exhausted. Yuuko can deal.

“Caught again, Kurogane? That’s not like you.” She muses, drawing herself up to sit at least a little straighter as she takes his appearance in.

He very much agrees, though he’d rather not let her know that. Instead, he recounts the night’s activities in a bored tone, trying to downplay his embarrassment. He pauses briefly when Yuuko’s favorite doctor, Kudou Shuuichirou makes his appearance, but a glance from Yuuko sets him finishing the tale. Kudou stays silent and asks no questions. Kurogane appreciates his professionalism, but he does kind of wish the man would warn him before he starts stitching. 

“Well,” Yuuko muses as his story comes to close. “I’d heard of the blond dealer at Celes, but if I’d known he was such an important player I would have warned you.” She doesn’t need to say as much. Yuuko doesn’t make a habit of putting her people in danger unnecessarily.

“I figured. How do you want me to proceed going forward?” She continues as if she hasn’t heard him for a moment or two, simply pulling long draws from her favorite pipe. Kurogane bears her pageantry and tries to ignore the burning pull of needle and thread against the sore ache of his knife-wound.  If Yuuko could please just get this over with—

“Ashura pays his price in blood. That’s final. You’ll need to find a way to make it so. However…” she leans forward, peering at Kurogane and the gash in his arm with narrowed eyes. “I don’t think I want the dealer dead. He’s obviously a formidable fighter, and I have no quarrel with him in particular. Two deaths would alert the authorities unnecessarily anyway. See if you can’t find another way around him.”

He doesn’t know why the pronouncement makes him feel so relieved. He’s not afraid to face the guy in a fight again, he’s just… well maybe he respects an opponent like that after all.

“If I’m buying him off, I’ll need something to go on.”

“Hm,” Yuuko considers, tapping her pipe to shift the tobacco inside.  “I have a suspicion or two about him, but nothing concrete. He doesn’t exist, officially speaking, but that’s hardly a surprise given who he works for. People have a tendency of disappearing around Ashura for more than one reason, after all.” She motions toward the matchbook, as if she means him to light one for her.

Kurogane huffs, tilting his chin meaningfully toward his arm, still very firmly held in place by an ill-tempered Kudou Shuuichirou.

Yuuko frowns down at him. Sighing deeply, she leans forward to reach the matches herself. Her long fingers coax flame forth easily and she reheats her pipe bowl with a pout.

He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. Kurogane may owe her a lot, but she’s trying at the best of times. It’s hardly his fault Kudou decided the damn thing needed stitches. Kurogane hadn’t thought it looked that bad.

It’s your fault letting your guard down enough to get injured like that in the first place, Yuuko’s expression seems to say, brow raised tauntingly.

“Can you wait for me to leave before you do the mind-reading conversation thing? It’s creepy,” Kudou announces, punctuating his annoyance with more force than necessary on the next pull of a stitch. Kurogane grits his teeth and resolutely does not wince.

“Creepier than talking about assassinating local criminals?” Yuuko muses, laughing. The doctor’s hand jerks again and Kurogane only barely restrains his wince this time. Can she not tease the man while he’s got a needle buried in Kurogane’s skin, thanks.

“Since I’ve been in my clinic all evening, I’m certain I have no idea what you’re speaking of.” Kudou’s voice rasps, dry as the desert itself. Yuuko’s pipe trails away from her mouth when she laughs, deep and long.

“This is why you’re my favorite, Shuuichirou,” she drawls. Kurogane resists rolling his eyes a second time and stares the woman down. He cares about her. He really does. She’s the closest thing to a mother he and everyone else here has. She’s also a pain in the ass.

“Back to the matter at hand,” he interrupts before Kudou gets a chance to answer.

“Ah, right. Your blond tormentor.” She inhales, exhales smoke, makes him wait a few minutes longer in the silence just for dramatic effect. The woman has far too much fun playing with the people around her. “While Ashura hides like a paranoid fool, blondie runs the gambling floor. Young, attractive, most likely involved with one or two disappearances himself, though nothing can be proven.” Yuuko takes a deep draw of her pipe, lets her eyes fall closed. “I’ve gotten a few petty complaints about him over the years: mostly neighborhood gamblers whining about his fixing games on the house’s behalf. Not my concern or my problem. Certainly no mention of knife throwing!”

Great. Kurogane sighs and resigns himself to the pull of the needle in his arm as he listens to Yuuko laugh. Her information network doesn’t slouch. If she doesn’t even have the guy’s name, let alone any important details, this guy must be a serious pro.

“Anyway, Shuuichirou,” Yuuko drawls, sitting her pipe aside with a gentle click of finality, “how is our dear Kohaku? The house is so lonely without them.” Kudou jabs his arm forcefully again, and Kurogane tries to figure out just where he went wrong.

Don’t kill anyone other than Ashura. Get the blond out of the way. He doesn’t know how he can manage both, but he has no choice but to try. It annoys the hell out of him that Yuuko can't just assign info gathering and blackmail to one of her usual crew, but they've lost enough personnel to Ashura already. She's not going to risk anyone less capable. 

He decides to tail the bodyguard and figure everything else out after he has a better grasp of the situation. He only needs to find a way to make that guy take a day off, right? Buy him off, blackmail him, threaten him away… Kurogane will figure something out, he’s sure. He simply needs more intel before he can worry about the next move.

Regular informant or no, he knows well enough how to shadow a target. His more usual line of work affords him that experience, at the very least. He sets about his early morning stakeout of the Celes with a reasonable, if preemptively bored, sense of confidence.

Stalking is neither glamorous nor interesting, but he doesn’t usually have any trouble with it. He spots his quarry locking the doors and ducking out of the gambling hall around five in the morning, looking sufficiently haggard after a long night of work. Kurogane waits for him to cross the street and move a block ahead before he steps out of the shade to trail behind.

Maybe he's overconfident. Maybe he's lost more of his edge than he thought but... he doesn't make it three blocks before Blondie turns on a heel and looks straight his way...

It’s all in his head. It has to be. But he swears that when that blue gaze catches him, the stitches in his arm begin to burn.

God. Fucking. damnit.

He avoids indulging the urge to punch the nearest passerby, but only just. How has the bastard spotted him already?! Has he just suddenly become completely incapable overnight, or is Blondie really just that good?

Great. Well, he certainly doesn’t know what to do now. He didn’t see Ashura leave last night, so presumably the man’s still inside Celes. Maybe if he backs off now he can double back, break in and try to make the hit, but since the blond menace saw him he can only assume backup would arrive quickly. He doesn't fear the possibility of a good fight, but if Yuuko wants him to limit the body count, he'll have to avoid large scale engagements like that.

Seething, he almost convinces himself that a chance at Ashura (and the end of this job) might be worth the risk of extra casualties. He thinks through the path in his head, trying to recall the best escape routes and break in points from Yuuko's notes. He takes a step back, makes to turn around and—

Catches the stranger's eye again as the blond nods sharply toward a nearby cafe.

It's a challenge—an invitation.

His opponent walks toward the entrance and swings the glass door open wide with seemingly carefree motions. Kurogane tries to weigh the whole thing rationally in his head. The early morning does afford some privacy, but enough workers mill zombie-like down the street to provide a steady flow of witnesses. Anyone smart would recognize that; it’s not really the right time or place to start something. On the other hand, he has no idea what kind of allies this guy might have. Celes didn't run much outside of itself, but Blondie's come with so many surprises already; who was to say he didn't have a few coffee shops on the take?

It’s a terrible idea. If he follows the guy now, he’ll be making a total rookie mistake.

...

Hell, he's fucked this job royally so far. Might as well keep the streak going. Besides, if the blond brings him a fight, he might even owe the guy a thank you. The stitches still smarting in his arm ache for payback.  

Kurogane shifts the fake woodwind case slung across his shoulders and makes certain he can draw his blade at the door if need be. He strides eagerly toward the shop door, frame tense with anticipation. His fingers meet the handle as he sweeps the room behind the glass. Nothing appears out of the ordinary. The mystery blond is standing at the counter, seemingly ordering a drink.

Fuck it, he thinks, and the door swings wide. 

[invisible-as-i-run]

the first step (KFY)

Remember the SakuTomo proposal here? I HAZ THE PREQUEL:

@kitten-kin also this is for you ;D

It comes up as something unexpected. Usually, Kurogane is the sort to plan with deliberation. Usually, he thinks things through, the various possible outcomes, and which he thinks will best suit his purposes. 

Like asking both twins out at the same time, because then Fai cannot say he meant Yuui instead, and Yuui can’t stammer that he thinks it isn’t fair to Fai. Like when he gets that caramel flan that both twins have been eyeing at the store but a ten-dollar price tag is way too high, and he makes sure to call them both to his office: that five-minute window where Fai’s rushing off to his lab, and Yuui’s just come out of his cooking classes, harried by students setting things on fire. (Fai comes in all sly, Yuui wears a frown, gravy on his cheek, and when Kurogane reaches into his desk drawer and pulls the bag out, both their mouths fall open.)

So, being with twins can be tricky. (Not really.) Kurogane visits their apartment, and they visit his. But it’s on a morning when the sun tints the clouds salmon-pink, and the birds are twittering out in the apartment courtyard, that Kurogane thinks of it. 

And it’s the simplest decision ever.

He waits for the twins to wake. Yuui drags a grumbling Fai to the bathroom. Fai eases into the tiny tub and goes back to sleep. Yuui looks helplessly at Kurogane, and Kurogane hauls the bum back out. And smacks his ass, just for good measure. Yuui bites down a smile. Fai yowls. But he wakes, and Kurogane gets an armful of blond with morning breath.

Breakfast is as usual. The third chair is newer, less knocked-around, and Fai pours himself into it while Yuui grinds the coffee. Kurogane heats the rice. When the food is ready, Kurogane sits at the shorter end of the table, one twin on either side of him (it’s the easiest way to have both of the others, they’ve agreed) and waits until they aren’t drinking coffee right now.

“Let’s get married,” Kurogane says, staring first at Yuui, then at Fai.

Their mouths fall open. They glance at each other, tiny twitches of their eyelids and lips, and Kurogane sighs. “Yeah, I’m serious,” he says. “You could just ask me instead of each other.”

Fai gives him the brightest grin, all wide eyes and big smile. Yuui just frowns. “How will it work? There’s... two of us. Fai and I. I don’t know if it’s possible.”

Kurogane shrugs. “We’ll look it up. If I can only marry one, then we won’t.”

They stare at him, still struck dumb. Fai hurries over to the computer and turns it on, throwing his arms up when it takes five minutes to load.

“So, are we?” Kurogane raises his eyebrows. His heart is starting to flutter, now, because Yuui frowns and hasn’t given him an answer. Fai hovers anxiously by the yellow monitor. Kurogane’s face heats. It’s the worst proposal ever. He doesn’t have rings. He doesn’t even know their ring sizes.

“Yes,” Yuui whispers, grimacing. He glances at his twin. “It’s just-- Oh, but I want to. Both of us.”

Fai huffs impatiently and dashes back to the dining table. The computer is still on that rippling Windows98 logo and it’s taking forever. He slides into Kurogane’s lap instead. “I call dibs,” he says, his grin blinding. He presses a kiss to Kurogane’s mouth. “Yuui can have you from behind.”

Yuui squawks undignified to the side, but it’s not like they haven’t done this before. He peels out of his chair and leans in to brush his nose against Kurogane’s ear, and Kurogane cracks a smile. Secretly, he’s relieved. “Yeah?” 

"Yes,” Yuui says, nudging Fai away so he can kiss Kurogane too. “But we’ll take turns, Fai.”

Fai just grins. “This means we should both be in Kuro-tan’s lap,” he says, “and you can hold both of us.”

The clock ticks and it’s time to head off for school, but Yuui’s climbing onto Kurogane’s thigh, and Fai’s already working Kurogane’s pants off. 

“Should have got some rings,” Kurogane mutters, but Fai kisses him quiet. 

“This is supposed to be romantic,” Yuui says to his side.

“We can be romantic in bed,” Fai tells him, and kisses his twin to shut him up. “Don’t worry, Yuui. We’ll both be Kuro-pon’s wives.”

“Husbands,” Yuui says, but he’s smiling. “I would like to be your husband, Kurogane.”

And it shouldn’t make Kurogane flush, but it does.

“Kuro-tan is shy,” Fai whispers, his eyes lighting up. “Kuro-tan is cute when he blushes.”

“I’m not blushing,” Kurogane snaps, but Yuui smiles all soft and fond, and there are two pairs of eyes bearing witness to this.

“If we marry somewhere else,” Yuui murmurs in Kurogane’s ear, “you could be Mr. Fluorite. If you want.”

Fai just waggles his eyebrows, his hand slipping down Kurogane’s pants, and Kurogane glares. It was supposed to be romantic. As it is, he has a blond sitting on each thigh, and Yuui’s hand curves behind his neck. Both Fai’s hands are in his pants. 

“Damn you,” Kurogane says to Fai. But he kisses them both softly, lingering, so they know he’s serious. The twins grin at him, bright as two suns, all arms and legs and elbows. There’s really no space on a chair for them to get any closer. 

And if Kurogane’s honest (he is), it’s really the best proposal ever.