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It'd been over a decade since the epidemic that wiped out a third of the earth's population, and the wars and political struggles that had risen in the following, chaotic years had down in for another half of what remained, if not more if one counted the death toll to disease and crime, the lack of modern medicine, the tainted environment and water in most urban areas and the general set back in civilization.

Mikado had been fifteen when it started. He was twenty-seven now. And like any of the survivors of the years between the end of the world and now... He was changed. One of the lucky ones to survive disease and war, right? Lucky... Survival came at a cost, and when the streets of Ikebukuro, once bustling with commerce and tourists, became a dead zone of gang warfare and violence, Mikado had been right in the middle of it. And powerless.

He'd learned just how powerless, painfully, and often. Until his hatred and anger had warped and tempered him into something cold and precise as a scalpel. He wasn't strong in the way the thugs and the fighters were, but amateurish inexperience could only last so long and Mikado was a fast learner. He rose to power on three things; his wits, his force of personality, and ruthlessness. Ambushing his enemies and using clever traps and guises to get him where brute strength couldn't, and using those connections that were drawn to his innate charisma to get him where only brute strength could. Even after disaster and damage, he had a certain ability to charm people with his personality, and those that followed him now were, by and large, either incredibly loyal or too useful to be rid of. In turn his mind and vision was too useful for even the less loyal followers to risk trying to be rid of, and so a balance was struck somewhere along the line. He'd lost the charming uncertainty and idealism but he'd gained a quiet, iron confidence that others were drawn to.

He had a game, a way to control the territory he'd wrested from lawlessness. Preventing fighting on the streets of the ruined city was impossible, but he could enforce it. Give it incentive. Only registered combatants would be suffered to be found fighting, and they could tear at each other as they wished, when they wished, wherever they wished. The incentive; tags given to everyone who registered, that could be ripped from a defeated opponent. They could be traded in for anything based on their number value. Better accommodations, whores, drugs, weapons, though guns were banned from the fights. The most skilled could, in theory, attempt for the specific poker hand of tags that would allow them to challenge the organization's mysterious and shadow'd leader, though none had ever reached that goal. In turn, anyone unregistered caught fighting would be summarily executed by the enforcers--unless the enforcers decided they were good looking enough to serve another purpose.

In that way, Ikebukuro stabilized a little. Non-combatants still feared the streets at night but thugs feared the enforcers more, and some semblance of life continuing grew a little, under the watchful laws of the lawless Dollars.

For Mikado this wasn't his end ambition but it was a start. But he hadn't expected, months ago, that one of the new combatants to register would have been Kida himself. The registration took place in the mansion the main members of Dollars called home, and with all registrations Mikado had been watching the newcomers put on their masks, his own in place before he revealed himself to meet them, explain the rules, and ask if they wanted to participate.

His heart had near stopped when he'd seen Kida. He almost hadn't recognized him, both their faces and voices had changed with age and trauma, and Mikado was sure Kida hadn't even had a remote moment of recognition when Mikado explained the purpose and perks of fighters. Mikado's own role in the world he'd created was the secretary to the shadowy and terrifying Dollar's boss, with none but the highest ranking aware that the quiet and no-nonsense, rather popular secretary-san was the shadowy Boss himself. That he dealt in everything from drugs to slavery and black market items, well, that was just a means of further acquiring power. Distasteful as it was, it was effective, and he left the more sadistic parts to those that most enjoyed it, usually.

But seeing Kida had shaken him, worried him in a way he wasn't aware he could still worry. Fighters died daily, defeat could mean anything from humiliation and rape to outright murder, anything was allowed in the laws of the game, but only within the game. A victor had complete freedom to deal with a loser as they saw fit, and after seeing Kida's face for the first time in years, Mikado had had his first nightmare in years; that same face dead and staring, lifeless and accusatory. For days afterwards he'd been grumpy and out of sorts, a state he couldn't afford to maintain.

Try as he might to put it from mind, he couldn't help but be drawn to Kida's progress in the fights. And Kida's presence brought with it other trouble. Members of a gang from a territory Mikado didn't control (not yet, but that was an eventual goal, they were strong enough to pose a problem for now though) had started showing up in Dollar's territory. They weren't registered fighters and they mostly respected the game's laws (those who didn't met bad ends, even rival gangs feared the consequences of violating Dollar's law) but they were still a concerning presence, trouble tracking Kida.

And Mikado was tracking them. He knew, after a few weeks of his underlings keeping tabs, that the gang was after Kida, and so he kept watch himself or through an underling.

So when Kida found himself being backed into a corner by the thugs of that group Mikado had been watching, Mikado happened to be there. If Mikado were an enforcer he'd have dealt with them ruthlessly, but he was only the Dollar's "secretary" and so he made a note of each face before he darted out of the shadow of one doorway, grabbed Kida's arm with a shouted "This way!" and ran.

No one knew the streets and back alleys like Mikado did, like he'd made a point to, and but still he kept them navigating the maze of abandoned and derelict buildings for twenty minutes to be safe, before coming to a stop in one mostly intact old apartment building, a little winded, letting go of Kida to glance cautiously out a broken window. The streets were empty, there wasn't a sound or feeling of anyone but the two of them.

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[He goes along, not crying out in pain, stumbling with Kida's guidance but not actually leaning on him. Eventually he remembers he needs to put pressure on the wound before he bleeds himself out but lifting his arms is hard. He forces himself to anyway, grimly fitting into the fleeing crowd at Kida's side, not as alert as he wants to be, but doing his best to, if not be useful, then at least not be a hindrance.]

[Judging by another gunshot when they get out, they're going to need more luck than this.]

Do you know somewhere we can get to? [The crowd is scattering they need to act fast, run somewhere.]

Ah-- I think so?

[Thank god for the time he spent recovering at Izaya's place. It means he knows this neighborhood more than he would have otherwise, and can start guiding Mikado towards someplace that might be safe.

He keeps them running, turning into an alley -- and right into one of their pursuers. Fortunately he's also pretty resourceful. In a moment his gun's in his hand, and his jacket is over the guy's head. A quick shot and that's done with, and he has no problem just stepping over the body and keeping going. They're not too far. Another few blocks and there's a safe house -- a tiny little basement the Awakusu use for shipment drop-offs and secret meetings with outside agents like, say, very loyal information brokers. He's been there before, running errands as Masaomi to earn his keep. It's usually empty, and he knows the code to the keypad on the door. If they can just make it that far...]

[Mikado tries not to slow them down but he does, cursing under his breath because it hurts but mostly because they're kind of fucked. At one point he has to rest against a wall before he passes out, draws his gun and holds it instead of pressing on the wound. If they meet more enemies his aim shouldn't be too impaired by the pain.]

[They do meet more, only two. One of whom Mikado shoots in the throat (he was aiming for the head, oh well) the other is all Lucky's.]

[But then they're at basement, inside, safe for now, and maybe they've shaken off pursuit. At the least they can hole up in here. Mikado clicks the safety back onto his gun just in time before it drops from numb fingers.]

... Well that... Was a great cock-up...

[He should have prepared better. Better security, better information, fuck, he fucked up.]

Hey. At least we're still alive!

[He laughs, but there's no humor in it. It's just nerves, and a nervous attempt to make them both feel a little better. He gets the door locked (all 4 locks on a solid metal door), then leans against it for a moment to catch his breath, glancing around at the contents of the room.

It's as he remembers. A few boxes in the corner, a few thin rolled up futons and folded blankets. Two chairs. Room for the contents of a single van-sized shipment on top of all that, but no current goods. They could have done worse.]

This is supposed to be a safe house just in case. They might have first aid stuff.

[First aid. Right. That's important. While he still has adrenaline it's probably good to... Mikado glances around, he's never been here but the likeliest place to keep a first aid kit.... There. He moves towards it and lo and behold... The kit is right were he thinks it would be, behind the boxes by the futons. He drags it out one-handed, sits on a box and starts undoing his shirt, hissing as he strips it off. There's a lot of blood.]

...Nothing vital I think. I should be okay.

[He uses his shirt to press on the wound, leaning back and breathing deeply.]

Is there an exit wound?

[There isn't. You're going to have to dig a bullet out. And on top of that, you have the privilege of seeing Mikado half naked. He's not really buff but he's not scrawny any more. He's wiry and slim and his torso looks like someone tried to shove him threw a wood chipper on accident, metaphorically speaking. Too many scars, many of them ugly as hell and all of them very old.]

Ah...

[Give him a moment, Mikado. For now he's stunned, staring at Mikado's scars and identifying the probably causes of far too many of them. They're old, yes. But that's maybe worse. He can't help imagining those wounds on the boy he left behind. Remembering how easily Mikado listed off what must have happened to Kida himself. Thinking about how cold he is, and how he must have gotten that way.

He's silent, wide-eyed and only half thinking of his own scars and their causes. More than that, he's feeling an overwhelming sense of failure. Ryuugamine Mikado is someone that Kida Masaomi should have protected. But he didn't. Not then, and not today. He just ran, only thinking about himself -- for all the grand things he's done his whole life, it really has always, always been running away from something else, hasn't it? It's always been selfish, and in the end, he's always failed to protect the people that matter.

It occurs to him that it probably looks completely stupid from the outside, to start crying right now. But looking at Mikado like that just hits him with too much, and he can't really help it. He'll just try to cover for it by looking down as soon as he's noticed it himself.]

...N-No. Looks like they really got you.

[Mikado is understandably confused by Kida's hesitation and reaction. But he's a bit distracted by pain to dwell on it or reason it out. And he's focusing on the moment. The practical knowledge that right now there's a bullet in him that needs to come out, and that is going to hurt like hell. Oh well. He's probably been through worse. He'll one-handedly open the first aid kit, hoping for painkillers.]

Could be worse right?

[He tries a little of Masaomi's humor back at him, a tight smile. Maybe Kida's freaking out. They are closer to Fate's territory, they are being pursued by Fate's men. It's not like Mikado doesn't understand how scary having your torturer alive and after you is. So he'll pop the bottle of painkillers, swallow a few pills dry and grit his teeth, trying to focus on how to reassure his redheaded companion that things will be okay.]

[He said he'd support Kida, an emotional crisis counts. It doesn't even occur to him that the problem isn't the current situation, but his scars.]

It's too bad, you'd probably rather be stuck in this situation with a pretty girl.

[Look he never said his attempts at humor would be any good.]

[The effort is appreciated, bad jokes or not. Mikado's trying, and Kida recognises that. The fact that he's bothering, that even though he's hurt he's thinking about Kida's feelings, is touching and makes him feel a little warm. But it makes the guilt all the sharper at the same time, even as he forces a laugh in response.]

Nah. I wouldn't wish a wound like that on a pretty girl.

[He swallows his tears, doing his best to calm himself as he comes over and takes the first aid kit. He takes a seat on the next box over, breathing steady and reaching for the wound.]

You ready?

Nope. Do it anyway.

[Like really who is ever ready to have a bullet dug out of them? Mikado takes his wallet from his pocket for something to bite and leans back against the boxes, turning his face away and clamping his teeth down on leather. Painkillers should hit soon, that'll take the edge off at least.]

Alright...

[On the bright side, he's done this before, plenty of times. He can manage not to sever anything important while he's pulling it out. But it's still painful, and it's still messy, and his hands are covered in blood by the time he's done. And yet he's kind of glad, because concentrating on this is getting his mind off of everything else. Even so his eyes stay burning the whole time, and it takes all he's got to keep his hands steady and his head clear.

When he's dropped the last bit onto the box next to them, he drops the tweezers with it and sighs heavily, reaching for the gauze.]

Congratulations, you've survived!

[Hey at least his screaming was muffled. And he was remarkably disciplined about not squirming. Or moving at all. Actually that's probably really fucking unnatural and you might not want to think too deeply about how a guy acquires the skill to hold still through that kind of pain.]

[He's panting and sweaty and pale as fuck but he smiles tightly and nods, waiting for Kida to finish disinfecting and bandaging the wound.]

Thanks doc. I feel better already...

[Deeps breaths. Okay. Maybe he just won't move off this box for a while. And it's not like he hasn't noticed Kida's tears.]

...You going to be okay?

Mm... I'm fine.

[Of course he's far from it. He feels sick. Mikado's bitten-down screams are echoing in his head, playing back with mental images of every torture he's seen and felt held up against the friend he knew all those years ago. Compared to that, the terror of getting caught feels like nothing. After all, if he's truly cornered, he can just kill himself. He's already come to terms with the inevitability of his impending death, so he wouldn't hesitate to end it if he really thought he was going to be captured. Honestly, his guilt is a million times worse. That's something he can't escape. It'll be there forever, because that torment has already happened. To him, to Mikado, and to everyone else he's failed. The damage has been done, and the weight will never leave his shoulders.

But he can still blink his tears away and smile the same quiet, gentle, fake smile Mikado's probably gotten used to by now. No matter what efforts he makes to actually "face his problems" and "deal with them", he still defaults back to this, the simple coping method of wrapping up the pain and shoving it back in his chest as if somehow, by not being exposed, it'll hurt less.

At the least, it keeps him from trembling when he searches the crates for bottled water to wash his hands off.]

[Well Mikado's not moving, laying on his back, just watching Kida, head tilted to the side and feeling drained and a little floaty on painkillers. A fierce, dull ache now that the impromptu surgery is over.]

....You're not fine. You're doing that thing. The thing where you close off. I do that. You're doing me.

[So maybe he's a little loopier on pain and drugs than he thought he was, but he's pretty sure that sentence made some sense. It made sense in his head.]

It doesn't get better like that. It doesn't suit you.

[He gets his hands clean while Mikado talks, responding with a slight shrug and a hum. It's true, and he knows it. But it's all he knows how to do, so he can't stop. He doesn't like the feeling of falling apart, so, like with everything else, he runs away from it. He retreats, only now there's nowhere left to go but into himself.

He hands Mikado a fresh bottle, still smiling, then sits back with one of his own.]

You might be surprised. It's kind of funny how much you never knew back in high school...

[I hope you opened the cap for him because he doesn't have the arm strength for that much right now.]

...So tell me about it.

[They've got nothing but time to kill and for once this sounds... Less like an evasion and almost like Kida offering something, opening up a little. Either way neither of them are going anywhere for a while.]

[Yep he's a nice friend like that. Water for you, kid.]

...I told you I had a gang in middle school. We were just dumb kids, but it kind of got over my head after awhile. Y'know, I tried to keep it really small time, but things got violent anyway. We had a rival group that was bigger and older than us. That's when I met Izaya, through a girl. It was all his set-up, but... I loved her. And then she got hurt, because of the fighting. Because I failed to protect her. So... Actually, I invited you to Ikebukuro so that I could run away from that whole life. I left the gang, and her, and traded it for you, and then Anri too. But the whole time, I was just pretending. All that playing around, hitting on older women and being loud... I was lying. I wanted to be happy and normal, so I faked it. I just thought I should act like the kid I'd been in Saitama, and if I tried hard enough that life would really become mine.

Really, I've never done anything but bullshit, ever since I came to this city. Being Lucky was just a choice to throw away the parts of me that weren't needed and force the parts that were, because I wanted to help people. I faked it til I made it. So it shouldn't be so surprising that it's fallen apart. The real me has always been... this. Just a failure and a liar.

Edited 2014-02-28 15:47 (UTC)

Ah.

[He listens to the whole story the whole way through, quiet, drinking water. By the end he's done with the bottle and his eyes are closed.]

But you you know... I've known you were a liar since we were little kids in Saitama. Ah, remember when we were hunting rhinoceros beetles that one summer? You told me you wanted to sell them but... I never told you I found out the real reason. You just wanted to give them away to some kids so they could beat those bullies. You really did it in a flashy, round about way you know? Even lying to make yourself look like you weren't that cool...

[God that was so long ago.]

It was dumb but that kind of chivalry stood out to me.

I think if you've lost sight of who you are, it's because you're actually buying into your own lies. That you aren't that good a person, that there isn't something worthwhile in you... That you're a failure. All those things I can't really believe. You might fail and you might do things that harm your sense of chivalry but you're still someone who loves good over evil and heroes and knights. You're someone who tried hard to be that. Even if you messed up with other things, even if you were faking it, you were pretty successful.

That you're a liar is true though.

You can admire me if you want, but the truth won't change. I failed you, didn't I?

[That's the heart of things, right now. Everything else is just background fuzz. He doesn't want to argue about his whole life, anyway. That's years and years of trying and faking and slipping and watching people get hurt or die because he couldn't follow through in the end. What's really bothering him -- what's making him start crying again now, is that it's just so unfair for Mikado to say nice things about him, when he's sitting here hurt, scarred, because of Kida's failures.

It makes his throat hurt and his chest ache, and he has to drop his head into his hands to try and steady himself enough to keep from simply melting down. It's just not right. It's not fair at all.]

You were my most important person and I didn't protect you at all...

[Confused a moment. Until it hits him... His scars. They're pretty hideous, he keeps covered in general for a reason. And Kida hasn't seen them. And probably the bullet wound doesn't help either. And Mikado has to close his eyes, frowning before he looks at Kida again.]

Do you think you're some kind of superhero, that you can do everything? I'm not... I was never a damsel you needed to protect, either. I always thought you were dead and I missed you, but I was glad too that you didn't have to go through some of the things... I guess you did in the end, and I hate that.

But you know you saved me too? Even if you didn't know it or mean to, knowing about Lucky gave me a lot of courage and hope. And I think you know hope's not that easy to come by when you think it's all lost.

It's funny but when I missed you a lot, I was also thinking of you. I just didn't know it.

But-- I left you. I could have come back for you.

[He can't let that go. Maybe he's being stubborn, irrational, but right now all he can feel is miserable. But that's just normal lately, isn't it? He's been drowning in his own guilt and despair for over a year and a half now, and it's ingrained. Everything Mikado says is just a few drops in a huge empty bucket.]

Yeah... But that's in the past. And because you didn't come back for me, I built Dollars up into what it is. I don't really regret how my life's gone so far. There are parts that were painful, but everyone endures some loss in life.

Rather, isn't it more amazing we met again at all?

...I guess...

[He can't deny that one, at least. It is pretty stunning, the two of them sitting here, acting like they're close again after all these years. It's almost funny. If he were feeling more hopeful, he would venture that it could be fate.

He sniffs, rubbing at his eyes and glancing at his wristwatch nervously as he does. It's about that time, isn't it? He reaches for his pocket without saying anything. Mikado's used to that routine by now, too. Only... Only his pills weren't in his pants pocket. They were in his jacket pocket. And his jacket pocket is several blocks away on a corpse, assuming it hasn't been stolen or picked up by Fate yet.

Suddenly, he goes white as a sheet.]

...Oh no.

...?

[Mikado knows the routine, so he's not alarmed until Masaomi is. Then he even struggles to sit up, eyes wide. The attempt to sit up fails miserably but his attention is on Kida all the same.]

--You lost them?

They were in my jacket...

[He glances from Mikado to the door several times, contemplating going to get them. But there's almost no chance a nice, flashy jacket like his will be left sitting, even with some blood stains. It's been almost an hour. It's got to be gone. And there's no guarantee they're not still being looked for. It would be completely stupid to go back for them, but-- but knowing an episode is coming is almost worse than the experience itself. The anticipation is gut-wrenching, leaving him shaking even though he knows he's got another ten minutes or so before it hits.]

[Well shit. The same train of thought crosses Mikado's mind. Eventually he fumbles for the bottle of painkillers and tosses them at Kida.]

Don't go out. You'll get yourself killed. I know it's asking a lot but endure it.

If it helps, I've heard some pretty good news about the cure.