Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night air bit cold on Mitsuru’s cheeks as he rushed through the tangled thicket leading to the stony beach. He paid it no heed, however, as his mind was on one thing, as it ever had been since the day that Kazuo had won his eternal loyalty and devotion. The depth of Mitsuru’s complete trust in Kazuo was such that he felt no fear despite the nightmare situation he’d suddenly found himself in. He hadn’t even been surprised when Kazuo had slipped him the note, because of course he had a plan. No matter what, Kazuo would never lose his cool. Mitsuru knew that with his sharp mind he’d already worked out a way to protect the Kiriyama Family, and that he and the other boys would do anything within their power to make it work. After all, there could only be one king, and anyone else had better serve. At the feet of such a ruler, Mitsuru had no problem kneeling.

All the members of the Family had pledged similar fealty to Kazuo, but Mitsuru knew in his heart that the bond between him and the Boss was much stronger than anything they’d ever know. Mitsuru’s admiration for Kazuo had rapidly grown into deep attraction, and Kazuo, of course, had immediately sensed it. Amused by his follower’s infatuation, he was entertained by indulging it. Like in all other things, he was impersonal but excellent, and Mitsuru was thrilled to be taken to this new level of confidence. He knew that to Kazuo it was simply an enjoyable diversion for his ever restless mind, but nonetheless it was a service he was pleased to render. As Mitsuru rushed heedlessly forward to Kazuo’s call, it could be said that he understood loyalty to such a complete fullness that the line between his own will and Kazuo’s had become hopelessly blurred.

As he scrambled up the rocks, he heard a voice and instinctively raised the gun he’d found in his backpack. The tension in him relaxed when he saw it was Kazuo speaking his name. And then immediately his heart seized again when he noticed the corpses piled at Kazuo’s feet, like grim offerings of tribute. He blinked away disbelief when he realized these bloodied bodies were no enemies but rather Ryuhei and Hiroshi, members of the Family, as well as a meek girl in their class, Izumi. Kazuo’s beautiful and strange face was thrown into sharp shadow by the thin moonlight, and he calmly watched Mitsuru’s confusion without offering explanation.

Prompted by Mitsuru’s stammering, he finally spoke. They all tried to kill me. Mitsuru was caught between conflicting drives raging in his head— he wanted to unquestioningly accept Kazuo’s word as he always did, but some rebellious part of his mind whispered that this answer rang false. Kazuo’s eyes suddenly seemed no longer mysterious and alluring but cold and hard and inscrutable. The air was thick with the salt of blood and the sea. Mitsuru felt the first pangs of fear rising in his ribs, but fought through it, rattling on about what their plan might be. It was just the two of them now— wasn’t this what he’d wanted?

“I’m fine either way.” Kazuo’s words cut through Mitsuru’s brave attempt at normalcy.

“What do you mean?” Mitsuru continued, clinging to playing the fool, a role he was so used to by now.

“I sometimes lose track of what’s right and wrong,” he said, his voice thoughtful and measured next to Mitsuru’s panicked rambling. “Like now. I just don’t know.” There was something sad about his detached contemplation, and in a different context Mitsuru would’ve found it tragically heroic. Now, however, there was only mounting dread building in his chest, crashing into horror as he suddenly realized.

"That's when I tossed a coin. If it came up heads I'd take on Sakamochi and—" Mitsuru finally fumbled for his gun, but it was far too late. "If the coin came up tails, I decided I'd take part in the game."

Mitsuru’s bullet riddled body collapsed, dismissed at last by his king. Kazuo was alone again on the beach, if it could really be said that he wasn’t before.

To anyone else, such a choice would have been a matter of great thought and emotion, a noble struggle against the government contrasted with the selfish draw of saving your own skin. To Kazuo, it really was of no more importance than the flip of a coin could determine. He had no political convictions, nor much interest in his own life. He was merely looking for something interesting to do. Both options would provide him with a complicated challenge, so both were to his satisfaction. It had just happened to be tails, that was all. Others took Kazuo’s detached reserve as cool reason and logic, but really he just had an endless drive for ultimate experience, untempered by the hindrance of emotions.

The waves lapped at the shore as Kazuo walked quickly and quietly into the night, the blood of his followers mixing with the seafoam of the rising tide. Mitsuru had forgotten that a ruler may take many advisors, but all are disposable, for the throne only has room for one.