Chapter Text
To create the perfect donburi, one must first recognize its versatility.
It was a favorite in the Kira household growing up, likely because of that flexibility. Simple or complex, it was delicious, and when paired with side dishes such a rich miso soup or a light salad, it had the potential to be incredibly hearty. Thus, because of his familiarity with its fundamentals, donburi became Yoshikage’s chosen meal for evening.
He started the day with a grocery trip, buying each and every ingredient (and proper dishware) himself so that he could avoid the frustration that was likely to come from any attempt to navigate Diavolo’s kitchen. The notion of finally cooking himself a proper, authentic Japanese dish, paired with the knowledge that he’d have Diavolo as his judge, meant that the dinner had to be nothing less than extraordinary.
It wasn’t as though he was making a deliberate attempt to impress the boss, but he had a reputation to maintain and a point to prove.
When he returned home, he was able to set his stage.
The main feature of the bowl was a fresh, wagyu ribeye, rubbed with salt an hour before it was ready to be cooked in order to bring out the most of its flavor. Two eggs sat beside the plate in a small bowl for containment purposes; their yolks would be an eventual addition to the bowls. The bulk of the dish was the short-grain rice he’d picked out from the market, a slight challenge due to Italy’s love for long-grain varieties. For the sauce, he’d selected a small bottle of sake and another of mirin, a bundle of yellow onions, soy sauce, and granulated sugar, fated to be combined into one savory combination.
Before he was able to begin, of course, he secured himself an apron to fasten around his neck and behind his back. He’d gotten dressed for the day when he went into town; he refused to soil his suit with sauce remnants while preparing his own dinner.
Once prepped, the show began.
Yoshikage found cooking to be immensely therapeutic. Rather than spend his time in various restaurants and bakeries, he preferred to prepare his own meals, often experimenting with different recipes when he felt adventurous enough. For the most part, it gave him a chance to work with his hands in a way that wouldn’t damage them…and thanks to his love for precision, he was quite skilled at it. Chopping the onions was practically instinct, as was stirring the sauce together in the bowl he’d scavenged from the cupboards. Only a minute or two after he laid the steak- now additionally lathered with black pepper and other miscellaneous spices- against the pan he’d prepped, the aroma of cooking meat flooded the room and the hallways surrounding it. After three minutes, the steak was flipped onto its opposite side. The sear was pristine; this would be his masterpiece. When it had finished its time on the stove, he had to fight the temptation to slice into it a little early and give it a taste while allowing it to rest off to the side.
The sauce was a slightly more daunting challenge. He poured the contents of the bowl he’d prepped- along with the onions- into the same pan that the steak had previously occupied. As it began to simmer, he initiated the slow process of stirring it as cautiously as he could, watching for its reduction. When the time came to strain the sauce, he did so flawlessly, not even so much as a droplet landing on the apron.
Comforted by the alluring scent that had filled the room, as well as the gentle warmth still radiating off of the stovetop, Kira began to plate the meal. He’d purchased two donburi dishes specifically, as no ordinary bowl would do- not by his standards, at least. His rice, fresh from the pot it had been warmed in and gently seasoned with a small portion of the finished sauce, was piled into the bowls and shaped into perfect domes. Once the proportions were symmetrical enough to satisfy Yoshikage, he moved on to cut the steak, working to separate the ribeye into sixteen even slices. They were then divided amongst the two bowls, surrounding the pile of rice like a protective shell. His garnish was complete with the addition of one fresh egg yolk atop each of the piles, topped off by three spoonfuls of sauce drizzled neatly atop the completed dish and a delicate garnish of bonito flakes.
He stepped back from his masterpiece with a satisfied sigh, placing both of his hands on his hips as he stared admiringly at the food. The fact that he had been able to do everything without once being bothered was all the more sweet to him. The staff had ceased shuffling around the mansion several hours ago, sent home early due to a lack of need for their services. It was late evening at that point. The sun was long gone from the sky, replaced by a thin sliver of moonlight lingering beyond the clouds still passing overhead. Yoshikage had noticed some lasting storm damage throughout the city when he’d gone out shopping- a discarded tree branch here, a runaway trash bin there…litter everywhere…
He carried both bowls over to a dining room that resided adjacent to the kitchen, setting one serving down at the head of the table and the other at the left hand side. He’d always admired the space, as it was less gaudy than a majority of the other rooms in the mansion. A single, crystal chandelier (which matched the one in the library) hung from the ceiling and illuminated the space rather well, utilizing the glass droplets to refract light in many different directions. The chairs at the table were simple, wooden frames with two red velvet cushions: one fastened to the back of the chair, and another to the seat. The tabletop itself was covered in silky, crimson cloth. Kira doubted that it would do much to protect the wood beneath it from spills of any sort. It was definitely more decorative in that aspect.
He grabbed the bottle of sake he’d set onto the table prior to preparing the meal and began to pour himself a glass, a single strand of hair falling into his face as he leaned over. He was in the middle of reaching for the second when the door behind him cracked open. Diavolo slipped through a moment later, dressed in a familiar suit. It was the one he’d been wearing when they first encountered each other at his nightclub. Yoshikage wondered if the choice was intentional.
“I could smell whatever you've cooked up in here from all the way down the hall.” He chuckled, approaching Yoshikage with a gentle smile. Diavolo's gaze caught the apron and his eyes began to shine; Kira knew he was going to be teased about it before the words even left his mouth. “...You look like you’d make a good housewife.”
Yoshikage snorted, shaking his head with a grimace as he finished pouring Diavolo’s glass. “Don’t push it.” He reached behind himself to unfasten the apron, lifting it over and off of his head to be discarded onto the back of the empty chair beside him. He took a seat at the chair to the left. Diavolo followed suit, claiming his place at the head. “This is steak donburi, a popular staple in a Japanese household. I avoided adding wasabi for your sake.” He murmured, his own eyes narrowing coyly as he watched his boss examine the bowl.
“Your consideration touches my heart.” He grunted. Diavolo began to pick at the bowl with a fork, unsure how to approach his meal. Yoshikage watched in silent amusement. His sarcastic tone morphed into confusion as he failed to snag his food. “How do I…?”
“I'd recommend cutting into the steak, first. You Italians are barbaric like that.” Yoshikage cooed, busy utilizing his own utensils: a set of chopsticks, freshly purchased that morning. He let his eyes fall from Diavolo for a moment as he expertly snagged a slice for himself and promptly popped it into his mouth. He had to fight a smug smile. It was perfect. The steak was juicy and rich, the egg added the perfect hint of flavor, and the ratio of sauce to rice was unmatched. He’d outdone himself.
When he was finally able to steal another glance at his boss, Diavolo was holding a finger over his lips as he chewed, eyes narrowed thoughtfully all the while. He eventually cleared his throat and gave a decisive nod, the fork bobbing in his hand. “...I don’t suppose you’d consider quitting your current position and instead take up a job as my chef-?”
The praise was all the more gratifying coming from the one man whose opinion Kira gave half a damn about. Of course, he wouldn't let it show, so he merely patted his lips with a napkin and asked, “Is the pay any better?”
“Hah!” Diavolo barked a laugh as he stabbed his fork into the bowl a second time. He gave Kira a pointed stare, likely bringing attention to the suit that he was wearing. Kira had chosen a sleek, wool two-piece to wear that night. It nearly matched Diavolo’s own. “I spoil you rotten, Yoshikage.”
Kira merely hummed, bringing the glass of sake he’d poured for himself up to his lips. “For that, I am grateful.” He watched as Diavolo decided to follow suit, raising his own cup for a careful sip before drawing back in surprise. Yoshikage hadn’t warned him ahead of time that they would not be dining with Italian wine. The surprise on his boss’ face was worth it. Before Diavolo could ask, Kira explained with a patient chuckle. “It’s sake, Japanese rice wine. It’s smoother than what you’re used to, but it has a higher alcohol content, so watch yourself.”
“It’s good. Not as sweet as I would’ve expected.” He remarked curiously. Diavolo held the glass up to the overhead light of the chandelier and swirled the liquid around in a lazy circle, his eyes fixed on the gentle glimmer. “Neat aftertaste, though. I like it.”
“I thought you would. Though I apologize for not continuing our little tradition.” Kira took a second sip of his drink before setting it down, choosing to pace himself. Becoming intoxicated in the presence of his boss was no longer a genuine concern for him, but he wouldn’t want to begin feeling ill halfway through his meal. “We’ll have to dine with Barolo next time. I might learn how to properly prepare venison.”
Something in those words pleased Diavolo, as his posture shifted ever so slightly. He leaned in a little over the edge of the table, his hair slipping down from his shoulders as his dark fuschia lips twisted into a smirk. His eyes had that look in them again. “Are you offering to cook for us again?”
“Finish your meal, and I’ll consider it.” Kira scolded gently, reminding them both that their food wouldn’t stay warm forever. Their banter would have to wait.
Diavolo seemed to get the hint, because they quickly fell into a comfortable silence filled only with the sound of utensils occasionally scraping dishes. Though the moon was not full that night, it shone bright enough to allow the faintest shimmer of silver light to peer into the room through the windows lining the far wall. It was a stark contrast to the warmth of the chandelier, but it was beautiful nonetheless. The translucent curtains hanging from either side of the aforementioned windows were like phantoms spectating the two occupants of the near-empty table, as still and as silent as the marble busts standing between them. Though the scenery might’ve been eerie to the ordinary person, the two men occupying the space found it immensely comfortable. Neither of them needed anything more than the simple pleasantness of a quiet evening and the charms of each other’s company.
It only took them both a little under half an hour to finish their meals, and just a few minutes more to finish off their drinks. “Another flawless performance.” Diavolo praised, folding his napkin as he spoke. He set it down against the edge of the table and propped his chin up onto his hand in order to gaze admiringly at his bodyguard. His cheeks were flushed a little pink. Kira wondered if he’d poured himself an extra glass when he wasn’t looking. “I wonder if there’s anything you can’t do…”
“Sing.” He answered swiftly, placing his own napkin against the table. “My mother always complimented my voice, but every musical teacher I ever had informed me otherwise.” Yoshikage made eye contact with Diavolo, moving to shut down any schemes he might be plotting. “I’d like to assure you that I am in no rush to prove them wrong.”
Diavolo chuckled, but his eyes quickly grew distant, as if he was considering something. He tilted his head to the side after a moment, his tone softer than it had been before. “I don’t seem to recall you ever mentioning your mother to me.”
Yoshikage raised a single brow. “I didn’t realize you were curious.”
A wry smile crossed his face. “I'm always curious.” He vowed, leaning in a little closer over the table.
Ignoring the warmth that started to creep along his face, Yoshikage merely cleared his throat and absentmindedly poked at a few stray grains of rice still lingering in his bowl. His family was a strange topic, but not necessarily a sensitive one. It couldn’t hurt. “Well, if you're so insistent.” He sighed, giving up on the chopsticks. “My family was a strange one. My parents had me when they were older- more so than we are now- so they were little less capable of raising me than a more… youthful adult might’ve been. As a result, they didn't do a particularly good job.” He grimaced as he recalled the memories, yet continued speaking. Perhaps it was the distinct keenness in Diavolo's eyes that encouraged him to.
“My mother was obscenely possessive of me, physically and mentally. She had a morphed way of seeing the world. Anything and everything that she cherished had to be kept from it. My father was a coward, so he did not stop her more…abrasive actions, but he was equally as determined as she was. I explained to you last night how he granted me my stand. That was only a year or two before he died. My mother- who was a shell of herself at that point- passed shortly after. I remember criticizing their naïvety when it came to their methods of raising me, though I simultaneously respected how undyingly loyal they were to my success. My father was particularly determined.” Kira hummed softly, pouring himself a shorter glass of sake. He hadn't thought about his parents in years, aside from occasionally contemplating whether or not his father's ghost was still making an impact in Japan. It was strangely cathartic to be able to speak about it.
Diavolo leaned back in his chair as Kira took a swig, watching his bodyguard with a curious frown. He always seemed so calm whenever he talked about the aspects of his life that would’ve been scarring to the ordinary individual. Did it truly not bother him, or was he simply good at hiding it? From what Diavolo could tell, it was the first, but…Yoshikage could be difficult. He was easy to navigate at surface-level, but anything deeper than that was a mystery. It was one of the many reasons that he liked him so much.
“It's your turn, you know.”
Diavolo was drawn from his ponderings by Kira's voice. He hadn't even realized that the latter was watching him expectantly, lavender eyes glowing almost pinkish in the dim, warm lighting. “My turn?”
“Tell me more about your parents. From what I can tell, your situation was more complex than mine. You were born in a prison, right?” Kira took another sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving Diavolo's face as he set the glass down. His boss had told him bits and pieces about his upbringing, but they never quite made sense. He'd love to hear him elaborate.
Diavolo accepted the request with a small nod. “You’d be correct. My guardian explained it to me in vague detail when I was old enough to understand. I was born in an all-female prison, two years into my mother’s roughly eighteen-year sentence. My father was reportedly already dead at that time. To this day, there still isn’t a proper explanation in place. The priest called it a miracle.” Diavolo chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I like to think that was his way of comforting himself.”
“Miracles tend to herald blessings. He was definitely off the mark.” Kira chimed in, chuckling softly when Diavolo prodded him with his foot under the table.
“Always with the sass.” His expression morphed for a moment as he began to recall his past further. He needed to work around the issue of Doppio’s existence again. Omitting his presence entirely seemed to be the only option. There was also that woman …He regained his composure quickly, with only a small hint of confusion on Kira’s part. “When I was still young, maybe close to seventeen, my mother was able to track me down to Sardinia. She had been released from prison some years prior and decided that she had some sort of obligation to find her son…or perhaps she was feeling sentimental. I'll never know. Regardless, that was around the time that I had begun to realize my ambitions. No individual who had any connection to my past could remain alive long enough to share those details. Thus, I silenced my mother and sealed her in the floor beneath the priest’s house...alive.” His frown deepened, his brow beginning to pinch together. “To this day, I'm not entirely sure why I didn't just kill her.”
“A…lingering attachment, maybe?” Yoshikage murmured. He raised a brow, evidently following along with the recollection just fine. “I'm going to preemptively assume that this segues into the destruction of your village.”
“Indeed it does.” Diavolo nodded slowly. “The summer after that, I met a young woman while working at the harbor. She was a tourist staying nearby. We spent a considerable amount of time together, though she only ever knew me by the name Solido Naso . In response to our developing relationship, the priest looking after me began to remodel his home to better suit a future family. It was then that he discovered my mother.” His eyes darkened, his thumb rubbing anxiously against his other fingers. Kira only watched. “I burned the village down that same night, vowing to abandon all ties to my past for good. No matter how simplistic it might’ve been, any hint of knowledge that alluded to who I was would only come back to haunt me in the future.” It took a few moments of silence, but Diavolo eventually sucked in a short breath, regaining his pleasant expression from earlier as he smiled tightly at Yoshikage. “You know the rest from there.”
Kira blinked; if he was shocked or perturbed by Diavolo's backstory, it didn't show on his face. “I was right. That was complex.” He trailed off for a moment, his voice quieting in order to add, “And this woman you mentioned…”
“She wasn’t in the village that night. I have no idea where she is now.” Diavolo clarified, plucking the bottle of sake from the table to contemplate whether or not he should pour himself another glass.
His eyes didn’t look conflicted. His departure from what Kira assumed was his first genuine relationship didn’t seem to trouble him, nor did he appear concerned about the fact that she may be alive. If anything, he was rather matter-of-fact about it all. Kira found it strange that this bothered him. “You cared for her, though.”
“Debatable. It doesn't matter now. She never knew who I was, not really, so she’s the least of my concerns at the moment.” Diavolo set the bottle down, opting out of another serving. His gaze slid over to meet Kira’s through his lashes, and a smirk began to lift the corners of his lips. “You have nothing to concern yourself over.”
With a huff, Kira glanced away, his fingers brushing briefly over his jaw. “Nobody said I was.”
“No? Must’ve been my imagination.”
“Must have.”
Diavolo let out a heavy exhale and began to reach into the front of his suit coat, his hand slipping into one of the pockets. “Not to overshadow your dinner- which was extraordinary, by the way- but an interesting development has been made.” He brandished a single envelope, already opened, and handed it to Kira. The latter accepted it with a hesitant frown. “I found this in our mailbox this morning. No return address, no postal stamp. It was hand-delivered.”
Yoshikage reached into the tender paper folds and withdrew a small piece of cardstock, styled in the same fashion that one might see with a business card. It was heavier than the average cut and the edges were sharp; it was fresh, and expensive. However, instead of a name and contact information, the paper contained only three words and four numbers.
Lo Stallone Bianco. 21:00.
Diavolo continued to speak over Kira’s onsetting alarm. “Lo Stallone Bianco is one of my yachts. Somebody's requesting to meet me there, it seems.”
Yoshikage let the card fall from his hands, understanding immediately what Diavolo was insinuating. He leaned forwards in his chair, his expression one of fraught disbelief. “You’re not seriously going to go, are you?”
“Judging by your reaction, I think you already know my answer.” Diavolo laughed, reaching over to gently pat his hand over Yoshikage’s.
“Diavolo.” Kira let his tone harden as he began to lecture his boss, annoyed by the mere suggestion. “You are a man of extraordinarily high caliber, so I’m sure that you’ve realized that this is a trap. Not only do they know where you live, but they’re calling you out in the middle of the night to go pay a visit to a place where nobody will hear any sort of conflict. That harbor is desolate. You’ll practically be asking somebody to attack you.” He fixed his collar with his free hand and huffed impatiently. “If anything, we should be on our guard knowing that this address has been compromised.” He realized with a short jolt that Diavolo’s hand was still resting on his own; he slid it away with an embarrassed cough.
He hummed softly, as if Kira’s points were all minor inconveniences. “I agree, it's troublesome that our home has been targeted. I'm additionally well aware that there is a hefty chance this is an ambush waiting to happen. However…” Diavolo moved to stand and Kira subconsciously mirrored the action, gathering his used dinnerware. “On the off-chance that this is something other than an attempt to end my life, I'd like to investigate it. In addition, if the dust settles and it is as you say, we can simply eliminate the threat.” He fell in stride with Yoshikage as they re-entered the kitchen, dumping his bowl and silverware into the sink.
With a frustrated groan, Kira rubbed his hands down his face. He intended to go with him, of course. It would keep him up all night if Diavolo went off by himself, so for ease of mind, he would join the venture. “Fine. Let’s just be quick about it.”
Diavolo laughed again, trailing behind his bodyguard as Kira began to storm his way over to the garage. “You have my word.”
As their drivers had already left for the day, it was up to Yoshikage to be their chauffeur. His car was the vehicle of choice; he was more familiar with it than he was with Diavolo's. Besides, his own vehicle had all the same extremities that the boss’ Rolls Royce had. If they ran into trouble, they would be prepared. After slipping into the driver’s seat with his keys and a short sigh, the car roared to life alongside the rumble of the garage door rising behind them. Kira pulled out of the house with ease and turned into the neighborhood, grateful for the strength of his headlights; the moon now hid entirely behind the clouds, casting the night in perfect darkness. Ordinarily, he wouldn't mind it, but that evening was…unusually eerie. It unsettled him.
Diavolo lounged beside him in the passenger’s seat, occasionally chiming in with directions as the car purred through the near-abandoned city streets. The closer they got to the city’s denser population, the more crowded the sidewalks grew with the bustle of the night-life’s denizens. Once the car pressed on even further, the buildings began to thin out again, and the chatter of Italy’s crowds began to diminish. Diavolo's harbor was a private one, settled just beyond the border of the city where the bay dipped in to create a miniature fjord. It was a known area to those who were somewhat familiar with the man who owned it, as he often rented the boats out to a number of clients, but it was inaccessible to the general public via a series of guards and barbed wire fences. Whoever left them the note must've been certain that they were capable of getting past the security…which only disturbed Kira more.
He could feel his hands tighten around the steering wheel as the lights of the greater portion of the city began to fade. Kira had faith in both King Crimson's ability and his own, but something was still nagging at him. His gut was telling him that the entire rendezvous was a terrible idea. He was not accustomed to ignoring his instincts.
Perhaps it was because he noticed his bodyguard’s discomfort, or perhaps it was an attempt at idle conversation, but Diavolo reached over and briefly tapped Yoshikage's shoulder with a light hum. “It's been a while since you and I were able to get out onto the field. When were we together last…?”
“The gala. Then you disappeared for a week and I was left to go on errands.” Yoshikage stated this bluntly, too focused on driving and fighting his building anxiety to answer politely.
Diavolo didn't take offense, instead letting out an amused chuckle. “I apologized, didn't I?” He lowered his voice as he shifted in his seat to better face his guard, irritatingly coquettish as he mused, “Don't tell me you missed me that much.”
Yoshikage gritted his jaw, unwilling to entertain Diavolo with an answer. He would either be lying or submitting himself to a fairly humiliating truth. He didn’t favor either option. Unfortunately for him, his silence was an answer in itself. Diavolo dropped the facade as he angled his head to the side, peering curiously at his bodyguard over a puzzled frown. The resulting tension lasted for such a long stretch of time that Kira felt his face beginning to burn long before his boss tentatively murmured, “Yoshikage…”
The latter was saved by his efficiency. The car practically screeched to a halt in front of the gates of the harbor access lot. He quickly turned everything off, though he was certain that the one who summoned them was already well aware of their presence. He mimed for Diavolo to be still before opening his own door, taking a cautious survey of their surroundings. Once everything was in order, he motioned for the don to follow suit. Kira gave Diavolo a scrutinizing once-over the moment he stepped out, his breath crystalizing the moment it passed his lips. “You should cover your face.”
Diavolo merely brushed down the front of his clothing, as calm as could be. “The only other person here to see it will be dead by midnight. I'm not concerned.”
Kira sighed, shaking his head as he approached the gate kiosk. It appeared to be abandoned; the absence of an overhead light had surrounded the entire building in shadow. Even so, as he approached, the familiar tang of blood flooded his nostrils. His feet were driven to an instant standstill. There weren’t any bodies behind or off to the sides of the kiosk, so the source of the scent had to be waiting for them inside, barred away by the shut door. Yoshikage crept off to the side, pressing his shoulder into the wall adjacent to the hinges. He motioned for Diavolo to join him, uttering, “Wait here,” as he began to stretch his arm over the door. After steeling himself for a reaction, he twisted the handle and thrust the door ajar, halting halfway through the motion as it became caught on something resting against the other side.
He let a moment of silence pass before angling his head through the gap, eyes scanning the interior of the kiosk top to bottom before deeming it safe for them to enter. Squeezing his body through the opening was no challenge, but side-stepping the growing puddle of blood seeping across the floorboards proved to be somewhat difficult. Yoshikage discovered the source shortly after entering the room, much to his displeasure. The door had gotten caught on a body splayed out just behind it, poised in such a way that Kira wondered if the victim had been attempting to make a run for it before meeting their demise.
He approached the corpse delicately, crouching down to pick at their uniform as he searched for a wound. He had to squint in order to make out the details. The deceased was male, probably in his mid to late forties. His hair was slicked back over his head with a pungent gel that had hardened the fronds into an immovable shell. His wrinkles were most defined around his ears and the corners of his eyes, though his expression was contorted in such a way that it might’ve made them appear more intense than usual. Yoshikage pressed his middle and index fingers against the man’s neck. He was still partially warm to the touch. He’d died recently.
Yoshikage narrowed his eyes and began to peel the stranger’s jacket back as gingerly as he could, taking great care as to not wet his own hands with blood. After shedding the first layer of fabric away, the cause of death became evident; a series of stab wounds, around fifteen to twenty, decorated the man’s back and upper shoulders. They were done in a fashion eerily similar to the method that Kira had used on his own victims before he’d developed Killer Queen. The cuts were as deep as they were ragged, blood still trickling from the open gashes. The loss of fluid would’ve been quick. He’d died within the first ten minutes after being attacked.
Still, the presence of a body confirmed that they were meeting an assassin. Kira moved to stand as Diavolo shoved his way inside the kiosk, evidently weary of waiting. “Oh.” He stared curiously at the body, his expression one of only mild surprise. “That’s troublesome.”
“I thought the opposite.” Yoshikage murmured, checking to be sure that none of the blood had made its way onto his own clothing. “A blatant murder such as this denotes the fact that we aren’t facing a fellow stand user. They have unknowingly handed us the advantage.” He gestured cooly to Diavolo as Killer Queen manifested over his shoulder. “Back away, please.”
Diavolo shuffled off to the far side of the room as Killer Queen laid its hand against the shoulder of the deceased, trailing attentively after its user as Kira moved to join Diavolo. Both men watched the body momentarily shrivel in on itself before bursting into flames, reducing itself to nothing but faint wisps of ash. It fluttered to the ground like snowflakes, casting a thin layer of grime across the bloody pools. “Our friend is wielding a serrated blade. Try to avoid getting close enough for him to cut you with it.” Yoshikage advised, his tone as flat as his expression.
Diavolo held his hand up to his chin, angling his head thoughtfully to one side as he stared at the empty space where the corpse used to be. Then, his eyes shifted over to Kira. The distant glow of headlights beyond the fence briefly illuminated the room. It passed by as quickly as it had arrived. “...You can tell?”
Kira paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping briefly over Diavolo’s puzzled frown. He hadn't covered his old methods in one of their little talks, then…it was becoming easier and easier to forget exactly what Diavolo knew about him and what he didn't. “The development of my stand did not mark the beginning of my murders. I trust you can figure things out from there.” He murmured, already moving on from the conversation in order to take a glance out the front window.
The harbor was still, more so than Kira would've liked it to be. Each and every lamppost that would've ordinarily cast the entire lot in a warm, fuzzy glow was shrouded in shadow. Yoshikage began to wonder if the power had been cut before they'd arrived. There wasn't a single light on across the entire harbor. Everything about it was downright sinister.
The quietness of it all was enough to send goosebumps up his arms, creeping over his body until they sent a slow chill up his spine. Despite the knowledge that their adversary was likely no more than an ambitious cretin looking to be rid of the competition, something still felt terribly off about the whole situation. He was used to being the hunter, not the hunted. It was worse knowing that, despite every instinct in his brain instructing him to vacate the area as soon as possible, Diavolo would refuse. He was divorced from the concept of self preservation. Risotto was right.
Yoshikage could practically envision his subtle smirk.
“If we continue at this pace, we’ll be at my boat by daylight.” Diavolo’s voice cut into Kira’s thoughts, dissolving the image of his old friend into nothing but a foggy memory. The boss’ hand was resting on the door, his eyes watching Yoshikage over the stretch of his sleeve. “Shall we be off?” He invited, the faint twinkle in his gaze betraying his amusement at Kira’s pensiveness.
The blond only stiffened slightly, exhaling heavily out of his nose as he moved to follow Diavolo out of the kiosk. “Forgive me, but it seems I’ve forgotten which of us is guarding who…” He muttered, words dripping with potent sarcasm. Regardless, he matched his pace with Diavolo’s.
In less than a minute, they were in front of Lo Stallone Bianco. Kira had to admit that the vessel was impressive. The entire craft gleamed white, practically radiating even next to the smaller boats of the same color. Black and gold accents did well to decorate the sides of the hull and the decks, which bobbed calmly as the yacht rocked gently in the waves. It was the last boat in the lineup, closest to the harbor walls and furthest from the lights of the city adjacent to them. Even despite the recent cold, the yacht appeared untouched, a perpetual reminder of summer and the joy that was to come once the weather took a pleasant turn.
Diavolo barely got half a step in towards the boat before he was stopped by Kira’s hand on his chest. He grunted at the impact and shot his bodyguard a look, raising a single brow. Yoshikage’s eyes were not on him. They were fixed on the yacht, scrutinizing every possible detail of the craft with wicked criticism. It would’ve been humorous, had Diavolo not already begun to lose his patience. “Yoshikage.” He muttered, allowing the slightest hint of frustration to enter his tone. Perhaps that would get his bodyguard to ease off.
He was wrong.
“I understand that you normally have your reasons for being so brash, but do me a favor and humor mine for being cautious.” Kira reasoned, finally opting to return his gaze to Diavolo’s. The ghost of a smile crept along his face as his eyes narrowed. “Besides, I have a feeling you’ll enjoy this.”
Killer Queen appeared over Yoshikage’s shoulder with a quiet purr, stepping around its user until it was standing beside him. It bent into a crouch and stuck out its left arm, where the emblem decorating the center of its fist began to tremble. Kira slipped his own hands into his pockets as Sheer Heart Attack sprung loose from its origin; the wheels of the tiny tank-like stand began to churn as it investigated its surroundings. With a single glance at his boss, Yoshikage felt a flush of satisfaction in knowing that he’d been correct. Diavolo was watching Sheer Heart Attack in fascinated silence, his eyes widening as the stand began to trudge off towards the yacht.
He leaned back, eyes still following the tiny figure. His exhale bloomed out in front of him like cigarette smoke as he talked. “You never allow me a dull moment.” He chuckled, angling his head to the side so he could smirk at Kira.
The latter shared his expression, positively smug. “You’d be bored if I did.” He rebuked gently, shifting on his feet. “Sheer Heart Attack is a remote stand. Once I release it, I have little control over its movement. The advantage is its range…it travels well over fifty meters.”
“You’re using it for reconnaissance.” Diavolo hummed, following along with a quiet nod. He lifted a hand to his chin, frowning thoughtfully. “Yet you aren’t staring at a screen, so it’s gathering information some other way.” He stole a moment to peer at his bodyguard, who was doing what he could to avoid looking too elated. “...I suspect it shares its method of attack with Killer Queen?”
“You’re getting there.” Yoshikage murmured calmly, sniffling softly as the cold wind began to make his nose twitch. Sheer Heart Attack should be finished soon. The yacht wasn’t that large.
“Movement, then? …No.” Diavolo refuted his own suggestion seconds after it had been made, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s too sporadic. It would never get anything done.” He sucked in a deep breath, shifting his suit further up over his shoulders. It seemed that Yoshikage wasn’t the only one beginning to feel the chill. “It must have a way to prioritize targets, as well. Considering Killer Queen…” He fell silent for a few moments before turning on his heel to regard Yoshikage, his tone lifting hopefully. “Heat?”
“Not bad.” He praised gently, chuckling softly at the look of satisfaction that dawned on Diavolo’s face. “The intensity of its attack increases with the strength of the heat signature, as well. Each explosion is adjusted accordingly.”
“So if there happened to be a human on board…” Diavolo trailed off, apparently pleased enough with where he left his pondering. “I understand.” Yoshikage felt the weight of his hand rest upon his shoulder as he leaned in a bit closer. “May I remind you that I do love having you around?”
After casting the statement aside as nothing but a joke (for the sake of his own sanity), Kira shrugged him off. “While I don’t mind the sentiment, let's save it for later.” He murmured, watching as Sheer Heart Attack teetered back over the ramp and onto the dock. More perturbed than he was willing to let on about the fact that the stand hadn’t found anything, Kira let out a disappointed sigh. “It’s our turn to do the legwork.”
As Killer Queen crouched down to retrieve its counterpart, Diavolo took an experimental step onto the yacht. Kira followed shortly thereafter, hugging his arms around his chest. From where he was standing, he could see that the inside of the ship was carpeted, though it was too dark to see what color. Empty champagne glasses and little gifts such as candies and perfume littered the tables and benches inside, freshly primed for a private extravaganza. Yoshikage tentatively trailed after his boss, his right hand tracing the cold, metal curve of the railing as he paced around the edge of the ship. The scene was like it had been pulled straight from a vacationer’s pamphlet, just…far more unsettling.
The quiet lull of water lapping against the sides of the yacht did little to settle his unease as he followed obediently after Diavolo. The latter seemed to know exactly where he was going, hair swishing confidently across the back of his suit as he strode forward without a second thought. The certain thuds of his footsteps were the only noise to accompany them beside the hush of the water surrounding the ship.
The duo approached a massive communal space that made up the majority of the main deck, all the more decorations waiting to greet them. Unlit candles and unopened packs of cigarettes were spread around like party favors. Kira began to poke around, wrinkling his nose as he discovered a small plastic bag stuffed with something green. Diavolo let out a bemused noise and approached the center table, plucking something from its surface before turning in place to brandish it to Yoshikage. “Perhaps this is a different invitation than the one we were expecting…” He mused, smirk spreading as his bodyguard shifted closer to get a better look.
The item was square and plastic, shimmering in the incredibly faint light of the moon. Text was visible on the wrapper, but Kira was unable to make it out. He did notice a round, circular indent- oh.
Kira frowned, ignoring the embarrassed red that crept across his face as he batted Diavolo’s hand aside. “I wish you'd take this more seriously.”
His companion only let out a drawled hum, gently tossing the condom aside to be discarded onto the floor. “Who said otherwise…?”
“Shh.”
“Certainly, Yoshikage, you’ve-”
“Shh!”
Kira was unable to keep frustration out of his tone as he motioned for Diavolo to be silent a second time, his hands suspended slightly in the air. It had been brief, shortly after Diavolo had begun to speak, but he was certain that he'd heard something above them. It was difficult to make out. He’d only heard it for a moment before his boss’ voice drowned it out entirely. “Listen.” He instructed softly, eyes trailing the lower edge of the upper deck.
Thankfully, Diavolo registered the sudden tension in Kira’s body and dropped the antics. He fell silent as he joined his bodyguard in searching for the source, inching so close to him that their shoulders nearly brushed together. His breathing was hushed as his eyes scanned the ceiling, narrowing slightly in an attempt to pierce the darkness engulfing the ship.
They could both hear it now that silence had befallen them. Light, gentle music drifted throughout the empty ship, as soft as the wind chimes that Kira used to own in his back garden. They each shot one another a quizzical stare, which was more than enough to get themselves on the same page. Wordlessly, like the cogs of a well-oiled machine, the two slinked off in opposite directions, approaching the two sets of ladders that led to the bridge deck on either side of the yacht. Yoshikage could feel his heart rate picking up, hammering so soundly in his chest that he could feel the distant thrum in his fingertips. Adrenaline threatened to spill over him as his body shifted into gear, carrying him up the ladder faster than expected.
He hoisted himself onto the next floor and began to survey his new environment, every nerve in his body on fire. He still couldn’t explain why he was so tense, but the sensation was growing stronger the further they investigated the yacht. Diavolo emerged onto the deck only seconds later, his fuschia hair spilling out over his shoulders as he mounted the ladder. The second level of the ship was narrower but more open, welcoming the icy breeze drifting across the bay. The only thing keeping its hypothetical guests from spilling out over the edge was a short railing that came up to Kira’s waist; he was certain that many partygoers had toppled over it in the past…and he did not doubt that they would continue to do so.
It took a moment to pinpoint it a second time, but soon, the same haunting melody began to fill the atmosphere around them. Kira sucked in a frigid breath, squinting through the shadows to peer at the bridge. A door stood between the two men and the cockpit, but the open window off to the side was more than enough to allow sound to escape. Their music was waiting for them inside.
Another gust of wind engulfed the boat, penetrating the cracks and openings in Kira’s suit. He shivered. With a displeased grunt, he turned to face his boss, who was watching the bridge with an unreadable expression. “What time is it?”
Diavolo raised his wrist, eyes scanning the watch resting there. “...21:04.”
“Four minutes past the meeting time.” Yoshikage murmured, bundling his arms closer to his chest as he started to shuffle towards the doorway. He trusted Sheer Heart Attack’s ability to scope out the area for people, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything else lying in wait for them. The potent unease that had been brewing in his chest since they arrived at the harbor intensified as he gripped the handle. It nearly made him nauseous; he practically forced himself to turn the knob, easing the door open with as much caution as his hands could muster. He could feel Diavolo press up behind him, his warmth a welcome distraction in the bitter cold.
The room was dark, its details barely distinguishable against the shadows. Foreign shapes lurked out of the gloom as Kira poked his head inside and took a tentative step into the cabin. The air was thick and tinted with strange scents that he was unable to place. He additionally had to be careful not to trip on the extensive wiring that coated the floor, running in all sorts of directions beneath the soles of his shoes. His eyes were adjusting, though not as quickly as he would’ve liked them to, so he continued to investigate despite the nagging in his gut that was telling him to leave. The gentle music was much louder now that the door had been opened, the faint chatter of metallic whirring audible underneath the tangy notes.
As Kira’s eyes scanned the center console, blinking the last of the disorientation away, he discovered the source. An old music box- no doubt an antique- was seated on the metal frame. He leaned in for a closer look. It was approximately six inches in length and another three in width, carved out of what Kira might’ve guessed to be ivory. The box itself had been flipped open to reveal a lone ballerina dancing in the center, spinning in fluid circles around the burgundy base she was mounted on. With one arm poised perfectly over her head and the other curved in a delicate arc around her side, she continued to dance a steady rhythm. The music drifted peacefully from her stage, each new chord complimented by a corresponding metal chime.
Yoshikage watched her spin, nearly hypnotized, as he listened to Diavolo squeeze in behind him. It was almost calming, though…he didn’t recognize the tune she was paired with. He felt a hand settle at the base of his spine. “Did you spot anything?”
“No.” Kira straightened his posture and fixed his cuffs as he turned to look at his boss. His jaw worked together thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the ever-silent deck behind them. “This is far from some kind of elaborate prank, but we are here at the time they instructed us to be. Maybe-”
He cut himself off as the music box came to an abrupt halt. It made a wretched sound, like metal grinding on metal, before the ballerina tipped awkwardly to the side. Only seconds later, she began to twitch, her body jerking sporadically as the box started to malfunction. The two men only watched as she spasmed for several seconds before going still, the metal clicks and whirs turning into faint scratching. Then, she started up again, seizing in place as the box ticked.
…six, seven, eight, nine.
Kira frowned, his full attention on the ballerina as her porcelain skin shimmered in the faint light of the moon above them. Her painted eyes, two black dots above a pair of persimmon lips, stared holes through him. She began to twitch again, each tick a new motion.
…five, six, seven, eight.
The toe of his shoe dragged across the floor as he took an experimental step towards the box, nearly catching himself on one of the thicker wires in front of his feet. He glanced down at it with a scowl, scanning the web for a blank spot.
…four, five, six, seven.
Kira paused, his eyes shooting back up to watch the malfunctioning ballerina’s rhythmic seizing.
…three, four, five, six.
No. Not malfunctioning.
…two, three, four, five.
Counting.
…one, two, three, four.
Kira felt two hands- Diavolo’s hands- grip his shoulders and shove him out of the door, where he stumbled into the cold with a startled gasp. Something pushed into his back only moments later, thrusting him towards the railing of the deck. He felt the cold metal dig into his gut as he gripped it with his hands, eyes widening at the sight of the black water churning roughly twenty feet beneath him.
Before he could comprehend the shove that came from behind him, he was airborne.
Before he could comprehend being airborne, he hit the water.
A wave of excruciating heat passed over him moments before he was fully submerged, tossing him even further so that his head and shoulders met the icy miasma before anything else. He had to fight the urge to gasp as his back hit something solid, arms shooting wildly into the depths in a desperate attempt to right himself. The entire world was orange and black, his vision swimming as he struggled to comprehend where he was.
Yet, almost as quickly as he’d been tossed from the boat, his head breached the surface. Kira sucked in a ragged gasp, never so grateful for the sensation of air filling his lungs. His eyes burned as he struggled to peer at the remainder of the yacht; Lo Stallone Bianco had erupted into a fiery inferno on the water, consumed by glowing flames and ash. Pieces of the ship floated in the water around him and he watched as several chunks of debris broke free to sink beneath the waves. A thick column of black smoke rose into the air and blended into the sky above, choking out the sliver of moonlight already struggling to break through the clouds. A wave crested over Yoshikage’s head as he fought to remain afloat, rolling his body back with the water. He’d never been a strong swimmer, and being winded in an explosion certainly wasn’t doing him any favors. As he coughed up the smoke pouring into his lungs, Kira squinted into the shadows, eyes scanning the water. Regardless of his condition, there was only one thing on his mind.
Diavolo had been the one to shove Yoshikage off of the boat, so…had he been on it when it exploded? Where was he now? Kira tried to crane his neck higher above the water in order to survey the carnage, his gaze rapidly flitting from one body of debris to the next. There wasn’t any movement to be seen aside from the occasional breaking of one section into two, along with the waves still echoing free from the blast site.
He could feel his heart begin to creep into his throat the longer he went without an answer. The cold water lapping at his neck was only an afterthought as he pushed himself towards a floating heap of wood, utilizing it as leverage so that he could gain a small vantage point over the water. “Diavolo!” He called his name once, praying that their attacker wasn’t close enough to hear. His fingers slipped off of the wood and he plunged into the water again, spitting the grime out of his mouth as he surfaced a second time. Water trickled down his back from his hair and soaked clothing, sending violent shivers throughout his body. If he stayed underwater much longer, the cold would kill him. With a wince, Yoshikage clambered back up his makeshift buoy, digging into what he could with his fingernails.
With eyes strained by the glow of the fire juxtapositioned against the nighttime smog surrounding him, he surveyed the surface of the water again. The name bubbled into his throat before he could stop himself. “Diavolo!?”
The silence that greeted Kira was deafening. A loud crack split the air as the boat’s hull began to fall apart even further behind him, quickly engulfed by the flames still eating away at the main body. Kira used his submerged legs to spin himself in a circle, fighting the waves stirred by the explosion in order to keep himself upright. Where was Diavolo? Had he surfaced nearby? Was he still underwater? Kira’s sight was too blurry for him to tell. No fuchsia hair nor green eyes rose to the surface of the water to greet him, only the occasional slab of debris breaking free from the larger chunks already waterlogged beneath him. The whole world glowed orange. He couldn't find him.
For one of the first times in his life, Yoshikage felt himself gripped by the cold, firm claws of fear.
The third time he called his boss’ name, his voice was seized with panic. “Diavolo!”
“There are far more opportune places to call my name, Yoshikage, let us not announce my identity to all who can hear it.”
The weary, laden voice that rang out from the top of the dock beckoned Kira’s attention upwards, where he finally spotted a waterlogged- albeit alive- Diavolo clinging to the edge. He’d likely taken the chance to climb up to higher ground to survey the area while Kira splashed around in the murky water.
Yoshikage couldn't care less about the rather insinuative comment, nor did he care about being scolded at the same time. The utter relief that washed over him was likely enough to satiate his anxieties for a year to come. He breathed a deep sigh, though in doing so, his body relaxed enough to allow him to slip off of his float. Kira could take a break once he was back on solid ground. In the meantime, he began to swim towards the ladder latched to the wall of the marina, dragging himself and his sodden clothing out of the black abyss that had nearly claimed him. His senses were so fried that he barely noticed the ladder’s barnacles slicing small cuts into his palms as he clambered up to higher ground.
After a battle with his drenched and sore body, he made it up to the lip of the harbor, where he nearly collapsed onto the ground. His battle with the waves had taken more out of him than he’d expected; his breathing was rough and heavy, each new inhale practically a gasp for air. It felt foreign in his lungs, like every breath was frosted with ice. His fingers were completely numb as they curled against the concrete beneath them, trembling and pale. Regardless of his condition, he summoned enough resolve to push himself back up to his feet and stride towards Diavolo, his heart still hammering away in his chest.
The don wasn’t in much better shape than Yoshikage. Half of his suit coat was torn to shreds and his entire body was still dripping water, forming a miserable puddle underneath him. Though he tried to stifle it, he was shivering, ice creeping into his muscles from his soggy clothing. He was also nursing his side rather heavily. Despite his condition, and despite the fact that one of his most expensive yachts was now a floating bonfire, he still looked Kira in the eyes as he approached. He even offered a weak grin as his bodyguard dropped down beside him, voice slightly slurred from the cold but mostly unwavering. “I guess this is when you say you told me s-”
His sentence ended with an abrupt grunt as Yoshikage yanked him into an embrace, his arms wrapping so tight around his shoulders that Diavolo feared that he’d break something. He didn’t pull away regardless. They were both freezing, but beneath their waterlogged clothing and damp skin was the gentle warmth of their bodies. It was this warmth that Diavolo leaned into, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he let out a soft sigh. He’d been preparing for Yoshikage to yell at him.
It seemed he would continue to surpass his expectations.
Though they both would’ve given anything to keep themselves there, to relish in that warmth for a few minutes more, Kira pulled away with a decisive frown. He was already scanning their surroundings, eyes focusing. It was as if the embrace had never happened. “We need to get inside, or this cold will kill us both. Is there shelter nearby? An office, maybe?”
Mildly dazed, and somewhat irked by the biting wind rushing into the empty space between them, Diavolo mutely pointed to a small building off to their right, only about fifteen meters away. As quickly as he’d embraced his boss, Yoshikage was pulling him to his feet.
“Can you walk?” Kira murmured, casting his eyes over Diavolo as if trying to find the answer for himself. He looked paler than usual and was still leaning gingerly into his side. His vibrant hair nearly looked like freshly spilt blood against the pallored skin.
Shuffling past, Diavolo merely muttered, “If I must.” He managed to keep his head held high despite the state of him. Kira only let out a decisive huff, moving to follow at an equal pace.
Fortunately for them both, the building had been left unlocked. They stumbled inside with matching eagerness, ready to be free of the smoky wind polluting the air outside and the cold stealthily seeping into their muscles. Diavolo groped the wall for the thermostat as Kira locked the door and checked that the window shades were drawn before fumbling to flip the lights on. No response. The power had been cut, then. A displeased growl from Diavolo’s direction confirmed that their hopes for a thermostat were null as well. Already, the floor was slick with water, dragged in via their sopping pants and shoes. “We’re inside. That will have to suffice.” Yoshikage grumbled, beginning to wonder if he could uncover a pocket light somewhere.
“Now I know we’re in peril. You’re being optimistic.” Diavolo joked dryly, his voice hitching with a quiet groan as he slumped against the nearest wall.
He was halfway through sliding down it when Kira threw a bundle of dried clothing at his chest, retrieved from a nearby supply closet. “Change.” He ordered, gesturing to his boss’ dripping figure. “Hypothermia awaits us both if we don’t get into something dry.”
As Yoshikage pulled a set free from the shelves for himself, Diavolo gave the new outfit a once-over, his brow twitching faintly. “How fashionable. A guard’s uniform.” He mused, already shifting free of his tattered suit jacket. It fell to the floor with a dull plop, just in time for Kira to look over and notice the plume of shadow that took up a majority of the left side of his undershirt. Diavolo spotted it at the same time, a low noise of surprise sounding in his throat. He lifted the fabric, revealing a partly shallow- but long- gash that curved along his side. Though there was barely enough light to see the details, dark blood trickled from the wound in a series of thick and steady rivers, carving small paths all the way down Diavolo’s ribs and into his waistline. He could feel Kira’s eyes boring into the wound, his entire figure going rigid at the sight.
Furthermore, the tense alarm in Yoshikage’s voice did not go unnoticed when he spoke again. “Clothes, first. We can patch that up in a moment.”
Diavolo eyed his bodyguard carefully, holding a hand delicately over the wound before relinquishing his qualms at being ordered around with a quiet, “As you wish.”
After mulling over a moment of deliberation, hesitant to let Diavolo out of his sight, Yoshikage disappeared into the closet. A brief period of muffled shuffling and a single thud later, he reemerged in a rumpled blue uniform that was approximately two sizes too big on him. Diavolo was only just slipping into his new pants when he reappeared and continued to watch as Kira began to rifle around the many compartments scattered throughout the room, his expression tight and unreadable as his hands fumbled around in search for his target. His movements lacked the usual methodological rhythm that they often fell into. Diavolo frowned, remembering the strange embrace that he’d been greeted with. Then he looked a little closer. Even in the dark, he could see it. Kira’s hands were trembling.
He angled his head to the side, sucking in a low breath of air. At the peculiar sound, Kira’s gaze shot over to fix on him, his throat bobbing once he realized that Diavolo was already staring at him. A beat of silence passed. “...I’ve survived worse, Yoshikage.” He reassured, his tone softening as Kira held his gaze. Much to Diavolo’s surprise, rather than retort with impatient denial, his bodyguard merely continued to rummage through the storage cabinets, turning his back on the don.
“You should sit.” He eventually mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. It was so unsettling, in fact, that Diavolo followed the suggestion without a moment’s hesitation.
He pressed his back against the nearest wall and gingerly slid down it until he hit the floor, shoving a wet puddle of clothing away from his side. Diavolo winced as a fresh wave of pain bloomed up his bare chest. He must’ve bruised- or even fractured- a rib in the chaos. He’d barely managed to shove Yoshikage off of the deck of the yacht before he’d tossed himself off. The spontaneity of the explosion hadn’t permitted him to activate King Crimson, and that had left him vulnerable. It was merely a bitter reminder that he wasn’t immortal. He shut his eyes with a grimace, only opening them once a flash of light pierced the darkness behind his eyelids. Yoshikage was at his side, a torch balanced between his shoulder and his jaw. A medical kit laid open at his knees but his expression was taut, his jaw working as he stared at the wound in front of him. Diavolo raised an eyebrow, concern bleeding into his intrigue. “...Trouble?”
Yoshikage made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, beginning to dig through the contents of the box with a troubled frown. Bit by bit, he began to fish items from the box, setting them aside with hurried precision. When he finally did speak, Diavolo was relieved to hear some of the strength had returned to his tone. “I don’t know how to do stitches, and I’m not about to practice on you. We’ll have to make do with some large butterfly strips.”
Diavolo merely nodded, watching as Yoshikage peeled the sticker free from the bandages. “It beats trying to talk you through it, I’m sure.” He chuckled, cut off by a startled hiss as Yoshikage prodded him in the hip with a finger. At a gesture from the other and a mild wince of discomfort, he angled his body away from his bodyguard in order to give him the best possible angle of approach, even if laying against the hard floorboards made his ribcage ache. Yoshikage’s palms- which had warmed in his time out of the water- pressed gently into the curves of his abdomen, ensuring that the bandages were tight and steadfast against his skin.
Before he could break the strangely tense silence himself, Yoshikage did it for him. “Do you think this was done by the same line of people who’ve been after me?” He asked, fingers working deftly over the plastic bits of the bandage’s clamp. Their shakiness had faded, replaced by assured confidence that would’ve certainly kept his inexperience a secret.
Diavolo grunted, shifting his legs underneath him in an attempt to bring himself some comfort. “Most likely.” He was doing what he could to keep his mind off of the pain, but found that focusing on the sensation of the other’s hands on him was another problem entirely.
“...And now they’re after you as well.” Kira’s tone shifted, the difference so subtle that it was nearly undetectable. His eyes had grown shaded, the storm in them beginning to churn. The touch of his hands on Diavolo’s skin stiffened ever so slightly.
Unsure whether to reassure Yoshikage or encourage him, as he was technically at his mercy, Diavolo merely cleared his throat and nodded passively. “A mistake they will soon regret, I’m sure.”
Another stretch of silence began, this one a bit tenser than the last. Diavolo let the back of his head drop to the floor as his bodyguard continued to press the two ends of the gash together one section at a time, sealing them tight against one another with the adhesive bandages. His jaw began to work the longer it took, patience waning as Yoshikage tightened yet another bandage. At once, a shot of fiery pain rocketed up his body, causing him to hiss aloud in displeasure. The initial adrenaline rush was beginning to ebb, forcing him to accept just how much pain he was actually in. “Careful!” He spat, the command only sending another dull throb through his chest.
“You do not get to tell me when to be careful!” With a sharp thud of his hands hitting the medicine kit, Yoshikage retaliated quickly, so much so that Diavolo realized that he must've been mulling over the retort for several minutes. The same fiery defiance that he often saw in Kira’s eyes when the boss was irking him any particular way shone brighter than the torch on his shoulder as the exasperation in his voice peaked. “I told you that this was a trap! I told you to be more sensible!” His tone rose as he continued to scold Diavolo, absentmindedly unfurling the spool of bandages that he’d picked up when his fists had slammed into the kit. “I warned you that being reckless would get us into trouble, and here we are! Now you have nothing to show for it other than considerable injuries and a hopefully bruised ego!” Kira finished his tangent with a short, exhausted exhale, dropping the tangle of bandages into his lap as he fished through the kit for a gauze pad.
A bit stunned, Diavolo was silent for a moment as he watched Yoshikage, his eyes scanning his features. He’d always been difficult to analyze, yet…at that moment, the subtleties of his movements were simple to read. His mouth twitched at its corners into a displeased frown and his brows were knitted together, creating a troubled crease between them. His usually poised shoulders were hunched and his hands continued to move fervently within the box, gaze intent on never meeting Diavolo’s. He was worried. Diavolo had worried him.
Rather than respond with some elegant excuse that would downplay his own personal failure to understand the danger he’d put himself into, Diavolo merely permitted himself a grave nod, eyes sliding up to peer at the ceiling tiles. “Perhaps my methods have been a bit… brash as of late.” He admitted, checking briefly on Kira’s reaction.
He laughed, though the sound was without much mirth. “Yes, that's one word I would use.” He mumbled bitterly, stripping the newly fetched gauze pad of its plastic covering. Gentler this time, he laid the gauze pad flush against the entirety of the wound and began to secure it in place with medical tape, frown softening as he worked. His tone had lost its edge by the time he spoke again. “Who throws galas in this day and age, anyways? What are you, some…English noble?” Yoshikage scoffed, shaking his head, but Diavolo knew him well enough by then to know that he wasn’t as annoyed as his mannerisms would make him seem.
The don broke out into a weak grin, fighting the urge to laugh for the sake of his ribs. “Would you prefer I continue to sell my wares in dingy, sweaty nightclubs? I got the impression that you weren’t a fan.”
Kira snorted, unable to mask his amusement that time. “I’d rather be back in that godforsaken casino.” His hands suddenly pulled away, leaving the faintest tingling sensation where they last touched Diavolo’s skin. “I’m serious, though. You need to be more careful.” He raised both eyebrows in Diavolo’s direction, as if daring him to challenge his words. “You- we- have been compromised. It wouldn’t hurt to lie low while we have someone else in Passione investigate your attackers.” He paused for a moment before nodding to the bandages; Diavolo only then noticed that he’d finished his handiwork. “That should keep you well enough until we can get you to a proper doctor.”
“...Thank you.” Cautiously, Diavolo sat himself up with Kira’s aid and permitted the other to assist him in slipping into the top half of the guard’s uniform. The fabric was warm around his shoulders, a welcome comfort after the affairs of the night. After settling against the wall, he mulled over Yoshikage’s words for a few moments longer, drawing in a slow inhale. “Ordinarily, I’d say you were right and continue on. However,” his frown twisted slightly as he imagined what might’ve happened if they hadn’t noticed the detonator in time, “this is personal. It’s been personal since you were poisoned in your hotel room.” He angled his head to the side, slowly meeting Kira’s gaze. He couldn’t read anything there, so he continued. “I will be there to see their end, and when all is said and done, I will make it a message.”
Yoshikage was silent for a beat before letting out a soft puff of air, gently shaking his head. “You’re impossibly stubborn.” He grunted, easing himself against the wall beside Diavolo. He felt his boss inch closer, enough so that their shoulders were touching. He didn’t mind. His eyes fell instead to his bloodstained hands. It was a little ironic; the last time they’d looked like that, it hadn’t been from trying to stop the bleeding.
“Yet you still let me drag you around…and now that you’ve properly stabilized me,” Diavolo leaned forward to peer at Yoshikage’s body, his gaze lingering on his reddened palms, “Are you alright? You aren’t wounded at all?” His eyes searched Yoshikage’s as he questioned him. He seemed calm enough, though he knew by now that such an expression told him nothing. He couldn’t fight the hypothetical scenario in which Yoshikage didn’t make it off of the boat from gnawing at his brain. He needed to relinquish its hold on him, and he would only do so by ensuring that Kira had been left untouched.
The bodyguard merely shrugged, raising a hand to brush a dripping lock of hair out of place. He didn’t mind the blood. It wasn’t as if he’d be going to bed that night without a shower anyways. “Nothing worse than some bruising from hitting something underwater and some cuts on my hands. Looks like I’m the one who got lucky this time.” He chuckled softly, ignoring the faint twinge of pain in his chest as he did so.
“I’d very much like to keep it that way.” Diavolo admitted, relieved by his report. He had no desire to see Kira wounded under his care again, even if he did get some satisfaction over being there to watch over him.
Yoshikage grunted moodily. "I wouldn’t. In fact, I’d prefer if we both stayed out of harm’s way in the near future. I can’t say I’m too keen to nurse you back to health again.”
With another coy smile, Diavolo laughed softly, reaching over to pat his hand against Kira’s thigh. “Perhaps we can compromise. If injury must occur, we do it together. Patch each other up.”
“That sounds worse. I might turn you to ash if I have to deal with my own injuries and your whining.” Yoshikage scoffed, fighting a grin as Diavolo made an incredulous sound beside him. “Regardless, we need to focus a little less on the future and more on our current situation.” He angled his head towards Diavolo’s, not quite registering how close they were to one another at that point. “Where do we go from here? Our home is compromised. Our assailant has an affinity for bombs. Surely even you see the issue?”
“My dear, where is your faith?” Diavolo teased, nudging his companion gently as he moved to stand. Kira assisted, allowing him to lean heavily against his side. “We can retreat to my second homestead for now. It’s a lovely place. I’ve actually meant to take you there for a few months now. Seems we finally have a valid reason to go pay a visit.”
Yoshikage raised a single, cynical eyebrow, his voice laced with a bit of disbelief. His arm wrapped around Diavolo’s waist when he sensed him beginning to sway. “You have another mansion?” As he spoke the words, he shuffled towards the door and peeked through a window to check on their surroundings. All seemed well outside, minus the massive heap of still-burning plastic and metal continuing to sink below the harbor’s waves. There were more lights on in the buildings nearest to the harbor then there had been upon arrival, which meant the explosion had disturbed the residents. They needed to move on, and quickly.
Diavolo clicked his tongue softly, as if disappointed by the faint surprise in Kira’s tone. “Yoshikage, I am the most prominent underground criminal leader in Italy. I have more than a few mansions.”
Kira paused for a moment, nodded, and then swung the door open on its hinges. A gust of icy wind rushed to meet them, threatening to tear them apart. They remained steadfast. “Fair enough.”
The two stalked cautiously- but quickly- towards the car that Kira had left parked in front of the harbor. After taking extra precautions to ensure that nothing had been tampered with in their absence, Yoshikage slipped into the driver’s seat and immediately went for the thermostat. Diavolo hobbled into the seat beside him, gripping the bandages around his side with a grimace. “Whoever knew date night could be so eventful. I hope I haven’t raised your standards.” He scoffed, leaning gratefully into the warming air as the pair successfully shut themselves away from the cold.
Rather than shut his teasing down right away, as he did so many times in the past, Yoshikage found himself laughing. Maybe he was compelled by the relief that they were finally somewhere safe. Maybe it was the hope that some part of what he’d said was legitimate. “I don’t know. Dinner and grand-scale arson seems pretty tough to beat.” He sighed airily, sliding down in his seat as he allowed himself a quick break.
Diavolo didn’t respond right away, which compelled Yoshikage to check and make sure he was okay. He was met with his boss’ curious stare, one brow raised in an expression of intrigue. Kira felt a lump climb into his throat. Had he given himself away, just like that? He only felt his anxiety climb further when Diavolo shifted himself closer, his voice lowering invitingly. Enticingly. “I don’t suppose you’d give me any ideas…?”
“I…” Sensing his voice about to hitch, Yoshikage recovered himself by clearing his throat, biting his cheek in a desperate attempt to fight the rising warmth flooding to his face. He thanked every god he knew that it was dark enough to cover for him naturally. “You’re clever. Figure it out.” He eventually suggested, sitting up in his seat as he reached shakily for his keys so he could start the car.
“Yoshikage.” Diavolo arm shot out to seize Kira’s wrist before he could react, fixing him in place with an unusually intense stare. His expression was guarded as he surveyed his bodyguard, though the wrinkle between his brows softened the longer he stared into Kira’s face. The latter wasn’t sure what he saw there. That uncertainty terrified him, and he was positive that Diavolo could feel his heartbeat thrumming rapidly through their shared contact. After another agonizingly long moment, Diavolo’s grip loosened; he flashed a soft half-smile as he turned Kira’s arm over and pressed the ghost of a kiss against his knuckles. His eyes were uncharacteristically distant. “...Nevermind. Let's just,” he glanced away, relinquishing his hold on Kira entirely as he melted back into his own seat, “let’s just get to safety. We can work out…other logistics later.” He murmured, cradling his side as he fell silent.
Yoshikage was still for a few moments longer before he started the car, hand fixing itself to the gear level as he guided the car out of the lot. “...Right.”
That was the only word he spoke for the rest of the night. He was too busy pondering over what Diavolo could’ve meant to focus on anything else.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Across town, in a small residential home that was humble for its owner, two figures sat across from one another at a rounded coffee table. One was a short, stout man, bearing remarkable physical similarity to a rodent. The other was of average height and build, hunched over the table as he stared blankly into the half-empty cup of tea on the table in front of him. His eyes were shaded by the fedora he wore, and the hard lines of his suit made him a prominent silhouette against the warm overhead lighting.
“I was worried you’d gone and found yourself dead in a ditch somewhere. Where have you been?” The shorter man excitedly plucked his cup up from the table, blowing ungracefully on the deep brown surface as it rippled against the edges of the porcelain. He didn’t wait for an answer before slurping the drink loudly, beady eyes watching the stranger over the lip.
“Conducting business. That’s why I’ve come to you, Parollo.” The man spoke curtly, as if in a hurry. Even though the edges of the hat hid his eyes, it was clear that they were fixed on the man across from him.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much for you, but I will give you what I know.” Parollo adjusted himself in his seat, sniffling softly as he pulled a handkerchief free from his left pant pocket. He mumbled something disapprovingly, shaking his head as he went for another sip of his tea. The other man sat perfectly still, watching Parollo intently as the little man opened his mouth once more. “So…what did you want to know about Yoshikage Kira?”