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Seller Report item - opens in a new window or tab. Seller assumes all responsibility for this listing. Item specifics. Item is in original shrink wrap if applicable. The door moved inward slowly, silently.
When it was half-open there was movement, a shadow shaped like a man. It was too dark for Atsumu to see his face. It could have been anyone. It could have been Osamu. The shadow fell and Atsumu hit the floor, just in time to avoid the spatter of bullets that ripped into his bed. There were more shots from further away, all muted, probably silent to their oblivious neighbors. Atsumu was on his feet, taking off at a sprint.
He deftly avoided the furniture without a second thought and leapt over the trio of bodies piled in his bedroom doorway. The front door stood wide open. Someone was silhouetted in the threshold and Atsumu shot them as he darted by, not pausing. Osamu blinked at him over the barrel of his handgun.
Three bodies were crumpled in front of his door, too. The outside hallway was empty. He dragged the dead man inside and shut the door behind him. He left a smear of blood on the deadbolt as he locked it. He huffed a breath and dropped his arm as Suna gave him a flat look.
Suna shrugged. Not like this, anyway. The thought was like a shock of cold water to the face. He kicked the dead man in the ribs. The body jolted and went still. A spill of blood was slowly spreading across the floor.
Not sure. He stepped over the body and ignored the squelch of blood under his feet. The cleanup would be a nightmare. What if they send more? Atsumu and Osamu dipped into identical bows. Atsumu realized only then that there was dried blood spattered at the bottoms of his sweatpants. Never in the middle of the night, in rumpled pajamas and messy hair. He waved them further inside and led the way through the house.
Everyone knew of Kita Shinsuke, and although he was a well-respected man of politeness and serenity, he could cut someone to ribbons without batting an eye. Osamu knocked a shoulder into him.
Less than usual. Osamu made a low sound of agreement. He straightened out his futon and slumped down on it, stretching out with a sigh. Atsumu rolled his eyes, but also rolled out his futon before doing as Osamu said. Silence fell between them. Atsumu stared at the ceiling without a trace of weariness. He tossed a glance at Osamu and discovered he was doing the same.
After all these years of you giving me shit for it? I've seen the guys you've dated. Atsumu snorted and rolled onto his side too. He stared at the wall instead of the ceiling.
Nothing like this had ever happened to them; or to Inarizaki in general. Hyogo essentially belonged to them. No one questioned that anymore, aside from the occasional police interference. Atsumu stretched out more comfortably and closed his eyes. He tried not to think about it. Kita had said so, and Kita was always right.
There was a faint scent of incense, as if it had burned hours ago and the smell had almost drifted into nothing. But he knew that as long as he was here, he was safe. He sat up, a little groggy, and rubbed at his face. Osamu was still asleep, his breaths heavy and even. Atsumu thought about kicking him awake, and probably would have done so at any other time. But he got up quietly and crept out of the room, giving his brother a little more time to sleep before they had to think about what had happened the night before.
Kita sat on his knees in the middle of the floor, the hem of his yukata pooling on the tatami mat. He held a sword, the blade glinting with each stroke against the whetstone. There was something soothing about it, a long and slow metallic slide.
Atsumu used knives on occasion, but his weapon of choice was a handgun, like most of Inarizaki. No one used swords anymore.
Atsumu hesitated. Atsumu had always kept his distance, out of respect. He slipped into the room quietly and knelt at the edge of the mat. It felt like kneeling in a shrine. The sentence was punctuated by a long, smooth snick. It may take some time. There was a rustle of movement behind Atsumu.
His voice was thick from sleep, but he spoke quietly, almost reverently. He must have felt the pious atmosphere the same as Atsumu. Only our guns. You will be taken care of until we figure things out. Kita smiled; not with his mouth, but with a slight softening of his eyes. Apparently satisfied, he rose with an impressive amount of grace and replaced it on the wall, crossed over an identical sword. He left the room. Atsumu rose to do the same, but Osamu shoved him back down and lurched upright to follow first.
Atsumu almost hissed a curse under his breath but held it back. Plain text with limited HTML? Main Content While we've done our best to make the core functionality of this site accessible without javascript, it will work better with it enabled. Get an Invitation. Log in to view. Please check the tags. Chapter 1. Somewhere several stories above him, Osamu knew exactly what he was thinking. Three … Two … Osamu exhaled, long and heavy, and Atsumu subconsciously did the same.
Atsumu chuckled, low in his chest. No thanks. Osamu gave him a flat look and nearly drove into a parked car. He sat up straight and held his breath to listen. There was nothing but silence. He slipped a hand underneath his pillow and felt the cool kiss of metal beneath. One of his feet crept off the edge of the mattress, then he was frozen again.
His bedroom doorknob twisted, clicked, and went still. Atsumu raised his gun and fired. It was warm against his thigh. There was someone walking behind him. I mean why? Come inside. Atsumu and Osamu were left standing side by side, exhaling at the same moment.
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