openmisc | A colorful AU!

A colorful AU!

The world is gray. Always gray. He had thought once, as a little boy, that the emergence of color would be a wonderful thing. He used to dream that finding that person, that getting to see everything in brilliant Wizard Of Oz technicolor would be something he would always cover until it happened.

But after Ishwari, after the betrayal and the loss, after Ajay and Lakshmana left to America after Mohan's failed assassination attempt, Pagan just gave up on that dream. Love, he decided, was just for those who have given up on themselves. Not worth the trouble.

Yuma became the face of Kyrat after that and Pagan stepped back, letting her handle the death threats and the rebels and all of the bullshit that he just didn't want to deal with. Pagan ruled from the back, tempering Yuma's impulsive bullshit with a cooler head, though no less ruthless. However, the arrangement left him free to roam the world, taking care of his business in Hong Kong and the mainland unmolested. His father might not have had the desire to rule the Triads, but Pagan sure as fuck does. Even if it means he has to go and do things himself.

It's this reason, chasing spineless Hong Kong assholes, that lands him in Japan. He has a small security detail that walks the crowd, but otherwise Pagan is by himself as he walks the streets, checking his phone for his victim's last location.

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Kiryu makes it over and presses the button immediately before watching to make sure no one else joins them. The rapid-fire Cantonese, at least, lets him hear Pagan speaking in his native language and it's... it's lovely, really. He decides he has a very nice voice. And that he wants to listen to him sing, if he can get the man in a karaoke booth.

His sympathy for the cousin is nonexistent; he's beat the shit out of people like that man far too many times.

Pagan leans against him, keeps him from moving, and then, when the elevator doors open again, he pats his cheek and grabs his ear, leading him out in the most embarrassing way.

Once on the street, one of his guards grab Lau and guide him off while Pagan stands near the steps, watching them with narrowed eyes.

Goddammit.

"Well. That was exciting," he says to Kiryu.

"Not really," he says while he watches the man get led off. Not a single fist thrown. No shouting. Not even a scene. He'll pat the spot he has the money in. "I'm assuming you wanted this back."

Pagan glances at his pocket and then up to his face. He's not about to spill blood on the streets in front of everyone with a fake passport and a name that turns heads.

That will come later.

"Keep it," he tells him. "You can use it to take me out later. Now. That interrupted my drink and I am going to miss my shows."

He takes out his phone and sends off a quick text.

...he wouldn't be the first to do that. Kiryu's dealt with plenty of them who feel just fine about doing that very thing. But sure, cool. He's fine with that.

He raises an eyebrow but he'll nod, giving the tiniest little eyeroll since he can certainly take care of money himself at this point, but he'll find a way to give it back to him before the night is over. All the same-

"Did you want to head back to the hotel or grab food?"

Pagan doesn't like being out. He doesn't like being around other people. He doesn't mind the city, but he's not in his element and this just isn't fun. So he adjusts his sleeves and starts walking. "Food first," he says, though he's watching Kiryu and will follow him where he goes. "Then the hotel. I need a break."

He nods and he'll reach into his pocket to text Kanrai.

"I know somewhere we can pick up a few boxes, bring them back to the hotel. Sound good?"

"For a dead man, you certainly are walking around like you fucking own this place," he mutters, but isn't at all worried. If Kiryu is fine with it, then Pagan is fine with it.

"And you better not steer me wrong," he points out.

He just huffs in amusement, because he's never had an unhappy meal at Kanrai. Not even one of the boxed ones. Especially since the hotel is close enough that they should be able to get their food and enjoy it hot.

"Head back to the hotel. I'll pick up some food. Bring it back."

He's feeling... a little more like himself, like a living man, like... like he's allowed to exist. He's not sure if that's safe or smart but he wants it.

"You don't know what I like!" he complains, but he gets a phone call at the same time. Answering it, he speaks in English, and is almost...cooing at the person on the other end.

He laughs, suddenly a little freer, and turns the corner to head back to the hotel.

He will return in about 10 minutes with a tall tower's worth of boxes, all of them smelling absolutely divine. The abstract geometry and metaphysics involved in how he opened the door is anyone's guess, but he's kicking it shut behind him as he makes his way over to the little suite's table and bar area.

He'd also popped on another couple of hours for the room.

Pagan's still on the phone when he arrives, but he ends the call when Kiryu comes inside. "What the fuck?" he mutters, helping him with the boxes.

"Do they even know what you're doing in here?" he asks, sitting down to pick through what he's brought.

"You think people don't bring food in here?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. While he's never actually done what most people do in here, he can't see how having snacks and dinner before, after, or in between rounds wouldn't make it better. But he is a bottomless pit.

"They usually have delivery menus up front. But it's faster" and you get the food still hot, "when you get it yourself."

"I don't know what they bring in here," he laughs. "Well. No. I do. But listen, bringing food into the bedroom leads to a very sticky situation that is hell to unstick." He leans his head back with a grin.

"Alright. Let's see what you have here."

Kiryu will start unstacking the boxes to reveal some of the high-end selections from Kanrai that he picked out. He likes to eat good and he has a feeling Pagan feels the same. The scent of roasted meat and sauces starts to spread as he opens the first of them.

"Utensils are behind the bar."

Pagan stands up and retrieves the utensils before sitting back down in front of him.

"So. Let's talk about this elephant in the room, hm?" he mutters, flipping through each of the boxes and finding the one that he wants.

Well. He could get used to this.

...he actually looks. For the elephant.

What, he's not familiar with that saying.

Then he clears his throat and goes to find another box of what he wants since, oops, that first box is already demolished. The reason for the stack becomes a little clear. He'll happily eat anything Pagan doesn't.

"What do you mean?"

Pagan's laugh is warm and genuine and absolutely delighted. There's none of the usual malice, none of his reservations. "It's an English saying," he explains. "Doesn't really translate. But when you come from a country with a lot of goddamn elephants, it takes on a whole new meaning."

He sits back, watching him eat with fascination. He's never been one to care about table manners unless a lesson needs to be learned.

"It means there is something big we should discuss."

He eats like a starving animal, because between the orphanage, being a bachelor, and prison, when he's hungry? He doesn't want the food to disappear. Other than into him.

He pauses before attacking the second box.

"I'm listening."

What do you want to talk about, Pagan?

Pagan rolls his eyes. "This soulmate nonsense," he mutters.

What else?

“You said you were leaving. You also said I wasn’t… acceptable.”

He won’t look at Pagan. He also won’t eat.

It’s clear he’s keeping his emotions out of his voice. Because he sure as shit has feelings about that. But he won’t make Pagan deal with them when he clearly has no interest. They don’t matter.

He’ll survive. He always does.

"Oh stop all that," he says. "I never said you were unacceptable. I said I wasn't living with a dead man who works for the government. I also said I would stay for a while. I'm here a week, you know."

Does he know? Probably not, but a lack of information on another person's part has never been Pagan's problem.

"I also recall telling you that we should go out. I don't know you, but judging by today, I like you. You've got..." He switches to English. "Spunk. Charisma. And you're annoyingly handsome." And back to Japanese. "We have a week right now. So. Let's make the most of it."

Assuming Pagan doesn't just drag him back with him.

He really is handsome, dammit.

That’s… a complete contradiction from what he thought he heard but perhaps the man’s Japanese is just that bad. One week is better than one day, though. And he can’t complain about the mix up, being the monolingual of the two.

“You kept looking at the crowds. Unhappy. And your security detail…”

He was trying to be accommodating.

“There’s plenty to do here.”

Pagan is quiet for a moment, picking at his food at the mention of the crowds. There's something on his face that is more genuine than he would like to otherwise admit, but he pours himself a drink and tries to explain.

"I don't like the crowds. I don't like - the attention. I am a goddamn king, but my sister takes the lead on matters of the country because I don't like it. I have had oh - three or four body doubles in the past twenty years because of what happened."

He clears his throat, not looking at him. "The mother of my daughter had a husband. Her own - soul mate. But the man was an absolute piece of shit. He found out that the baby she gave birth to was mine- and well - look at her." He pulls out his phone and shows Kiryu a happy twenty year old woman with his eyes and his smile. "Can't mistake where she came from, hm? Well, naturally, he wasn't happy, so he tried to kill her. When he was still a fucking baby. We managed to stop him but - well, I haven't trusted many people since then. And I don't trust soul mates."

God.

God.

He can't help that his eyes prick not as Pagan mentions his distrust of soulmates, but at the sight of the girl. A girl Haruka's age. The idea of someone trying to kill her, the idea of someone attacking a baby-

A baby like Haruto.

His fingers curl into fists as Pagan talks about the threat to his family, hard enough that the chopsticks snap between his fingers unknown. It's only when he gets to the end of the story, when he says that he doesn't trust soulmates, that he catches himself, his reaction, and nods, almost like he didn't understand any of it. But oh, he did. He just- he needs a moment.

He's been betrayed and attacked and gotten attention from people for the last twelve goddamn years and he hates all of it. By those rules, he shouldn't talk to anyone... and maybe that's why he is as he is now: dead. No one. Nothing but a puppet for the Japanese government, the same people, the same society, that told him he was nothing, worse than nothing for most of his life.

He grits his teeth and nods again.

He doesn't know what to say for a moment, until he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He flicks a few times until he's at a picture of a beautiful young girl the same age, this one holding a baby in a blue shirt in what is clearly a hospital. There's a bandage around her head, but the baby looks fine.

He just passes it to Pagan before he says-

"That was three years ago."

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