chapter 3

It is 5 pm or whatever as Atsumu enters one of the black high-rise buildings. He has been holed up in his apartment all day, trying to somehow sleep off and repress the intoxication of last night.

To be honest, Atsumu had a hangover and the fucking guilt towards Hinata plagued him to no end. He didn't care if Oikawa scheduled a meeting as early as 3 pm. At this point, out of spite and most definitely on purpose, Atsumu didn't show up until two hours later. After all, he is a free assassin, Yakuza means nothing to him.

Well, at least that's what he keeps telling himself.

If Yakuza meant nothing to him, then Hinata wouldn't mean anything to him either. If Yakuza meant nothing to him, he wouldn't be here right now. If he didn't care about Yakuza, he wouldn't have provoked Sakusa yesterday in Suga's bar.

Why did he do it anyway? He doesn't know.

Or does he?

Atsumu reaches the massive double door on the top floor and pushes it open. The office is crowded with several of Oikawa’s top men. Near the desk, said Kumichō and his right-hand man Iwaizumi hovered, speaking in hushed tones. The air is tense. Atsumu knows exactly why.

To his dismay, Atsumu finds a person, dressed in black suit pants and a black turtleneck, leaning against the window wall in the same spot as he first saw him weeks ago. Cold eyes collide with eternal heat. Atsumu glares at him but remains silent. The desire to kill Sakusa Kiyoomi is still very prominent.

Oikawa lifts his gaze and looks right at Atsumu. Then he stands, waving a hand. “Iwa, Kiyo, Atsumu, I want you to stay. Everyone else – out.”

Immediately, everyone heads for the door and within seconds, they are alone. With only the four of them remaining, Oikawa sits back in his enormous leather chair and lights a cigarette. “You’re late, Atsumu.” He doesn’t pay him a glance.

“Must’ve lost track of time,” Atsumu answers unbothered, shoving his fists in the pockets of his pants and holding Sakusa’s gaze. He hopes Hinata has bled all over his car.

Oikawa frowns, his arms are placed on his desk. His analyzing gaze flits back and forth between Sakusa and Atsumu, then he snorts. It's been a long time since he's had two morons on his team who loathed each other so awfully. If anyone knows how to handle the issue, it's him.

Oikawa leans back in his big leather chair, cradling a brandy glass between his fingers while his expression turns serious again. “We need to discuss what happened last night.” Atsumu’s stomach drops, his gaze flicks to the Kumichō. “Why did you leave Hinata on his own?”

“Because he's not my priority.” Osamu is, and Oikawa knows that.

Sakusa snorts disdainfully, crosses his arms in front of his chest, and looks at Atsumu condescendingly. Atsumu's blood boils at the slightest sound Sakusa makes. He shouldn't have held back yesterday and just killed that bastard. Maybe he would feel a little bit better today.

“You're fucking hypocritical, Miya,” he says, his look couldn't have been more contemptuous.

“Excuse me?”

“Asking for an apology yesterday while not being sorry one bit.”

“That's not true—”

“It's not?!” Sakusa raises his voice and scowls at Atsumu. “Then what do you mean he's not your priority? He should be. If you're on a dangerous mission, he damn well should be, because it was your job to watch—”

“It’s not like Shōyō doesn’t mean anyth—”

“Shut up!” Oikawa interrupts. “Both of you.” Both men fall silent.

Oikawa chugs his brandy down and stands up. He shakes his head, pulling his pistol out of the back of his pants and placing it on his desk. “We're not getting anywhere like this.”

Atsumu stares at the gun in front of him and clenches his jaw. He is still angry. At himself, at what happened yesterday, and at Sakusa. The goon has no right to judge him when he doesn't know him one bit. And he certainly doesn't have the right to comment on Osamu when he has no clue what he's talking about.

I said, your partner probably deserved to get lost.

Atsumu digs his nails into his palms, his knuckles turn white.

“How is he?” He grits through his teeth, preventing himself from linking his hands with Sakusa's face. The latter huffs and turns away, shaking his head dismissively. Atsumu decides to ignore it for the time being for Oikawa's sake – or everyone’s sake.

“He’s hanging in there,” Oikawa answers with a strained look. Atsumu nods. He’s alive, that’s all that matters. “Good,” Atsumu breathes and earns another scoff from Sakusa.

“What do you even care?” He asks irritably. Atsumu's head snaps towards him, his gaze meeting the bastard's scowl.

“What is yer fucking problem?” Atsumu snarls and takes a step toward Sakusa. Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchange uneasy glances.

“You, obviously,” he crosses his arms in front of his chest and towers in front of Atsumu as the latter moves closer and closer to him. “But apparently it must be a skill to notice when someone is unwanted.”

“And ya think I want this? Huh?! D’ya really think I wanna get involved with scum like you?” Atsumu's fists itch. God, he really hates Yakuza in general, but Sakusa Kiyoomi truly beats them all.

“Then why do you do it anyway?” Atsumu's eyes widen. “If you hate us so much, why do you even accept our help in the first place?!”

Because I need to find my brother. Because I have failed on my own. Because I can't ask for help at home—

Atsumu clenches his jaw. “Shut up.”

“You say you hate us, yet you pretend to care about Hinata? Do you realize how hypocritical that is?”

Hinata is Atsumu's friend, of course, he is worried about him. In truth, it never mattered to Atsumu who the boy belonged to. He knew that Hinata was one of the good guys, that he could trust him. After all, Hinata accepted Atsumu for who he is and vice versa.

It is not at all hypocritical for Atsumu to feel guilt. What Sakusa doesn't know is that Atsumu has his reasons for despising Yakuza so deeply. That Atsumu has his reasons why Osamu is always going to be his priority. That Atsumu has begun to doubt whether Oikawa's men are seriously people he also disdains.

When in truth they treat him like a friend.

Except for one.

Atsumu's gaze is firmly locked with Sakusa's, his expression darkens. “Shut. Up.” He warns.

“You think you can fool us, but you assassins are all the same,” Sakusa snorts and frowns, scowling down at Atsumu. “I wouldn't be surprised if you intentionally put your partner in his current position.”

Ya need to take fuckin’ care of yerself, ‘Tsumu!

Just as Atsumu was about to grasp Osamu's knife to seriously shut Sakusa up, a loud gunshot erupts behind them, sending plaster crumbling from the ceiling. Atsumu flinches, Sakusa doesn’t.

“I said, that's enough,” Oikawa warns and glares at the two of them. He slams the gun back down on the table and rests his palm on top, massaging his temples with his left thumb and middle finger. “You two are giving me a fucking headache.”

Atsumu's eternal heat keeps engulfing Sakusa's endless cold, neither daring to break the other's gaze.

“You should’ve watched him,” Oikawa explains calmly, addressing Atsumu. His golden eyes are wavering. “But you are no one to judge, Kiyo.” Oikawa turns to Sakusa; however, he fails to attract his attention. Sakusa's eyes are solely on Atsumu. “Or do I have to remind you that everyone makes mistakes?”

It's a mistake that can cost someone’s life. Atsumu knows the words are sitting on the tip of his tongue, but Sakusa doesn’t voice them. Instead, he notices how his look changes. How something occupies him in a way he doesn't want at all.

Strange, Atsumu thinks.

“Leave me and Atsumu alone for a minute.” Oikawa sighs, running his hands through his hair. “I have a few things to discuss with him in private.”

If looks could kill, Atsumu would be dead by now. The fact that Sakusa Kiyoomi dislikes him is no news. After all, Atsumu never liked him either. The bastard has always been a thorn in his side.

But seeing Sakusa so irritated is a rarity and Atsumu isn't sure if he should be terrified or push his boundaries even further. His mind tells him the former but his instincts itch for the latter.

“Come on,” Iwaizumi says and steps between the disputants. He tilts his head toward the door and focuses his gaze on Sakusa. “Let's go, Kiyo.”

When the time comes, Atsumu recalls, I’ll be the one to shoot you.

So, he wonders, when will it be, Omi?

Oikawa steps up to the window wall and stares down at Sendai. Dusk has long since fallen, and the city is covered with bright flickering lights. The Kumichō tilts his head and smiles.

“Akaashi gave it his all and it seems like Hinata did too. Ah—” he turns to Atsumu, standing next to him by now. “Akaashi is our personal doctor, but you most likely know that already? Bokuto has probably mentioned him before.”

“Hardly,” Atsumu smiles lightly. Mentioned 'Akaashi' is always a subject of discussion whenever he talks to Bokuto. This guy is smitten.

Atsumu's smile doesn't last long, though. His thoughts immediately drift back to Hinata. He's relieved the kid made it, really, but for fuck's sake, he must apologize to him properly for leaving him alone in such a tricky situation. This should never have happened in the first place.

“Chibi-chan is tough, nothing will kill him that easily,” Oikawa reassures Atsumu, reading his thoughts as if he was an open book. A faint smile finds Atsumu's gaze. The assassin releases a relieved sigh, relaxing his body as well. “Yeah, I guess,” he mutters.

Oikawa takes another drag and exhales the smoke to the side. “I like you, Atsumu. And the way my people treat you, it's not hard to tell that they like you as much as I do.”

Atsumu would be lying if he said he wasn't flattered. Nevertheless, he frowns.

“I understand your brother will always be your priority.” Oikawa returns his attention to the city in front of him and smiles faintly. “When it comes to my men, I wouldn't act any differently.”

“I care about Hinata's life too.”

“I know.” Oikawa assures him, looking at him sympathetically. “I know. And Chibi-chan knows that too.”

Atsumu snorts, “He really is the last person who should forgive me.”

Oikawa laughs, “He will be rather proud that you trusted him enough to deal with the situation on his own.”

“He really shouldn't.”

“He's a sunshine, Atsu-chan,” Oikawa turns to him and grins. “He sees only the best in everyone. Especially in those he likes.”

A stitch. Atsumu was nobody Hinata should be too fond of. Assassins and Yakuza? That has never worked out before.

“What did they lure you away with?”

Atsumu frowns. He hesitates, unsure whether he can - should - really trust Oikawa. But after all, he holds the power over Sendai. If Osamu is truly here, then Oikawa must know about it.

Or he hides it from Atsumu.

He decides to trust his instincts.

“He is supposed to be here. In Sendai.” Atsumu turns to Oikawa, eyebrows drawn together. “Do you think it's true?”

Oikawa's brow is furrowed, his gaze fixed on the illuminated city below them. If he had known, he would have reacted differently. As for that, Atsumu is sure.

“This wouldn't have passed unnoticed,” he says eventually. “Unless he's staying in Shiratorizawa. Apart from Seijoh, it’s the only district I don't control.”

Atsumu looks him in the eyes and nods. It's a chance. Maybe they're closer to Osamu than they think.

Oikawa snorts as he strolls over to his desk and stubs out his cigarette. He runs his hand through his hair and slumps down on the big leather chair. Atsumu can practically see the gears in Oikawa's head running at full speed. In his mind, the Kumichō is already ten steps ahead. Maybe he does know more than he pretends.

“This is going to be fun,” he mumbles, making Atsumu frown. He tilts his head and looks at Oikawa in confusion, earning a mere smirk.

What the hell are you up to, Oikawa?

He moves his phone to his ear and doesn't break eye contact with Atsumu. It doesn't take long for someone to pick up, causing Oikawa's smirk to grow even nastier. “Come back in,” he says and hangs up. Atsumu frowns.

“Do you believe in coincidences, Atsu-chan?” The Kumichō asks, and Atsumu doesn't understand what he's trying to imply at all. “Not really,” he answers nonchalantly.

Oikawa scoffs, “Neither do I. But this is pretty fucked up. What do you say if we just play along? Until we find your brother?”

Atsumu honestly doesn't understand what Oikawa is talking about. So, all that's left for him to do is look at him in confusion and deepen his frown.

Just as Atsumu is about to voice one of his thousand questions aloud, the double door opens and Iwaizumi and Sakusa enter the office. Oikawa claps his hands together and stands up. He delicately strides to the other side of his desk and leans against it, grinning at all three men with a mischievous smile.

“What awaits us in the next few weeks will be unbelievable fun!” Oikawa confuses all three men, and Atsumu is sure the Kumichō has lost it at this point. Oikawa turns to Atsumu and stares deeply into his eyes, his smile shrinking into a faint smirk.

“My priority is Seijoh and my men,” just as yours is your brother. Atsumu nods. Just as you use us for your purposes, we use you for ours. He understands. Then Oikawa turns to Sakusa.

“And to protect those we love, we need Atsumu.”

Atsumu peers at Sakusa out of the corner of his eye and notices how tense he is. Notices the hatred and anger in his eyes. How pissed off he is. How much he wants to disagree with Oikawa. But he doesn't.

Strange, Atsumu thinks again.

“So here is where the fun begins.” The smirk is back on Oikawa's lips. “Looks like a coincidence, or fate, is sending you both to Shiratorizawa.”

Atsumu's stomach drops, his eyes are wide open. His face, as well as Sakusa's, turned pale. Sheer horror is written all over their faces.

“What are you implying here, Oikawa?” Sakusa was the one who spat out that question, and both of them feared already what the answer would be.

“You can't be fucking serious,” Atsumu mutters.

Oikawa chuckles, “You're the only one who's tolerated in Shiratorizawa, Kiyo-chan, and as luck would have it, the common goal of Atsu-chan and me is right there.”

“Oikawa—”

“Consider yourselves lucky! Two of the strongest men here in Sendai will work together. What incredible fun!”

Sakusa's gaze snaps to Atsumu and Atsumu's eyes catch Sakusa's. They both frown, looking at each other utterly irritated before turning back to the Kumichō in sheer dismay. Then, in unison, they whine.

“What the actual fuck?!”

As the first rays of sunlight chase away the night's darkness, Atsumu kicks the blanket off his feet and hops into the shower. He hums contentedly, brushes his teeth, and gets dressed. Osamu's knife hooks onto his belt, hidden under his burgundy jacket so that neither Semi nor Shirabu gets suspicious.

Atsumu clasps the crescent moon charm on his necklace and clenches his fist around it, bringing it to his lips. He can’t be far; Atsumu is confident they will find Osamu soon.

Omi-kun (today, 07:47 am):

>> You better be down in five minutes.

>> Wear a suit.

Atsumu snorts and tucks his phone back into the pocket of his cargo pants – definitely not very suit-like. He takes one last look in the mirror to check that his appearance doesn’t instantly expose him as an assassin, runs a hand through his wavy hair, and leaves his apartment. Just as he jumps down the stairs, Semi catches him, already waiting in the doorway.

“Atsumu.”

“Semi! What’s up?”

Semi crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans against the door frame. He frowns and looks at the front door for a split second, then back at Atsumu. “Since when have you been involved with Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

Oh?

“You know him?” Atsumu asks instead of answering. Semi frowns, his gaze shifting back outside in Sakusa’s direction. “Barely,” he answers, and something about it tells Atsumu he’s lying.

You're the only one who's tolerated in Shiratorizawa, Kiyo-chan…

Hmm, Atsumu hums. This is all so strange.

“Just started dealing with him recently. Why?” Atsumu answers. Semi frowns and stares at the floor.

“That's not good,” he mutters, barely audible to Atsumu. His gaze snaps up into the latter's golden eyes, Semi's expression stern. “You should be… careful with him. He isn’t necessarily good company.”

“’Cause he works for Oikawa?” Semi’s eyes widen.

“How do you—”

Atsumu rests his hand on Semi’s shoulder and taps his temple twice with the other. “You rent yer apartment to an excellent reporter,” he lies. Atsumu smiles charmingly but can’t quite infect Semi. The latter just frowns and stares at him with concern rising in his eyes.

“Atsumu—”

“Don’t fret,” he says matter-of-factly. “I've dealt with Sakusa before. He's harmless.”

“That doesn't change the fact that he's working for Yakuza. You shouldn't put yourself in that kind of danger. No story in this world is it worth getting yourself killed over.”

Atsumu takes a deep breath. He knows Semi is just worried about him, but if he knew Atsumu was in truth a dreaded assassin and not a helpless reporter, he wouldn't be having this unnecessary conversation right now. But then again, he would probably be dead by now – or behind bars, Atsumu can't quite gauge Semi's sense of justice yet.

“Say Semi,” Atsumu wonders and removes his hand from his shoulder. “If you know Sakusa and yer aware he’s workin’ for Oikawa... can't ya just use him to achieve somethin’? Regarding yer problem with Sawamura?”

Semi snorts and shakes his head, “It's not that simple, Atsumu.”

“Why?”

He’s tolerated.

“It’s complicated,” Semi cuts him off, not exactly eager to elaborate.

Interesting…

“What kind of case is this, Atsumu?” Semi frowns again, trying to understand what Atsumu is up to anyway. “Why do you have to get involved with Yakuza for this?”

Atsumu frowns. “Can't tell ya, Semi.” Just like you can't tell me what's so special about Sakusa.

Semi nods. “Okay,” he whispers, averting his gaze from Atsumu. These are secrets of their work that they both can't share. Semi has figured out that as long as he won't reveal his connection to Sakusa, he won't hear a thing about Atsumu's job. Seems like Sakusa is worth it to actually shut up.

Semi is fumbling in his pants pocket, and Atsumu is wary in case the cop pulls out his gun at any moment to shoot him for figuring out that he’s in truth an assassin. Dead or imprisoned, somehow Atsumu is tending towards the former.

But what Semi pulls out instead of a gun and hands to Atsumu stuns him to no end. Atsumu stares at the item in Semi’s hand and blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

“I mean it, Atsumu. Please be careful. You may not seem like someone who needs it, but no one stands a chance against a gun.”

Pepper spray. Semi hands him fucking pepper spray.

“Uhhhh...” Atsumu stammers, completely caught off guard. “Thanks?” He brings himself to say and ignores that he has several knives hidden under his clothes. An assassin with a goddamn pepper spray? He frowns and bites the inside of his cheek, having to pull himself together only slightly.

Oh my god, now it's getting ridiculous. Don’t laugh ‘Tsumu. Don’t. Fuckin’. Laugh.

“You're welcome,” Semi replies with a nod. His serious expression almost makes Atsumu cry.

“Okay,” Atsumu exhales heavily. “I should go.” Because if he tries to stifle his laughter for another second, he'll probably crack.

“I really don't want you to leave.”

“Semiiii—” at this point Atsumu has to chuckle a little. He hopes Semi thinks it's his charm and not that Atsumu really can't keep it together anymore. “Everything’s fine and dandy. Don't worry ‘bout it.”

Semi pouts.

“See ya tonight, yeah?” Atsumu is halfway out the door before he can stop him any further. “Take care of yourself!” Semi calls after him, and Atsumu raises his hand as he walks off, signaling that he will. He stuffs the pepper spray into his jacket pocket and shakes his head with a slight smile. He didn't expect this outcome of their conversation at all.

Watching the obnoxious black R8, Atsumu can't exactly hold back his laughter anymore. The engine is running, and it is hard to identify the masked person in the driver's seat through the tinted windows. Of course, Atsumu immediately knows who it is (as did Semi) and Sakusa looks anything but amused. Oh, this is truly a good morning.

Atsumu opens the door to the passenger seat with a big grin stretched on his face and rests his arms on top of the sports car and on top of the door. He leans down so he can stare into Sakusa's miserable face and laughs a little while meeting a pissed-off expression. “Now look at this clean seat!”

New plastic is wrapped around the seat and Atsumu doesn't know if he should take it to heart.

“Shut up and get in.”

“Awww, what a warm welcome, Omi-Omi! S’up with that grumpy face of yers? Lost yer ability to create ice and snow?” Atsumu beams, but Sakusa just blinks at him blankly.

“So how do you expect to build your ice palace? It's winter and the streets ain't even white yet. If yer gonna get yer own snowman you should at least keep it species-appropriate, y’know?”

“Miya, what the hell are you talking about?”

“S’okay, princess,” Atsumu wiggles his fingers. “Yer tiny magic secret is safe with me. You'll kill ‘em all with yer coldness, gotcha.” Atsumu beams while Sakusa just glares. “Miya.” He is willing to kill him.

“Alright, alright, Sunshine. Enough chit-chat.” Atsumu hops into the passenger seat and pulls the door shut. He doesn't miss the way Sakusa scrunches up his nose, so another laugh bubbles out of him. “Oikawa was right,” Atsumu chuckles. “This is gonna be lot’sa fun.”

Sakusa releases a deep and exhausted sigh and mumbles as he drives off, “God, I hate everyone.”

“Except me, right?” Atsumu grins.

“Especially you.”

Yeah, this is gonna be fun.

“So, where are we heading to?”

Sakusa drives as if he owns the road. Atsumu wonders why there are even any mirrors in this car as Sakusa speeds up to turn onto the main road.

“To someone who can tell us who lured you away from Hinata,” Sakusa answers as he switches lanes.

Atsumu quirks a brow and thinks back to the fatal night. Right, in the end, he never tracked the two he was eavesdropping on. They did a good job luring him away from the kid. Atsumu's real target then completely slipped out of his sight during the crossfire and explosion.

“I told you to wear a suit.” Sakusa snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Why do ya care?”

“Professionalism. Respect. But I suppose you don't have any of that.”

Atsumu chuckles. “I love it when someone insults me. It means I don’t hafta be nice anymore.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Yeah yeah, let the storm rage one... the cold never bothered you anyway.” Sakusa looks at him deadpanned.

“Get a life, Miya.”

“Like yours? Nah, pass.”

Atsumu sinks into the seat when Sakusa steps on the gas pedal to accelerate, the foil he's sitting on crinkling and wrinkling beneath him. He thinks of Semi, of how the cop could take action against Sakusa easily but doesn't.

“Why doesn't Oikawa take over Shiratorizawa when yer presence here is obviously so well tolerated?”

“Why don't you just shut up about the things that don't concern you?”

“Must've hit a nail here, huh?”

“I wish more people were fluent in silence.”

“Yeah well, see, no one cares about yer wishes, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa exhales annoyed, the sigh so deep it makes Atsumu chuckle once again. Instead of answering him, Sakusa turns on the radio, turning up the music of his playlist so loud that he can no longer hear Atsumu.

“You're lucky to have Oikawa watching over you,” he mumbles, and Atsumu laughs at that, obviously catching every word he said. Seems like he's a lucky man. Sooner or later, he would test the boundaries.

Atsumu enjoys the ride to wherever the goon is taking them. The music drowns out Sakusa's annoying presence, allowing Atsumu to vibe a bit. After all, he doesn't have bad taste in music, the assassin must admit that much. Even the lyrics of the song match their situation.

'Let me out, You'd hate to be here'

How fitting, Atsumu thinks.

Less than five minutes later, Sakusa abruptly pulls into a parking space at the end of the street. Atsumu wonders how he ever got his driver's license, and then it occurs to him that Sakusa probably doesn't even have one.

When he gets out, however, he is amazed at how precisely the bastard got the car into the narrow parking lot without scratching the black lacquer. “Follow me,” Sakusa pulls Atsumu out of his thoughts and heads for a small tax office. Okay, maybe he does have a driver’s license.

Sakusa pushes open the door, Atsumu is right behind him. They walk toward a man with black hair and a bowl cut, his eyes widening and his face losing color. All he can think to say is a horrified, “Oh Jesus,” knowing exactly he was fucked.

He reaches for the phone on his desk, but Sakusa beats him to it, pulls out his gun, and shatters the phone with a precise hit. The man immediately withdraws both hands and rolls back on his chair, bumping against the wall and raising his arms in surrender.

Atsumu glances at Sakusa, eyebrows up. Shit. He has a bigger spine than Atsumu had thought.

“What do you want?!” The man asks as he hesitantly rises from his chair and creeps around his desk.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going? Sit down,” Sakusa snarls and scowls at him. The man swallows thickly as his gaze flicks down to the pistol in Sakusa’s gloved hand. He slumps down on a couch next to his desk without further protest. His eyes are still wide, fear chiseled into his face. “What do you want?” He repeats, whimpering.

“We’ve got some questions,” Sakusa says. “And it seems like you know the answers to them.”

“No, no.” The man shakes his head and claws one of the pillows next to him, pulling it in front of him, and using it as a shield. “No, I’m not going to get involved in this.”

“You misunderstand me, Goshiki.” Sakusa steps in front of him and puts his gun back in its holster. He looks down at the man disdainfully and slides his hands back into his pockets, his pistol always prominent for Goshiki to see. The latter gulps. “This isn't a request. This is an order. An order to tell me who is responsible for the operation involving Hinata.”

“I don’t kn–”

“Answer,” Sakusa says in a low growl that makes Atsumu shiver. He has seen the goon fight before and knew how fearsome he could be, but this side of him was new. Exciting in a way.

“I have nothing to say, Sakusa. I swear.”

Sakusa huffs, “You swear?”

Goshiki nods his head while his eyes redden. He's not necessarily on the verge of tears, but he still looks like he wants to cry any second. Atsumu is almost laughing, seeing through Goshiki instantly. It's obvious he knows something, and Atsumu has no doubt Sakusa is aware of it as well.

He watches the latter pulling out his gun and Goshiki's gaze catching it, his lips wobbling. Sakusa dugs the gun into a cushion beside Goshiki and fired. The couch muffles the shot enough to keep the sound quiet but it makes Goshiki flinch anyway while Atsumu didn't twitch a muscle. Instead, he smirks.

Now things are getting interesting.

Sakusa jammed the pistol against Goshiki’s forehead and stares at him indifferently. Goshiki presses his lips together, wisely stifling what was probably a scream.

“Hot, isn’t it?” Sakusa snarled.

“You fucking–”

“Tell us what we want to know, or your balls are next.” He shoves the weapon into Goshiki’s crotch, making him whimper. Then he adds, “Don’t think I won’t shoot one of them off if you keep testing my patience.”

“I told you, I don’t–”

Sakusa pushes it in even further, making Goshiki hiss. “Excuse me? What was that?”

“Alright! Fine!” He gulps. “I’ll talk, I’ll tell you everything you want to know! Just please don't hurt me!”

Sakusa stares at him for a while longer before he’s withdrawing the gun and steps back. He lifts a brow and crosses his arms in front of his chest, expecting Goshiki to spill the tea. And the man doesn't let him wait for any second longer. He knows exactly when he crosses a line with Sakusa.

“Youko is to blame for this.” Sakusa's eyes widen for a split second, then he scowls and mutters softly, “That son of a bitch.”

“He's not acting on Ushijima's behalf, though. Youko is trying to go into business for himself and has been able to convince some subordinate men to join him.”

“Does Ushijima know about this?” Sakusa asks.

Goshiki shakes his head. “No, I don't think so. Or at least he didn't know anything until now. Hinata has been hit, one of Oikawa's protégés. It's hard for me to imagine the news hasn't reached Ushijima yet. He's probably trying to figure out who's responsible for this. After all, there's supposed to be a truce right now.”

Atsumu understands only half of what they are talking about, but he grasps so much that this is just a free pass for Sakusa and him to kill this Youko or whatever he's called without any consequences. If he didn't do it for Ushijima, then he's just a useless man whom they can easily get rid of.

A useless man who knows about him and Osamu.

Apparently, Inarizaki’s infamous Miya twins really do exist.

“How comes he knows about Inarizaki's assassins?” Atsumu wonders. No one knows their true identity.

Goshiki stares at Atsumu with his eyes wide open, then his frightened gaze shifts back to Sakusa. “Holy shit, you have Inarizaki on your side? Is he one of them??”

“Just answer his question,” Sakusa snaps annoyed. Atsumu frowns.

“I umm… I-I don't know about that. But Youko said that he has someone who supports him. An informant maybe? Someone in the background. Someone who wants to provoke war among the three big gangs.”

But what does this have to do with Osamu? Atsumu ponders. None of this makes any sense.

“Where is Youko now?” Sakusa asks.

“There is an auction at the end of the week in the festival hall of Shiratorizawa which he hosts. Youko takes every opportunity to get even more money and power, so he won't let that recognition go to waste. You will definitely find him there.”

“How many guards should we expect?” Sakusa's tone is annoyed. Atsumu can only guess why.

“It's an auction with 500 fucking guests,” Goshiki laughs in exasperation. “What do you think?”

Sakusa and Atsumu exchange uneasy glances. “How many men can you take down?” Sakusa asks him sternly, never taking his eyes off him.

“Twice as many as you,” Atsumu answers smugly.

“Good.”

Sakusa's eyes flash with competitiveness. Atsumu spots the eagerness written on Sakusa's face to prove him wrong for being able to kill more men than him. But Atsumu wouldn't be Atsumu if that didn't spur him on at least as much. He would teach that bastard a lesson. Inarizaki's assassins are feared for a reason.

“He won't show himself to the public, though. Even Youko knows how stupid that would be right after attacking Hinata. So, if you spot any high-ranking officers, policemen, or other Yakuza members, follow them. They will lead you to Youko.” Goshiki stares up at them. “That’s all I know. I don’t know what else I can say.”

“That’s all we needed to know.” Sakusa flips him a piece of paper, which he manages to catch and unfolds with trembling hands. His eyes widen, his face is pale, he gulps. Goshiki fixes his gaze on Sakusa. “This is my sister's address.”

Sakusa's expression is indifferent. “If I have even the faintest reason to believe you’re squealing to anyone about this conversation, or that you haven’t kept your mouth shut about any of this, I will–”

“Yes! I'll shut up!” Goshiki trembles. “Just don’t hurt her.”

“Good. We understand each other.” Sakusa looks at Atsumu and jerks his head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

They make a quick escape, hurrying off to where Sakusa’s car was parked a half mile or so down the road. As Atsumu buckles his seatbelt, he clears his throat. “Would you... would you actually go after his sister?”

“What do you care?”

“She’s innocent.” They stare at each other, Atsumu once again unable to read Sakusa. “No,” the latter says as he takes his eyes off the assassin, casually putting the car in gear. “But as long as he believes I will, he’ll keep his trap shut.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

Atsumu frowns and squints his eyes. He doesn't question Sakusa's actions, instead, he turns to the side and stares out the window. If they find this Youko or whatever, they're probably one step closer to finding Osamu, too.

Atsumu wonders how much Sakusa knows about his motives for joining Yakuza.

“So, I assume we’re going?” He asks instead.

“Do you want revenge for Hinata?” Atsumu cocks his head to the side and meets Sakusa's determined gaze. He should have known his primary interest wasn't seeking Atsumu's motives, but to avenge his valued colleague.

But Atsumu can't deny that this desire doesn't run at least as deep within him. He considers Hinata one of his friends, so luring him away to try to kill the kid was a very lousy move.

Osamu is and will always be his priority. But if it means he can avenge a friend while finding a lead to his brother at the same time? Then God, have mercy because Atsumu won't hold back. He nods.

“Then we go.” Sakusa states.

Before leaving for the auction, Atsumu met Oikawa and Sakusa at the Kumichō’s headquarters in the middle of Sendai. Wear a suit, they both said and well, Atsumu doesn't.

Was he underdressed?

Hell, yeah. But what does he care if they let him in with his burgundy jacket and black cargo pants anyway? The bouncer gave him a quick down-up and his gaze lingered a moment too long on his white sneakers. If he refused to let Atsumu in because of his babies, he probably would have killed him on the spot.

So now Atsumu is caught between posh and prestige, lingering in a far-too-chic setting at a far-too-chic bar. He draws attention, but he can't deny he finds it somewhat amusing.

He entered the auction with a fake entry ticket Oikawa got for him and Sakusa and waits to meet the goon at the location. He orders a Coke, and while he sips it, Atsumu begins to perceive his surroundings and scan the room for any potential dangers and ways out.

He spots some men who are screaming to work for Yakuza and Atsumu is sure they have already spotted him as well. If Youko knows who Osamu is, then he surely knows Atsumu too. He wants Atsumu to be here and that's what should keep the assassin alerted.

Youko may be too sure of himself, or Atsumu may seriously be in danger. The odds are fifty-fifty. It's brinksmanship, but no risk is too great as long as it's involving his brother.

And suddenly, when he downs his glass and turns around, none of that matters anymore.

Leaning back against the counter, Atsumu gawks at the arch that connects the bar lounge to the hall's entrance. He would recognize Sakusa miles away, his appearance was always the same after all: plain black slacks, paired with polished black oxford shoes. Under his black jacket, he wears an anthracite turtleneck sweater, hands covered in velvet suede.

Even miles away, Atsumu would recognize his jet-black hair, one side slicked back, while perfectly messy curls accentuate his stunning face, and holy shit... seeing his gorgeous face tonight, so long hidden beneath his mask, is what blows Atsumu's mind. Never in his life would he have dared to dream of such an attractive, beautiful, man underneath the black fabric. Atsumu swallows. Thickly.

Sakusa strolls inside and stops dead as he spots Atsumu, his scowl now impossible to hide. Fuck.

Atsumu never got to see his true identity, never got a chance to admire this man. The last time Sakusa was close enough for Atsumu to do something, the goon dazed him until he was knocked out, powerless. But looking at him now through clear eyes with a lucid mind… holy shit.

Ignoring a waiter's offer of drinks, Sakusa shakes his head contemptuously as his eyes meet Atsumu's wide ones. Sakusa wrinkles his nose and glares at the blonde, his gaze revealing that he's not necessarily pleased with Atsumu's choice of attire.

He would laugh if he wasn't so stunned. Atsumu would flash him a smug smile, provoke him more than necessary, but he can't because his mind was already ten miles above the sky and suddenly Atsumu wasn't sure why he'd ever hated Sakusa so much in the first place.

If all assassins from Inarizaki are as miserable as you are, I'm not even surprised why your partner went missing.

Ah yes, that's why.

Without touching anyone or anything, Sakusa scampers off, leaving Atsumu alone. While he keeps an eye on the lounge, Sakusa examines the rest of the building, ensuring how they would most effectively handle the situation.

Right, they're here for a mission, for Osamu.

Atsumu closes his eyes for a moment and inhales deeply. He glances at the arch Sakusa had come in through, and his stomach twists. The guy is gone now, and that’s the way it needs to be. Like this, with his mask off, Atsumu needs Sakusa out of here because he piques his interest in a way his kind usually doesn’t.

Sure, he’s attractive. Sakusa Kiyoomi is apparently one of the better-looking Yakuza in this town. Then again, even the ugly ones can wear a suit well enough.

But there is something about him that makes Atsumu look twice. Something that has struck a different chord tonight than the other Yakuza members ever did. Especially now with his face revealed, without the black mask, covering everything except his onyx eyes. With his dark hair flawlessly arranged except for a couple of strands fluttering in the breeze of the air-conditioned room, he was…

Hell, he was hot.

Like, really… really… hot.

Atsumu scrubs a hand over his face. He’s losing his mind, isn’t he? Entertaining any thoughts of a Yakuza member that doesn’t involve any knives up their throats? Stupid.

Atsumu turns back around and slams his glass on the countertop. He scowls at it and clenches his jaw, his brow furrowed, focused on getting rid of every stupid idea he's currently harboring in the deepest part of his brain.

“I didn't think Youko's people would dress so flamboyantly for this event.”

Atsumu cocks his head to the side and meets the scrutinizing gaze of a man who must be around Atsumu's age, if not a little younger. Ocean blue eyes examine Atsumu from head to toe, black hair slicked back, the lines of his muscles pushing through his three-piece suit. Handsome, to say the least.

"I wouldn't necessarily consider myself one of Youko's people. I'm lookin’ for him, though. Can you help me out with that?" Atsumu lifts a brow and peers at the man out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh? How exciting."

He orders himself and Atsumu a brandy, sliding the glass over to him before pulling a lighter and cigarette pack from his jacket to light one of them. Atsumu smirks a little, accepting the drink and lifting the glass just enough.

"And who does me the honor?"

The man blows the smoke to the side and turns to Atsumu. He smirks as well, grabbing Atsumu's hand and gently pressing his soft lips to the back of it. Atsumu blushes faintly.

"Kageyama Tobio," he says nonchalantly, not asking for Atsumu's name in return.

“Well, thanks for the drink, Tobio-kun.”

Kageyama huffs before taking a sip of his own. His eyes are glued to Atsumu, his gaze a mixture of want and defiance. Atsumu can't help grinning, he knows that this Kageyama wants something from him – be it his body or something else, Atsumu won't give it to him. The boy is cute, but not his type.

“This Youko...” Atsumu starts and licks his lips. He turns back to Kageyama and spreads his legs a little wider, leaving hints of his thigh muscles to the people around him. “Is he here?” Oikawa showed him a photo, but so far Atsumu hasn't seen him.

“So they say,” Kageyama puts a hand on Atsumu's thigh. It's warm and the caress of his thumb into Atsumu's muscle is seductive – dangerous. Kageyama isn't just an ordinary man. “Why are you looking for him?”

Atsumu's gaze drops to Kageyama's hand on his thigh, then back up to his blue eyes. He feels the boy putting pressure on his leg to lean forward, toward him. The way he wants to distract Atsumu...

It's naïve of him to think Atsumu is that easy.

“Well,” Atsumu says in hushed tones and meets Kageyama halfway, his palm gripping his shoulder, massaging it gently. Atsumu grins superiorly, leans toward Kageyama's ear, and whispers enticingly, “We just started playin’ a game. I can't let him off the hook just like that.”

I'll avenge Hinata, and I'll find Osamu.

Kageyama tilts his head; his mouth is now close to Atsumu's. His gaze falls on Atsumu's plump lips, and just as the blonde begins to smirk, Atsumu feels long slender fingers sneaking around his throat. He would have been startled and would probably have drawn his knife if this feeling of suede wasn't too familiar.

Light pressure settles on his airway, fingers sliding to his chin, forcing Atsumu to tilt his head back and look up. Atsumu grins, mischievous and amused.

“Omi,” he breathes, the irritated face above him pleasing Atsumu even more. Sakusa doesn't look at him. Instead, his gaze is focused on Kageyama. Delight in seeing him is somewhat held in check.

“You have no business here, Kageyama,” he mutters pissed-off.

“Neither do you, Sakusa.” Kageyama loosens his grip on Atsumu's thigh and sips his brandy blithely. The grin on Atsumu's lips fades as Sakusa withdraws his digits. Instead, confusion creeps into his face, his gaze slowly returning to Kageyama. Another person in Shiratorizawa knowing Sakusa? Well, that’s interesting.

“Youko isn't your problem.” Did Sakusa eavesdrop on them?

Kageyama scoffs, downs his brandy, and stands up. His knees brush Atsumu's as he rises, his gaze steadily fixed on Sakusa. “We both know he is.”

They stare at each other, Sakusa hesitating for a split second before asking. “Ushijima's order?”

Kageyama nods. “Kind of.”

“So, he didn't know about Youko's schemes?”

“No.” Kageyama's face is indifferent. “Our groups have an agreement, after all.” Sakusa nods.

Kageyama stubs out his cigarette and puts his hands in his pockets. He's already turned away from them but halts before actually leaving Atsumu and Sakusa. He peers over his shoulder, his whole body tensed up. Then he asks, “How is Hinata?”

Atsumu's eyes widen, his head snaps to Sakusa.

“What do you care?” Atsumu reads contempt on Sakusa's face as he looks at Kageyama. Kageyama nods, his head hanging low. He mutters, “Give Youko the punishment he deserves, Sakusa.” The latter remains silent.

Just as Kageyama is about to leave them, however, a few words slip through Sakusa's mouth. “Sugawara and Daichi visit him on Monday. They won't stop you if you decide to join them.” Atsumu frowns and watches Sakusa. “He's alive.”

Kageyama nods and mutters a soft, “Thank you.” Atsumu doesn't understand what's going on.

Just before Kageyama disappears, he turns to Sakusa one last time. “Finish this. For Hinata.” Sakusa nods.

They watch Kageyama vanish into the crowd, then Atsumu turns to Sakusa. He doesn't even have a chance to voice his question, as Sakusa interrupts him and urges him toward the lounge's exit.

“Let's move upstairs. We can stay there hidden and wait until we get to Youko's henchman and eventually take him out as well. Once the auction starts, we strike.”

Atsumu frowns and nods, not voicing his question. They head one floor up and walk through an empty corridor. Atsumu can't help but recall the conversation between Sakusa and Kageyama; he has too many unanswered questions he needs to know more about.

“You know him?” He finally asks. “Kageyama?”

Sakusa frowns. “He works for the Schweiden Adlers.” Ah, Oikawa's rival.

“And you let him see Hinata just like that?” Atsumu raises his voice, dumbfounded. “Are you stupid?”

Sakusa spins around and looks at Atsumu, aghast. A mixture of anger and exposure.

“It's none of your business.”

Atsumu huffs. “You just sent Hinata to death.”

“Kageyama won't harm him.”

“Won't harm him? Won't harm him my ass! He will—"

“Not hurt him. He won't.” Sakusa clarifies, withstanding Atsumu's angry stare. What's he so upset about anyway? Hinata belongs to Yakuza, he shouldn't care if they fight each other.

Except he does care. After all, Hinata is his friend.

“I'll let Oikawa know.”

“Miya.” Sakusa is visibly annoyed. “Stay out of this.”

“I won't let Hinata die?!” His phone is already in his hand but Sakusa grabs it before Atsumu has a chance to dial Oikawa's number.

“Hey!” he shouts, but Sakusa grabs his wrist, twists it, and turns Atsumu's body, presses him against the wall. His cheek kisses the rough fibers and anger flares in his eyes. “Fuck you!” Atsumu spits.

“It’s none of your business.”

“It is!” The assassin whines, writhing under Sakusa's grip. “He's your fucking enemy. Why wouldn't he hurt Shōyō when you've now given him a free pass to do so?! Shōyō can't fight back!”

“Because he means too much to Kageyama to seriously wound him!” Sakusa spits out in exasperation. Atsumu's movements halt. “What?”

“It's complicated,” Sakusa says calmer, still pissed-off. Rather upset he revealed something he never wanted to be revealed in the first place. “Don't bring it up when you talk to Hinata. If you do, I'll kill you.”

And suddenly Atsumu remembers Hinata telling him about his lost love. A man from the past that never became more than his best friend. Just enough and yet too little. How Hinata said it was impossible to have what they had ever again. Saying the man was alive, yet he could never be with him anymore.

Was it him? Atsumu asks himself.

Sakusa's grip loosens, Atsumu doesn't voice any more questions.

“Let's wrap this up,” Sakusa mutters, exhausted. “For Hinata.”

What do you think, ‘Samu?

Atsumu nods. Suddenly he feels stupid.

It's been an hour since they got here, and the auction is about to start. The guests move to the main hall and gather in front of the stage while Atsumu and Sakusa wait on the second floor, counting the seconds until they can strike.

Neither of them has seen Youko yet, but every obvious suspect has moved upstairs. A sign that Youko might be there. It was their only chance since the guy is nowhere else to be found.

“I hate waitin’,” Atsumu yawns, idly flipping a knife between his fingers.

“Shut up,” Sakusa replies annoyed, gaze locked on the few people around the corner. They are waiting for them to disappear downstairs and clear the way for Sakusa and Atsumu. Sakusa has previously observed some men sneaking upstairs, he just has no idea how many would be waiting for them.

“What made ya decide not to wear yer face mask today?” Atsumu asks while digging in his jacket pocket. Sakusa shoots him a pissed-off look, to say he's annoyed by Atsumu's behavior would be an understatement. Or by Atsumu in general.

“If I had known you intended to make it obvious that we were going to kill somebody, I wouldn't have passed on the mask.”

“Oh, so ya didn't wanna draw attention, huh?”

“I told you to wear a fucking suit.”

“Nothing has happened yet, so what's the problem, buttercup?” Atsumu replies smugly. He frowns as he discovers something in his pocket and pulls it out with a questioning look. Then Atsumu's eyes widen with glee at the sight of a used lollipop in front of his face.

“Oh my god, look, Omi-Omi!!!” Atsumu's grin spreads all over his face. “I totally forgot about that one!!!”

Sakusa's face contorts in revulsion as Atsumu unwraps the pre-opened lollipop again and slides it between his lips. Atsumu laughs seeing Sakusa's expression.

“You're fucking disgusting, Miya.”

Atsumu pulls it out of his mouth with a 'pop' and offers it to Sakusa. “Wanna taste it? Tastes like cherry and coke.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yer missin’ out, Omi-kun,” he winks.

“I really hope you die today.”

Atsumu laughs and then makes the sound of a wrong buzzer. “That's not gonna happen, darlin’.”

As the last guests have made their way to the main event, Sakusa turns around to check the situation. After ensuring they are clear to strike now, he turns back to Atsumu.

“Are you ready?”

“Mmm, sure.”

Sakusa unholsters his gun and creeps toward the stairwell with silent steps. Like a cat, gracefully and without a peep, he moves away and Atsumu is just slightly taken aback.

So far, he has never seen a Yakuza member fight like Sakusa. Quiet, barely noticeable, effective, and not a move too much. It's amazing because he is so incredibly precise in everything he does. It's almost as if Sakusa is one of those he detests so much... one of Atsumu's kind.

But maybe that’s what hard training would do to a guy because it is undeniable how disciplined and talented the goon is. After all, there's a reason why he's one of Oikawa's best. Even though Atsumu hates to admit it, Sakusa would be someone who could keep up with him. A force that is recognizable, unforgettable even.

Two floors up and they encounter the men Sakusa was observing earlier. Both Atsumu and Sakusa peek around the corner into the hallway. Two of them are standing in front of the elevator, holding pistols loosely in their hands, while one is walking toward them, presumably to use the stairs. Atsumu grins.

“Ready for some fun, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa looks at him skeptically. “I hope for your sake you know how to be quiet.”

Atsumu chuckles. “Ya do realize who you're talkin’ to, right?”

Sakusa should have known better.

He doesn't have time to answer because the man who walked towards them has already turned the corner and is one step away from the stairwell. Just as he notices the two, Atsumu rams his elbow into his face, sending him staggering backward until he slams into the wall. The other two men turn alerted in their direction.

The man who was hit by Atsumu is reaching for his gun when Atsumu throws the knife he was playing with minutes before precisely into his thigh, making him cry out and bleed. “Hoo-hoo!” Atsumu leans forward to peek around the corner, waving and grinning at the other two men. “Big summer blowout!”

The first blasts ring out and Atsumu immediately pulls back, flashing a grin at Sakusa, who stares at him deadpanned.

“Half on throat slits, headshots, and whatever your heart desires!” Atsumu shouts in their direction, the grin never left his face. When he turns to Sakusa, he is met with a deadly scowl. Atsumu chuckles. “Sorry Omi-kun, I lowered yer prices right along with mine. But in for a penny, in for a pound, ain’t that right?”

“I can’t believe you’re that stupid.”

“You asked me how many men I'm able to take down, remember?” Atsumu smirks.

“Are you always such an idiot or do you just show off when I’m around?” Sakusa hisses.

“Remember my answer?” Atsumu ignores him and winks. “Twice as many, Omi-Omi. Watch and learn.”

Atsumu sneaks forward into the corridor and pulls his knife from the man's thigh. He cries out and presses his shaking hands on his wound.

Just as more bullets shoot in Atsumu's direction, he flips the injured man's body and uses it as a shield. His body goes limp as one, two, three blasts hit him, enough time for Atsumu to pull out a dagger from his ankle.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sakusa sigh and step forward. Atsumu grins. “Don’t run into the fire, Omi-kun, ya might melt.”

“Fuck you.”

Two shots are all Sakusa needs to send the figures crashing to the ground, motionless. Atsumu whistles and drops the man he used as a shield as well. “Not bad,” he coos as he steps over him and crouches in front of the other two. As expected, Atsumu finds accurate headshots instantaneously killing their opponent. Sakusa knew what he was doing.

“We could have had some more fun for a little while longer.” Atsumu focuses his gaze on the bullet marks, then on the elevator that will reach them any minute. “Besides, I wanted to kill these two.”

“What about less talking and more action.” Sakusa steps behind him. Atsumu turns his gaze back to the dead men in front of him. “What about more fun, less stick up your ass?”

“Unlike you, I'm doing my job, Miya.”

“Hey, 'm doin’ my job as well, okay? Unlike you, I'm just havin’ a little fun. Ya should try it once in a while, princess.”

“You really want everyone to know we're here, don't you?”

“Preferably.” Atsumu spins around and grins broadly at Sakusa. “'Cause the more the merrier.”

“As an assassin, aren't you supposed to be... less conspicuous?”

“As an assassin, I'm mainly supposed to enjoy myself.” Atsumu tilts his head and squints at Sakusa. “Stop ruining this for me.”

Sakusa frowns. “Don't worry, you'll do it yourself.”

Atsumu scoffs and turns back to the corpses in front of him. He watches the blood drain from their bodies, slowly spreading to his shoes. “Y’know, I was gonna use this dagger to—"

Atsumu doesn't get to finish the sentence because the next thing he realizes is him stumbling forward, staining his white shoes with deep red marks. Just as the elevator doors open, Sakusa kicks Atsumu’s ass, literally, to dodge the bullets flying in their direction.

Atsumu tumbles on his face, just barely catching the impact with the palms of his hands. He looks back with a scowl and sees Sakusa hiding behind a flowerpot, his weapon ready to be used. Scattered shots pop past the elevator doors, Atsumu's no-longer-white sneakers now falling into his field of vision.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, anger boiling up inside him.

His butt hurts because of the kick and his beloved shoes are, once again, soiled with blood. Blood, of all things, is seriously such a pain to clean up. It's sickening.

Sakusa peeks out from behind the flowerpot and immediately pulls back as a bullet comes flying in his direction. Atsumu picks up the dagger he dropped from his hand in his fall and walks to the doorway of the elevator.

Sakusa looks at him with a furrowed brow and doesn't ask what Atsumu is up to seeing the assassin slide a switchblade out of his sleeve. Oh, no one has the right to ruin Atsumu's shoes. He'll make sure everyone knows that.

He flips it open and takes a deep breath, looking first irritated at his shoes, then at the dead men lying in front of the elevator, then at Sakusa. The latter raises one eyebrow.

“If I can't get these fuckin’ stains off,” Atsumu says only semi-calm, raising his voice slightly. “Then I'll pull yer fuckin’ skin off yer bodies and make myself new shoes out of it.” This time Sakusa has to suppress a chuckle. “Did ya fuckin’ hear me?!” Yeah, at this point he was no longer calm.

Atsumu steps forward and throws the switchblade in the direction of the gunshots. He hadn't even seen his opponent before, and yet Atsumu managed to let the knife graze his cheek. The man howls as the poison on the blade works its way into his system, making his muscles go limp.

The weapon falls from his hand as he slides to the ground, his face contorted in pain, fingers pressing against a bleeding wound. Lifting his head, he encounters white sneakers with red marks that he would wish weren't there.

Atsumu steps in front of him and pulls him up by his hair, forcing his miserable face to look up at him. “Any last words?” The guy scoffs, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “This was just the beginning.”

“Sure honey, whatever.” Bored, he knocks the guy unconscious with the handle of his dagger against his temple. Then he stabs him in the neck and lets him bleed to death.

“Messy,” Sakusa remarks, stepping up behind him. Atsumu watches the blood drip out. “He deserved a messy death for what he did.”

“How vindictive.”

“You don't mess with me, Omi-kun.”

Atsumu flinches as Sakusa shoots past his face and shoots another man in the head. He falls to the ground, his gun slithering across the floor. Atsumu's eyes are wide open, he didn't catch that one.

Instead, he turns to Sakusa and looks at him, aghast. “Upstairs,” the goon orders. “They're all coming from that direction.”

Atsumu nods, only slightly startled. “Yeah…” he breathes, then gulps. “Sure.”

They make their way up, always wary of any potential threats that may lie in wait. When they reach the third floor, they hear chatter emanating from a room. The voices are muffled, involving at least five different men.

“There could be four or five,” Atsumu ponders aloud.

“Or more.”

“Could Youko be in there?” he turns to Sakusa and raises his brow.

“Let's find out,” Sakusa replies before kicking the door open.

“So much for being quiet,” Atsumu chuckles, earning merely a “Shut up” from Sakusa.

The chatter dies down and Atsumu quickly counts at least eight heads turning in his direction. Among them, however, is not their actual target.

"Twelve," they say in unison and Atsumu's gaze shifts to Sakusa. "Are you aware I've currently killed more people than you?" Sakusa smirks. Atsumu scoffs.

"Please, don't get cocky now Omi-kun. D’ya wanna see me turn the tables in a blink?"

"Is that a bet?"

Atsumu grins. "The winner makes a wish."

"Don't worry. I won't kill you, Miya."

Atsumu laughs, "Good thing we both think I'm winning. Go!"

It happens too fast for the men in the room to realize it. Not ten seconds have passed and Atsumu has already killed three of them, motionless bodies dropping to the floor. With fine needles between his knuckles, he turns to Sakusa and earns only a sneer as the light reflects and flashes on the thin metal. Atsumu grins.

Poison needles. Maybe not his best choice, but very effective.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sakusa pulling out his gun and Atsumu doesn't hesitate to ram a knife into the chest of the next man trying to attack him. Not just any knife. Osamu's knife.

"Oopsie! Oh no—" Atsumu yanks it out and the man slumps to his knees, gasping for air. "Ew. Messy. Lemme be a little less cruel, ‘kay?" Not waiting for his answer, he slits his throat.

Four, Atsumu thinks. Plus two, that makes six. Gotcha, Omi-kun. Atsumu smirks.

His senses are sharpened, he observes his surroundings as keenly as a human can do – or even better. Atsumu is one of the best for a reason and he has waited long enough to show it off to those who doubt him.

This time he wants to finish the job quickly and God, he wants to see Sakusa's miserable face when he finally proved to him how skilled he truly is.

He fights two men hand-to-hand, each blow of theirs a piece of cake to dodge because Atsumu is a master at reading his opponents. Every move, every strike is predictable. Atsumu's years of training more than pay off. He chuckles.

“This is all so easy!”

Now if he would only carry his proper weapon with him, he would definitely be unbeatable. But too bad, it's still in Inarizaki.

Atsumu overpowers both men with two solid hits to their faces and precise kicks to their stomachs. Once they have dropped to their knees on either side of him, he pulls a knife from each sleeve and jabs the backs of them hard enough against their skulls to knock them out.

Using the same knives, he kills two more men who come running at him and are about to grab their pistols. But Atsumu doesn't let it get that far, no. He has them on the floor before their fingertips even have a chance to graze the guns in their holsters.

Four more and we're at ten.

Atsumu glances at Sakusa, leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded, watching the spectacle before him. The upturn of his mouth is evident on his face as body after body collapses to the ground with dull thuds. He doesn't pay the slightest attention to the man who is about to attack him while he kills him with a pristine headshot, his eyes, his focus solely on Atsumu.

Atsumu shudders.

This time it's Sakusa holding back. Atsumu wonders why.

“Like what’cha see, Omi-kun?”

“I must admit I expected less. I'm still waiting for the highlight, though.”

“That is?”

Sakusa smirks. “Watching you ending up on your knees.”

Atsumu can't help but be infected, grin stretching across his face. “In yer dreams, maybe, Omi-kun. ‘Cause here, I'm done.”

“Not quite.”

The two remaining men lunge at Atsumu, but it's not surprising in any way. Atsumu has heard them by the time they have sucked in their breath to set their bodies in motion. He doesn't even have to look to draw Osamu's knife accurately and quickly through their jugular. The men bleed and pass out within seconds. Atsumu laughs.

“It's kinda borin’ when ya let me win. D’ya want me ta make a wish so badly?”

“I already told you I'm not going to kill you.”

“Nah, nuh-uh. That's not my wish, Omi-kun.”

“Oh, believe me,” Sakusa is smirking. “It will be.”

Atsumu huffs and can't stifle the shiver crawling up his spine that indicates Sakusa didn't necessarily mean his life, but rather... something else.

Atsumu's cheeks blush softly, he shakes his head. There is really no time for such thoughts right now.

Too preoccupied with each other, neither he nor Sakusa noticed another goon sneaking in to fight them. Atsumu's eyes widen once it's already too late and the man lands a strong sidekick on Sakusa, sending him tumbling to the ground. His weapon slips out of its holster and slithers across the floor to the other end of the room. “Fuck,” Sakusa mutters and glares at the man, his face somewhat contorted in pain.

"I'm going to finish you off!" The guy shouts as he pounces on Atsumu, surprisingly more difficult to handle than his colleagues before. Atsumu manages to fend off two or three hits but also falters when he receives a too-forceful jab to the pit of his stomach that sends him staggering backward.

Atsumu's vision blurs. Shit, that punch really hit home.

"Youko's not here," the man laughs. "You really couldn't have been more subtle. The moment you arrogantly announced you were here, he bolted."

Sakusa scowls at Atsumu, who simply rolls his eyes. He doesn't feel like getting reprimanded because yes, Atsumu may have announced them both a little too pretentiously. But hey, all he wanted was a little fun, no one could blame him.

Well, except for Sakusa, and Oikawa, and Osamu if he was here...

Ah fuck. Osamu. Yeah, maybe Atsumu regrets it a bit now.

"Then where is he?" Atsumu asks as he tries to pick himself up.

The man points his gun at Sakusa to keep him in place while he walks with slow steps toward Atsumu. He grins morbidly and looms in front of him. What a son of a bitch.

"Suck my dick and I might tell you, sweetheart."

Atsumu laughs humorlessly. "Oh, you have one? I doubt it, asshole."

Somehow, everything happens way too fast. Neither Atsumu nor Sakusa manages to get a hold of this man. He really took full advantage of their careless moment.

The fight ends with Sakusa taking another blow to his spleen and face, sending him staggering against the wall, lip bloody and cheek scratched open. When Atsumu tried to attack the man, he immediately noticed his body losing strength.

So what results is Osamu's knife being twisted out of Atsumu's hand, sending the assassin toppling to the floor next to Sakusa's gun with another hard kick. Atsumu's gaze drops to it, Sakusa catching the situation.

"Shoot!" The bastard shouts, and it should be an honor for Atsumu to be allowed to use his weapon. But Atsumu is a fucking assassin and that's not how he fucking fights. A pistol made anyone, however slim and slight, physically capable of killing. Handling a knife, however, is pure art.

Yeah but shit, Atsumu doesn't have any knives on him anymore, so what's left for him to do?

The pepper spray.

Atsumu rummages in his jacket pocket and just as the man points his gun at him, he pulls out Semi's small gift and sprays the pepper solution into the man's eyes. He yells and drops the gun to the ground, immediately wiping his eyes to get rid of the burning liquid.

"Fuck!!!" He shouts. "What the actual fu—"

His voice dies down just as Sakusa sneaks up behind him and slices his throat with Osamu's knife. Quickly and effectively. Neat and precise.

Huh?

Atsumu blinks. Once, twice, thrice.

How the fuck…?

They both gasp, their last opponent has challenged them more than they ever expected. Atsumu’s eyes dart toward Sakusa’s gun on the floor. He bends down and picks it up.

With slow steps, Atsumu saunters to him, has a grip on the pistol's barrel, and frowns. He stops in front of Sakusa, Atsumu's whole body radiating with discomfort and anger. He hesitates a moment to hand Sakusa the gun, his eyes fixed with that familiar dark coldness.

“What?” Sakusa spits but Atsumu remains silent. He needs answers, must know how…

How you moved that fast for one thing. How you managed to be that fucking quiet while doing so. How you were able to slit his throat so precisely.

But he asks none of these.

“All that blood looks good on you, Omi-kun. It really brings out your eyes.”

Sakusa’s hair is disheveled, single curls falling into his face, accentuating his sharp cheekbones and those icy, unflinching eyes. Atsumu gives the man a quick down-up. This is the first chance he’s had to actually look at the guy.

Surprisingly, the goon isn’t one of the greasy, weathered assholes he is used to seeing. Even with the blood and the bruises, he has a much prettier face than most of his kind. Atsumu's gaze moves from Sakusa’s lips to his neck, tracing the single beauty marks that linger on his pale skin. How many of them are hiding beneath his shirt?

Atsumu shakes himself.

“Look at the great Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he taunts. “Defeated by an irrelevant henchman.”

“Fuck you, Miya.”

“No, fuck you, Sakusa.” Atsumu shoves the gun back into his hand and sticks out his open palm. Sakusa returns Osamu's knife. “Don't ever touch it again.” Atsumu scowls.

“It never would have happened if you had just shot.”

Atsumu scoffs. “There's no fucking way I'm gonna use your fucking gun.”

“You wanted to try it before,” Sakusa huffs. “And now when you have the chance, you chicken out?”

“I'm an assassin, not a goddamn Yakuza member.”

“You're incapable of wielding a gun,” Sakusa states. Atsumu's blood boils.

“I don't need a gun.”

“You expect knives to protect you from bullets? You can’t be that naïve.”

“Say that again after you've looked around. The oh-so-naïve assassin did a pretty good job – without any guns.”

“You're ridiculous, Miya.”

Atsumu laughs (a little exasperated) and shakes his head. He doesn't feel like arguing with Sakusa right now. Not today. Atsumu is exhausted and is a bit frustrated that they haven't found Youko, and thus are no closer to Osamu for now. This is fucking bullshit.

“Yeah, whatever…” he replies somewhat softer, his head hanging low, and his body averted from Sakusa. “I know there was a compliment somewhere in there and I’ll take it.”

“You piece of shit.”

“Ah! There it is!”

“I hate you.”

“Why? I’m lovely,” he counters with a grin, remembering that it's more fun to tease Sakusa than to get upset with him.

They end up staring at each other, neither daring to unlock their gaze. And suddenly Atsumu thinks of Sakusa's hands gripping his chin. How he tilted Atsumu's face up to meet his golden eyes. How his fingertips crept around his neck. How single beautiful moles paint Sakusa's pale skin so enigmatical, wondering how many more are hiding where Atsumu shall never see.

Atsumu shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. Okay, what the hell? When it comes to Yakuza-connected bastards, Atsumu doesn't have a sympathetic bone in his body. He shouldn't care about this goon any more than he cares about anyone else. Harboring some moronic fantasies is the last thing he needs right now.

But when he opens his eyes and catches Sakusa's gaze lingering on his lips for a split second, he is quite stunned and at a loss for words.

“Youko is not here. Let's get out of here.” Sakusa moves past Atsumu towards the door, not paying him any further attention. With his hand on the handle, he peeks over his shoulder just as Atsumu stops him. It's stupid to voice what's on his mind, so instead, he mumbles, “You owe me.” They stand back-to-back.

Sakusa frowns, holding his breath for a moment. Atsumu turns around and shoves his hands into his pockets, their eyes meeting once more. “I killed twice as many people as you. I got a wish.”

Sakusa huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes,” Atsumu says firmly, his inner flame long since kindled. Sakusa nods.

“Okay,” he shrugs. Even without his mask, he doesn't let Atsumu see through him. “Then choose wisely.”

Atsumu's eyes flare. “I will, Omi-kun.” He tilts his head and glares dismissively at Sakusa.

I will.

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