#miyacestober2022 day 17 Debt // Yakuza AU Miyacest implied noncon with sk/ts "The boss'll see you now." Osamu jumps at the words and looks up at Aran from where he sits. The leather of the sofa beneath him creaks as he jumps to his feet. He strides quickly across the room, +

the heels of his shiny black shoes clicking on the polished floor as he makes his way to the door. "Thanks,” he mutters with a bow as he passes through the threshold. Aran falls in step behind him as they make their way up the hallway and to another door. Aran gestures for Osamu+

to remove his shoes and he does so with a sigh and a roll of his shoulder. His movements are stiff beneath the expensive silk button down; the tendons in his shoulder are tense and the bruising to his side aches as he bends to shuffle loose his expensive footwear. He levels +

Aran with a look that says /happy?/ Once his shoes are neatly tucked on the bamboo rack beside the door, Aran responds with a curt nod before slipping from his own shoes and housing them in the space beside Osamus’. He kneels by the door and raps his knuckles against the wood. +

They wait only a moment in silence before a voice confirms their permission to enter. Aran slides the door open and comes to his feet. The room is dimly lit but Osamu is well aware of the tradition and opulence on display, from the ancient family heirlooms adorning the walls +

in both scroll and steel, to the gold lining every fixture; from the lamps to the tea cups, in the pens upon the desk, and the golden trim inlayed into the very desk itself. Kita himself isn’t reclining in the grand leather armchair sat behind the solid oak desk, rather he sits +

on the tatami that covers the floor, behind a low tea table, fine china and hot cups already wafting steam into the room. Despite the building that houses their operation being western style, and most of the furniture made to match, Kita had a flair for the traditional, unlike +

his predecessor who had a taste for things a little more bold, or gaudy as some may say. He wore a haori over his designer cotton dress shirt, coloured in a rich burgundy and painted with rice fields and herons. He looks small and serene, almost harmless as he gently raises a +

cup to his lips. Blowing across the surface of the matcha tea inside before taking a sip. He doesn't open his eyes, nor does he acknowledge the men now present in his space, savouring the flavour on his tongue before lowering the cup into his lap. When his eyes do open any air +

of benignness is dispelled by the sharp stare shot across the room, like that of a beautiful fox, both alluringly curious with a hint of danger. These eyes held a warning, anyone was potentially prey beneath them. “Boss," Osamu says, dropping to sit on his calves and bowing +

deeply. “Osamu.” Kita nods towards the tea set, “Pour yourself a cup.” Osamu rises, sitting back on his heels with his palms laid atop his thighs. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d rather not. Have ya’ gotten word yet?” The shift in the rooms' atmosphere is subtle, but Osamu was always +

perceptive. He hears Aran shuffle just slightly where he sits in his peripheral vision and Kita’s chin tips a degree to the right. Osamu’s gut twists and the hair on the back of his neck stands. “So, what did Sakusa have to say? An' where’s ‘Tsumu?” He watches, frustration +

building as Kita sips his tea and pours himself another. His movements are slow, deliberate and methodical, each item picked up placed back perfectly in its space on the tea tray. Osamu could shout, demand an answer, but he’s learned from years under Kita that brutish language +

and intimidation will get him nowhere. Kita runs a tight ship and those who defy are easily cast out. “Sakusa has Atsumu.” The air between them grows thick, tightening Osamu’s lungs and strangling him. Kita turns to him, his face impartial, cold even. +

“What do ya' mean /has him?/ Ya had some business to negotiate and took Tsumu, why-” he can't breathe, “why the fxck does that peice of work have 'Tsumu?” “You know exactly why, Osamu.” His blood runs cold and he feels the color drain from his face. The room lists to the side +

but somehow those golden eyes stay constant, existing beyond the rules of time and space, piercing straight through him. The words echo in his ears as Kita continues to speak. “You’ve been stepping on toes, Osamu. You took things that didn't belong to you, things that belonged +

to Itachiyama and Sakusa. I simply offered a gift to make amends and Sakusa has... Particular tastes.” Osamu's stomach flips. It was no secret that the kumicho of Itachiyami was a ruthless and cold leader but rumour was he was a sadist to the darkest degree. "How could ya just +

give him to him? He's part of our family, he's my brother?" Osamu can't hold in his emotions any more, fury seeps into his voice, into his muscles, winding his jaw tight and filling his chest. His fingers claw into the black fabric of his slacks. "Our family, Osamu? You swore to+

me when we exchanged cups, to be my brother, and yet you betray me?" "Kita, I swear, I didn't –" "You betrayed me when you angered Sakusa. I merely paid your debt." Osamu gapes at him, bewildered by what he was hearing. "Why bring 'Tsumu into it?" He asks, voice trembling as he +

clings to his last threads of reason; his mind a flickering slideshow of the endless possibilities, of Atsumu bound, gagged, beaten; of Sakusa's filthy hands on his pristine skin. "Oh come now, Osamu. Did you think I didn't know about you two?" Osamu feels ill, shame washes over+

him as he begins to tremble. "This is both reparations to Sakusa and a punishment for you, and perhaps now, with your precious /brother/ aside, you'll show me the loyalty you promised." "Get him back," Osamu growls, lurching forward and slamming his palms down on the tea table. +

"Osamu!" Aran shouts a warning, his hand shooting out and wrapping firmly around Osamu's bicep. "Get him back!" "No," Kita replies calmly, unflinching at Osamu's posturing. "Then I'll get him back myself," Osamu spits, coming to his feet and toppling the tea table, shattering +

the china teapot and cups, staining the tatami. "If you go against me, Osamu, then you go against the whole of Inarizaki." "Fxck the Inarizaki, if this is what they would do to my brother." "Aran." Kita beckons. "He's no longer welcome here." Osamu looms over Kita for a moment, +

their eyes locked in a heated stare, before Aran pulls him toward the door, his gun drawn and pointed at Osamu's side. "He will kill you," Kita warns. "No," Osamu says, turning to look over his shoulder, "I'm gunna kill 'im, then I'll be back fer yer head too." // End!

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