Chapter Text
“So, what are we going to do, Kaiji-san?”
Kaiji rubbed his cheekbone nervously. It treacherously aching in unison with his thoughts - the farther they drove, the darker the premonition grew. Chang gripped the wheel and steered them down a narrow lane - slightly wider than the body of the van - and almost hit a street dumpster, screeching and leaving skid marks. It was hard to tell how far they'd gotten from the suits, but the threat of Teiai's black Benz showing up any time kept their eyes on the road. Kaiji quickly glanced into the rearview mirror, then back into the depths of the van. Sighing, he tried to calm himself.
“I wish I knew," he said, touching the bruise. “I worked at the combini, not in some crime syndicate. I have no idea what are the customs for hostage situations.”
“In the movies, they usually...well," Mario stuck his head between the seats and drew his finger across his throat. “End up on the bottom of the river.”
“In the movies, it's always the terrorists who take hostages," Chang countered. “That's not our case.”
“Then what is?”
“We could drop him off somewhere," Kaiji thought for a bit. “Unnoticed, in another city. Maybe.”
“Shove a tied up man out of the van? This is not a cat in the bag," Chang frowned and scratched his sparse stubbled chin. “Besides, it’s going to attract attention. We could get caught, and how would we justify that in front of the locals? It doesn’t look like self-defense!”
“What do you suggest? It's easier to just do it and hit the gas!”
“Let's drop him off in the woods,” said Mario. “It’s safe. No one will see us.”
“Yeah, and him as well. He'll die out there," Kaiji sighed and ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I’m willing to find some compromise, but I'm not a killer. I have my limits.”
“Well, killing him is a little excessive," Chang agreed. “To be honest, I don't even know him well enough to hate. It's mostly your story - grim reaper this, grim reaper that.”
Endou's chuckle from inside the cabin was audible even through the tape.
“I never said that," Kaiji sulked. “Too much honor.”
“What should we do, anyway?”
“Why don't we ask him?” the van shuddered again as the tire hit the pothole, and Mario fell forward between the seats. “It can't get any worse. He already knows all he needs to.”
“Right. Of course,” Kaiji replied skeptically, continuing to probe his cheek. The bruised knuckles hurt a little too, but it was a different kind of sore, a mild one. The can of soda he had used earlier as a compress became disgustingly warm and wet, so he just had to bear with it. The look from the window - at the street, at the flashing walls behind the glass (concrete, tarpaulin, corrugated iron) - helped him to detach from the pain. Houses pressed in, crowding them with balconies and lush greenery.
“Let's get on the highway, shall we?” he suggested. “It won't be any better if we get arrested for disorderly conduct.”
Chang nodded and steered the wheel again, the hapless trailer screeching as it turned the corner. Kaiji pulled a map out of the glove compartment - more to keep his hands busy - checked it, quickly flipped to the right page, and put it back, even more annoyed. The street widened a bit; the sign for an appliance repair shop showed and disappeared in a second; a kid on yellow rollerblades turned around. He pressed his sore cheek against the glass - it didn't replace the can, but it was colder than the air, and a faint breeze blew out from the half-opened window, licking his wound.
“Why don't you patch it up?” Mario gave him a sympathetic look. “I could help. The hit was pretty hard.”
“He also had his share.”
“Yeah, but he’s not my friend, and you are,” Mario smiled conciliatorily. “Come on. It'll get infected.”
“Not right now," Kaiji waved him away. “Later. Somewhere on the campground.”
That was the question - where to camp and how, for fuck’s sake, knowing the circumstances? What should they do with Endou, tied up so messily with ropes that he looked like a silkworm's cocoon - Endou, who had memorized the license plate of their damn van, the van in general, both inside and out, and all them to the whole extent. Endou, whom the three of them had barely subdued, and who, for many obvious reasons, was just as dangerous to keep as he was to leave running free.
Kaiji angrily dug his fingernails into the palm, turning knuckles as white as his scars.
This man always ruins everything.
***
Kaiji could tell precisely when their escape plan started to crumble, facing the inevitable. The picture was easy to reconstruct - there he was, standing in his mother's home, sweating under the dress and ridiculous wig; there he was, huddled against the peephole. And, behind the door, there was a man - that familiar, sardonic mug he hadn’t seen in over a year, still persistent in his sense of fashion. The half-second of recognition - and Kaiji staggered back, trying not to panic. He innerly said his name - once, twice, as if knowing the name saved him like spells warding from the ancient demons - but man stayed unbothered, stubbornly looking back.
This exact moment Kaiji realized - next steps won’t be easy.
Now the embodiment of his problems sat across from him, glaring with the tape over his mouth.
He moved deeper into the van by his own will - so as not to attract attention with his beaten face. He patched his cheek, then his hand - disinfected everything he could, band-aid his palm just in case and, taking a thoughtful pause, reached out towards Endou’s eyebrow. It was still bleeding, dripping on his right eye - but when Kaiji took out the cotton wool, Endou stubbornly staggered backward, not letting him touch it.
“Come on, it must hurt like hell,” Kaiji said. “You might get blood poisoning. I'll be careful.”
Judging by the look on their hostage's face, his words didn't add much credibility.
“Really, I just want to help," he pulled out a new swab. “And besides, this is all your fault. Why did you even come?”
Not that he really expected an answer, but Endou shrugged tentatively. A second attempt to wipe the blood from his face succeeded - he flinched but stayed in place and obediently closed his eyes as the peroxide sizzled on the wound, cleaning its edges.
Kaiji rummaged through the first aid kit, trying to remember the correct pattern: close the wound with pressure, add a salve, secure the bandage with plasters so it wouldn't slip. His own cheek prickled again, sharp and painful, but he didn't give in. It would be debasing to retaliate against the now defenseless yakuza, even if he really wanted to.
He tugged at the corner of the tape and it began to peel away - slowly, showing the red mark behind. It pulled out a few stubbed hairs - Endou hissed, wrinkling his nose. Another abrasion - smaller this time - stuck to the corner of his mouth, which he tried to lick.
The first thing he asked was:
“Did you seriously call me ‘the grim reaper’?”
“No,” Kaiji pressed the cotton to mouth abrasion, enjoying the way he winced. “Only in your dreams.”
“You’re a dirty flatterer; that’s who you are," Endou chuckled and immediately cursed as Kaiji pressed harder on the swab. "Stop treating me. It won't do you any good.”
“If you say so," he wiped away the rest of the peroxide residue. “I skipped the moment you became the big shot. Seems like they’re in real trouble if they ask you to lead the case.”
“They’re still better than you, apparently. Don’t you know how deep is the shit you’re in? The thing you did, capturing me - that was effective for a moment, I admit, but fatal in its consequences.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Kaiji put the used cotton in his pocket and leaned back, against the line of cupboards. Slowly, calmly - as calmly as he could. He couldn't lose his temper - Endou would use it to his advantage, drawing out the excess. “About the consequences, I mean. Some of them led to your ass being kicked, for instance.”
“I don't talk to trash.”
“How do you do business, then?”
Endou grinned. He looked around the van, craning his neck.
“You're a really shitty capturer,” he stated, not without pleasure. “It's truly incredible how bad you are. I worked with all sorts of people, but you’re truly a marvel of incompetence.”
“I’m not the one tied up, so it’s arguable.”
The grin grew wider - wicked, knowing grin.
“Let’s see how we’ll progress forward, eh, Kaiji-kun?”
Kaiji shrugged and crumpled a ball of peeled tape. He threw it at the opposite wall; it bounced back, and he caught it with ease.
“Let's see.”
Chang drove forward without stopping.
***
Strictly speaking, they didn’t plan to drag him along.
It wasn't supposed to happen, but the damn yak was in their yard, and they didn't have time to discuss this. Kaiji didn't even have time to ask how Endou found them after all; he just turned at the sound of footsteps and froze, in the middle of washing the trailer’s back window.
For a second they just stared at each other, assessing, wondering - was it a dream? A mirage? Kaiji squinted, looking at the suit - now blue, with a vulgarly wide stripe; at the usual dark lenses, revealing the shocked gaze anyway. Endou stood there, silent, mouth slightly agape, as if someone had pulled the shutter on the camera and told them to stand still before the action. It lasted a second, unbearably long - and then Kaiji dropped his sponge with a wet splash, the gravel crunched under Endou’s foot, and then it all came to life under the clapperboard.
They tussled with each other right at this moment - Endou quickly lunged forward, and Kaiji only had time to block the first blow, absorbing the impact. The second was worse: it landed on his stomach, which he barely had time to cover, and a short, dirty jab past his temple. Kaiji caught the last one, grasping and twisting Endou’s wrist, but he broke away, blindly elbowing back. Kaiji struck him twice - on the back of the head, then in the temple - but Endou swiftly caught the next punch and threw him over the shoulder. He plopped on his ass, barely able to roll back in the shadow of the van.
“Don’t you wanna talk first?” he crawled back, subtly grabbing a handful of soil. “You didn't even ask how I was doing. Where are your manners?!”
“Fuck manners,” he took a step closer, and Kaiji slung it in his face, causing him to cover himself reflexively. “You little - “
Kaiji didn't listen any further; he slammed himself onto Endou's legs, pushing him to the ground and trying to neutralize him. Small gravel dug into his knees when he missed another blow - to the face, this time - and nearly fell sideways, but punched back, crunching his dark glasses - and again, ignoring the pain and response, as fierce as his own. Copper burned his tongue; dust and dirt were all over his clothes - Endou clung to his shirt, trying to choke him, and he lurched back, hearing the snap of the tearing fabric. The luck, though, still favored the opposite side - the next hit he got in the head (this fucker always aimed at the most vulnerable spots, didn’t he?) disoriented him, making him dizzy - but, luckily, Chang ran out at the noise and piled in next, pinning Endou's arms to the ground.
“Hold him tight," Kaiji spat the blood to the side. “Where's the rope?”
“A moment," Mario quickly looked out of the window before returning - with a clothesline. “Gimme just a second.”
“Stay still," Kaiji pushed harder; Endou bucked, trying to throw him off again, so he clutched his sides like a restive horse. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
“Lean closer, and I'll tell you," Endou growled, spitting sand. “Bastard.”
“Asshole," Kaiji replied quickly, unwinding the rope. “Chang, have you seen anyone else?”
“I don't know," he said, looking outside the fence. “I don't see anyone yet, but -”
“I was alone," Endou said, lying just out of spite.
“Shit," Kaiji gritted his teeth - even if he was, he definitely notified someone beforehand. He quickly tied Endou’s wrists - a few turns of rope across, one along - and tightened it up. “That means there'll be at least ten suits to expect. Mario, how much time do we need to pack all the stuff?”
“About five minutes," he checked the strength of the knot. “What do we do with him, then?”
“Just leave him. They’ll pick him up,” Kaiji pressed harder as Endou twisted his wrists, trying to free himself from the restraints. “Damn, let's - let's quickly get over this and - “
He heard the rumbling of tires somewhere in the distance.
“Change of plans,” Kaiji quickly got up on his feet. “Chang, do you have a knife?”
“Had a Swiss one somewhere," he raised an eyebrow. “Kaiji-san, maybe - “
“Bring it over with the tape and start the car," Kaiji nodded. "Let's try to buy some time.”
It took thirty seconds to catch the Swiss knife Chang had thrown from the door and another ten seconds to quickly wrap Endou's mouth with the tape and hold the knife to his neck. Just in time: the first suit barely slipped through the gate before Kaiji had their temporary captive standing, and in his grasp, trying to remember the action movies he’d seen before.
“One more step and I'll kill your boss!” he shouted, pointing the knife at Endou. The blade was dull as hell, and Endou, whose neck it was scratching, rolled his eyes. “One more and he's dead!”
The first suit, a curly-haired man in a pinstriped suit, squinted, trying to assess the threat, and Kaiji pressed the blade in harder. There was a semicircle of cars surrounding them, trying to cut off the escape - one car blocked the emergency gate, two others stood against the wicket. He yanked Endou back and dragged him towards the van despite the pushback - the man blindly kicked him, jerked with all the force he had - so much that the knife almost tore through his skin.
“Stop twitching!” hissed Kaiji, trying to manhandle him. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
“You don't really look like a killer," the curly-haired suit said doubtfully, frowning. “Director, how are you? Is he bluffing?”
‘Director’ nodded so fiercely, ignoring the knife, that Kaiji was forced to punch him in the ribs.
“I fought against Hyodou,” he shouted. “I threw his son off the roof - he survived just by a sheer chance! Don’t try me, fucker!”
His opponent thought for a moment. Endou mumbled something through the tape, and Kaiji shoved him again, continuing to retreat.
‘God,’ he pleaded silently, ‘make them really buy it.’
A trailer step pushed under his knees from behind.
“Let me go and he’ll be safe," he added. “I can't stand that bastard. Don’t give me any more reasons.”
The suit stepped forward, but hesitated. His eyes darted restlessly between the gate, his captive, and other suits, calculating the outcome. Chang seemed to turn on the ignition, and the van behind purred familiarly, juddering with iron.
“Move your cars, man," Kaiji continued, sensing his hesitation. “You’ll get quite a slap on the wrist for killing your precious boss. Besides, you'll still have a chance to catch us later. You are smart, aren’t you?”
“Director?” he asked again, and Kaiji pushed Endou into the trailer, to Mario.
“Last chance," he waved his knife. “Think it over. I," he stuttered, "I am losing my patience. I'm going to kill him, and trust me, it's gonna be more successful than my first attempt with that spoiled brat!”
Another note: it was worth asking Endou about Kazuya, if he had a chance. He still was a little bit worried.
“Let them through," curly finally said, pressing his lips into thin line. “Let’s give them a head start.”
***
The tape ball spun against the wall. And again. And again, right to Kaiji’s hand.
“Stop it,” Endou lazily glanced through the half-closed lids. “You're a cold-hearted, merciless killer who just captured his victim. Act accordingly.”
“Nah. Don't want to,” Kaiji caught the ball again, fumbling with it. His scars were starting to ache: joints had been sore for an hour. He patiently rubbed his knuckles, one by one, then moved to phalanges, trying to drive the blood to the crippled fingers - the fight left its imprint, after all. “Chang, are we out of town?”
“Five more kilometers,” he shouted back.
“And where are we going?” Endou asked. Kaiji had tucked his broken glasses into the breast pocket of his shirt, where they glinted reproachfully with broken lenses. Without them, Endou looked strange - unknown, to some extent. Kaiji didn't like to look him straight in the eyes.
“You'll know when we get there.”
“You’re not only a shitty capturer but a shitty interlocutor as well,” he fidgeted, trying to stretch or loosen the ropes. “And I haven't even got to the point of how badly you tie up the knots. You cut off all the blood flow - and when you take someone hostage, you’d better keep them intact. More injuries - less money. Who do you think needs me with necrosis?”
“I don't know what you were thinking,” Kaiji yawned, ”but I'm not going to trade you for money.”
“What do you need me for, then?”
“Get a pass through the gate.”
“That's it?” now he looked almost insulted. “You don't even want to make some money? I may not be a GM, but I'm good enough for another ten million. After all, I’m the head of the manhunt.”
“Of course you are. And of course your pals are going to catch us all when we’ll hand you back,” Kaiji nodded. “Then they’ll torture me until I give them what they need and then either send me to the mines digging my grave or sell my organs to some sick fuck. Isn't that right? Or,” he pressed a finger to his lips, “do you have a personal agenda?”
“I have no idea why you think so. Everything I did, I did with your full written consent -”
“Personal, then. Wanna grill me like Tonegawa?”
His mask came off with a click, hypnotically fast. A slight change in the line of his mouth, a narrowed gaze, and there it was - a vicious, violent creature. Not a tired businessman he pretended to be, not a slightly nervous, but curious captive - just a thug, hardly hidden under his precious suit, and his urge for violence was instinctive and unbridled.
“I'd take a bat. For all the shit I've been through, you deserved a close approach.”
Kaiji grinned broadly - now they were talking. He liked it, in a way - no more ambiguities, playing with an open hand. A fair one-on-one fight.
“See, Endou-san? Experience all the joys of the concept of honesty.”
It won’t be easy, he thought, tucking his makeshift ball into his pocket. It had never been, not a single time in his life, but now - now his problems had definitely reached a new level, broke through the metaphorical ceiling. Now they were closer than ever to the thin ‘you're fucked’ line - only because this hound could never ever drop the blood trail and stop digging. Because they happened to be extremely unlucky to be born at this fucking time of crooks and mobs, and also because he still didn’t know what to do. He simply wished Endou would disappear with a puff, but as in many previous times, it wasn’t going to happen.
Endou smiled back.