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Title: Burning Paper Dragons
Author: persepolis130
Beta: none (Please let me know if you see any issues!)
Pairing(s): Habashira/Agon, various minor pairings (m/m and m/f)
Word Count: novel (WIP)
Rating: R
Summary: As a new member of the yakuza Syndicate, Habashira Rui has been assigned the nightmarish job of assistant to Kongo Agon.


Notes: A manen equals ten thousand yen, so six or seven manen is about $600 or $700. The kanji for "me" in this case would be "ore," if anyone is curious. Ruiko and Rumiko are both girls' names.


The crack of Agon's fist against my jaw was almost a relief. I'd been expecting it for so long, it felt good to get it out of the way. It wasn't as bad as I remembered. He must've been holding back, I decided as I pulled myself up off the floor. My jaw popped when I opened my mouth, but nothing was broken. All my teeth were even still there.

Agon was back in his chair, sipping sake to the sound of pachinko machines sucking down patrons' cash. His knuckles were a little pink from where they'd made contact with my face, but that was all.

I wiped the back of my hand across my chin, which was sore but not bleeding, and straightened my jacket. "You didn't need to hit me."

"You overstepped your bounds. You don't decide when we consult. You don't dismiss your men or tell my girls to leave us in private. I do," he said.

"It was just a suggestion. I thought it might make things easier for you if we had a set schedule, something set in stone, and I couldn't exactly explain in front of them," I told him.

"A set schedule," he repeated, raising his eyebrows. "For you to suck me off?"

My face burned. The idea hadn't sounded nearly as filthy in my head. Or as stupid. I just wanted to take the element of surprise out of this whole thing. I did a better job when I was prepared. I always had. The deck was already stacked in Agon's favor-- the least he could do was let me take a look at my cards before I placed my bet.

Agon snorted. "How the hell would that make it easier for me? I've already blackmailed you into giving me anything I want whenever I want it."

"I know that!" I snapped, and winced when a spark of pain shot across my jaw. Bastard hit me harder than I'd thought. Bet it was just enough to hurt like a bitch but not bruise too badly. My face was already ugly enough, right? That would be just his style.

"What kind of ploy is this, Habashira? You think if you convince me you like it, I'll get bored with tormenting you and stop doing it?" he demanded. "You think I'm that easy to screw with?"

I scowled, massaging the spot just in front of my ear. Damn, it was throbbing now. "You're overestimating how much planning went into this. I'm just trying to be proactive for the sake of my career. It's my job to do what you want," I told him, "not to like it."

"And you obviously don't like it," Agon said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "Of course I don't! I'd have to be some sort of brainless woman to like shit like that. Do I look like a woman?!"

Agon raised his glass to his lips, considering. He took a sip, lowered the glass, and frowned.

Then he repeated the process.

Kah, he pissed me off! That's not a hard question to answer!

He finally told me, "Habashira. Come here."

"If you think I'm going to blow you, you're wrong," I informed him, going up to him. "My jaw's swelling up. You punched me, remember? My mouth's not going to open far enough to--"

"If your mouth hurts, stop talking," he said. He held out his empty cup. "Put this on the ground."

I rolled my eyes. What was he, incapable of bending over?

"Not in front of my feet, idiot. Here," he ordered, pointing to the ground to the side of him.

Oh, of all the pointless-- I slammed the cup down on the ground. "Fine, fine! Anywhere you want it, I'll put it there! I'd love to! Make me move it a hundred times, that's just fucking perfect! Why would I care where you--"

"Rui. Shut up," he told me. His fingers were undoing my belt buckle.

I choked on my own tongue.

"Not a word, do you understand me?" he said. His knuckles brushed the skin below my navel.

I swallowed, head reeling. "What are you--"

"When I said Not a word," he interrupted, hand sliding into my underwear, "I meant Keep your damn mouth shut."

The thought of Kongo Agon jacking me off was so far from being a possibility that the idea never even crossed my mind. I'd brought him off dozens of times, but I never pictured it the other way around. So I hadn't imagined the way his hand would feel around my dick, or the slick-wet sounds it would make, or the way I'd come so hard I'd see stars. But it didn't matter. Imagination or no, it happened. And it was the best handjob I ever wished I hadn't had.

But then, with Agon giving it, how could it not be?

"You're pathetic, you know that, Rui-kun?" Agon asked.

I couldn't argue with that. I was barely still on my feet, holding myself up against the arm of Agon's ugly black chair. My hair was in my eyes, and if that wasn't blood on my chin, I was drooling on myself. "Nngh," I managed.

"Get out of here. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. Be back here at eight tomorrow morning. As a matter of fact, I want you here at eight every morning," he ordered. "And put some ice on your jaw. You're ugly enough without bruises."

If I'm so ugly, why did jacking me off get you hard? Leaning over him like this, it wasn't something he could hide. But Agon was ready to screw at the drop of a hat, so I guess it was to be expected. More importantly: "...why eight o'clock?," I croaked. "You don't get here before noon."

"Aah? You say something, trash?"

Nope. Not me. Didn't say a damned thing.


I was counting the punches in my dry cleaning card-- after ten shirts, you got one for free-- when someone knocked on the door. Anyone I knew either called first or yelled through the front window, so I wasn't thrilled. More often than not, strangers meant trouble, and despite my three hour nap, Agon being a general shithead had stretched my patience pretty thin. After a week of keeping me out until three a.m. and demanding I get to his "office" by eight the next morning, he'd had the gall to tell me I looked as tired as I was ugly and send me home.

If this was a door-to-door salesman, he was going to be looking for a different profession in three... two... one...

At my door stood a deliveryman holding a box the size of... a microwave oven? I was too frazzled to imagine anything better. Ours wasn't broken, though. Was it? Anyway, the box was too light.

"I have a package for... Habashira Rui-sama?" the man said, checking his clipboard.

You hear about people getting horrifying things in packages sometimes-- homemade bombs, human heads, sex tapes of their wives. I didn't think anyone would go to that extent to personally offend me, and I knew my wife was faithful, so I signed and sent the deliveryman on his way.

Inside the box was another box with a handwritten note on top of it: Trash is still trash even if you wrap it gold ribbons, but at least try not to make my eyes bleed. This was followed by several hearts and the kanji for "me."

In the box sat three suits. They were black silk, one with grey pinstripes running through it, and must have run a million yen apiece. I'd never owned something so amazing in my life. I held one up, running my fingers over the fabric, then bringing it to my cheek. It was so soft...

"Wow, the sleeves even look long enough," Ryo's voice said behind me. I jerked at the noise and turned to find my son walking up our front steps. He had a look of admiration in his eyes and a cigarette in his hand.

"Why aren't you at school?" I demanded, face going red with embarrassment as I realized I was rubbing my face against my new suit like a cat in heat.

He shrugged. "I'm ditching."

"You haven't even been there for two months," I told him, wishing he'd take things more seriously. "How do you expect to pass your classes if you don't go to them?"

"Dad, I really hate it," he said, contemplating the lit end of his smoke. "Can't I quit?"

"Don't screw with me," I told him.

He sighed. "I don't like it. I wanna quit."

"No son of mine is dropping out of school," I informed him. This conversation was starting to piss me off. I just wanted to look at my suits in peace. "And what about football? How are you going to play if you're some kind of dropout?"

"Zokugaku sucks at football. I hate playing with those guys," he said, frowning, and then took a quick drag. "I don't know why I have to keep doing stuff I don't feel like doing."

"Life is doing stuff you don't feel like doing. Get used to it. Be a man!" I demanded. The kid was always looking for the easy way out. "And maybe if you set a better example at school instead of sucking on those cigarettes like your mouth is an exhaust pipe--"

"Can't I just..." He bit his lip. "It'd be better someplace else. I really want to transfer, Dad."


"How did I know you'd say that?" He sighed and took another drag.

Alright, now I was pissed. "Everyone in your family's gone to Zokugaku. It's tradition! You think you're too good for us? You think you're something special?!"

He dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with his toe. He drew himself up out of his slacker's slouch, squaring his shoulders at me, and I wondered when he'd gotten so tall. "No, I'm nothing special. I'm not any better than anyone else, and I never will be. I'll get my head out of the clouds and stop dreaming. Thanks for the reality check, Dad."

That... wasn't what I meant. You had to do your best in life with what you were given, right? You played the hand you were dealt; you didn't ask for a re-deal when things didn't go your way. A real man knew this. But my son was just a fifteen-year-old kid. I was pretty sure he didn't know anything.

"Ryo," I started.

"I'm taking a nap," he said, and headed inside.

"Don't turn your back on your father when he's speaking to you!" I snapped.

"Look, I'm tired. You can yell at me after my nap," he said over his shoulder. "You should try on your new suits. Mom's going to freak if she finds out how much you paid for 'em."

I'd forgotten about the suits. That was how exhausted I was. I was still holding a jacket in front of me, the sleeves dangling. I hoped they were as long as they looked. Making sure no one was watching this time, I buried my face in the fabric, feeling giddy with the smell of it.

I didn't know what Agon's game was, but if I got shit like this out of it, deal me in.


Today was the first time I'd eaten breakfast with my wife in months. After calling me a wet blanket at the club last night, Agon had left with an American girl with big green eyes who said she was an actress. He'd texted me twenty minutes later and told me not to bother consulting the next morning, so I guess she was a good one.

Megu sat across from me with a cup of tea and a pack of cigarettes that she tapped against the tabletop. When she first said it, I thought I'd misheard, and I told her to repeat herself.

"No, you heard me right," she said. "I want to have a baby."

"What are you talking about? You've got a kid," I told her.

"He's grown up already," she answered.

I shrugged. "Isn't that what they're supposed to do?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while, and I want another. I'm not young anymore, Rui," she told me, flipping the cigarettes between her fingers. "If I wait much longer, it'll be too late. You're obviously doing well at work, so what's the problem?"

I didn't like where this conversation was headed. "A few months ago, you were bitching that I'd been demoted. When did the story change?"

"Say I'm bitching again, and I'll give you a black eye," she informed me.

"That's not what I meant," I assured her. She'd been known to follow through on these things. "I'm only saying work isn't going as smooth as you think it is."

Though, oddly, it had been going better lately. After the suits, which Megu had proudly said made me look "just like a hit man," Agon gave me neckties. "You look stupid wearing cheap polyester ties with those suits," he'd told me. "Well, you look stupid anyway..." Never mind that my ties were neither cheap nor polyester and that I did not look stupid!

Naturally, I was suspicious about Agon's motives. Even if he said the mere sight of me burned his retinas, he'd spent more on prettying me up than most men bring home in a year. Why not blackmail someone better looking into giving him head if he hated the sight of me so much?

But I kept quiet. If I spoke up, the gifts might stop. I was hoping for shirts next. Or maybe shoes-- custom-made leather ones from Italy would fit the bill. And even if Agon had something unsavory planned for me, what was I going to do about it? We didn't talk about him bringing me off, and he never touched me again. Well, his dick touched the back of my throat, but that was different. That was business.

"I'm not asking for a private jet and a vacation home in Hawaii," Megu continued. "I have some money saved up, and I just need six or seven manen set aside every month for expenses."

"Six or seven manen?" I gaped. "Is that all?"

She shrugged. "And some sperm. If it's not too much trouble."

"I'll think about it," I lied. Megu was out of her mind. Another kid was all I needed right now. She'd get one over my dead body.


That night, a call woke me up. It didn't take a whole lot of guessing to figure out who it was.

"It's one in the morning, you bastard. What the hell do you want?" I muttered into the receiver.

Agon laughed. "Ruuuui-kun! It's so good to hear your sweet voice!"

"Tell me what you want, or I'm hanging up," I told him.

"Awww, don't hang up. Come and party with me!" his fake-sweet voice urged. "My entertainment left for the evening, and now I'm aaaall alone."

"It's not evening! It's one in the morning!" I snapped. One ten, actually!

I could tell he found this amusing. "Don't be that way, Habashira-chaaaan! All I'm--"

I hung up. Don't fucking call me chan, you asshole. I've had enough of your bullshit!

My phone was ringing again. Damn it.

This time, Agon was pissed. "Listen up, trash. Today is my birthday, and on my birthday, you do whatever the fuck I want," he snapped. "Now get your ass over here!"

"Who was that?" Megu asked as I climbed out of bed.

"I'll be home sometime tomorrow," I told her. If I'm lucky. "Go back to sleep."

Seeing Agon confirmed what I'd suspected on the phone: he was blitzed. I'd seen him drink enough to put most men in the hospital and then drive himself home afterwards, so I could only imagine how much he'd had tonight.

"Ah, Ruiko-chan, so good to see you!" Agon exclaimed, staggering up to me. His upper-pachinko room was strewn with cushions and the remnants of a two-person sushi dinner. The half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand came perilously close to slipping to the floor.

"I'm not a woman!" I told him, dodging the hand the asshole held out to me. "You've had proof of that first-hand."

"Hmm? Proof?" he asked, looking confused.

"When you jacked me off!" I snapped. Kah, I hate drunk people!

He laughed and took a long drink from the bottle. A rivulet of alcohol ran down his chin, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. "So you came here tonight to talk dirty? You're such a pervert, Rumiko-chan!"

"My name is not Rumiko!" I fumed. "And you're the one who called me here! I was in bed with my wife!"

He blinked. "Eh? I called you? Why the hell would I do that?"

I was going to strangle him. "Fine then, I'm going home. If you call again, I'm ignoring it."

He caught me by the elbow. "You're leaving already? You can't go now! Didn't I tell you earlier it was my birthday?"

"How do you know you told me it was your birthday if you don't remember calling?!" I tried to wrench myself free of his grasp, but even drunk off his ass, Agon was still stronger.

"That's a nice suit. Did I buy you that?" he asked.

I will murder you. Fucking murder you!

Agon smiled, tugging at my tie. "I have incredible taste. I can even make an ugly piece of crap like you look presentable. Well, mostly. I'm a genius, not a god."

"I'm leaving now," I told him.

"I don't think so, Rui-rui-kun. You owe me something. Ah, don't look at me like that!" he said with a laugh, and I could only imagine what sort of look I had on my face. There was no way I could pay him back for the clothes. "A birthday present! That's all!"

"Is that right?" I asked. Agon's hand had slid from my elbow to the back of my neck, and I had a sneaking suspicion cake and ice cream wasn't what he was looking for. The bottle dropped from his other hand and fell to the ground with a crack of glass.

Agon's lips were suddenly close to mine, smelling like liquor and something sweet. A hand was against my back, fingers sliding under my waistband. "You know what I want for my birthday?" he breathed against my skin.

I swallowed. "Agon--"

"Fuck me," he said.