Chapter Text
The crowd around the ring roar in twisted glee, as the challenger is knocked down, vulnerabilities painted on that poor man’s bloody face. He tries to struggle, to save his life. His eyes are telling the world how he regrets to be so dumb to challenge the champion. The man above him is insane. He has no heart. He has no humanity. The last thing the challenger see is the wild eyes of the champion. Then black.
They roar louder, chanting the champion’s name like a mantra. Jeon Jungkook, they say in the best way they can for a foreign name. Jungkook’s arm is lifted, but the same winning announcement he’s heard for months felt so dull to him.
Once he’s released, he turns towards the entrance of the ring. His way in the aisle is festooned by loud cheering and sick compliments. Pats on his shoulders and back feel like whip and hammer. He ignores them all.
As he’s finally in a cocoon of silence in the locker room, he sits down on the shabby bleacher, spitting out his mouthguard. He carefully unwraps his hands from the bandages that didn’t do enough work to protect his knuckles, hissing at the stinging pain of the wounds. They’re bloody, his hands. Even though not all of it is his, but also his challenger’s from before, his knuckles have been injured too, the impact of the repeated collisions with bones and muscles.
The vision of the pleading eyes his challenger gave him is flooding his brain. His hands start shaking then. Even after all these months of fighting at an illegal arena, he still seems to not be able to shake that feeling he’s always had after every match; the feeling of fear, the feeling of guilt. Neither of him or his challengers want this. They’re mere actors to quench the sick amusement of rich psychopaths. They have no choice; die fighting or die starving. At least they have chances when they go onto the ring.
It used to be thrilling when his adrenaline was pumped in his veins, but now Jungkook is so sick of it, so fed up and he feels numb.
“Fuck,” he curses. He stands up and punches one of the lockers until the lid is bent. His knuckles get wounded more than they’ve already been, small tracks of blood seeping down on the ugly green color of the metal surface.
The door opens and closes, followed by footsteps that Jungkook ignores altogether so he can catch his breath.
“Gaijin*.”
It’s not his name, it sounds pejorative even, but as the only Korean among all Japanese, he’s accustomed to it. Xenophobia induced or not, it’s what he is, a gaijin.
After a subtle sigh, Jungkook looks up. The bald, fat man who looks bored has his hand stretched outwards, with a bundle of yen bills in his greasy grip. He spots stains of ramen soup on the man’s dirty top and has to hide his disgust.
“You’re gonna have to lay off a bit. He’s almost dead out there,” the bald man grins, looking so crazy that Jungkook’s stomach churns, memory of his challenger’s ruined face flashing back.
Masking his displeasure with the poker face he’s mastered, he settles with a shrug.
“Don’t forget, tomorrow is the final. You’ve got to win, Jeon, so much money at stake here.”
“Yeah, don’t worry.”
The man turns around and leaves through where he came from. The door is closed and he’s alone once again to wash the blood on his skin.
It’s the beginning of spring, the rain pouring outside when Jungkook walks out of the arena has been expected. He walks leisurely towards the nearest convenience store and waits for the rain to stop there. It’s not only him, but also a few people have gathered in front of the dingy store, some of them are chatting with their friends, some are, just like him, alone. He then takes the available space next to the trash bin.
Since the weather is still chilly, he has a sudden urge to light his cigarette. He fishes out the box from his backpack and nips the bottom of one of the sticks to pull it out. He can’t find his lighter though, he’s been looking for it anywhere.
Suddenly, there’s a pale hand before his eyes, with a cheap purple lighter held by thin, long fingers. Jungkook shifts his eyes up, following the thin arm wrapped in long sleeve which is connected to a narrow shoulder and a stature of a man.
The man is slightly shorter than him, with blond hair under a black cap and a black mask rests under his chin while there’s a stick of cigarette between his pouty yet thin lips. Jungkook can’t see his face clearly under the minimum lights, those long bangs and low worn cap also prevent him to take the details, but he can make out the soft curves of the man’s cheeks and three silver earrings adorned the man’s left ear.
The man wiggles his hand, snapping Jungkook back into reality. Hiding his embarrassment for checking a stranger out blatantly, Jungkook takes the lighter and lights his own cigarette, white smoke puffed out under the flickering fluorescent lights.
A few seconds later, a black, sleek car which looks so expensive stops in front of the store. A tall man steps out of it and stands next to the open door, waiting for someone, probably his boss, to get onto the vehicle.
Out of the people who are sheltering themselves under the broken roof of the store, Jungkook doesn’t expect the man next to him, the lighter man, to step out and run into the car, trying to get dry as much as he can. Then the car tires roll away, leaving only the trace on the muddy asphalt.
Jungkook looks down at the cheap lighter in his hand; he forgot to return it. He shoves it into his jacket pocket then, keeping it for himself. A man with a car like that won’t remember about some cheap lighter anyway.
His hands, they’re bleeding again, but most of the blood, like usual, isn’t his.
His knuckles are hurting when he accepts four bundles of bills, the price of his win, they feel so dirty. But then again, Jungkook’s hands have been dirtied since the first time his fist collided with his first opponent, some additional filth won’t matter any longer.
The final match of the season was more violent than the previous one. Jungkook still can hear the crack of his challenger’s jaw dislocated under his strength. The floor of the ring looks like someone has drawn some abstract masterpiece with red paint.
Jungkook watches the red stream of water mixed with blood falling on bluish tiles of the shower stall. It swirls slowly into the drain, like some sick hypnotic spiral. He lifts his head then, letting the water pressure hit him on his bruised face. He loves the way they sting.
“Gaijin,” the familiar voice of the bald, fat man, whose name Jungkook never cares to remember, is heard between the burble of the running water.
That’s weird. It’s the second time he hears it instead only once like usual.
He turns off the shower and asks, “What?”
“Someone’s here to talk to you.”
That one makes Jungkook frown even after he’s heard the man leaving.
As long as he remembers, he doesn’t know anyone in Japan anymore ever since he moved from his previous town, except for some fleeting one night stands when he was in need to release some pent up frustration and forget about his fucked-up life, or that fat, old man who always gives him his share after the matches.
Wrapping a towel around his waist, Jungkook swats the curtain open only to be greeted by a man right in front of his shower stall.
The man is tall, taller than Jungkook, he wears an expensive-looking button down shirt and jeans that look so weird against the shabby, moldy room in the background. And even though he weirdly feels familiar with him, Jungkook is 100% sure he’s not one of his fleeting one night stands because he’s sure he’d remember a face that handsome.
“Jeon Jungkook,” the man says with a short nod and a polite smile, dimples making a shy appearance on his cheeks, “I’m here to give you a message.”
The young fighter didn’t expect the man to speak to him in his native language, Korean. It’ll be a lie if he said he didn’t get intrigued for the slightest bit.
“From?” Jungkook asks, feeling so weird to speak his mother tongue again after a long time speaking Japanese.
“The head of Park clan.”
Jungkook feels the chill crawling in his spine.
Everyone living in the dark side of Tokyo knows who Park clan is. It’s a clan, which albeit originally from South Korea, based in Shinjuku. They rule the whole illegal traffic; drugs, human organs, prostitution, guns, you name it, even the illegal arena where Jungkook works at is theirs. They’ve colonized since a long time ago, none of the local clans is capable to snatch their throne. Rumors always talk and Jungkook has heard the crown is now being held by the oldest son of the former head. He’s seen the father, but the son is still hidden. And now that he's got a message from them, he can’t help but think the worst.
“What is this about?” Jungkook asks warily, “Did I do something wrong?”
The man chuckles, much to Jungkook’s surprise, “I’m pretty sure if you did, you wouldn’t stand in front of me right now. My boss just wants to have a chat over tea with you. You, after all, have been standing as a champion for months. Let’s say, my boss is interested in giving you a proposition.”
“What kind of proposition?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that,” the man answers without skipping a beat like he’s expected Jungkook to ask it. He then looks at his wristwatch before adding, “I’ll wait for you at the exit. Please don’t take too long, my boss doesn’t like waiting.”
And just like that, the man leaves through the same door where he entered.
Jungkook hurriedly puts on his clothes and packs his bag. He may be insane for living as a rat, but he’s not that insane to make a king of demons waiting for his sorry ass.
True what the tall man said, he’s waiting for Jungkook right at the exit. However, Jungkook notices the car seem identical with one that picked up the blond man from yesterday. He realizes that must be the reason why the tall man who’s waiting for him looks familiar; he’s the same person who opened the car door for the lighter man.
He shoves his hand into the pocket and feels the hard plastic surface of the cheap lighter. It makes him silently wondering if the man lending him the lighter yesterday is somehow related to Park clan. He hopes he didn’t offend that man for not returning the damn thing.
“Please,” the man gestures towards the open door of the car. Jungkook climbs in then.
The gate to the head of Park clan’s sanctuary is majestic. It was made of dark wood, standing tall in between the limestone forts decorated by vines. The gate automatically opens and they proceed to drive into the huge area where garden is. The castle-like house is in the center of the garden, built with glory and rich. Jungkook swallows the sudden lump in his throat. He doesn’t dare to imagine how much money the clan makes to be able to build a small kingdom in the heart of a sophisticated metropolis like Tokyo, but parallel to that, he can’t imagine how many people have been sacrificed under that golden platters.
The car stops right in front of the entrance of the castle-like house. The tall man next to him opens the door and lets Jungkook climb down the vehicle. He feels lost while following the man towards the entrance of the house. It feels like he doesn’t belong there with his worn-out secondhand clothes and damaged face.
The deeper they go, Jungkook can make out that the house was built in traditional Japanese architecture. There’s a garden in the center of the house, with soothing clunks coming from small fountain made of bamboo. The pond is filled by swimming koi fish. There are also some trees and flowers. The garden is surrounded by the wooden-floored hallways and rooms with traditional Japanese slide doors. Through the void above the garden Jungkook can see the full moon above, saturating the building in her glory light.
He’s too occupied to take as many details as he can that he crashes onto the tall man’s chest having stopped in front of one of the rooms.
“Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes.
The man slides the door open and leads him into the room, which seems to be a living room.
“Please wait here,” the tall man says, gesturing to a sofa, “my boss is coming in a minute.”
Then he stands next to the empty sofa across one that Jungkook is currently sitting on.
Jungkook looks around the luxurious living room, still feeling out of place, but the tall man doesn’t seem bothered.
After a minute that feels like years, the door is slid open once again and another tall man, even taller than the one picking him up from the arena, with a wide grin comes in. He’s handsome, with childish feature on his face and pearly teeth in his mouth. But even with the cheerful expression, Jungkook can feel the intimidation emitting from the man. This man must be the new head of Park clan.
Jungkook jumps onto his feet and bows, deciding to play safe rather than to appear impolite.
“Well, well, you’re Jeon Jungkook, huh?” The man says and throws his body onto the empty sofa with so much carelessness.
The fighter doesn’t look up until the man tells him to and orders him to sit back down.
“I didn’t expect you to be so young. How old are you?”
“I’m 22,” Jungkook answers.
“Oh, damn, he's younger than my little brother even,” the leader of the clan talks to the tall man standing next to the sofa, “I’m Park Chanyeol by the way, you must know who I am.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jungkook says again.
“He calls me ‘Sir’!” Chanyeol chortles like Jungkook just told him a joke, “I like you, Jeon Jungkook.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Where’s my manner?” Chanyeol clasps his hands together and turns to the tall man standing, “Namjoon, tell Yongsun to bring her best tea and some sweet snacks to accompany it.”
The tall man—Namjoon—nods and leaves the room through the same door they entered.
“I bet you’re curious why you were brought here, right?” Chanyeol asks. Jungkook gives him a careful nod and the leader of the clan continues, “Tell me, Jungkook, how long have you been a fighter at my arena?”
“About two years,” Jungkook replies honestly.
“It’s quite long,” Chanyeol hums, “aren’t you tired coming home bruised and bleeding?”
Jungkook looks down at his damaged knuckles.
It’s the only source of income he has. He has no choice.
“I bet you are,” Chanyeol chirps happily. “Has Namjoon told you that I brought you here because I have a proposition for you.”
“Yes, but he didn’t tell me in detail.”
“Here’s the thing, Jungkook,” Chanyeol leans forwards with his elbows on his spread knees, face turning serious, “the moment the throne of our clan is passed to me, there are so many people chasing after my head. It’s something natural, greed is natural. I’ve lost some of my men in a few months back, so I need replacements and you,” he then leans back with a small smile, “you have a natural talent. I’m offering you a slot here in Park clan. You’ll be one of my men I trust to both protect me and attack ones challenging me. Namjoon will teach you how to use weapons and I’ll give you a shelter to sleep and meals to eat every day. You’ll be paid monthly, and I’m sure the money is many times more than your income as a punching bag. You don’t have to think about how to live as a rat anymore. I just need you to pledge your loyalty and we’re good to go.”
While Jungkook is trying to register Chanyeol’s offer, the door slides open and reveals a woman behind, followed by Namjoon. She has long blonde hair and a slender body wrapped by a simple cherry blossom patterned yukata*. She’s beautiful, but it’s not the only thing that makes Jungkook see her. There’s an actual handgun tucked in her red obi*. The sight makes his spine rigid.
These people around Park Chanyeol are all dangerous. They must be trained to kill at the time their boss’ life is in danger. Jungkook is sure she’ll send a bullet through his skull if he makes a suspicious move.
Fighting with other people is one thing, but killing them is another thing entirely. Jungkook doesn’t know if he can stomach to see anyone shot in the head.
“Thanks, Noona,” Chanyeol gives her a peck on the cheek. She gives him a low giggle and leaves the room.
Jungkook snaps his derailed mind back to their conversation; he hasn’t given the head of Park clan an answer. His fear must be shown on his face because Chanyeol chokes a laughter as he sees Jungkook.
“Oh, man, why are you so cute?” Chanyeol wipes the tears from his eyes. “Okay, let’s make a deal,” he then clears his throat before adding, “I’ll give you two days to think about it. Don’t worry, I won’t force you to join with us. The choice is yours.”
It’s not his choice at all. Jungkook knows the time he declines the offer, Namjoon or some other men will chase after his head. Those two days he has may be some formality, or some kind of sick game for him to run away so they can chase him like a poor prey.
Chanyeol gives him one last smile and a pouch of cookies then he asks Namjoon to drive Jungkook to the shabby hut he calls home.
“Here’s my number, call me whenever you’re ready within those two days,” Namjoon gives him a folded paper that he puts carefully in his pocket.
“Did you pledge your loyalty to Park clan for the rest of your life too?” Jungkook asks.
Namjoon hums, “Not my best decision, but it’s better than the previous life I lived in.”
Jungkook bids the elder a goodbye and walks into the hut. He throws his backpack onto the lumpy thing he calls bed and sits on it.
He can’t wrap his mind in a focus, though. It goes to different directions at once that he has a hard time to think properly. He wants to get out of his current life, but doing that means he’s going to enter a lion's den. He wants to get some proper meals to feed his stomach, but it means he’s going to take someone’s life, one day in the future.
He lets out a troubled sigh and buries his face in the crevice between his two folded knees.
There’s a row of angry knock on his door disturbing his thoughts. Half-heartedly, he drags his feet to open it.
“Where’s my money?” An old woman who owns the hut Jungkook lives in scoffs, “You promised to pay yesterday, you dumb kid.”
Jungkook wordlessly takes the four bundles of money he got from today’s fight and gives three to her.
“Give me those too!” The woman snatches the remaining bills off Jungkook’s hand, “I know you’ll delay the payment again if I don’t take it now.”
Jungkook holds her wrist, “But—”
“Oh, shut up if you still want to live here! I was kind enough to give you three months without paying!” The woman snatches her hand and leaves, muttering, “Dumb gaijin, only crowding the city like roaches in garbage.”
Furious and hurt, Jungkook kicks the door close to prevent himself from attacking the woman. His stomach rumbles in hunger but all his money has been taken away by that witch. He remembers the pouch of cookies Chanyeol gave him earlier and takes it out of his backpack.
The pouch is purple. It’s bulged with sweet treats inside. When he opens it, there are about five assorted cookies. Jungkook takes one and pops it into his mouth. Sugary flavor immediately melts on his tongue. It spreads in his mouth along with the vanilla scent filled his senses.
The cookie is...delicious.
It’s usually hard enough for him to get a proper nutrition from his meal that his taste buds almost forget how delicious the sweet taste is.
He pops one more into his mouth, lemon flavored this time, and chews the cookie slowly to savor the rare taste.
He feels his eyes burning. A hot tear falls, then two, then three, until they form two identical rivers on his bruised cheeks. His lungs start burning for oxygen as his nose is blocked.
He shoves the remaining cookies into his mouth and cries against his knees.
God, he’s tired.
He’s tired of living like a rat, like a roach, like a fucking punching bag. He’s tired coming home bruised and wounded. He’s tired of bandaging his knuckles, which almost useless to protect his skin from bleeding. He’s tired of becoming a target of xenophobic slurs. He’s tired of living. He’s tired of hurting.
Throwing the pouch onto the ground, Jungkook rummages his backpack to find a few coins of yen and runs out, not bothering to lock the door since he doesn’t have anything valuable anyway. He finds the payphone at the station and pulls out the paper Namjoon gave him. He pushes the coins into the small hole on the top right and presses the number written on the paper.
Namjoon picks it up after a few seconds, “Hello?”
Jungkook stops himself from talking and licks his chapped lips. He questions himself, does he really want it? He can run away, he still has time, he can run away and—and what? Live in fear?
“...Jungkook?” Namjoon’s voice comes again, voice raising in the end to make sure he’s right.
It’s just like a push Jungkook needs. He grips the receiver tighter, “Can you pick me up tomorrow?”
The second time Jungkook visits the head of Park clan’s mansion, he doesn’t really feel lost anymore. He’s still mesmerized by the beautiful architecture of it, but he doesn’t really feel small any longer. It’s late afternoon this time, and he can see some butterflies flying around the garden below the void in the middle of the building. Not only that, there’s someone sitting next to the pond, under the orange hue of the sun. His hair is brown. Soft cheeks bounce since he’s chewing something in his mouth. Lips are thick. Skin is sunkissed, just like Jungkook’s. His droopy eyes framed by glasses suddenly find Jungkook’s and he stops chewing. Jungkook, embarrassed for getting caught watching, looks down, hurrying to walk next to Namjoon.
“Who’s that?” Jungkook asks.
Namjoon turns his head to see and Jungkook watches as the young man’s lips blooms into a sweet smile. He sees Namjoon also send a smile in return and a polite nod.
“He’s Park Jimin,” Namjoon says, “Chanyeol-hyung’s younger brother.”
In Jungkook’s opinion, Park siblings don’t really look alike. While the head of Park clan is tall, this Jimin is a little shorter than Jungkook, with round face instead of oval like Chanyeol’s. He vaguely remembers Chanyeol said Jungkook was younger than his younger brother, but he thinks this Jimin looks much younger than him. But he doesn’t think Namjoon will appreciate him asking something personal like that, so he keeps his mouth shut.
They walk until the end of the hallway, which apparently leads them to a wide backyard garden. Chanyeol is standing a few meters from them in a hakama*. He has a bow on his strong grip. His toned muscles flex under his strength. He lets go the arrow and it flies towards the target, stuck in the bullseye.
“Impressive, as usual,” Namjoon praises.
“Oh! Hey!” Chanyeol greets them both, “How are you, Jungkook?”
“I’m fine, thank you, Sir,” Jungkook replies, bowing haphazardly.
“Good, good,” Chanyeol pats his hunched back, “so I heard you decided to accept my offer?”
Jungkook straightens his body and nods, “Yes, it’ll be my pleasure to become one of your men.”
“Great! Should we celebrate a welcome party?”
“It’ll be appropriate to do that, Hyung,” Namjoon says with a smile towards Jungkook.
“But, damn, I can’t tonight. Rain check for tomorrow, yeah?” Chanyeol grins, “Oh by the way, if you’re deciding to join us, just call me like everyone else.”
“Yes, Si—Hyung,”
“That’s right,” Chanyeol ruffles his hair and gives his crossbow to Namjoon, “Dad called me to meet some VVIP at the Dragon’s Nest.”
“Should I drive you there?” Namjoon asks.
“Nah, I’ll take Jongin. You show our new member around, okay? Give him some introductory lessons when you’re at it.”
“Okay, Hyung,”
Chanyeol turns to Jungkook then, “See you around, newbie!”
After that, Namjoon shows him around the mansion, he manages to memorize some important places like bathrooms, toilets and his personal room at the end of the hallway at the West wing. He’s awed that his new room is nothing like that shabby hut he lived before. It’s spacious, with a queen size bed in the center. There are twin nightstands at each side of the bed and a wardrobe for him to put his clothes in.
“Change your clothes to something more comfortable then wait in the front,” Namjoon says, “I’ll show you around then.”
“Ah, thank you, Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook fumbles with his backpack and watches the elder leave.
He puts his pitiful stack of clothes that fits only in a space and takes a shirt and sweatpants. He changes his clothes and then steps out of his room.
He sees Park Jimin still crouching next to the pond. When their eyes meet for the second time, Jimin bolts away. He runs towards one of the room and slams the door shut.
Jungkook is actually startled by the reaction. He’s scared that he made some mistakes.
“It’s Jimin, isn’t it?” Namjoon’s voice is heard. Jungkook turns to his side and finds the taller man walking towards him even though his attention is directed to the door Jimin has slammed before.
“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook asks in worry.
“No, you didn’t,” Namjoon shakes his head, “Jimin is just very shy. It’ll take time for him to be able to talk to you.”
Jungkook hums in understanding.
“Come on, I’ll show you the shooting range first,” Namjoon slings an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder and leads him to the opposite direction.
Jungkook steals a glance behind and sees Jimin peeking from the door, but slides it shut again when he realizes he’s caught.
The shooting range is pretty much wide like the rest of the house. It has five targets of which distance they can control. There are three shelves full of weapons neatly placed with name plates; handguns, assault rifles, shotguns, SMG, DMR, sniper rifles completed with variation of suitable attachments on the side. Jungkook is pretty horrified to see how many guns they have at the training ground. He doesn’t dare to imagine how many more they have outside.
Namjoon walks towards one of the shelves and takes a handgun with him in ease.
“Let’s try the easiest one,” Namjoon says. He gives it to Jungkook along with the eye and ear protectors.
Jungkook fumbles with the equipment. He watches how Namjoon puts them on and applies them to himself.
“First of all, you have to unlock the safety,” Namjoon shows him to do it then lets him to do it himself twice, “it’s not loaded right now but remember to always point the muzzle downwards whenever you load to prevent any unwanted risk. Then try to aim it to the target and pull the trigger.”
Jungkook obeys all the orders by Namjoon’s guide until he hears a click coming from the gun. But when the elder does it himself, the loud bang is heard, making Jungkook flinch. Apparently, the one Namjoon just used was loaded.
“I’ll teach you in detail later, but overall, that’s how you operate a handgun,” Namjoon smiles, “now give it back to me and we’ll continue to the next training ground.”
Jungkoom gives Namjoon the handgun, watching the elder putting it away on its designated slot.
“Do you guys always use those guns?” Jungkook asks.
“Mm,” Namjoon contemplates, “only when we really need to. But we always have at least one to bring,” he then pulls up his shirt and Jungkook can see garter around his waist where there are twin guns on each hip, “these are mine.”
Jungkook gulps, “Will I have to bring one too?”
“Yeah, but later, much, much later,” Namjoon grins and traps Jungkook’s head in a loose headlock, “don’t worry too much, Kook.”
Their next destination is an indoor gym. Namjoon shows him the collection of melee weapons. There are mats on the floors also. The elder promises to teach Jungkook later after his official welcome party.
“I’ll also train you martial arts here later,” Namjoon explains, “I’m sure you’re used to close combat martial arts, you must have got a hold the basic of it. But here, I’ll teach how to use it efficiently without wasting too much energy.
“Anything you want to ask so far?”
Jungkook looks around for awhile until a question pops out, “This has no connection to the lessons though…”
“What is it?”
“We’ve actually met before you picked me up, I don’t know if you remember, but I do remember you picking up a man with blond hair and pale skin?”
Namjoon’s smile falters for a second, but he quickly masks it with another smile, one that looks stiffer, “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure it was you though, I just want to—”
“Jungkook,” Namjoon cuts him up. His smile is still present, but Jungkook can feel the elder’s eyes have significantly gone colder, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Speechless at the sudden change in Namjoon’s behavior, Jungkook nods hastily, “I’m sorry.”
Gone the coldness in Namjoon’s eyes, replaced by the natural warmth.
“I think it’s enough for today. Dinner has started an hour ago, you can go straight to the kitchen and find the cook,” Namjoon tells him, “See you around, Kook.”
“Yeah, see you, Hyung.”
The taller leaves him and disappears at the first turn.
Jungkook doesn’t feel hungry, so he decides to go to his room where he can find a new pack of cigarettes. Namjoon has told him where the staircase leading to the rooftop is, so he heads that way.
Strong wind slaps himself in the face the first time he gets there. He curses it. He carefully pulls his hoodie up to shield his face and approaches the railing on one side. It takes him a few times to light his cigarette since the wind keeps putting it off, but finally he manages.
The first inhalation is always the best. Jungkook feels the menthol filling up his senses and seeping out along with his breath.
It’s still full moon, so the surrounding isn’t too dark. Jungkook takes in the whole premise of Park clan’s sanctuary. He’s not really surprised that he can’t even see the end of the garden from where he stands.
The flashes of the memories of his life in the past few years flood his mind.
He wasn’t always living like a rat. Jungkook was raised in a small, warm family together with his parents and brother. His father was a cop, his mother is a housewife and his brother was a kind of that older brother who was annoying but he loved him anyway.
One day, his father was assigned on a job in Japan, after a long discussion, both his parents agreed to bring their whole family to move. First year was hard, but Jungkook adapted more and more. The town they lived in was the quiet, friendly one. Jungkook had got himself some friends. They lived well like any other ordinary families, until that night came.
He still doesn’t understand what happened that one night when they got a bunch of unexpected guests. Jungkook remembers some of their faces, those cold eyes. Their parents sent him and his brother to their room, then he remembers the screams. He was too young to understand, but his brother managed to get him out of their house. He told Jungkook to run to the nearest police station and call for some backup, and he ran back to their house.
It went too fast, Jungkook still remembers those three body bags brought out, his cry, his escape when he knew the orphanage would kick him out once he hit adulthood, that little amount of money he used all to go to Tokyo, fighting with some smugglers, recruited by that bald man from the arena, and a whole lot of more fighting.
It’s gone so fast and blurry, but he’s now here, standing on the rooftop of the most dangerous clan in Japan and smoking like it’s nothing. His father would be crying if he knew what his youngest son does for a living. The son of a respectable cop turns out to be one of the most wanted criminal’s men, what a cliche storyline of some B movies. So what then? Will it be him fall for the leader of the clan? Or killed by the cops?
Jungkook snorts to himself thinking about it. Life can be such a joke sometimes, so he won’t be surprised if it’s going to be one between those two options.
Finishing the last stick in his cigarette pack, Jungkook throws the filter into the metal trash bin next to the rooftop door and climbs back down the staircase.
It’s pretty dark at the hallways, it seems he’s been up too long he forgot about the time. He turns towards the direction of his bedroom but his stops his feet once he sees someone strolling down the hallway across of him. He almost forgets about that lighter man until he sees the blond bangs under the black beanie of the figure.
Jungkook hurriedly runs to his bedroom to take that cheap lighter from his nightstand and runs back out. The lighter man is nowhere to be found. But it doesn’t stop Jungkook to jog towards where the last time he saw him earlier. He follows the direction of the lighter man in hushed steps, careful not to wake anyone up. He faces a right turn at the end of the hallway, but he stops himself from turning once he catches a light coming from there. He hides in the shadow and squints his eyes to get a better look.
He can see the lighter man’s back on him and Park Chanyeol at the doorway.
“Finally you came,” Chanyeol says in a low, hushed voice, “took you long enough.”
“Let me come in then.”
Jungkook is mildly surprised. The lighter man’s voice is lower and raspier than he thought it would be, kind of unexpected.
They walk into the room, which Jungkook assumes Chanyeol’s, and the door is closed.
Jungkook doesn’t know when the blond man will come out, so he decides to go back to his room.
Sitting on his bed, Jungkook looks down to the purple lighter on his hand, inwardly mocking himself. The man is surely someone important to the head of the Park clan, he won’t even remember him, moreover such a cheap lighter. Why is Jungkook so persistent to return it anyway? It’s not like that man can’t buy more of it. Also, it’s clear that the blond man’s existence isn’t to be mentioned, if Namjoon’s reaction when Jungkook was asking about him is any indication. It’s better to keep it that way than be caught snooping his nose in something he shouldn’t have to know.
Huffing, Jungkook pulls the drawer of his nightstand to put the lighter in and goes to sleep.
Jungkook feels unsurprisingly good in the morning. He slept well without having to turn around to chase for the comfortable part of his bed like he did with his lumpy mattress back at the hut.
It’s still dark outside, but he always jogs every morning so his natural alarm woke him up. He changes his clothes, brushes his teeth and washes his face, then he steps out of his room.
He jogs around the premise even when the sun appears at the horizon. He only stops when he hears some noises from the gym. Jungkook slows his steps and peeks through the entrance.
It’s, unexpectedly, Park Jimin.
Gone the oversized sweater and glasses, Jimin actually looks fit. Even though he’s not bigger than his brother, he has lean muscles and fast moves with his dagger. The noises Jungkook heard are Jimin’s shouts.
Mesmerized by the surprising sight, Jungkook leans forwards and accidentally hits the door with his foot.
A dagger suddenly flies towards his face. Thanks to his fast reflexes, though, he manages to swing the door to block it.
“Oh my God!” Someone gasps from the gym.
Jungkook lets out a shaky breath and swings the door open to see the dagger. If he was a second too late, that dagger would be right between his eyebrows.
“Are you okay?!”
Jungkook shifts his eyes to see Jimin running towards him with a concerned expression.
“I’m so so so sorry!” Jimin says. He looks like he’s about to cry.
“Uh, it’s okay,” Jungkook chuckles uneasily, “I managed to dodge it after all.”
The shorter man skims him and sighs in relief.
Jungkook clears his throat and bows, “My name is Jeon Jungkook, uhm, I’m new?”
After the initial shock, Jimin turns back to his timid self and looks down, “Park Jimin.”
“Namjoon-hyung told me you’re Chanyeol-hyung’s brother?”
There’s an odd spark flashing in Jimin’s eyes, but he simply masks it with a hesitant nod.
Deciding that it’s not something he can talk about, Jungkook drops the topic and steps back, “I apologize for disturbing your training. I’m going to, uhm, I’m going to leave now. Excuse me.”
Jungkook slowly turns and resumes his jogging. He steals a glance over his shoulder, watching Jimin pull the dagger out of the door and walk back to the gym.
Dripping in sweat after a few laps of jogging, Jungkook walks back to his room to take a warm shower. Namjoon’s presence when he steps out of the bathroom was kind of expected, so he’s not really surprised.
“Ah, have you waited for long?” Jungkook asks, drying his wet hair.
The elder looks up from his phone and smiles, “Not really.”
“I’ll get dressed fast.”
“Jimin said you were jogging when he almost sent a dagger to your head,” Namjoon states, voice full of amusement.
Jungkook chuckles lightly, “Yeah. My fault though, I shouldn’t tiptoe around.”
Namjoon hums, “You usually jog in the morning?”
“Habit,” Jungkook nods, finishing his clothes by tying the ties of his sweatpants, “I needed to maintain my stamina for, you know, fighting. So it’s kind of stuck with me.”
“It’s good, you really need to maintain it after all. Though maybe the amount of fights you’ll find as a Park clan’s member is nothing compared to your past job, anything can happen anywhere, so we have to be ready anytime,” Namjoon stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, “Are you ready for your first lesson?”
Jungkook nods, “Yeah.”
Namjoon first teaches him with something he’s kind of familiar with; martial arts. It’s pretty amazing to see the elder show him how to use his fists efficiently. Martial arts, after all, aren’t all about punching so he can win, they have their own characteristic and technique.
Both of them keep training until the sun goes down and the moon once again peeks behind the horizon. The only thing that stops them is the promise Chanyeol gave yesterday, about the welcome party for Jungkook.
It’s just like typical nomikai* Jungkook remembers his father always attended when he was a kid, the difference is only because he’s now an adult and be able to drink alcohol. And also, instead of visiting an izakaya*, Chanyeol holds it at his house.
Jungkook is introduced to his men. Their names go through his heads but Namjoon assures him he’ll memorize them by time.
“There’s one more person I’d like to introduce you to,” Chanyeol says when they both are sitting across each other like the first time. Namjoon is sitting next to Chanyeol, chewing some cookies served in the table.
Jungkook nurses his glass and smiles politely, “Who might it be?”
“My favorite kagema,” Chanyeol answers, swirling his glass nonchalantly.
From the corner of his eye, Jungkook can see Namjoon go rigid for a second before popping another cookie into his mouth.
“Kagema?” Jungkook asks again. It’s an unfamiliar Japanese term to him, “What does the word mean?”
The leader of the clan puts down his glass and leans forwards. There’s mirth playing in his eyes, but it only makes Jungkook uneasy.
“You know, Jungkook, the practice of homosexuality has lived so long in Japan,” Chanyeol starts, “back then, they called a male prostitute as kagema. It’s a historical term. A kagema wasn’t to serve male guests particularly, but in the modern era, the word can also be a slang term of gay, I’m still sticking to the historical term though.”
“Ah,” Jungkook nods.
“I’m not fancy of sleeping around with some random prostitutes, you know?” Chanyeol says again, “There are only a few of them I enjoy sleeping with and only one is my favorite. Speaking of him,” he then turns to Namjoon with a frown, “where is he?”
“I’m sure he’ll be here in a few minutes,” Namjoon answers, the edge of rigidity still prominent in his voice.
Chanyeol tsks, “He’s lucky he’s my favorite.”
Not a minute later, Jungkook hears the slide door behind him opened.
“Ah, there you are, Baby,” Chanyeol waves with a grin.
Jungkook turns around and has to hold his surprise.
It’s the lighter man.
He might not see the man’s face properly, but he can recognize the man’s features anywhere. Jungkook can see the lighter man glance at him for a second before strolling towards Chanyeol and sitting down on the armrest of the sofa.
Now without beanie and black clothes, Jungkook realizes how insanely pretty the man is; like a doll. Hair bounces softly in his movement, the curves of his cheeks look soft to touch, those earrings on his ears.
He makes Jungkook want to just touch.
“How are you, Baby, mm?” Chanyeol asks, curling a possessive arm around the lighter man’s waist.
“Fine,” the other answers.
It seems Chanyeol notice Jungkook’s enchanted expression because he sends a smirk to the younger.
“Pretty, isn’t he? There's a reason why Yoongi is my personal favorite.”
He doesn’t really hear it as his focus is entirely taken by another man sitting on the armrest of the sofa in a loose crimson blood yukata, whose skin pale as porcelain, lips red as cherry, and eyes dark as onyx.
Yoongi, his brain repeats the information, his name is Yoongi.
“Wipe your drool,” Namjoon warns him, eyes glinting dangerously.
Jungkook is startled and clears his throat awkwardly.
“There’s a reason why I called him here,” Chanyeol states, “and it’s not for me.”
He half-heartedly shifts his attention to his boss upon hearing it.
“I’m not usually offering to anyone, but I’ve taken a liking to you, Jeon Jungkook,” the leader of the clan says again, voice dropped lower as he continues with a twisted grin, “do you, perhaps, want to spend a night with him?”
Jungkook unconsciously holds the glass in his hand tighter. He slowly turns back to take in Yoongi’s appearance and feels the heat on his face.
Yoongi looks back at Jungkook with his dark eyes. There’s no expression on Yoongi’s face but, God, Jungkook wants to see that doll-like face scrunched in pleasure, how he wants to paint some purple violets on that pale canvas and taste if those lips as sweet as cherry like he predicted.
The flame coils in his stomach, billowing into a roaring desire. He really wants to blame it to his lack of sexual interaction for the past few months mixed together with alcohol, but how this Yoongi makes him want just by being there is beyond his comprehension.
It’s such a sick thoughts, but he hardly thinks about it as a wave of lust creeps on him. He chugs down the remaining alcohol in his glass and puts it down on the table.
“Yes.”
“Nice,” Chanyeol grins and releases Yoongi’s waist, “go on, Baby, make him happy, make it last, only for tonight”
Yoongi stands up wordlessly and walks towards the door. He throws a question through his eyes over his shoulder when Jungkook doesn’t move.
Jungkook clears his throat embarrassingly and follows the shorter man, leaving the party behind and towards the empty hallway. Some time on their way, Yoongi slows his steps so Jungkook can lead them towards his bedroom. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to invite himself in once the door has been slid open, and Jungkook follows closely behind.
He watches Yoongi walk backwards towards the center of the room with his hands untying the obi around his waist, eyes not leaving Jungkook’s. Once he stops, the obi drops as he lets the yukata hang open only held by his narrow shoulders.
Yoongi is—fuck, he’s so goddamn beautiful.
His skin is glistening under the moonlight, looking so enchanting. His doll-like face is so, so pretty, prettier than anyone he’s slept with before.
“Won’t you come closer?” Yoongi asks, hand stretched out invitingly.
Jungkook finds himself let out a breath he unconsciously held. Just like a moth to a flame, he approaches. Yoongi draws him in almost immediately, hands adeptly unzipping Jungkook’s jacket.
“Relax,” Yoongi whispers, pushing the jacket pass his shoulders to fall to the floor.
Just like that, the tension bleeds from Jungkook’s shoulders. Yoongi smiles at that, and he feels dumb to think how a small smile can make his stomach flip.
Maybe this is why Chanyeol considers this man as favorite. He’s not overly seductive or anything, but there’s something in his soft persuasion that makes Jungkook relent.
Yoongi slips his warm hands under Jungkook shirt, moving around and higher towards the prominent shoulder blades. He then looks up just to nip the taller man’s chin softly.
Jungkook shudders under the soft stroke on his back. The gesture makes him feel a little bit bolder. He raises his hands to Yoongi’s shoulder and pushes the yukata off them until it’s now only hanging on Yoongi’s bent elbows, revealing the smooth plane of the blond man’s shoulders. He takes the chance to bend his neck and kisses that porcelain skin.
Yoong smells like soap and some soft fragrance. It’s not too strong, but it’s distinctly addictive. Now that they’re so close, Jungkook finally can execute his initial plan; to paint some pretty flowers on Yoongi’s skin.
It’s amazing to watch the skin become purple as the blood surges under the outer layer because of his mouth. Jungkook does it several times, again and again, until those flowers are beautifully scattered along Yoongi’s right shoulder.
He pulls away to see the shorter man in the eyes, getting lost in the depth of those dark orbs.
“Kiss me?” Yoongi asks.
Oh, Jungkook doesn’t need any more persuasion on that. He dips his head back down and finally get a taste of those cherry lips.
Yoongi tastes like mint and coffee, and there’s something aphrodisiac in it.
Jungkook licks the seam of those thin, pouty lips and dips his tongue deeper when he gets the permission. He can hear a soft gasp against his lips when his hands slips down towards Yoongi’s ass. Without further encouragement, Jungkook uses his strength to lift the other, whose legs hooks against the small of his back immediately, and brings the smaller man towards the bed.
Yoongi’s blond hair and crimson yukata still hanging loosely on the elbows look so vibrant against the black sheet of his bed. He loves the contrast of those colors. They look sensual that he can’t help but give into the need to dip back down to capture those tempting lips.
After another kiss, Jungkook slithers south, leaving kisses on Yoongi’s skin, and paints other marks on the inner side of those milky thighs. Yoongi reacts so prettily, all soft gasps and gentle arch, encouraging Jungkook to worship that lithe body even more.
The man beneath is half-hard already. Jungkook is glad he’s not the only one enjoying such foreplay. Just like Chanyeol told him, he’s going to make the night last.
He purposely avoids touching Yoongi’s cock and lifts one of the blond man’s thighs instead. He tilts his head and nibbles the skin behind Yoongi’s knee, then goes higher to calf area and then ends it with a kiss on Yoongi’s heel.
“How are you so fucking pretty?” Jungkook asks no one particularly, just an absentminded question about the masterpiece laid underneath him.
Yoongi throws him a small smile, “For you.”
He knows Yoongi must have said those words hundreds of times to whomever sleep with him, but he can’t help the stutter in his breath upon hearing that anyway.
Jungkook goes back up to Yoongi’s lean chest and captures one of two pebbled buds there. The gasp Yoongi produces is a little bit louder than before. There are two hands in his hair then, massaging his scalp. Jungkook captures the second bud in his mouth.
Satisfied with how Yoongi is panting now, Jungkook goes back to those lips.
“I don’t have any condoms or lube,” Jungkook says regretfully.
“Don’t worry, we can do other things without those,” Yoongi reassures him.
Jungkook climbs off the bed to peel his shirt and jeans, then he climbs back onto the bed, noticing Yoongi watching him all the way.
“Lie down,” Yoongi sits to kneel on the bed and pushes Jungkook’s lightly until his back touches the bed. The blond man then rearranges Jungkook’s legs so he can lie on his stomach between them.
First, it’s only kittenish licks on the bulbous head of his cock. Then Yoongi becomes bolder as he nips anywhere he can reach. It’s mind blowing, Jungkook has ever received the kind of treatment from his past flings, yet when Yoongi engulf it slowly with his mouth, Jungkook’s abdomen tightens in the sudden pleasure. He watches as Yoongi takes him whole into his mouth until his nose almost touches Jungkook’s pubic hair and pulls back up to repeat the motion.
The sight of those lips engulfing him whole is what sets it. He can’t take his eyes away from how Yoongi’s lips are stretched around his cock, leaving the glisten of saliva when he pulls. It’s lewd and filthy, and Jungkook can’t bring himself to care about anything else other than Yoongi’s mouth on him.
“Oh, shit,” Jungkook curses. He lets his hand run through Yoongi’s, surprisingly, soft locks, holding the too long bangs back.
Yoongi knows how to give him pleasure, his tongue touches in all the right veins, licks and presses on the places send Jungkook to the state of bliss the most.
It goes for some time. Jungkook feels the pressure in his lower stomach getting fuller each time Yoongi moves down.
“I’m about to cum,” Jungkook warns. But instead of pulling off, Yoongi uses his hand to hold the base of Jungkook’s cock and gives a particular hard suck around the head of his cock.
“F-fuck,” Jungkook bites a curse and moans brokenly when he comes in Yoongi’s mouth.
Yoongi swallows it all, only leaving a drop of cum at the corner of his lips, which Jungkook licks and tastes himself through Yoongi’s mouth.
“On your elbows and knees,” Jungkook orders, suddenly pushed by the urge to take the other man apart.
Yoongi does without a second delay.
“Red looks so fucking beautiful on you, you know that?” Jungkook compliments, squeezing Yoongi’s nape lightly.
Yoongi throws a look over his bare shoulder and rests his cheek comfortably against the pillows.
Jungkook gives Yoongi’s shoulder blade a kiss before pushing the lower end of the yukata over the blond man’s ass. He can see the pink entrance flutter slightly as it’s exposed to the cold air. There’s glistening liquid around it.
“Did you prepare yourself?” Jungkook asks in disbelief. Just how far can this man make him aroused?
“Just in case,” Yoongi chuckles.
“Fuck, that—that’s hot.”
The man underneath snorts.
It’s not enough lube to cover the entire fingers, but Yoongi is still loose enough for Jungkook to push one.
Yoongi lets out another soft gasp, sounding so lovely to Jungkook’s ears.
He pushes the digit in and out repeatedly, making sure he doesn’t hurt the smaller man.
“Give me another,” Yoongi demands after a few minutes.
Jungkook carefully adds another one, eyes watching the change of Yoongi’s expression in case there’s pain. But, the smaller man takes his fingers so well. Jungkook can feel Yoongi rock against his hand lightly.
It’s not hard to find Yoongi’s prostate. Once his can feel it with the pad of his fingers, he doesn’t hesitate to touch it every time his fingers thrust in.
Yoongi isn’t the vocal type during sex. He’s more like choked back moans and sharp breath. But, God, does the sight look so goddamn erotic like that, on his elbows and knees, ass up in the air, trying to muffle his response in the pillow. Jungkook loves the contrast of their complexions the most, they look amazing together.
“So good, so fucking pretty,” Jungkook praises again.
He reaches around to get a good grip on Yoongi’s hard cock and starts pumping it in the rhythm with his fingers.
“A-ahh, feels—feels good,” Yoongi moans, long fingers clutching the sheet.
Jungkook speeds up his hands, patience wearing thin as the urge of watching Yoongi fall apart in his mercy is getting stronger.
Yoongi comes not long after, spurting his sperm on Jungkook’s hand. The canal around his other hand clenching, and he can’t help but wonder how good it would feel if it was his cock instead of his fingers.
The blond man melts onto the bed after his orgasm, sighing against Jungkook’s pillows. The owner of the room takes the towel from the bathroom and cleans both of them with it. Then he lies down next to Yoongi, catching his breath.
Jungkook is dozing up when suddenly he feels the movement on his side. Yoongi is climbing off the bed and takes his obi from the floor.
“Uhm,” Jungkook sits up, “why don’t you stay the night? I don’t mind.”
“I do,” Yoongi says, voice unreadable and steady. He finishes tying up his yukata and turns around to see Jungkook, “there's a different price if you want me to stay the night, and Chanyeol didn’t pay me for that. I’m leaving.”
Once the door of his bedroom is slid shut once again, Jungkook puts his head back onto his pillow. He throws an arm over his eyes and laughs bitterly, feeling dumb suddenly.
Yeah, he almost forgets. Yoongi is no more than a kagema after all.